Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/176

98 With Skins of Beasts your tender Limbs enclose, And with an Ivy-Crown adorn your Brows, The leafy Thyrsus high in Triumph bear, And give your Locks to wanton in the Air. These Rites profan'd, the holy Seer foreshow'd A mournful People and a vengeful God. Matrons and pious Wives Obedience show, Distaffs, and Wooll, half spun, away they throw: Then Incense burn, and, Bacchus, thee adore, Or lov'st thou Nysêus, or Lyæus more? O! doubly got, O! doubly born, they sung, Thou mighty Bromius, hail, from Light'ning sprung! Hail, ''Thyon! Elelêus''! each Name is thine: Or listen Parent of the genial Vine! Iäcchus! Evan! loudly they repeat, And not one Grecian Attribute forget, Which to thy Praise, great Deity, belong, Stil'd justly Liber in Roman Song. Eternity of Youth is thine! enjoy Years roul'd on Years, yet still blooming Boy. In Heav'n thou shin'st, with a superior Grace; Conceal thy Horns, and 'tis a Virgin's Face. Thou taught'st the tawny Indian to obey, And Ganges, smoothly flowing, own'd thy Sway. Lycurgus, Pentheus, equally profane, By thy just Vengeance equally were slain. By thee the Tuscans, who conspir'd to keep Thee Captive, plung'd, and cut with Finns the Deep. With painted Reins, all glitt'ring from afar, The spotted Lynxes proudly draw thy Car. Around, the Bacchæ, and the Satyrs Throng; Behind, Silenus, drunk, lags slow along: On his dull Ass he nods from Side to Side, Forbears to fall, yet half forgets to ride. Still at thy near Approach, Applauses loud Are heard, with Yellings of the Female Crowd. Timbrels,