Odes 2.19 (Gladstone): Bacchum In Remotis

Bacchus, the lonely rocks among,
(But who'll believe me?) met my view,
To Nymphs for pupils teaching song,
Goat-footed, point-eared Satyrs too.

Evoe! new fears my spirit scare,
Yet stormy joy my bosom thrills,
All Bacchic. Spare me, Liber, spare
Thy thyrsus, and the stroke that kills.

Of founts which milk and wine bedew,
Of headstrong Thyads let me tell,
And streams of honey sing anew,
From out the hollow trunks that fell.

And next, thy consort's happy star
Added to heav'n; and, with the race
Of Pentheus, crushed in deadly war,
Lycurgus and his doom in Thrace.

Great rivers and barbaric seas
Thou rul'st, and, in some hilly spot,
The hair of those Bistonides,
Well-drunk, thou bind'st with snaky knot.

The Giants wound their impious track
Athwart the steep of Jove's domain,
But thou strong Rhoetus hurledst back,
With claw and fang of lion slain.

'More apt for dance and sport and jest,
No fighter.' Such was rumour's course.
But now thy godhead stands confessed
In war as peace a central force.

Grim Cerberus saw thy golden horn,
And wagged his tail, of anger free;
And when thou went'st, tow'rd earth upborne,
With all his tongues he fondled thee.