See! with ivy chaplet bound, And wreaths of vernal roses crowned, See Bacchus comes and brings along Blooming mirth and cheerful song, But, ah! no myrtle there is seen, No laurel spreads a lasting green! Say, does Apollo fly the train? Or lovely Venus wine disdain? Behold the muses now appear, And willing Beauty sighs sincere. Happier far than gods above, We fill to Harmony and Love Happier far than men below, Now with sparkling wine we glow. Happier still our lot shall be, Blessed with these and Liberty.
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