Newes from the Dead/Wonder of highest Art!
WOnder of highest Art! He that will reach
A Streine for thee, had need his Muse should stretch,
Till flying to the Shades, she learne what Veine
Of Orpheus call'd Eurydice againe;
Or learne of her Apollo, 'till she can
As well, as Singer, prove Physitian:
And then she may without Suspension sing,
And, authorized, harp upon thy String.
Discordant string! for sure thy soule (unkinde
To its own Bowels Issue) could not finde
One Breast in Confort to its jarring stroake
'Mongst piteous Femall Organs, therefore broke
Translations due Law, from fate repriev'd,
And struck a Unison to her selfe, and liv'd.
Was't this? or was it, that the Goatish Flow
Of thy Adulterous veines (from thence let goe
By second Æsculapius his hand)
Dissolv'd the Parcæ's Adamantine Band,
And made Thee Artist's Glory, Shame of Fate,
Triumph of Nature, Virbius his Mate.