of fortune, which are this moment up, and down the next; and therefore humbly advised him to use his victory so soberly, as still to put on thoughts of peace.' Which advice, though it seemed to be spoken with some passion, (his dear mistress, the Queen of Bohemia, being concerned in it,) was yet taken in good part by the Emperor, who replied, ‘That he would consider his advice. And though he looked on the King, his master, as an abettor of his enemy, the paulsgrave; yet for Sir Henry himself, his behaviour had been such during the manage of the treaty, that he took him to be a person of much honour and merit; and did therefore desire him to accept of that jewel, as a testimony of his good opinion of him;' which was a jewel of diamonds of more value than a thousand pounds.

6

"This jewel was received with all outward circumstances and terms of honour by Sir Henry Wotton. But the next morning, at his departing from Vienna, he at his taking leave of the Countess of Sabrina, (an Italian lady, in whose house the Emperor had appointed him to be lodged and honourably entertained,) acknowledged her merits, and besought her to accept of that jewel, as a testimony of his gratitude for her civilities; presenting her with the same that was given him by the Emperor: which being suddenly discovered, and told to the Emperor, was by him taken for a high affront, and Sir Henry Wotton told so by a messenger. To which he replied, That though he received with thankfulness, yet he found in himself an indisposition to be the better for any gift that came from an enemy to his royal mistress, the Queen of Bohemia;' for so she was pleased he should always call her." It was manly in Wotton to uphold the cause of his fallen mistress, but others were not so loyal. She was an object of ridicule with many, and figured in the caricatures of the time, " as a poor Irish mantler, with her hair hanging about her ears, and her child at her back, and the King, her father, carrying the cradle after her."

Charles the First, on his accession to the throne, declared to his Parliament that the recovery of the Palatinate should be a primary object of his political consideration, but little was done till 1632, when Gustavus of Sweden proffered his aid to that end. His conditions, however, were so unsatisfactory to Charles, with whom he was then at war, that the latter broke up the treaty which had been proposed, and withdrew his ambassador from Stockholm. The Elector then negotiated with Gustavus on his own account, but the death of the Swedish king, who was killed at the battle of Lutzen, on the 6th of November, 1632, frustrated his hopes, and perhaps hastened his death, which took place at Mentz on the 29th of the same month. Elizabeth remained at the Hague, and lived for many years in the utmost privacy, passing her time in educating her children, and in writing letters to eminent men. Her affairs were managed by Lord Craven, who had entered the military service of Holland, in order to be near her, and to whom she is supposed to have been secretly married. The Lower Palatinate was restored to her son, Charles Lewis, in 1648, but she profited but little by it. She lingered in want and exile until the Restoration of Charles the Second, when she was invited to England. She arrived in London on the 17th of May, 1661, and died on the 13th of February of the following year.

The date of Wotton's poem has never been settled, but it must have been written

between the 7th of November, 1619, the day of her coronation as Queen of Bohemia, and some time in 1624, when it was printed in "THE SIXT SET OF BOOKES," a musical publication by Michaell Est. I place it in 1620, before the fatal battle of Prague.

ON HIS MISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA.

You meaner beauties of the night,

That poorly satisfy our eyes,
More by your number than your light,
You common-people of the skies,
What are you when the sun shall rise?

You curious chanters of the wood,

That warble forth dame Nature's lays,
Thinking your passions understood

By your weak accents, what's your praise
When Philomel her voice shall raise?

You violets that first appear,

By your pure purple mantles known,
Like the proud virgins of the year,

As if the spring were all your own,
What are you when the rose is blown?

So when my mistress shall be seen,

In form, and beauty of her mind,
By virtue first, then choice, a queen,
Tell me, if she were not designed
Th' eclipse and glory of her kind?

THOMAS RANDOLPH.

1605-1634.

["Poems, with the Muses' Looking Glass." 1638.]

TO ONE ADMIRING HERSELF IN A LOOKING GLASS.

Fair lady, when you see the grace
Of beauty in your looking-glass;
A stately forehead, smooth and high,
And full of princely majesty;
A sparkling eye, no gem so fair,
Whose lustre dims the Cyprian star;
A glorious cheek, divinely sweet,
Wherein both roses kindly meet;
A cherry lip that would entice
Even gods to kiss at any price;
You think no beauty is so rare
That with your shadow might compare;
That your reflection is alone

The thing that men most doat upon.
Madam, alas, your glass doth lie,
And you are much deceived; for I
A beauty know of richer grace,
(Sweet, be not angry,) 'tis your face.
Hence then, O learn more mild to be,
And leave to lay your blame on me,
If me your real substance move,
When you so much your shadow love.

Wise Nature would not let your eye
Look on her own bright majesty,
Which had you once but looked upon,
You could, except yourself, love none:
What then you can not love, let me,
That face I can, you can not see.

Now you have what to love, you'll say,
What is there left for me, I pray?
My face, sweet heart, if it please thee;
That which you can, I can not see:
So either love shall gain his due,
Yours sweet in me, and mine in you.

WILLIAM HABINGTON.

1605-1654.

CASTARA.

THE Castara of Habington's poetry was Lucia Herbert, the daughter of William Herbert, the first Lord Powis. By her mother's side she was related to the Percys of Northumberland, who traced their descent back to Charlemagne. Habington's family, though a good one, was not equal to hers, which may have been the reason why her father objected to him as a lover. For my Lord Powis did object, we learn, though Lady Eleanor, his wife, sympathized with the poet from the first. In a poetical epistle which he addressed to her ladyship, he compliments her on the clearness of her judgment of him, and proclaims the unselfishness of his love for her daughter:

"Would Castara were

The daughter of some mountaine cottager,
Who, with his toile worne out, could dying leave
Her no more dowre, than what she did receive
From bounteous nature. Her would I then lead
To th' temple, rich in her own wealth; her head
Crown'd with her haire's faire treasure; diamonds in
Her brighter eyes; soft ermines in her skin;
Each Indie in her cheeke. Then all who vaunt
That Fortune, them t' enrich, made others want,

Should set themselves out glorious in her stealth,
And trie if that could parallel this wealth.”

He also addressed an epistle to Lord Powis, but it was after his marriage with Castara. "The holy lights," he says,