(For Bacchus died not, as most mortal men,
With eyes fast shut, but open to the sun),
And, like a good Samaritan, went o’er:
Rememb’ring well the visage which he bore,
She exclaim’d aloud to her great lord[122] of heaven—
(As she, poor nymph, was most severely smitten)—
Crying, “Bassareus[123] lies breathless on the field!
No wounds to show he has been gored or steel’d;
And now, aghast, his eyes still move around,
His lips are quivering, and I hear a sound