These rites profaned, the holy seer foreshow’d A mourning people, and a vengeful god. Matrons and pious wives obedience show, Distaffs, and wool half spun, away they throw: Then incense burn, and, Bacchus, thee adore: Or lovest thou Neseus, or Lyaeus, more? O, doubly got! O, doubly born! they sung, Thou mighty Bromius, hail! from lightning sprung. Hail! Thyon, Eleleus, each name is thine: Or, listen parent of the genial vine! Iacchus! Evan! loudly they repeat, And not one Grecian attribute forget, Which to thy praise, great deity, belong, Styled, justly, Liber in the Roman song. Eternity of youth is thine! enjoy Years roll’d on years, yet still a blooming boy. In heaven thou shinest 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 conspired to keep Thee captive, plunged and cut with fins the deep.