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To the Author, on his Translation of Cornelius Agrippa.
DOth Phoebus cease to answer t•• our demands▪
Or will he not accept 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mortals hands
A sad Bidental? And is Sibyls cave
Inhabitable? Or may Tiresias have
No successor nor rival! How shall we
Then Oedipus to th' world direct? If he
Do Incest adde to Parricide, th' are dumb,
That could predict what things should surely come:
And they are silent that knew when t' apply
T' our body Politick Purge and P••le•• ••to••••y.
How will hold thieves our treasures rob, who shall
Lost goods regain, or by his Charme recal
The ••eceut? Th' Art 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by thee repriv'd:
In thee the Magi seem to be revi••'d.
Phoebus is not brain-sick, Joves davis not dead,
Th' Oracles not ceas'd: Agrippa's had
(Like the Arabian birds self builded nest,
Which first her Ur•• proves, the•• her quickning res••
Hath thee produc'd more th•••• his equal su••e,
Else had this Art as yet remain'd obserue,
A miracle to vulgars, will kn••w•• to na••••,
Scarce read by deepest apprehension.
Then I'll conclude, Since thou dost him explain.
That th' younger brother hath the better brain.
John Tomlinson, of St. John's in Cambridge.