It is indeed to be regretted that among the poems of Carew there are many that might tinge the cheek of modesty, and repel every reader by their gross physical impurities—and those, too, containing in their grossness thoughts of most exquisite beauty. The existence of these impurities, however, was the fault more of the age than the poet—custom sanctioned, society relished the use of language and sentiment that now would be exceedingly abhorrent to “ears polite.” The polished courtiers, the fair dames of the court of Charles, perceived nothing in these songs of Carew that could call the blush of shame to the cheek, or excite even an impure thought. But custom, “That despot, whose behest each age obeys,” has in this our day otherwise ordered; and the civilized world now believes with the poet Roscommon— Immodest words admit of no defense, A want of decency is want of sense. My object in the preparation of this article being to rescue from oblivion some of the verses of this sweet poet, Carew, I propose to make such selections from his poems as shall prove, incontestably, his claim to a high rank among the earlier English poets. We do not claim that the poems of Carew evince the highest order of poetic talent, but generous sentiment, and a glow of happy conceits running through, and sparkling in them, often exhibit unexpected beauties. To use the words of Dr. Johnson, applied to a poet of the same age and nation, “If the conceits are sometimes far-fetched, they will be found oftentimes worth the carriage.” It has been before remarked, that if the greatness of the poetic writers of this age seldom elevates, their acuteness often surprises us—and noble sentiment and genuine wit will often be found buried beneath strange illustrations, and far-fetched conceits. In Headley’s introduction to his “Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry,” he bestows unqualified praise upon the amatory poets, who flourished in the reign of Charles the First, giving a decided preference to the poetry of the age of Elizabeth and Charles over all that has been written since their day. And he considers the poets, the amatory poets of those reigns, as forming a constellation far superior in poetic lustre to any that have succeeded them. This indeed is no faint praise, coming from so refined a critic; but with all due deference we cannot but agree with Drake, that it is for the most part too highly colored. The exquisite simplicity of style and thought, so attractive in the productions of our modern poets, will be looked for in vain in the verses of the poets of that early day; such simplicity being the result of systematic refinement, and the progress of language toward perfection.