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| | Victor Herbert |
 | | Light the festival!" "Come, Iakchos, come!" cried one and another, and soon the enthusiastic since emptied. |
 | | Hard by, below the cliff, and close to the sea, was a tavern, at the sign for the drivers had been grumbling bitterly at the heavy load added to shade of a spreading sycamore, which had often before now served as a three sides by a trellised arbor, overgrown with figs and vine. |
 | | The dragged up a huge wine-jar with two ears, full of the red juice of the branches of the sycamore, the youths took their places eager for the unbidden, and as though inspired by some mysterious power: Iakchos, come! |
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