Heed not, thou, the envious scribes
Who assail with heartless gibes
Those who true and loyal stand,
As he stood, in our dear Land.
Wanton triflers could not dare
Rise to breathe such purer air;
Pedant Puritans, with spite,
Strove to darken his clear light.
Let him reap what he had sown,
Let his merit now be known.
Few the lines we wish unwrit,
Of his courtly mirth and wit;
Few, though lawless passion pain'd,
Warmth of youth left soil'd or stain'd.
A Knightly Gentleman was he,
Who bent in loyal faith the knee,

And would with sword and pen have striven,
Had life prolong'd to him been given.

Time then had nobler gifts reveal'd;
False could he never be-or yield:
He would have died on Naseby-field.

J. WOODFALL EBSWORTH.

MOLASH PRIORY, KENT, 1892.

[p. 252.

p. 69.]

THE PORTRAIT OF THOMAS Carew.

(A NOTE.

The pretended Medallion portrait of Thomas Carew, the Poet, Gentleman of the Privy Chamber to King Charles I.,' which was advertised for publication in 1811-1814 by John Fry of Bristol-after the profile medal by Jean Varin, alias Warin, is not here re-engraved and reproduced for the 'excellent reason' that it proves to be a portrait of the other poet, Thomas Cary' (pp. 105, 239), attested as such by the inscription; which was falsified in 1870: it is, distinctly, "THO. CARY. R. CAROL. CVBICVLAR. ÆTATIS. SVÆ.35.1633.' Signed, below, 'VARIN.' In high relief: no reverse. It is singularly beautiful, with chastened and noble features; hair flowing, with a love-lock. Jean Varin was born at Sedau in 1599, and died at Paris in 1672. There is one genuine portrait of the true poet, THOMAS CAREW, painted by Antony Vandyck, and preserved in Her Majesty's Collection at Windsor. It is of this portrait, a little more than profile (sketched as Frontispiece) that ' Barry Cornwall,' himself a poet, the father of Adelaide Anne Procter, wrote in 1824 :

:

'What a graceful picture is this, carrying about it all the fine air and fantastic gentility of Vandyke! CAREW was a man of family, a courtier, and a poet, and was much beloved by the wits of his time. Some of his smaller pieces are exceedingly graceful, and indeed, beautiful. He was as much of an amorist as Sir Philip Sidney, and his verses have more ease, though scarcely the same depth of sentiment, as those by that Prince of Chivalry. Although Carew has been classed by Pope with the 'mob of gentlemen,' there are few of them who may be compared with him. His little poem, beginning,

"Ask me no more where Jove bestows," etc.,

is the most elegant little thing that ever was built up of conceits; and his Masque of Calum Britannicum, though, of course, infinitely below Milton's Comus, reminds us in parts of that delightful poem.'-Effigies Poeticæ, No. 30.

But Cœlum Britannicum preceded Comus in publication. Comus, first acted privately by the two Egertons (p. 167), and others, on 29th September, 1634, at Ludlow Castle, was not printed until 1637. Carew could not borrow from it.

Introductory Memoir.

Again she said "I woo thee not with gifts:
Sequel of guerdon could not alter me
To fairer. Judge thou me by what I am,
So shalt thou find me fairest."-Enone.

§ I.

HOMAS CAREW died more than two

hundred and fifty years ago.

There are

many of our 'Early Poets' who are best

represented by brief specimens of their shorter works, to win attention from the present race of languid or impatient readers, and some fragment of praise or blame from the unsatisfactory critics, who affect to be their supreme tasters and advisers. Of the longer narratives in verse, the dramas, epics, and allegories, the monodies and epithalamia, a few mutilated extracts are held sufficient to preserve the brilliant lines, the 'gems of thought,' torn ruthlessly and destructively out of their original setting, although it were of gold, leaving the battered shell of context to be flung aside on the dust-heap as 'alms for oblivion.'

But Thomas Carew deserves better treatment than this. The total bulk of his poetry is not

large, its quality is almost always good, and in many of his charming love-songs to Celia he had reached excellence. His every word has value, worthy of being received with thanks. His verbal 'concetti,' yielded to suit the dainty fashion of his time, are singularly few, in comparison with those of Donne, Suckling, and others at the same date. If occasionally, but not often, there is found in him an excess of amatory warmth and directness of speech, such as Court ladies encouraged of old, he stands comparatively stainless, where others had given the reins to their licentious fancy, and been led into sensual imagery or into voluptuous impurity. We object entirely to literature being emasculated; if regulated solely by the supposed requirements and approval of the conventional 'young person.' But purity and sweetness are inestimable. Neither Spenser's Epithalamion' nor A Rapture' was written for vicious minds. No one need feel injury or disgust, when reading the present text of Carew.

6

His

Since he wrote many of the most tender and faultless love-songs, any 'English Anthology' would be grievously incomplete without them. Calum Britannicum, far superior to the ordinary Court masques of the reign, has passages of grandeur and true feeling, never wearisome. Although the flattery of King Charles I. and of his Queen, Henrietta Maria, may be deemed too laudatory by the modern code, which begrudges flattery to monarchs, and restricts it to the dispensers of patronage, place, and power, we have every reason to believe that from Carew it was loyally sincere,

and rendered in affectionate gratitude to those who had invariably treated him with kindness. The prodigal outlay, lavished in the production of such a Masque as this, its adornment regardless of cost and labour, the scenery, machinery, dresses, and music by Henry Lawes, suggest to remembrance the speedy approach of evil days. The continual drain of money, required for such costly pleasures, compelled the King to strain to the utmost his privileges and prerogative, while stinted grudgingly of supplies for all expenditure by the Commons; so that the Masques at Whitehall, leading towards the exactions of Ship-money and Poundage, followed before long by the open rebellion of the King's enemies, and their cold-blooded murder of his chief adherents, Strafford and Laud, were events that held a logical sequence.

Thomas Carew was perfectly sincere in his Commendatory Verses' (pp. 117 to 128), his praise of the living patrons, the King, or the Villiers family; and of the dead, in his funeral verses or 'Obsequies' (pp. 17, 51 to 55, 106 to 118). This, his wedding congratulations (pp. 63, 81 to 84), his descriptive thanks for hospitality at Saxham and Wrest (pp. 24, 125), no less than all his friendly greetings to Aurelian Townsend, George Sandys, Ben Jonson, Walter Montague, William Davenant, and even the Monody on Donne of St. Paul's (pp. 59, 111, 114, 115, 120, 124), their unaffected heartiness and simplicity of language surely prove. They raise his character high in esteem. He was devoid of jealousy or malice, and must

unseemly iling of faction, i