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“Messenger-trumpets to the cries reply, and sibilant fife, and drum, and atambor; while Ancients wave their flags, and banners fly with many-colour’d legends ’broidered o’er.
’Twas fruity August when the days be dry, and Ceres heaps the peasant’s threshing-floor, August, when Sol Astraea’s mansion reigneth; and the sweet must of grapes Lyaeus straineth.