CHOR.

O Iacchus! power excelling, here in stately temple dwelling,
O Iacchus! O Iacchus!
Come to tread this verdant level,
Come to dance in mystic revel,
Come whilst round thy forehead hurtles
Many a wreath of fruitful myrtles,
Come with wild and saucy paces
Mingling in our joyous dance,
Pure and holy, which embraces all the charms of all the Graces
When the mystic choirs advance.

XAN. Holy and sacred queen, Demeter's daughter, O, what a jolly whiff
of pork breathed o'er me!

DIO. Hist! and perchance you'll get some tripe yourself.

_(The welcome to Iacchus.)_

CHOR. Come, arise, from sleep awaking,
come the fiery torches shaking,
O Iacchus! O Iacchus!
Morning Star that shinest nightly.
Lo, the mead is blazing brightly,
Age forgets its years and sadness,
Aged knees curvet for gladness,
Lift thy flashing torches o'er us,
Marshal all thy blameless train,
Lead, O lead the way before us;