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.