Classic Poem

In a blind corner jolly Bacchus taught
  The Nymphs, and Satyrs poetry;
My self (a thing scarce to be thought)
  Was at that time a stander by.
And ever since the whim runs in my head,
  With heavenly frenzy I'm on fire;
Dear Bacchus let me not be punished
  For raving, when thou did'st inspire.
Extatically drunk, I now dare sing
  Thy bigot Thyades , and the source
Whence thy brisk Wine, Hony, and Milk did spring,
  Enchanell'd by thy Scepters force.
Bold as I am, I dare yet higher fly,
  And sing bright Ariadne 's Crown,
Rejoice to see bold Pentheus destiny,
  And grave Lycurgus tumbled down.
Rivers, and Seas thine Empire all obey,
  When thou thy standard do'st advance,
Wild Mountaineers, thy Vassals, trim and gay,
  In tune and time stagger and dance.
Thou when great Jove began to fear his throne;
  (In no small danger then he was)
The mighty Rhœcus thou did'st piss upon,
  And of that Lion mad'st an Ass.
'Tis true, thy Talent is not War, but mirth;
  The Fiddle, not the Trumpet, thine;
Yet did'st thou bravely lay about thee then,
  Great Moderator, God of Wine.
And when to Hell in triumph thou did'st ride
  'Ore Cerberus thou did'st prevail,
The silly Curr, Thee for his Master own'd,
  And like a Puppy wagg'd his tail.