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! let me—let me drain the bowl, And pour its pleasures on my soul; Let Bacchus now his reign employ, Till reason reels, oppress'd with joy. Orestes, by the furies led, Barefooted to the mountains fled. Alcmæon too, in frantic mood, Like him was stain'd with mother's blood; But I disclaim such dreadful deeds, My madness from my joy proceeds. Then bring the bowl, I cry again, Who shall that maddening joy restrain?