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.
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