He was, therefore, almost instantly noticed by Charles I., and, it is evident, enjoyed the favour of Buckingham, to whom he addressed “Lines on the Lord Admiral’s recovery from sickness.” Charles made him one of his gentlemen of the Bedchamber, and Sewer in ordinary--appointments which brought the poet into an immediate contact with the principal characters of the Court; and he became the intimate associate of Lord Clarendon, the eulogist of Villiers, and the friend of Ben Jonson. As a writer of love sonnets, Carew has had few equals; and he may be termed, in that respect, the Moore of his age. His charming qualities as a companion, and the elegance of his verses, are praised by Clarendon; whilst his contemporaries--even those less happy than himself--saw in him, whom they declared to be one of a “mob of gentlemen,” who aspired to be eminent in polite literature, one whose career added lustre to the pursuits of literature. Strange to say, Carew was beloved and extolled by his less fortunate contemporaries; and even Ben Jonson gave him his meed of praise, which Carew returned with sympathy and admiration. After Jonson’s unlucky play, “The New Inn,” had been hissed off the stage, and Jonson had vented his rage in an ode, Carew addressed the angry poet in lines full of good sense, wit, and good feeling; and yet, he hints, with a sincerity as rare as it is fearless, that his powers were somewhat weakened since poor Ben had brought out the “Alchemist.” “And yet ’tis true Thy cousin muse from the exalted line, Touched by the alchemist, doth since decline From that her zenith, and foretells a red And blushing evening when she goes to bed; Yet such as shall outshine the glimmering light With which all stars shall gild the following night.” Again he adds:-- “Let others glut on the extorted praise Of vulgar breath, trust thou to after-days: Thy laboured works shall live when Time devours The abortive offering of their hasty hours. Thou art not of their rank--the quarrel lies Within thine own verge; then let this suffice The wiser world doth greater thee confess Than all men else, than thyself only less.” Carew, notwithstanding the highly virtuous tone of the Court in which he lived, led an irregular life; and lived to mourn, in deep repentance, for that more than wasted portion of his existence, in which he gave way to the worst parts of his otherwise fine nature. When Ben Jonson had ceased to write, Carew was selected as the poet most calculated to supply the place of that great genius in providing masques for the Court. Only one, however, produced by him, remains. It is called “Cœlum Britannicum.”