Send home my long stray'd eyes to me, Which, oh! too long have dwelt on thee! But if from thee they've learnt such ill, Such forced fashions And false passions, That they be Made by thee Fit for no good sight--keep them still! Send home my harmless heart again, Which no unworthy thought could stain! But if it hath been taught by thine To make jestings Of protestings, To forget both Its word and troth, Keep it still--'tis none of mine! Perhaps it may interest some readers to add, that Donne's famous lines, which have been quoted _ad infinitum_,-- The pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, Ye might have almost said her body thought! were not written on his wife, but on Elizabeth Drury, the only daughter of his patron and friend, Sir Robert Drury. She was the richest heiress in England, the wealth of her father being considered almost incalculable; and this, added to her singular beauty, and extraordinary talents and acquirements, rendered her so popularly interesting, that she was considered a fit match for Henry, Prince of Wales. She died in her sixteenth year. Dr. Donne and his wife were maternal ancestors of the Poet Cowper. FOOTNOTES: [45] Lady Lucy Percy, afterwards the famous Countess of Carlisle, mentioned in page 33. [46] Donne's poems. [47] Walton's Lives. [48] Walton's Life of Donne.--Chalmers's Biography. [49] i. e. low-minded. [50] Chalmers's Biography. [51] In 1617. CHAPTER VII. CONJUGAL POETRY CONTINUED. HABINGTON'S CASTARA. One of the most elegant monuments ever raised by genius to conjugal affection, was Habington's Castara. William Habington, who ranks among the most graceful of our old minor poets, was a gentleman of an ancient Roman Catholic family in Worcestershire, and born in 1605.[52] On his return from his travels, he saw and loved Lucy Herbert, the daughter of Lord Powis, and grand-daughter of the Earl of Northumberland. She was far his superior in birth, being descended, on both sides, from the noblest blood in England; and her haughty relations at first opposed their union. It was, however, merely that degree of opposition, without which the "course of true love would have run _too_ smooth." It was just sufficient to pique the ardour of the lover, and prove the worth and constancy of her he loved. The history of their attachment has none of the painful interest which hangs round that of Donne and his wife: it is a picture of pure and peaceful happiness, and of mutual tenderness, on which the imagination dwells with a soft complacency and unalloyed pleasure; with nothing of romance but what was borrowed from the elegant mind and playful fancy, which heightened and embellished the delightful reality.