GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:1.18.9-1.18.16 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2:1.18.9-1.18.16

And the Thracians too may warn us; truth and falsehood, good and ill,How they mix them, when the wine-god's hand is heavy on them laid!Never, never, gracious Bacchus, may I move thee 'gainst thy will,Or uncover what is hidden in the verdure of thy shade!Silence thou thy savage cymbals, and the Berecyntine horn;In their train Self-love still follows, dully, desperately blind,And Vain-glory, towering upwards in its emptyheaded scorn,And the Faith that keeps no secrets, with a window in its mind.