Epitaphium Damonis

Argumentum

Thyrsis & Damon ejusdem viciniae Pastores, eadem studia sequuti a pueritiâ amici erant, ut qui plurimùm. Thyrsis animi causâ profectus peregrè de obitu Damonis nuntium accepit. Domum postea reversus, & rem ita esse comperto, se, suamque solitudinem hoc carmine deplorat. Damonis autem sub personâ hîc intelligitur Carolus Deodatus ex urbe Hetruriæ Luca paterno genere oriundus, cætera Anglus; ingenio, doctrina, clarissimisque cæteris virtutibus, dum viveret, juvenis egregius.


Epitaphium Damonis


Himerides nymphæ (nam vos & Daphnin & Hylan,
Et plorata diu meministis fata Bionis)
Dicite Sicelicum Thamesina per oppida carmen:
Quas miser effudit voces, quæ murmura Thyrsis,
Et quibus assiduis exercuit antra querelis, [ 5 ]
Fluminaque, fontesque vagos, nemorumque recessus,
Dum sibi præreptum queritur Damona, neque altam
Luctibus exemit noctem, loca sola pererrans.
Et jam bis viridi surgebat culmus arista,
Et totidem flavas numerabant horrea messes, [ 10 ]
Ex quo summa dies tulerat Damona sub umbras,
Nec dum aderat Thyrsis; pastorem scilicet illum
Dulcis amor Musæ Thusca retinebat in urbe.
Ast ubi mens expleta domum, pecorisque relicti
Cura vocat, simul assuetâ sedítque sub ulmo [ 15 ]
Tum vero amissum tum denique sentit amicum,
Cœpit & immensum sic exonerare dolorem.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Hei mihi! quæ terris, quæ dicam numina cœlo,
Postquam te immiti rapuerunt funere Damon; [ 20 ]
Siccine nos linquis, tua sic sine nomine virtus
Ibit, & obscuris numero sociabitur umbris?
At non ille animas virgâ qui dividit aureâ
Ista velit, dignumque tui te ducat in agmen,
Ignavumque procol pecus arceat omne silentum. [ 25 ]

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Quicquid erit, certè nisi me lupus antè videbit,
Indeplorato non comminuere sepulchro,
Constabitque tuus tibi honos, longúmque vigebit
Inter pastores: Illi tibi vota secundo. [ 30 ]
Solvere post Daphnin, post Daphnin dicere laudes,
Gaudebunt, dum rura Pales, dum Faunus amabit:
Si quid id est, priscamque fidem coluisse, piúmque,
Palladiásque artes, sociúmque habuisse canorum.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. [ 35 ]
Hæc tibi certa manent, tibi erunt hæc præmia, Damon,
At mihi quid tandem fiet modò? quis mihi fidus
Hærebit lateri comes, ut tu sæpe solebas
Frigoribus duris, & per loca fœta pruinis,
Aut rapido sub sole, siti morientibus herbis? [ 40 ]
Sive opus in magnos fuit eminùs ire leones
Aut avidos terrere lupos præsepibus altis;
Quis fando sopire diem, cantuque solebit?

'Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Pectora cui credam? quis me lenire docebit [ 45 ]
Mordaces curas, quis longam fallere noctem
Dulcibus alloquiis, grato cùm sibilat igni
Molle pyrum, & nucibus strepitat focus, at malus auster
Miscet cuncta foris, & desuper intonat ulmo.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. [ 50 ]
Aut æstate, dies medio dum vertitur axe,
Cum Pan æsculeâ somnum capit abditus umbrâ,
Et repetunt sub aquis sibi nota sedilia nymphæ.
Pastoresque latent, stertit sub sepe colonus,
Quis mihi blanditiásque tuas, quis tum mihi risus, [ 55 ]
Cecropiosque sales referet, cultosque lepores?

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
At jam solus agros, jam pascua solus oberro,
Sicubi ramosæ densantur vallibus umbræ,
Hic serum expecto; supra caput imber & Eurus [ 60 ]
Triste sonant, fractæque agitata crepuscula silvæ.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Heu quàm culta mihi priùs arva procacibus herbis
Involvuntur, & ipsa situ seges alta fatiscit!
Innuba neglecto marcescit & uva racemo, [ 65 ]
Nec myrteta juvant; ovium quoque tædet, at illæ
Mœrent, inque suum convertunt ora magistrum.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Tityrus ad corylos vocat, Alphesibœus ad ornos,
Ad salices Aegon, ad flumina pulcher Amyntas, [ 70 ]
Hic gelidi fontes, hîc illita gramina musco,
Hic Zephyri, hîc placidas interstrepit arbutus undas;
Ista canunt surdo, frutices ego nactus abibam.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Mopsus ad hæc, nam me redeuntem forte notârat, [ 75 ]
(Et callebat avium linguas, & sydera Mopsus)
Thyrsi, quid hoc? dixit, quæ te coquit improba bilis?
Aut te perdit amor, aut te malè fascinat astrum,
Saturni grave sæpe fuit pastoribus astrum,
Intimaque obliquo figit præcordia plumbo. [ 80 ]

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Mirantur nymphæ, & quid te Thyrsi, futurum est?
Quid tibi vis? ajunt, non hæc solet esse juventæ
Nubila frons, oculique truces, vultusque severi,
Illa choros, lususque leves, & semper amorem [ 85 ]
Jure petit; bis ille miser qui serus amavit.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Venit Hyas, Dryopéque, & filia Baucidis Aegle,
Docta modos, citharæque sciens, sed perdita fastu,
Venit Idumanii Chloris vicina fluenti; [ 90 ]
Nil me blanditiæ, nil me solantia verba,
Nil me, si quid adest, movet, aut spes ulla futuri.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Hei mihi quam similes ludunt per prata juvenci,
Omnes unanimi secum sibi lege sodales, [ 95 ]
Nec magis hunc alio quisquam secernit amicum
De grege, sic densi veniunt ad pabula thoes,
Inque vicem hirsuti paribus junguntur onagri;
Lex eadem pelagi, deserto in littore Proteus
Agmina Phocarum numerat, vilisque volucrum [ 100 ]
Passer habet semper quicum sit, & omnia circum
Farra libens volitet, serò sua tecta revisens,
Quem si fors letho objecit, seu milvus adunco
Fata tulit rostro, seu stravit arundine fossor,
Protinus ille alium socio petit inde volatu. [ 105 ]
Nos durum genus, & diris exercita fatis
Gens homines aliena animis, & pectore discors,
Vix sibi quisque parem de millibus invenit unum,
Aut, si sors dederit tandem non aspera votis,
Illum inopina dies quâ non speraveris horâ [ 110 ]
Surripit, æternum linquens in sæcula damnum.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Heu quis me ignotas traxit vagus error in oras
Ire per aëreas rupes, Alpemque nivosam!
Ecquid erat tanti Romam vidisse sepultam? [ 115 ]
Quamvis illa foret, qualem dum viseret olim,
Tityrus ipse suas & oves & rura reliquit,
Ut te tam dulci possem caruisse sodale,
Possem tot maria alta, tot interponere montes,
Tot silvas, tot saxa tibi, fluviosque sonantes. [ 120 ]
Ah certè extremùm licuisset tangere dextram,
Et bene compositos placidè morientis ocellos,
Et dixisse, vale, nostri memor ibis ad astra.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Quamquam etiam vestri nunquam meminisse pigebit [ 125 ]
Pastores Thusci Musis operata juventus,
Hic Charis, atque Lepos; & Thuscus tu quoque Damon,
Antiquâ genus unde petis Lucumonis ab urbe.
O ego quantus eram, gelidi cum stratus ad Arni
Murmura, populeumque nemus, quà mollior herba, [ 130 ]
Carpere nunc violas, nunc summas carpere myrtos,
Et potui Lycidæ certantem audire Menalcam.
Ipse etiam tentare ausus sum, nec puto multum
Displicui, nam sunt & apud me munera vestra
Fiscellæ, calathique & cerea vincla cicutæ. [ 135 ]
Quin & nostra suas docuerunt nomina fagos
Et Datis, & Francinus, erant & vocibus ambo
Et studiis noti, Lydorum sanguinis ambo.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Hæc mihi tum læto dictabat roscida luna, [ 140 ]
Dum solus teneros claudebam cratibus hœdos.
Ah quoties dixi, cùm te cinis ater habebat,
Nunc canit, aut lepori nunc tendit retia Damon,
Vimina nunc texit, varios sibi quod sit in usus;
Et quæ tum facile sperabam mente futura [ 145 ]
Arripui voto levis, & præsentia finxi,
Heus bone numquid agis? nisi te quid forte retardat,
Imus? & argutâ paulùm recubamus in umbra,
Aut ad aquas Colni, aut ubi jugera Cassibelauni?
Tu mihi percurres medicos, tua gramina, succos, [ 150 ]
Helleborùmque, humilésque crocos, foliûmque hyacinthi,
Quasque habet ista palus herbas, artesque medentûm,
Ah pereant herbæ, pereant artesque medentñm,
Gramina, postquam ipsi nil profecere magistro.
Ipse etiam, nam nescio quid mihi grande sonabat [ 155 ]
Fistula, ab undecimâ jam lux est altera nocte,
Et tum forte novis admôram labra cicutis,
Dissiluere tamen rupta compage, nec ultra
Ferre graves potuere sonos, dubito quoque ne sim
Turgidulus, tamen & referam, vos cedite silvæ. [ 160 ]

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Ipse ego Dardanias Rutupina per æquora puppes
Dicam, & Pandrasidos regnum vetus Inogeniæ,
Brennúmque Arviragumque duces, priscúmque Belinum,
Et tandem Armoricos Britonum sub lege colonos; [ 165 ]
Tum gravidam Arturo fatali fraude Jëgernen,
Mendaces vultus, assumptáque Gorlöis arma,
Merlini dolus. O mihi tum si vita supersit,
Tu procul annosa pendebis fistula pinu
Multùm oblita mihi, aut patriis mutata camœnis [ 170 ]
Brittonicum strides, quid enim? omnia non licet uni
Non sperasse uni licet omnia, mi satis ampla
Merces, & mihi grande decus (sim ignotus in ævum
Tum licet, externo penitúsque inglorius orbi)
Si me flava comas legat Usa, & potor Alauni, [ 175 ]
Vorticibúsque frequens Abra, & nemus omne Treantæ,
Et Thamesis meus ante omnes, & fusca metallis
Tamara, & extremis me discant Orcades undis.

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
Hæc tibi servabam lentâ sub cortice lauri, [ 180 ]
Hæc, & plura simul, tum quæ mihi pocula Mansus,
Mansus, Chalcidicæ non ultima gloria ripæ
Bina dedit, mirum artis opus, mirandus & ipse,
Et circùm gemino cælaverat argumento:
In medio rubri maris unda, & odoriferum ver [ 185 ]
Littora longa Arabum, & sudantes balsama silvæ,
Has inter Phoenix, divina avis, unica terris
Cæruleùm fulgens diversicoloribus alis
Auroram vitreis surgentem respicit undis.
Parte alia polus omnipatens, & magnus Olympus, [ 190 ]
Quis putet? hic quoque Amor, pictæque in nube pharetræ,
Arma corusca, faces, & spicula tincta pyropo;
Nec tenues animas, pectúsque ignobile vulgi
Hinc ferit; at circùm flammantia lumina torquens
Semper in erectum spargit sua tela per orbes [ 195 ]
Impiger, & pronos nunquam collimat ad ictus,
Hinc mentes ardere sacræ, formæque deorum.

Tu quoque in his, nec me fallit spes lubrica Damon;
Tu quoque in his certè es, nam quò tua dulcis abiret
Sanctáque simplicitas, nam quò tua candida virtus? [ 200 ]
Nec te Lethæo fas quæsivisse sub orco,
Nec tibi conveniunt lacrymæ, nec flebimus ultra,
Ite procul lacrymæ purum colit æthera Damon,
Æthera purus habet, pluvium pede reppulit arcum;
Heroúmque animas inter, divósque perennes, [ 205 ]
Æthereos haurit latices & gaudia potat
Ore Sacro. Quin tu cœli post jura recepta
Dexter ades, placidúsque fave quicúnque vocaris,
Seu tu noster eris Damon, sive æquior audis
Diodatus, quo te divino nomine cuncti [ 210 ]
Cœlicolæ norint, silvísque vocabere Damon.
Quòd tibi purpureus pudor, & sine labe juventus
Grata fuit, quòd nulla tori libata voluptas,
En etiam tibi virginei servantur honores;
Ipse caput nitidum cinctus rutilante corona, [ 215 ]
Letáque frondentis gestans umbracula palmæ
Æternùm perages immortales hymenæos;
Cantus ubi, choreisque furit lyra mista beatis,
Festa Sionæo bacchantur & Orgia Thyrso.

Damon's Epitaph

The Argument

Thyrsis and Damon, shepherds of the same neighbourhood and following the same pursuits, were most intimate friends from boyhood. Thyrsis, who had gone abroad for the improvement of his mind, received news of Damon's death. Having afterward returned home and discovered that the news was true, he deplores himself and his solitude in this poem. Under the guise of Damon is here understood Charles Diodati, connected on his father's side with the Tuscan city of Lucca, otherwise an Englishman, a youth distinguished while he lived for genius, learning, and other most notable virtues.

Damon's Epitaph

Nymphs of Himera — for you remember Daphnis and Hylas and the long lamented fate of Bion — repeat this Sicilian song through the cities of Thames; tell what words, what murmurs, unhappy Thyrsis poured forth, and with what ceaseless complaints he disturbed the caves, the rivers, the eddying fountains, and the recesses of the groves, while he mourned to himself for Damon snatched away, nor left deep night free from his lamentations as he wandered in lonely places. Twice the stalk had risen with green ear, and as often had the garners counted the yellow crops, since his last day had borne Damon down to the shades, and Thyrsis was not there the while; love of the sweet muse forsooth detained that shepherd in a Tuscan city. But when a full mind, and the care of the flock he had left behind, called him home, and when he sat once more beneath his accustomed elm, then, then at last he felt in truth the loss of his friend, and began thus to vent his measureless sorrow:

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Ah me! what deities shall I name in earth or heaven, now that they have torn you away, Damon, by inexorable death? Do you leave me thus, and is your virtue to go without a name and be merged with the obscure shades? But nay, let him who with his golden wand marshals the souls will it otherwise, and may he lead you into a company that is worthy of you, and keep far off the whole base herd of the silent dead.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Be sure whatever comes, unless the wolf shall first see me, you shall not moulder in the tomb unwept; your honour shall endure and long flourish among shepherds. To you next after Daphnis shall they rejoice to fulfill their vows, and next after Daphnis of you to speak their praises, so long as Pales, so long as Faunus, love the fields — if it aught avails to have cherished the ancient faith and piety, and the Palladian arts, and to have had a musical compeer.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. These rewards for you remain certain, Damon; they shall be yours. But what will become of me; what faithful friend will stay close by my side as you were wont to do in bitter cold through places rough with frost, or under the fierce sun with the grasses dying from drought, whether the task were to go within spear's throw of great lions or to frighten the ravenous wolves from the high sheepfolds? Who will now lull my day to rest with talk and song?

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. To whom may I entrust my heart? Who will teach me to assuage my gnawing cares and to cheat the long night with pleasant conversation, when the mellow pears hiss before the cheery fire, nuts crackle on the hearth, and outside the stormy south wind is throwing all in confusion and comes roaring through the elms.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Or in summer when the day turns on mid-axle, when Pan takes his sleep hidden in the oak shade, and the nymphs return to their wonted seats beneath the waters, when shepherds lie concealed, and the husbandman snores beneath the hedge, who will then bring back to me your blandishments, your laughter, Cecropian wit, culture and charm?

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Now I wander in the fields alone, alone through the pastures; wherever the shady branches grow thick in the valleys, there I await the evening, while overhead rain and the south-east wind sadly moan, and the twilight of the forest is broken with gleams of light.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Alas, how my fields once tilled are overgrown with trailing weeds, and even the tall corn droops with blight! The cluster of grapes withers unwedded to the stalk. The myrtle groves please me not. I am weary too of my sheep, but even they are sad and turn their faces to their master.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Tityrus calls to the hazels, Alphesiboeus to the mountain ashes, Aegon to the willows, fair Amyntas to the rivers.

"'Here are cool fountains,' they cry, 'here are mossy greenswards, here are the zephyrs, here the arbutus whispers amid peaceful streams.'"

"But, deaf to their songs, I gain the thickets and withdraw.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Then Mopsus spoke, for he by chance had noticed me returning — Mopsus who was versed in the stars and in the language of birds:

"'What is this, Thyrsis?' said he; 'What black melancholy is tormenting you? Either you are wasting with love, or some star is casting an evil spell over you. Saturn's star has often been baleful to shepherds, and his slant leaden shaft has pierced your inmost breast.'

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. The nymphs are amazed and cry:

"'What will become of you, Thyrsis? What do you wish? The brow of youth is not commonly cloudy, the eyes stern, the mien austere; youth seeks dances and nimble sports, and always love as its right. Twice wretched is he who loves late.'

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Hyas came, and Dryope, and Aegle, the daughter of Baucis — Aegle instructed in numbers and skilled on the lyre, but overly proud; Chloris came, a neighbour of the Idumanian river. Their blandishments , their comforting words, are nothing to me; nothing in the present moves me, nor have I any hope for the future.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Ah me! how like one another are the young cattle that frolic through the fields, all comrades to each other under one harmonious law; none seeks from out the herd a special friend. Even so the jackals come in packs to their food, and the shaggy wild asses by turn are joined in pairs. The law of the sea is the same, where on the desert shore Proteus numbers his troops of sea-calves. Even that paltry bird the sparrow always has a mate with whom it happily flies about to every heap of grain, and returns at evening to its own thatch; yet should chance strike one of them dead — whether the kite with hooked beak has brought this fate, or the clown has pierced it with his arrow — the other seeks a new mate to be henceforth its companion in flight. But we men are a stony race, a tribe vexed by stern fates, alien in our minds one from the other, in our hearts discordant. Hardly from among thousands does one find a single kindred spirit, or if fortune not unfriendly gives one such in answer to our prayers, yet in a day and an hour when we least expect it he is snatched away, leaving an everlasting wound.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Ah, what wandering fancy lured me to traverse lofty cliffs and snowy Alps to unknown shores! Was there any such need to see buried Rome — even had it been what it was when Tityrus left his sheep and his pastures to see it — that I could part with so charming a companion, that I could put between us so many deep seas, so many mountains, forests, rocks, and roaring streams? Surely had I stayed I might at the last have touched the hand, and closed the eyes, of him who was peacefully dying, might have said, 'Farewell, remember me when you go to the stars.'

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. Even though I shall never weary of remembering you, O Tuscan shepherds, youths devoted to the muses, yet here too were grace and charm; and you too, Damon, were a Tuscan tracing your lineage from the ancient city of Lucca. O how elated I was when, stretched by cool murmuring Arno and the poplar grove that softens the grass, I lay, now plucking violets, now sprays of myrtle, and listened to Menalcas contending with Lycidas in song! Even I myself dared to enter the contest, nor do I think I greatly displeased you, for I still have with me your gifts, reed baskets, bowls, and shepherd's pipes with waxen stops. Nay, both Dati and Francini, renowned for their eloquence and their learning, and both of Lydian blood, have taught my name to their beeches.

"Go, home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. These things the dewy moon used to tell me, when happy and alone I was shutting my tender kids in their wattled cotes. Ah! how often have I said when already you were but dark ashes:

"'Now Damon is singing, or stretching nets for the hare; now he is plaiting osiers for his various uses.'

"What I then with easy mind hoped for the future, with the wish I lightly seized and fancied present.

"Say, good friend, are you free? If nothing prevents us, let us go and lie down a while in the mumuring shade, by the waters of Colne, or in the fields of Cassivellanus. You shall tell me of your healing herbs and juices, hellebore, the lowly crocus, and the leaf of the hyacinth, whatever plants the marshes yield, and tell me of the physician's art.

"Ah! perish the herbs and the simplex, perish the physician's art, since they have profited their master nothing! And I — for I know not what my pipe was grandly sounding — it is now eleven nights and a day — and then perhaps I had put my lips to new pipes, but they burst asunder, broken at the fastening, and could no more bear the deep tones — I hesitate too lest I seem conceited, yet I will tell the tale — give place then, O forests.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. I would tell of Dardanian ships along the Rutupian Sea, and of the ancient realm of Imogen, Pandrasus' daughter, of the leaders Brennus and Arviragus, and old Belinus, and of colonists in Armorica under British laws; then I would tell of Igraine pregnant with Arthur by a fatal fraud, of the seeming face and counterfeit arms of Gorlois, Merlin's artifice. Ah! then if life remain, you, my pipe, shall hang on some aged pine far off and forgotten, unless forsaking your native songs you shrilly sound a British theme. Why not a British theme? One man cannot do all things, cannot hope to do all things. Sufficient my reward, my honours ample — even if I am for ever unknown and wholly without fame in foreign parts — if yellow-haired Ouse reads me, and he who drinks the waters of Alaun, and Abra full of eddies, and all the woods of Trent, and above all my own Thames, and Tamar stained with metals, and if the Orkneys and their remotest waves but learn my songs.

"Go home unfed, my lambs, your troubled master is not free to tend you. These things I was keeping for you under the tough bark of the laurel, these and more besides. Then I thought to show you the two cups that Manso, not the least glory of the Chalcidian shore, gave me; a wonderful work of art they are — but Manso himself is wonderful. Round about they arc decorated with a double band of carving. In the middle arc the waters of the Red Sea and the odoriferous spring, the far off coasts of Arabia and the trees dropping balsam, amidst these the phoenix, divine bird, alone of its kind on earth, gleaming blue, with wings of many colours, watches Aurora rise over the glassy waves. In another part are great Olympus and the whole expanse of heaven. Yes, and who would believe it? Here too is Love, his quiver, flashing arms, and torch, his darts tipped with fiery bronze, all pictured in a cloud. He does not aim at little souls and the ignoble hearts of the rabble, but, rolling his flaming eyes about, unwearied he ever scatters his missiles on high through the spheres, and never aims his shots downward. Hence minds immortal and forms divine are inflamed with love.

"You too are among these, Damon — nor does elusive hope deceive me — surely you too are among these; for whither should your sweet and holy simplicity retire, whither your spotless virtue? It is wrong to seek you in Lethean Orcus. Tears become you not, and I shall weep no more. Away then tears! Damon dwells in the purity of heaven, for he himself is pure. He has thrust back the rainbow with his foot, and among the souls of heroes and the everlasting gods he quaffs the heavenly waters, and drinks of joys with his sacred lips. But now that the rights of heaven are yours, stand by my side and gently befriend me, whatever be now your name, whether you would still be our Damon, or whether you prefer to be called Diodati, by which divine name all the dwellers in heaven will know you, but in the forests you will still be called Damon. Because a rosy blush, and a youth without stain were dear to you, because you never tasted the pleasure of marriage, lo! for you are reserved a virgin's honours. Your noble head bound with a glittering wreath, in your hands the glad branches of the leafy palm, you shall for ever act and act again the immortal nuptials, where song and the lyre, mingled with the blessed dances, wax rapturous, and the joyous revels rage under the thyrsus of Zion."