(17)
And straight returneth home more debonnaire.
New birth's noe Probleme now: for we have seen
A senselesse Corps quickned with Life has beene.
And that not by a Miracle, but Art
With broken winded Nature, playing part.
The great inchanting Orpheus who could bring
From Hell Eurydice by a fidle string;
Yet Let her slip againe: And breaking's Truft
His Magicke-musicke Nerve, in sunder burst. O
Apollo scornes to make such Emp'ricke Cures:
Here's one now dead alive, alive endures.
Her fatall thread was Cut: Yet Plutoes bands.
Could her not ravish from his sacred hands.
Yea though a knife had Cut the Sisters Twine,
His Plantan Leafe would that together joyne,
See Orpheus, See, thy wonder-working Lyre,
Holds noe Comparison with thy Heavenly Sire.
W. Hatley, of Saint Johns Coll.
QVam penè abstulerat glomerato stamine, vitam
Tibi reddit Eumenidum manus:
Dum petit erranti cultro tua fila salutis,
Scindit Capistros Atropos.
TErgeminus diræ dormiscit Janitor Aulæ,
Et Furiæ infernam deseruêre Domum:
Quasq́ꝫ, creat, sentit mors jam quasi mortua pœnæ:
Virbiaq́ꝫ, è propriis pullulat Exequiis:
Fabula nascentem Materno funere Bacchum
Ne jactet, virgo hæc funere nata Suo est.
SEarch for a pleasant now delight,
To celebrate her births day's right.
It is a birth when after Death
The body gaines his former breath.
O! who'le pay him that dig'd the pitte?
The hungry grave hath lost a bitte,
