Be pacify’d, and spare a venial fault.
On me, when smiling fate shall smiling gifts bestow,
I’ll not ungrateful to thy godhead go.
A destined goat shall on thy altar lye,
And the horn’d parent of my flock shall dye.
A sucking pig appease thy injur’d shrine,
And hallow’d bowls o’re-flow with generous wine.
Then thrice thy frantick votaries shall round
Thy temple dance, with youth and garlands crown’d,
In holy drunkenness thy orgies sound.