Turn’d deathly pale, and certainly look’d sad:)
Swift as the winds would bear them, on they came;
In front a herald to proclaim the name
Of the deceasèd god. “Behold,” he said,
“This body here upon the field now laid,
Is that of Bacchus, the great god of wine,
Who till’d the ground, and rear’d the lovely vine;
The great dictator of the heathen laws:
His numerous talents gain’d him much applause:
Wise, though lascivious, he to powèr grew;