XXXVI.
Et thure, et fidibus.
BID the lyre and cittern play;
Enkindle incense, shed the victim's gore;
Heaven has watch'd o'er Numida,
And brings him safe from far Hispania's shore.
Now, returning, he bestows
On each dear comrade all the love he can;
But to Lamia most he owes,
By whose sweet side he grew from boy to man.
Note we in our calendar
This festal day with whitest mark from Crete:
Let it flow, the old wine-jar,
And ply to Salian time your restless feet.
Damalis tosses off her wine,
But Bassus sure must prove her match to-night.
Give us roses all to twine,
And parsley green, and lilies deathly white.
Every melting eye will rest
On Damalis' lovely face; but none may part
Damalis from our new-found guest;
She clings, and clings, like ivy, round his heart.
