4 
THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. 
 
Are there not playmates  
Enough and to spare, 
Gallant and gay mates, 
Each one of us fair ? 
 
Bountiful measures of 
Beautiful wine : 
Infinite treasures of 
Bacchus divine ! 
Hail to the Lord of us ! 
Blithe is his reign. 
Be thou adored of us, 
Soul without stain ! 
 
Fair are the faces, and 
Limbs of us light, 
Tracing the paces, and 
Drunk with delight. 
Io !  let us tremble in 
Trance of the tune 
Here that assemble in 
Joyaunce of June ! 
 
ATTHIS 
 
Doris, our darling !  How subtle and sweet