The lay to ivy-crowned Bacchus move,
The son of beauteous Semele and Jove;
Receiv'd by fair-hair'd nymphs, a lovely throng,
Delightful Nyssa's fertile vales among.
Thence, by the favour of his mighty sire,
Rising in strength, he join'd the' immortal choir;
Nurtur'd by goddesses—he thence again
Strays through the tangled grove or shrubby plain,
Leading the nymphs, with bay and ivy crown'd:
The spacious forests with his shouts resound.—
God of the purple vine!—Bacchus! prolong
Through circling hours and years thy votary's song.