Page:Alexander's Feast - 1904.djvu/10

 CHORUS.

Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,

Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure,

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

OOTHED with the sound the king grew vain;

Fought all his battles o'er again;

And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain.

The master saw the madness rise,

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;

And while he heaven and earth defied,

Changed his hand, and checked his pride.

He chose a mournful Muse,

Soft pity to infuse;

He sung Darius great and good,

By too severe a fate,

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,

Fallen from his high estate,

And weltering in his blood;

Deserted at his utmost need