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44
He Was a Prince of Power and Might
Who held his wealth in changing curls
Of many girls,
By passion's passing whim.
Dusting his eyes
With flatteries,
His clouded vision
Saw fields Elysian
In scenes of rank debaucheries;
Until his name,
Of lofty fame,
Sank into shame.
He once was heard to say:
'Which is the God,
Jesus or Bacchus,
Over us?
Which heaven's true way—
Where the snow on the mountain shines,
Or where the valley's vines
Beckon and nod,
With countless clusters
