If those sharpe rayes putting on Points of death, bid Love be gon: (Though the Heavens in counsell sate To crowne an uncontroulèd fate, Though their best aspects twin'd upon 25 The kindest constellation, Cast amorous glances on his birth, And whisper'd the confederate Earth To pave his pathes with all the good, That warmes the bed of youth and blood) 30 Love hath no plea against her eye: Beauty frownes, and Love must dye. But if her milder influence move, And gild the hopes of humble Love: (Though Heaven's inauspicious eye 35 Lay blacke on Love's nativitie; Though every diamond in Love's crowne Fixt his forehead to a frowne:) Her eye, a strong appeale can giue, Beauty smiles, and Love shall live. 40 O, if Love shall live, O, where But in her eye, or in her eare, In her brest, or in her breath, Shall I hide poore Love from Death? For in the life ought else can give, 45 Love shall dye, although he live. Or, if Love shall dye, O, where But in her eye, or in her eare, In her breath, or in her breast, Shall I build his funerall nest? 50 While Love shall thus entombèd lye, Love shall live, although he dye. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. In line 16 the heavens are the planets. To 'crown' his fate is to invest it with regal power, and so place it beyond control. It is doubtful whether 'uncontrouled' expresses that state or result of crowning, or whether the clause is hyperbolical, and means to put further beyond control an already uncontrolled fate. 'Twin'd' seems a strange word to use, but refers, I presume, to the apparently irregular and winding-like motions of the planets through the constellations until they result in the favourable aspects mentioned. According to astrology, the beneficence or maleficence of the planetary aspects varies with the nature of the constellation in which they occur. HENRY VAUGHAN, Silurist, uses 'wind' very much as CRASHAW uses 'twin'd:' see _s.v._ in our edition. In line 14 we have accepted the reading 'man's' for 'Loves' from the SANCROFT MS. A SONG: OUT OF THE ITALIAN.[79] To thy lover Deere, discover That sweet blush of thine that shameth --When those roses It discloses-- All the flowers that Nature nameth. In free ayre, Flow thy haire; That no more Summer's best dresses, Bee beholden For their golden Locks, to Phoebus' flaming tresses. O deliver Love his quiver; From thy eyes he shoots his arrowes: Where Apollo Cannot follow: Featherd with his mother's sparrowes.