Who is William Habington

William Habington (November 4, 1605 – November 30, 1654) was an English poet.


Habington was born at Hindlip Hall, Worcestershire, and belonged to a well-known Catholic family. His father, Sir Thomas Habington, an antiquary and historical scholar, had been implicated in the plots on behalf of Mary, Queen of Scots; his uncle, Sir Edward Habington, was beheaded in 1586 on the charge of conspiring against Elizabeth I in connection with Sir Anthony Babington; while to his mother, Mary Habington, was attributed the revelation of the Gunpowder Plot.The poet received his education in Paris and Saint-Omer. The information given by Anthony à Wood in his Athenae that Habington returned to England "to escape the importunity of the Jesuits to join their order" rests onl...
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William Habington Poems

  • To Roses In The Bosom Of Castara
    Ye blushing virgins happy are
    In the chaste nunnery of her breasts-
    For he'd profane so chaste a fair,
    Whoe'er should call them Cupid's nests....
  • Nox Nocti Indicat Scientiam
    When I survey the bright
    Celestial sphere;
    So rich with jewels hung, that Night
    Doth like an Ethiop bride appear:...
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Top 10 most used topics by William Habington

Bright 2 Human 1 Live 1 Triumph 1 Sphere 1 Flame 1 Bride 1 Silent 1 Ice 1 Knowledge 1

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Comments about William Habington

Wjagmin: as yourselves your empires fall, and every kingdom hath a grave. — william habington
Paul_jkrause: and then they likewise shall their ruin have; for as yourselves your empires fall, and every kingdom hath a grave. - william habington
Smarcorodriguez: "as your selves your empires fall, and every kingdome hath a grave." —william habington (1605-1654
Phase_shake: to my honoured friend sir ed. p. knight by william habington
Ingo_don: — william habington (hanlip hall, 4/11/1605 - 30/11/1654) english poet (cavalier poet), historian & playwright … —
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Thomas Moore Poem
What The Bee Is To The Floweret
 by Thomas Moore

What the bee is to the floweret,
When he looks for honey-dew,
Through the leaves that close embower it,
That, my love, I'll be to you.

She. --

What the bank, with verdure glowing,

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