More than one life, and left a wilderness!
And that it fell on Virgil to recall
A legend—would that it lied!—how, when all
The land’s women, Bacchus-fired, and distraught
By hymns that Orpheus in glad days had taught,
Had pressed him into the wild dance they led
Nightly through torch-lit forests, and he fled
In horror, as at treason to his love,
They, infuriate more the more he strove,
Followed, reckless of all but the mad chase,