SLSL(Intro): Forever Young [c'd]

[Keith McMullen]

Metamorphoses 

By Ovid 

Translated by Sir Samuel Garth, John Dryden, et al

Book the Fourth      

The Story of Alcithoe and her Sisters 

Yet still Alcithoe perverse remains, 
And Bacchus still, and all his rites, disdains. 
Too rash, and madly bold, she bids him prove 
Himself a God, nor owns the son of Jove. 
Her sisters too unanimous agree, 
Faithful associates in impiety. 
Be this a solemn feast, the priest had said; 
Be, with each mistress, unemploy'd each maid. 
With skins of beasts your tender limbs enclose, 
And with an ivy-crown adorn your brows, 
The leafy Thyrsus high in triumph bear, 
And give your locks to wanton in the air. 

These rites profan'd, the holy seer foreshow'd 
A mourning people, and a vengeful God. 

Matrons and pious wives obedience show, 
Distaffs, and wooll, half spun, away they throw: 
Then incense burn, and, Bacchus, thee adore, 
Or lov'st thou Nyseus, or Lyaeus more? 
O! doubly got, O! doubly born, they sung, 
Thou mighty Bromius, hail, from light'ning sprung! 
Hail, Thyon, Eleleus! each name is thine: 
Or, listen parent of the genial vine! 
Iachus! Evan! loudly they repeat, 
And not one Grecian attribute forget, 
Which to thy praise, great Deity, belong, 
Stil'd justly Liber in the Roman song. 
*Eternity of youth* is thine! enjoy 
Years roul'd on years, yet still a blooming boy. 
In Heav'n thou shin'st with a superior grace; 
Conceal thy horns, and 'tis a virgin's face. 
Thou taught'st the tawny Indian to obey, 
And Ganges, smoothly flowing, own'd thy sway. 
Lycurgus, Pentheus, equally profane, 
By thy just vengeance equally were slain. 
By thee the Tuscans, who conspir'd to keep 
Thee captive, plung'd, and cut with finns the deep. 
With painted reins, all-glitt'ring from afar, 
The spotted lynxes proudly draw thy car. 
Around, the Bacchae, and the satyrs throng; 
Behind, Silenus, drunk, lags slow along: 
On his dull ass he nods from side to side, 
Forbears to fall, yet half forgets to ride. 
Still at thy near approach, applauses loud 
Are heard, with yellings of the female crowd. 
Timbrels, and boxen pipes, with mingled cries, 
Swell up in sounds confus'd, and rend the skies. 
Come, Bacchus, come propitious, all implore, 
And act thy sacred orgies o'er and o'er.