Come, faithful followers of Bacchus’ train,
(Bacchus, most lovely of the gods)
Enter these bless’d abodes.
On high his verdant banners rear,
And quick the festival prepare.
Reach me my lute, a proper air
The chords shall sound; the trembling chords obey,
And join to celebrate this glorious day.
VI.
But ’midst the transports of a pleasing rage