BACCHUS.

I'm glad I was prevented.

JUPITER.

A lucky disappointment, on my life,

All love is thrown away upon a wife:

Aside.

How sad! My interruption could not please her.

She moves my pity—

CUPID.

Soften, Jove, and ease her.

JUPITER.

Juno, thy hand, the girls no more I'll drive at,
I will be ever thine-or wench more private. Aside.

AIR.

Smooth the furrows of thy brow,

Jove is all the lover now;

Others he'll no more pursue,

But be ever fix'd to you.

JUNO.

Then contented I resign,

My prerogative of scolding;
Quiet when thy love is mine,

When my arms with thine are folding.

CUPID.

Then jolly Bacchus, why should we stand out,
If we have quarrelled, zounds we'll drink about.

AIR.

Love and wine uniting,

Rule without controul;

Are to the sense delighting,

And captivate the soul.

Love and wine uniting,

Are every where ador'd;
Their pleasures are inviting,

All heav'n they can afford.

BACCHUS.

Zounds, I agree, 'tis folly to oppose it:

Let's

pay our duty here, and then we'll close it.

To you, ye brave, ye fair, ye gay,
Permit me from myself to say;
The juicy grape for you shall rise,
In all the colours of the skies;
For you the vine's delicious fruit
Shall on the lofty mountains shoot;
And ev'ry wine to Bacchus dear
Shall sparkle in perfection here.

CUPID.

For you, ye fair, whose heavenly charms,

Make all my arrows useless arms;
For you shall Handel's lofty flight
Clash on the list'ning ear of night,
And the soft melting sinking lay
In gentle accents die away:
And not a whisper shall appear,
Which modesty would blush to hear.

JUNO.

Ye brave, the pillars of the state,
In valour and in conduct great,

For you the rushing clang of arms,

The yell of battle and alarms,
Shall from the martial trumpets fly,
And echo through the mantling sky.

JUPITER.

From you, ye glories of mankind,
We hope a firm support to find;
All that our humble powers can do
Shall be displayed to pleasure you;
On you we build a wish'd success,
'Tis yours, like deities, to bless.
Your smiles will better every scene,
And clothe our barren waste in green.

CHORUS.

So when along the eastern skies,

The glories of the morning rise,

The humble flower which slept the night, Expands its beauties to the light,

Glows in its glossy new array,

And shines amidst the shining day.

END OF THE REVENGE.

SONGS.

A BACCHANALIAN.

SUNG BY

Mr. REINHOLD.

Bacchus, ever smiling Power,
Patron of the festive hour!

Here thy genuine nectar roll
To the wide capacious bowl,
While gentility and glee
Make these gardens worthy thee.

Bacchus, ever mirth and joy, Laughing, wanton, happy boy! Here advance thy clustered crown, Send thy purple blessings down; With the Nine to please conspire, Wreath the ivy round the lyre.