III. Though seas and land betwixt us both, Our faith and troth, Like separated soules, All time and space controules: Above the highest sphere wee meet, Unseene, unknowne, and greet as angels greet IV. So then we doe anticipate Our after-fate, And are alive i'th' skies, If thus our lips and eyes Can speake like spirits unconfin'd In Heav'n, their earthy bodies left behind. <16.1> Of Henry and William Lawes an account may be found in Burney and Hawkins. Although the former (H. Lawes) set many of Lovelace's pieces to music, only two occur in the AYRES AND DIALOGUES FOR ONE, TWO, AND THREE VOYCES, 1653-55-8, folio. SONG. SET BY MR. JOHN LANIERE. TO LUCASTA. GOING TO THE WARRES. I. Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkinde, That from the nunnerie Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde To warre and armes I flie. II. True: a new Mistresse now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith imbrace A sword, a horse, a shield. III. Yet this inconstancy is such, As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Lov'd I not Honour more. A PARADOX. I. Tis true the beauteous Starre<17.1> To which I first did bow Burnt quicker, brighter far, Than that which leads me now; Which shines with more delight, For gazing on that light So long, neere lost my sight. II. Through foul we follow faire, For had the world one face, And earth been bright as ayre, We had knowne neither place. Indians smell not their neast; A Swisse or Finne tastes best The spices of the East.<17.2> III. So from the glorious Sunne Who to his height hath got, With what delight we runne To some black cave or grot! And, heav'nly Sydney you Twice read, had rather view Some odde romance so new. IV. The god, that constant keepes Unto his deities, Is poore in joyes, and sleepes Imprison'd in the skies. This knew the wisest, who From Juno stole, below To love a bear or cow. <17.1> i.e. LUCASTA. <17.2> The East was celebrated by all our early poets as the land of spices and rich gums:-- "For now the fragrant East, The spicery o' th' world, Hath hurl'd A rosie tincture o'er the Phoenix nest." OTIA SACRA, by Mildmay, Earl of Westmoreland, 1648, p. 37. SONG. SET BY MR. HENRY LAWES. TO AMARANTHA;<18.1> THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVELL HER HAIRE. I. Amarantha sweet and faire, Ah brade<18.2> no more that shining haire! As my curious hand or eye, Hovering round thee, let it flye.