Which vibrates earth and air for miles around.
* * * * *
Thus, senseless, for three hours low laid the god,
And by his side his golden-headed rod.
Then, gather’d ’round him, all the fairy hosts—
Pale and affrighted, like so many ghosts—
Perform a solemn requiem for his soul.
Still stood the sun, and dark; but in the bowl,[119]
The rosy liquid flamed a cubit high,
To mourn poor Bacchus’ death: those standing by