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Thither conducted either Comrade went, where hateful Bacchus stood in lies array’d; and rose their spirits, while their knees were bent before the God who sways the worlds He made. The perfumed incense by Panchaia sent, fuming its richest scent, o’ th’ altar laid Thyóne’s Son; and now they view, forsooth, the god of Lies adore the God of Truth.