Book II. Ode XIX.

In a blind corner jolly Bacchus taught The Nymphs and Satyrs poetry; Myself (a thing scarce to be thought) Was at that time a stander by. And ever since the whim runs in my head, With heavenly frenzy I'm on fire; Dear Bacchus, let me not be punishèd For raving, when thou didst inspire. Ecstatically drunk, I now dare sing 10Thy bigot Thyades, and the source Whence thy brisk wine, honey, and milk did spring, Enchannell'd by thy sceptre's force. Bold as I am, I dare yet higher fly, And sing bright Ariadne's Crown, Rejoice to see bold Pentheus' destiny, And grave Lycurgus tumbled down. Rivers and seas thine empire all obey, When thou thy standard dost advance, Wild mountaineers, thy vassals, trim and gay, 20In tune and time stagger and dance. Thou, when great Jove began to fear his throne (In no small danger then he was), The mighty Rhoecus thou didst piss upon, And of that lion mad'st an ass. 'Tis true, thy talent is not war, but mirth; The fiddle, not the trumpet, thine; Yet didst thou bravely lay about thee then, Great Moderator, God of Wine. And when to Hell in triumph thou didst ride 30O'er Cerberus thou didst prevail, The silly cur, thee for his Master own'd, And like a puppy wagg'd his tail.