Kitap 1
No posture could that heav'nly form disgrace.
She beat her breast: - "The traitor's gone," said she;
"What shall become of poor forsaken me?
What shall become-" She had not time for more,
600
The sounding cymbals rattled on the shore.Cymbals. drums, little bells, and pipes, were Bacchus and mother Cybele's consort.
She swoons for fear, she falls upon the ground;
No vital heat was in her body found.
The Mimallonian dames about her stood,
And scudding satyrs ran before their god.
605
Silenus on his ass did next appear,
And held upon the mane (the god was clear).
The drunken sire pursues, the dames retire;
Sometimes the drunken dames pursue the drunken sire.
At last he topples over on the plain;
610
The satyrs laugh, and bid him rise again.
And now the god of wine came driving on,
High on his chariot by swift tigers drawn.
Her colour, voice, and sense forsook the fair;
Thrice did her trembling limbs for flight prepare,
615
And thrice affrighted did her flight forbear.
