# Tragedies of Euripides (Way)/The Bacchanals

The Bacchanals is a Greek tragedy written by Euripides. This English translation was done by Arthur S. Way. It was first published in London in 1898, in Volume III of The Tragedies of Euripides, in English verse.
Following the play is an Appendix to the "Bacchanals."
Layout 2
THE BACCHANALS.
ARGUMENT.
Semele the daughter of Kadmus, a mortal bride of Zeus, was persuaded by Hera to pray the God to promise her with an oath to grant her whatsoever she would. And, when he had consented, she asked that he would appear to her in all the splendour of his godhead, even as he visited Hera. Then Zeus, not of his will, but constrained by his oath, appeared to her amidst intolerable light and flashings of heaven's lightning, whereby her mortal body was consumed. But the God snatched her unborn babe from the flames, and hid him in a cleft of his thigh, till the days were accomplished wherein he should be born. And so the child Dionysus sprang from the thigh of Zeus, and was hidden from the jealous malice of Hera till he was grown. Then did he set forth in victorious march through all the earth, bestowing upon men the gift of the vine, and planting his worship everywhere. But the sisters of Semelê scoffed at the story of the heavenly bridegroom, and mocked at the worship of Dionysus. And when Kadmus was now old, Pentheus his grandson reigned in his stead, and he ​too defied the Wine-giver, saying that he was no god, and that none in Thebes should ever worship him.
And herein is told how Dionysus came in human guise to Thebes, and filled her women with the Bacchanal possession, and how Pentheus, essaying to withstand him, was punished by strange and awful doom.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Teiresias, a prophet, old and blind.
Kadmus, formerly king of Thebes.
Pentheus, king of Thebes, grandson of Kadmus.
Servant of Pentheus.
Herdman.
Messenger, servant of Pentheus.
Agave, mother of Pentheus, daughter of Kadmus.
Chorus, consisting of Bacchanals, Asiatic women who have followed Dionysus.
Guards, attendants.
Scene:—before the royal palace of Thebes.
THE BACCHANALS.
Enter Dionysus.
Dionysus.
I to this land of Thebes have come, Zeus' Son Dionysus, born erstwhile of Kadmus' child Semelê, brought by levin-brand to travail. My shape from God to mortal semblance changed, I stand by Dirkê's springs, Ismenus' flood. 5 I see my thunder-blasted mother's tomb Here nigh the halls: the ruins of her home Smoulder with Zeus's flame that liveth yet— Hera's undying outrage on my mother. Kadmus doth well, that he ordains this close, 10 His child's grave, hallowed: with the clustering green Of vines I, even I, embowered it round. Leaving the gold-abounding Lydian meads And Phrygian, o'er the Persian's sun-smit tracts, By Bactrian strongholds, Media's storm-swept land, 15 Still pressing on, by Araby the Blest, And through all Asia, by the briny sea Lying with stately-towered cities thronged, Peopled with Hellenes blent with aliens, To this of Hellene cities first I come. 20 My dances there and rites have I ordained That I might be God manifest to men. ​So, of all Hellas, Thebes with my acclaim I first thrilled, there with fawn-skin girt her limbs, And gave her hand the ivied thyrsus-spear, 25 Because my mother's sisters—shame on them!— Proclaimed Dionysus never born of Zeus; But Semelê by a man undone, said they, Charged upon Zeus her sin of wantonness— A subtle wile of Kadmus! Hence, they vaunted, 30 Zeus slew the liar who named him paramour. These therefore frenzy-stung I have driven from home, And mid the hills with soul distraught they dwell, The vesture of my revels forced to wear; And all the woman-seed of Kadmus' folk, 35 Yea all, I drave forth raving from their homes: And, mingled with the sons of Kadmus, these 'Neath green pines sit on crags all shelterless. For this Thebes needs must learn, how loth soe'er, What means it not to be in my great rites 40 Initiate, and that Semelê's cause I plead, To men God manifest, whom she bare to Zeus. Now Kadmus gave his crown and royal estate To Pentheus, of another daughter born, Who wars with Heaven in me, and from libations 45 Thrusts, nor makes mention of me in his prayers. Therefore to him my godhead will I prove, And to all Thebans. To another land Then, after triumph here, will I depart, And manifest myself. If Thebes in wrath 50 Take arms to chase her Bacchants from the hills, Leading my Maenads I will clash in fight. For this cause have I taken mortal form, And changed my shape to fashion of a man. Ho, ye who Lydia's rock-wall, Tmolus, left, 55 ​Women, my revel-rout, from alien homes To share my rest and my wayfaring brought, Uplift the cymbals to the Phrygian towns Native, great Mother Rhea's device and mine, And smite them, compassing yon royal halls 60 Of Pentheus, so that Kadmus' town may see. I to Kithairon's glens will go, where bide My Bacchanals, and join the dances there. [Exit.
Enter Chorus, waving the thyrsus-wands, and clashing their timbrels.
Chorus.
(Str. 1) From Asian soil Far over the hallowed ridges of Tmolus fleeting, To the task that I love do I speed, to my painless toil For the Clamour-king, hailing the Bacchanals' God with greeting. (Ant. 1) Who is there in the way? In the dwelling who lingereth? Forth!—and let each one, sealing His lips from irreverence, hallow them. Now, in the lay 70 Dionysus ordains, will I chant him, his hymn outpealing. (Str. 2) O happy to whom is the blessedness given To be taught in the mysteries sent from heaven, Who is pure in his life, through whose soul the unsleeping Revel goes sweeping! ​Made meet by the sacred purifying For the Bacchanal rout o'er the mountains flying, For the orgies of Cybelê mystery-folden, Of the Mother olden, Wreathed with the ivy sprays, 80 The thyrsus on high doth he raise, Singing the Vine-god's praise— Come, Bacchanals, come! The Clamour-king, child of a God, O'er the mountains of Phrygia who trod, Unto Hellas's highways broad Bring him home, bring him home!— (Ant. 2) The God whom his mother,—when anguish tore her Of the travail resistless that deathward bore her On the wings of the thunder of Zeus down-flying,— 90 Brought forth at her dying An untimely birth, as her spirit departed Stricken from life by the flame down-darted: But in birth-bowers new did Zeus Kronion Receive his scion; For, hid in a cleft of his thigh, By the gold-clasps knit, did he lie Safe hidden from Hera's eye Till the Fates' day came; Then a God bull-horned Zeus bare, 100 And with serpents entwined his hair: And for this do his Maenads wear In their tresses the same. (Str. 3) Thebes, nursing-town of Semelê, crown With the ivy thy brows, and be All bloom, embowered in the starry-flowered Lush green of the briony, ​While the oak and pine thy tresses entwine In thy bacchanal-ecstasy. 110
And thy fawn-skin flecked, with a fringe be it decked Of wool white-glistering In silvery tassels;—O Bacchus' vassals, High-tossed let the wild wands swing! One dancing-band shall be all the land When, led by the Clamour-king,
His revel-rout fills the hills—the hills Where thy women abide till he come Whom the Vine-god chasing, in frenzy racing, Hunted from shuttle and loom. (Ant. 3) O cavern that rang when Curetes sang, 120 O bower of the Babe Zeus' birth, Where the Corybants, dancing with helm-crests glancing Through the dark halls under the earth, This timbrel found whose hide-stretched round We smite, and its Bacchanal mirth
They blent with the cry ringing sweet and high From the flutes of the Phrygian land, And its thunder, soaring o'er revel-shout's roaring, They gave unto Rhea's hand; But the gift passed on from the Mother, won 130 By the madding Satyr-band;
And to Semelê's child gave the woodfolk wild The homage he holdeth dear, When the timbrels clashing to feet white-flashing Are wedded in each third year. ​(Epode) O trance of rapture, when, reeling aside From the Bacchanal rout o'er the mountains flying, One sinks to the earth, and the fawn's flecked hide Covers him lying With its sacred vesture, wherein he hath chased 140 The goat to the death for its blood—for the taste Of the feast raw-reeking, when over the hill Of Phrygia, of Lydia, the wild feet haste, And the Clamour-king leads, and our hearts he thrills "Evoë!" crying!
Flowing with milk is the ground, and with wine is it flowing, and flowing Nectar of bees; and a smoke as of incense of Araby soars; And the Bacchanal, lifting the flame of the brand of the pine ruddy-glowing, Waveth it wide, and with shouts, from the point of the wand as it pours, Challengeth revellers straying, on-racing, on-dancing, and throwing 150 Loose to the breezes his curls, while clear through the chorus that roars Cleaveth his shout,—"On, Bacchanal-rout, On, Bacchanal maidens, ye glory of Tmolus the hill gold-welling, Blend the acclaim of your chant with the timbrels thunder-knelling, Glad-pealing the glad God's praises out With Phrygian cries and the voice of singing, When upsoareth the sound of the melody-fountain, ​Of the hallowed ringing of flutes far-flinging 160 The notes that chime with the feet that climb The pilgrim-path to the mountain!" And with rapture the Bacchanal onward racing, With gambollings fleet As of foals round the mares in the meads that are grazing, Speedeth her feet.
Enter Teiresias.
Teiresias.
Gate-warder, ho! call Kadmus forth the halls, 160 Agenor's son, who came from Sidon-town, And with towers girded this the Thebans' burg. Go, one; say to him that Teiresias Seeks him—he knoweth for what cause I come, The old man's covenant with the elder-born 170 To entwine the thyrsi and the fawnskin don, And crown our heads with wreaths of ivy-sprays.
Enter Kadmus.
Kadmus.
Dear friend, within mine house I heard thy voice, And knew it, the wise utterance of the wise. Ready I come, thus in the God's garb dight. 180 For him, who is my daughter's very son, Dionysus, who to men hath shown his godhead, Ought we with all our might to magnify. Where shall we dance now, and where plant the foot, And toss the silvered head? Instruct thou me; 185 Let eld guide eld, Teiresias: wise art thou. I shall not weary, nor by night nor day, Smiting on earth the thyrsus. We forget For joy our age.
Teiresias.
Thine heart is even as mine. I too am young, I will essay the dance. 190
Kadmus.
Come, to the mountain fare we, chariot-borne.
Teiresias.
Nay, so were the God's honour minishèd!
Kadmus.
Age ushering age, I will escort thee on.
Teiresias.
We shall not tire; the God will lead us thither.
Kadmus.
Shall we alone of Thebes to Bacchus dance? 195
Teiresias.
Yea, we alone are wise; the rest be fools.
Kadmus.
Too long we linger. Come, grasp thou mine hand.
Teiresias.
Lo there: clasp close the interlinking hand.
Kadmus.
Not I contemn the Gods, I, mortal-born!
Teiresias.
'Tis not for us to reason touching Gods. 200 ​Traditions of our fathers, old as time, We hold: no reasoning shall cast them down,— No, though of subtlest wit our wisdom spring. Haply shall one say I respect not eld, Who ivy-crowned address me to the dance. 205 Nay, for distinction none the God hath made Whether the young or stricken in years must dance: From all alike he claims his due of honour; By halves he cares not to be magnified.
Kadmus.
Since thou, Teiresias, seest not this light, 210 I will for thee be spokesman of thy words. Lo to these halls comes Pentheus hastily, Echion's son, to whom I gave the throne. How wild his mood! What strange thing will he tell?
Enter Pentheus.
Pentheus.
It chanced that, sojourning without this land, 215 I heard of strange misdeeds in this my town, How from their homes our women have gone forth Feigning a Bacchic rapture, and rove wild O'er wooded hills, in dances honouring Dionysus, this new God—whoe'er he be. 220 And midst each revel-rout the wine-bowls stand Brimmed: and to lonely nooks, some here, some there, They steal, to work with men the deed of shame, In pretext Maenad priestesses, forsooth, But honouring Aphroditê more than Bacchus. 225 As many as I have seized my servants keep Safe in the common prison manacled. But those yet forth, will I hunt from the hills— ​Ino, Agavê, who bare me to Echion, Autonoê withal, Aktaion's mother. 230 In toils of iron trapped, full soon shall they Cease from this pestilent Bacchic revelling. Men say a stranger to the land hath come, A juggling sorcerer from Lydia-land, With essenced hair in golden tresses tossed, 235 Wine-flushed, Love's witching graces in his eyes, Who with the damsels day and night consorts, Making pretence of Evian mysteries. If I within these walls but prison him, Farewell to thyrsus-taboring, and to locks 240 Free-tossed; for neck from shoulders will I hew. He saith that Dionysus is a God! Saith, he was once sewn up in Zeus's thigh— Who, with his mother, was by lightning-flames Blasted, because she lied of Zeus's love. 245 Is not this worthy hanging's awful doom, Thus to blaspheme, whoe'er the stranger be? But lo, another marvel this—the seer Teiresias, in dappled fawnskins clad! Yea, and my mother's sire—O sight for laughter!— 250 Tossing the reed-wand! Father, I take shame Beholding these grey hairs so sense-bereft. Fling off the ivy; let the thyrsus fall, And set thine hand free, O my mother's sire. Thou didst, Teiresias, draw him on to this: 255 'Tis thou wouldst foist this new God upon men ​For augury and divination's wage! Except thine hoary hairs protected thee, Thou shouldst amid the Bacchanals sit in chains, For bringing in these pestilent rites; for when 260 In women's feasts the cluster's pride hath part, No good, say I, comes of their revelry.
Chorus.
Blasphemy!—Stranger, dost not reverence heaven, Nor Kadmus, sower of the earth-born seed? Son of Echion, thou dost shame thy birth! 265
Teiresias.
Whene'er a wise man finds a noble theme For speech, 'tis easy to be eloquent. Thou—roundly runs thy tongue, as thou wert wise; But in these words of thine sense is there none. The rash man, armed with power and ready of speech, 270 Is a bad citizen, as void of sense. But this new God, whom thou dost laugh to scorn, I cannot speak the greatness whereunto In Hellas he shall rise. Two chiefest Powers, Prince, among men there are: divine Demeter— 275 Earth is she, name her by which name thou wilt;— She upon dry food nurtureth mortal men: Then followeth Semelê's Son; to match her gift The cluster's flowing draught he found, and gave To mortals, which gives rest from grief to men 280 ​Woe-worn, soon as the vine's stream filleth them. And sleep, the oblivion of our daily ills, He gives—there is none other balm for toils. He is the Gods' libation, though a God, So that through him do men obtain good things. 285 And dost thou mock him, as in Zeus's thigh Sewn?—I will show thee all the legend's beauty:— When Zeus had snatched him from the levin-fire, And bare the babe to Olympus, Hera then Fain would have cast his godhead out of heaven. 290 Zeus with a God's wit framed his counterplot. A fragment from the earth-enfolding ether, He brake, and wrought to a hostage, setting so Dionysus safe from Hera's spite. In time Men told how he was nursed in Zeus's thigh. 295 Changing the name, they wrought a myth thereof, Because the God was hostage once to Hera. A prophet is this God: the Bacchic frenzy And ecstasy are fulfilled of prophecy: For, in his fulness when he floods our frame, 300 He makes his maddened votaries tell the future. Somewhat of Ares' dues he shares withal, For hosts in harness clad, in ranks arrayed, He thrills with panic ere a spear be touched. This too is a frenzy Dionysus sends. 305 Yet shalt thou see him even on Delphi's crags ​With pine-brands leaping o'er the cloven crest, Tossing on high and waving Bacchus' bough,— Yea, great through Hellas. Pentheus, heed thou me: Boast not that naked force hath power o'er men; 310 Nor, if it seem so to thy jaundiced eye, Deem thyself wise. The God into thy land Welcome: spill wine, be bacchant, wreathe thine head. Dionysus upon women will not thrust Chastity: in true womanhood inborn 315 Dwells temperance touching all things evermore. This must thou heed; for in his Bacchic rites The virtuous-hearted shall not be undone. Lo, thou art glad when thousands throng thy gates, And all Thebes magnifieth Pentheus' name: 320 He too, I wot, in homage taketh joy. I then, and Kadmus, whom thou laugh'st to scorn, Will wreathe our heads with ivy, and will dance— A greybeard pair, yet cannot we but dance. Not at thy suasion will I war with Gods; 325 For grievous is thy madness, and no spell May medicine thee, though spells have made thee mad.
Chorus.
Old sire, thou sham'st not Phœbus in thy speech, And wisely honourest Bromius, mighty God.
Kadmus.
My son, well hath Teiresias counselled thee. 330 Dwell with us, not without the pale of wont. Thou'rt now in cloudland: naught thy wisdom is: For, though no God were this,—as thou dost say,— God be he called of thee; in glorious fraud Be Semelê famed as mother of a God. 335 So upon all our house shall honour rest. Rememberest thou Aktaion's wretched doom, Whom the raw-ravening hounds himself had reared Rent limb from limb in the meads, for that high boast That Artemis in hunting he excelled? 340 Lest such be thy fate, let me crown thine head With ivy: honour thou with us the God.
Pentheus.
Hence with thine hand! Go, play the Bacchanal, Neither besmirch me with thy folly's stain. This seer, thy monitor in senselessness, 345 Will I chastise. Let some one go with speed— (To an attendant) Thou, hie thee to his seat of augury; Upheave with levers, hurl it to the ground; All in confusion turn it upside down; His holy fillets fling to wind and storm: 350 For, doing so, I most shall wring his heart. And some range through the city, and track down That girl-faced stranger, who upon our wives Bringeth strange madness, and defiles our beds. And if ye catch him, hale him bound with chains 355 Hither, that death by stoning be his meed, And so he rue his revelry in Thebes.
Teiresias.
Ah wretch, thou knowest not what thou hast said! Thou'rt stark-mad now, who erst wast sense-bereft. Let us go, Kadmus, and make intercession 360 Both for this man, brute savage though he be, And Thebes, that no strange vengeance of the God Smite them. Come with me, ivy-wand in hand, Essay to upbear my frame, as I do thine. Shame if two greybeards fell!—nay, what of that? 365 For Bacchus, Son of Zeus, we needs must serve. Kadmus, beware lest Pentheus bring his echo, Repentance, to thine house:—not prophecy here Speaks, but his own deeds. Fools alone speak folly.
[Exeunt.
Chorus.
(Str. 1) O Sanctity, thou who dost bear dominion 370 Over Gods, yet low as this earthly ground, Unto usward, stoopest thy golden pinion,— Hear'st thou the words of the king, and the sound Of his blast of defiance, of Pentheus assailing The Clamour-king?—hear'st thou his blasphemous railing On Semelê's son, who is foremost found Of the Blest in the festival beauty-crowned?— Who hath for his own prerogative taken To summon forth feet through his dances to leap, ​When blent with the flutes light laughters awaken, 380 And the children of care have forgotten to weep, Whensoever revealed is the cluster's splendour In the banquet that men to the high Gods tender, And o'er ivy-wreathed revellers drinking deep The wine-bowl droppeth the mantle of sleep. (Ant. 1) Of the reinless lips that will own no master, Of the folly o'er law's pale stubborn to stray— One is the end of them, even disaster; But the calm life, still as a summer day, But the foot whose faring discretion guideth, 390 Their steadfast state unshaken abideth, And the home still findeth in such its stay. Ah, the Heavenly Ones dwell far away, Yet look they on men from their cloudy portals. Ah, not with knowledge is Wisdom bought; And the spirit that soareth too high for mortals Shall see few days: whosoever hath caught At the things too great for a man's attaining, Even blessings assured shall he lose in the gaining. Such paths as this, meseemeth, be sought 400 Of the witless folly that roves distraught. (Str. 2) O to flee hence unto where Aphroditê Doth in Cyprus, the paradise-island, dwell, The sea-ringed haunt of the Love-gods mighty To weave the soul-enchanting spell, Or the fields where untold is the harvest's gold, Whereover the seven-mouthed river hath rolled, Whereon rain never fell! But O for the land that in beauty is peerless, ​The Pierian haunt where the Muses sing! 410 On Olympus the hallowed to stand all fearless Thitherward lead me, O Clamour-king! O Revel-god, guide where the Graces abide And Desire,—where danceth, of no man denied, The Bacchanal ring. (Ant. 2) Our God, the begotten of Zeus, hath pleasure In the glee of the feast where his chalices shine; And Peace doth he love, who is giver of treasure, Who of Youth is the nursing-mother divine. 420 On the high, on the low, doth his bounty bestow The joyance that maketh an end of woe, The joyance of wine. But he hateth the man that in scorn refuseth A life that on pinions of happiness flies Through its days and its nights, nor the good part chooseth. Wisely shalt thou from the over-wise Hold thee apart: but the faith of the heart 430 Of the people, that lives in the works of the mart, For me shall suffice.
Re-enter Pentheus. Enter Servant, with attendants, bringing Dionysus bound.
Servant.
Pentheus, we come, who have run down this prey For which thou sentest us, nor sped in vain. 435 This wild-beast found we tame: he darted not In flight away, but yielded, nothing loth, His hands, nor paled, nor changed his cheeks' rose-hue, But smiling bade us bind and lead him thence, ​And tarried, making easy this my task. 440 Then shamed I said, "Not, stranger, of my will, But by commands of Pentheus, lead I thee." The captured Bacchanals thou didst put in ward, And in the common prison bind with chains, Fled to the meadows are they, loosed from bonds, 445 And dance and call on Bromius the God. The fetters from their feet self-sundered fell; Doors, without mortal hand, unbarred themselves. Yea, fraught with many marvels this man came To Thebes! To thee the rest doth appertain. 450
Pentheus.
Let loose his hands. Once taken in the toils, He is not so fleet as to escape from me. Ha! of thy form thou art not ill-favoured, stranger, For woman's tempting—even thy quest at Thebes. No wrestler thou, as show thy flowing locks, 455 Down thy cheeks floating, fraught with all desire; And white, from heedful tendance, is thy skin, Smit by no sun-shafts, but made wan by shade, While thou dost hunt desire with beauty's lure. First, tell me of what nation sprung thou art. 460
Dionysus.
No high vaunt this—'tis easy to declare: Of flowery Tmolus haply thou hast heard.
Pentheus.
I know: it compasseth the Sardians' town.
Dionysus.
Thence am I: Lydia is my fatherland.
Pentheus.
Wherefore to Hellas bringest thou these rites? 465
Dionysus.
Dionysus, Zeus' son, made me initiate.
Pentheus.
Lives a Zeus there, who doth beget new gods?
Dionysus.
Nay, the same Zeus who wedded Semelê here.
Pentheus.
Dreaming or waking wast thou made his thrall?
Dionysus.
Nay, eye to eye his mysteries he bestowed. 470
Pentheus.
Ay, of what fashion be these mysteries?
Dionysus.
'Tis secret, save to the initiate.
Pentheus.
What profit bring they to his votaries?
Dionysus.
Thou mayst not hear: yet are they worth thy knowing.
Pentheus.
Shrewd counterfeiting, to whet lust to hear! 475
Dionysus.
His rites loathe him that worketh godlessness.
Pentheus.
Thou saw'st the God: what fashion was he of?
Dionysus.
As seemed him good: that did not I enjoin.
Pentheus.
This too thou hast shrewdly parried, telling nought.
Dionysus.
Wise answers seem but folly to a fool. 480
Pentheus.
Cam'st thou the first to bring his godhead hither?
Dionysus.
All Asians through these mystic dances tread.
Pentheus.
Ay, far less wise be they than Hellene men.
Dionysus.
Herein far wiser. Diverse wont is theirs.
Pentheus.
By night or day dost thou perform his rites? 485
Dionysus.
Chiefly by night: gloom lends solemnity.
Pentheus.
Ay—and for women snares of lewdness too.
Dionysus.
In the day too may lewdness be devised.
Pentheus.
Now punished must thy vile evasions be.
Dionysus.
Ay, and thy folly and impiety. 490
Pentheus.
How bold our Bacchant is, in word-fence skilled!
Dionysus.
What is my doom? What vengeance wilt thou wreak?
Pentheus.
Thy dainty tresses first will I cut off.
Dionysus.
Hallowed my locks are, fostered for the God.
Pentheus.
Next, yield me up this thyrsus from thine hands. 495
Dionysus.
Take it thyself. 'Tis Dionysus' wand.
Pentheus.
Thy body in my dungeon will I ward.
Dionysus.
The God's self shall release me, when I will.
Pentheus.
Ay—when mid Bacchanals thou call'st on him!
Dionysus.
Yea, he is now near, marking this despite. 500
Pentheus.
Ay, where?—not unto mine eyes manifest.
Dionysus.
Beside me. Thou, the impious, seest him not.
Pentheus.
Seize him! This fellow mocketh me and Thebes.
Dionysus.
I warn ye—bind not!—Reason's rede to folly.
Pentheus.
I bid them bind, who have better right than thou. 505
Dionysus.
Thou know'st thy life not, nor thy true self seest.
Pentheus.
Pentheus—Agavê's and Echion's son.
Dionysus.
Yea, fitly named to be in misery pent.
Pentheus.
Away! Enjail him in the horses' stalls Hard by, that he may see but murky gloom. 510 There dance! These women thou hast brought with thee, Thy crimes' co-workers, I will sell for slaves, Or make my weaving-damsels, and so hush Their hands from cymbal-clang and smitten drum.
Dionysus.
I go. The fate that Fate forbids can ne'er 515 Touch me. On thee Dionysus shall requite These insults—he whose being thou hast denied. Outraging me, thou halest him to bonds.
[Exeunt Dionysus guarded, and Pentheus.
Chorus.
(Str.) All hail, Acheloüs' Daughter, Dirkê the maiden, majestic and blest!—in thy cool-welling water 520 Thou receivedst in old time the offspring of Zeus 'neath thy silvery plashing, ​When Zeus, who begat him, had snatched from the levin unquenchably flashing, And sealed up the babe in his thigh, and aloud did the Father cry, "Come! into this, Dithyrambus, the womb of no mother, pass thou:— By this name unto Thebes I proclaim thee, O God of the Bacchanals, now." Ah Dirkê, thou thrustest me hence, when I bring thee the glorious vision 530 Of his garlanded revels!—now why am I scouted, disowned, and abhorred? Yet there cometh—I swear by the full-clustered grace of the vine Dionysian— An hour when thine heart shall accept Dionysus, shall hail him thy lord. (Ant.) Lo, his earth-born lineage bewrayeth Pentheus; the taint of the blood of the dragon of old he betrayeth, The serpent that came of the seed of the earth-born Titan Echion. 540 It hath made him a grim-visaged monster, and not as a mortal's scion, But as that fell giant brood that in strife with immortals stood. He is minded to fetter me, Bromius' handmaid, with cords straightway: He hath prisoned his palace within my companion in revel this day, Dungeoned in gloom! Son of Zeus, are his deeds of thine eye unbeholden, 550 Dionysus?—thy prophets with tyranny wrestling in struggle and strain? ​Sweep down the slope of Olympus, uptossing thy thyrsus golden: Come to us, King, and the murderer's insolent fury refrain. (Epode) Ah, where dost thou linger on Nysa the mother of beasts of the wold, Waving thy revellers on with thy wand, or where heavenward soar Crests of Corycia, or haply where far forest-solitudes fold 560 Round the flanks of Olympus, where Orpheus constrained by his minstrelsy-lore Trees round him adoring to press, and the beasts of the wilderness, As he harped of yore?
Thrice-blessèd Pieria-land, Evius honoureth thee!—lo, he cometh, he cometh, on-leading His dances with Bacchanal chants, over Axius' flood swift-speeding He shall pass, he shall marshal the leaping feet in the dance-rings sweeping, The feet of his Maenad-band. 570 On shall he haste over Lydias the river, O'er the father of streams, the blessing-giver, Whose waters fair, as the tale hath told, O'er the land of the gallant war-steed rolled, Spread fatness on every hand.
Dionysus (within).
What ho! Give heed to my voice, give heed! Ho, Bacchanal-train, my Bacchanal-train!
​(Members of Chorus answer severally.)
Chorus 1.
What cry was it?—whence did it ring?—'Twas the voice of mine Evian King!
Dionysus (within).
What ho! What ho! I call yet again, 580 I, Semelê's offspring, Zeus's seed.
Chorus 2.
What ho! Our Lord, our Lord! What ho! Come to our revel-band thou, Clamour-king, Clamour-king, now! (Earthquake). Earth-floor, dost thou sway to and fro? O mighty earthquake-throe! Ha, swiftly shall Pentheus' hall, Sore shaken, crash to its fall!
Chorus 3.
Dionysus within yon halls is his godhead revealing! With homage adore him.
Chorus 4.
We bow us before him. 590 (Earthquake). Lo, how the lintels of stone over yonder pillars are reeling! Now shall the Clamour-king's triumph-shout through the halls go pealing.
Dionysus (within).
Kindle the torch of the levin lurid-red: Let the compassing flames round the palace of Pentheus spread.
(A great blaze of light enwraps the palace and the monument of Semelê.)
Chorus 5.
Ha! dost thou see not the wildfire enwreathed Round the holy tomb— Lo, dost thou mark it not well?— Which Semelê thunder-blasted bequeathed, Her memorial of doom By the lightning from Zeus that fell? Fling to the earth, ye Maenads, fling 600 Your bodies that tremble with sore dismay! For he cometh, our King, Zeus' scion, to bring Yon halls to confusion and disarray.
Chorus fall on their faces. Enter Dionysus from the palace.
Dionysus.
Ho, ye Asian women, are ye so distraught with sheer affright That ye thus to earth be fallen? Ye beheld, meseems, the sight 605 When the house of Pentheus reeled as Bacchus shook it. Nay, upraise From the earth your limbs, and banish from your bodies fear's amaze.
Chorus.
Hail to thee, to us the mightiest light of Evian revelry! With what rapture, late so lonely and forlorn, I look on thee!
Dionysus.
Ha, and did your hearts for terror fail you when I passed within, 610 Deeming I should sink to darkness, caught in Pentheus' dungeon-gin?
Chorus.
Wherefore not? What shield had I, if thou into mischance shouldst fall? Nay, but how didst thou escape, who wast a godless tyrant's thrall?
Dionysus.
I myself myself delivered, lightly, with nor toil nor strain.
Chorus.
Nay, but bound he not thine hands with coiling mesh of chain on chain? 615
Dionysus.
My derision there I made him, that he deemed he fettered me, Yet nor touched me, neither grasped me, fed on empty phantasy. Nay, a bull beside the stalls he found where he would pen me fast: Round the knees and round the hoofs of this he 'gan his cords to cast, ​Breathing fury out, the while the sweat-gouts poured from every limb, 620 While he gnawed upon his lips—and I beside him watching him Calmly at mine ease was sitting. Even then our Bacchus came, And as with an earthquake shook the house, and lit a sudden flame On his mother's tomb. The king beholding thought he saw his halls Flame-enwrapped, and hither, thither, rushed he, wildly bidding thralls 625 Bring the water. Now was every bondman vainly toiling there. Then he let this labour be, as deeming I had 'scaped the snare: Straight within the building rushed he, drawing forth his falchion fell. Then did Bromius, as to me it seemed—'tis but my thought I tell,— Fashion in his halls a wraith: he hurled himself thereon straightway, 360 Rushed, and stabbed the light-pervaded air, as thinking me to slay. Then did Bacchus bring a new abasement of his pride to pass; For he hurled to earth the building. There it lies, a ruin-mass,— Sight to make my bonds full bitter to him! Now, with toil outworn, Letting drop the sword, he falleth fainting. He, the mortal-born, 635 Dare to brave a God to battle ! Then unhindered passed I through, ​Recking nought of Pentheus: so from forth his halls I come to you. But, methinks,—for there within the house a footfall's sound there is,— He shall straightway come without. Ha, what shall he say unto this? Lightly shall I bear his bluster, whatsoe'er his fury's stress; 640 For it is the wise man's part to rein his wrath in soberness.
Enter Pentheus.
Pentheus.
Foul outrage this!—the stranger hath escaped, Though bound but now in fetters fast as fate. Ha! There is the man! What means this? How hast thou 645 Won forth to stand before my very halls?
Dionysus.
Stay there, and let thy fury softly tread.
Pentheus.
How hast thou 'scaped thy bonds and comest forth?
Dionysus.
Said I not—or didst hear not?—"One will free me?" 650
Pentheus.
Who?—Strange and ever strange thine answers are.
Dionysus.
He who makes grow for men the clustered vine.
Pentheus.
[Ay—who drives women frenzied from the home!]
Dionysus.
'Tis Dionysus' glory, this thy scoff.
Pentheus (to attendants).
I bid ye bar all towers round about.
Dionysus.
Why? Cannot Gods pass even over walls?
Pentheus.
Wise art thou, wise—save where thou shouldst be wise. 655
Dionysus.
Where most needs wisdom, therein am I wise. But listen first to yon man, hear his tale Who with some tidings from the mountains comes. I will await thee: fear not lest I fly.
Enter Herdman.
Herdman.
Pentheus, thou ruler of this Theban land, 660 I from Kithairon come, whence never fail The glistering silver arrows of the snow.
Pentheus.
Bringing what weighty tidings comest thou?
Herdman.
I have seen wild Bacchanals, who from this land Have darted forth with white feet, frenzy-stung. 665 I come, King, fain to tell to thee and Thebes What strange, what passing wondrous deeds they do. Yet would I hear if freely I may tell Things there beheld, or reef my story's sail. For, King, I fear thy spirit's hasty mood, 670 Thy passion and thine over-royal wrath.
Pentheus.
Say on: of me shalt thou go all unscathed. For we may not be wroth with honest men. The direr sounds thy tale of the Bacchanals, The sterner punishment will I inflict 675 On him who taught our dames this wickedness.
Herdman.
Thine herds of pasturing kine were even now Scaling the steep hill-side, what time the sun First darted forth his rays to warm the earth, When lo, I see three Bacchant women-bands,— 680 Autonoë chief of one, of one thy mother Agavê, and the third band Ino led. All sleeping lay, with bodies restful-strown; Some backward leaned on leafy sprays of pine, Some, with oak-leaves for pillows, on the ground 685 Flung careless;—modestly, not, as thou say'st, Drunken with wine, amid the sighing of flutes Hunting desire through woodland shades alone. Then to her feet sprang in the Bacchanals' midst Thy mother, crying aloud, "Shake from you sleep!" 690 ​When fell our horned kine's lowing on her ear. They, dashing from their eyelids rosy sleep, Sprang to their feet, a marvel of grace to see, Young girls, old matrons, maidens yet unwed. First down their shoulders let they stream their hair: 695 Then looped they up their fawnskins,—they whose bands Had fallen loose,—and girt the dappled fells Round them with snakes that licked their cheeks the while. Some, cradling fawns or wolf-cubs in their arms, Gave to the wild things of their breasts' white milk,— 700 Young mothers they, who had left their babes, that still Their breasts were full. Then did they wreathe their heads With ivy, oak, and flower-starred briony. One grasped her thyrsus-staff, and smote the rock, And forth upleapt a fountain's showering spray: 705 One in earth's bosom planted her reed-wand, And up therethrough the God a wine-fount sent: And whoso fain would drink white-foaming draughts Scarred with their finger-tips the breast of earth, And milk gushed forth unstinted: dripped the while 710 Sweet streams of honey from their ivy-staves. Hadst thou been there, thou hadst, beholding this, With prayer approached the God whom now thou spurnest. Then we, thine herdmen and thy shepherds, drew Together, each with each to hold dispute 715 Touching their awful deeds and marvellous. And one, a townward truant, ready of speech, To all cried, "Dwellers on the terraces Of hallowed mountains, will ye that we chase ​From Bacchus' revel Agavê, Pentheus' mother, 720 And do our lord a kindness?" Well, thought we, He spake, and we in ambush hid ourselves Mid leaves of copses. At the appointed time They waved the thyrsus for the revel-rites, With one voice calling Iacchus, Clamour-king, 725 Zeus' seed. The hills, the wild things all, were thrilled With ecstasy: nought but shook as on they rushed. Now nigh to me Agavê chanced to leap, And forth I sprang as who would seize on her, Leaving the thicket of mine ambush void. 730 Then shouted she, "What ho, my fleetfoot hounds, We are chased by these men! Ho ye, follow me— Follow, the thyrsus-javelins in your hands!" O then we fled, and fleeing scantly 'scaped The Bacchanals' rending grasp. Down swooped they then 735 Upon our pasturing kine with swordless hand. Then hadst thou seen thy mother in her grip Clutch a deep-uddered heifer bellowing loud: And others rent the calves in crimson shreds. Ribs hadst thou seen and cloven hoofs far hurled 740 This way and that, and flakes of flesh that hung And dripped all blood-bedabbled 'neath the pines. Bulls, chafing, lowering fiercely along the horn Erewhile, were tripped and hurled unto the earth, Dragged down by countless-clutching maiden hands. 745 More swiftly was the flesh that lapped their bones Stripped, than thou couldst have closed thy kingly eyes. On swept they, racing like to soaring birds, To lowland plains which by Asopus' streams Bear the rich harvests of the Theban folk,— 750 Hysiae, Erythrae, 'neath Kithairon's scaur ​Low-nestling,—swooping on them like to foes, This way and that way hurling all their goods, Yea, from the houses snatching forth the babes. Whatso they laid upon their shoulders, clung 755 Unfastened; nothing to the dark earth fell,— Nor brass nor iron,—and upon their hair They carried fire unscorched. The folk, in wrath To be by Bacchanals pillaged, rushed to arms: Whereupon, King, was this strange sight to see:— 760 From them the steel-tipt javelin drew not blood, But they from their hands darting thyrsus-staves Dealt wound on wound; and they, the women, turned To flight men, for some God's hand wrought therein. Then drew they back to whence their feet had come, 765 To those same founts the God sent up for them, And washed the gore, while from their cheeks the snakes Were licking with their tongues the blood-gouts clean. Wherefore, whoe'er this God be, O my lord, Receive him in this city; for, beside 770 His other might, they tell of him, I hear, That he gave men the grief-assuaging vine. When wine is no more found, then Love is not, Nor any joy beside is left to men.
Chorus.
Words wherein freedom rings I dread to speak 775 Before the King; yet shall my thought be voiced: Dionysus is not less than any God.
Pentheus.
Lo, it is on us, kindling like a flame, The Bacchanal outrage, our reproach through Greece! ​We may not dally:—to Electra's gate 780 Go thou; bid all my warriors that bear shield To meet me, and all riders of fleet steeds, And all that shake the buckler, all who twang The bowstring; for against the Bacchanals Forth will we march; for this should pass all bounds, 785 To endure of women that we now endure.
Dionysus.
No whit thou yieldest, though thou hear'st my words, Pentheus. Yet, though thou dost despite to me, I warn thee—bear not arms against a God; But bide still. Bromius will not brook that thou 790 Shouldst drive his Bacchanals from their revel-hills.
Pentheus.
School thou not me; but, having 'scaped thy bonds, Content thee: else again I punish thee.
Dionysus.
Better slay victims unto him than rage, Spurning the goads, a mortal 'gainst a God. 795
Pentheus.
Victims?—yea women-victims, fitly slain: Wild work of slaughter midst Kithairon's glens!
Dionysus.
Flee shall ye all; and shame were this, that shields Brass-forged from wands of Bacchanals turn back.
Pentheus.
This stranger—vainly wrestle we with him: 800 Doing nor suffering will he hold his peace.
Dionysus.
Friend, yet this evil may be turned to good.
Pentheus.
How?—by becoming my bondwomen's thrall?
Dionysus.
I without arms will bring the women hither.
Pentheus.
Ha! here for me thou plottest treachery! 805
Dionysus.
Treachery?—I would save thee by mine art!
Pentheus.
Ye have made this covenant, so to revel aye.
Dionysus.
Nay: know, this covenant made I with the God.
Pentheus (to attendant).
Bring forth mine arms!—thou, make an end of speech.
Dionysus.
Ho thou! 810 Wouldst thou behold them camped upon the hills?
Pentheus.
Ay—though with sumless gold I bought the sight.
Dionysus.
Why on this mighty longing hast thou fallen?
Pentheus.
To see them drunk with wine—a bitter sight!
Dionysus.
Yet wouldst thou gladly see a bitter sight? 815
Pentheus.
Yea, sooth, in silence crouched beneath the pines.
Dionysus.
Yet will they track thee, stealthily though thou come.
Pentheus.
Openly then!—yea, well hast thou said this.
Dionysus.
Shall I then guide thee? Wilt essay the path?
Pentheus.
Lead on with speed: I grudge thee all delay! 820
Dionysus.
Array thee now in robes of linen fine.
Pentheus.
Wherefore? From man shall I to woman turn?
Dionysus.
Lest they should kill thee, seeing thee there as man.
Pentheus.
Well said—yea, shrewd hast thou been heretofore.
Dionysus.
Such science Dionysus taught to me. 825
Pentheus.
How then shall thy fair rede become mine act?
Dionysus.
I will into thine halls, and robe thee there.
Pentheus.
What robe? A woman's?—nay, but I think shame.
Dionysus.
Is thy desire to watch the Maenads dead?
Pentheus.
In what garb, say'st thou, wouldst thou drape my form? 830
Dionysus.
Thine head with flowing tresses will I tire.
Pentheus.
And the next fashion of my vesture—what?
Dionysus.
Long robes: and on thine head a coif shall be.
Pentheus.
Nought else but these wouldst thou add unto me?
Dionysus.
Thyrsus in hand, and dappled fell of fawn. 835
Pentheus.
I cannot drape me in a woman's robe!
Dionysus.
Then in the fight with Maenads blood must flow.
Pentheus.
Ay, true:—first must I go and spy them out.
Dionysus.
Sooth, wiser so than hunt thee ills with ills.
Pentheus.
Yet, how through Kadmus' city pass unseen? 840
Dionysus.
By lone paths will we go. Myself will guide.
Pentheus.
Better were anything than Bacchants' mock.
Dionysus.
I will pass in, and what befits devise.
Pentheus.
So be it. I am resolved: my path is clear. I go; for I must needs march sword in hand, 845 Or do according unto thine advice. [Exit.
Dionysus.
Women, the man sets foot within the toils. The Bacchants—and death's penalty—shall he find. Dionysus, play thy part now; thou art near: Let us take vengeance. Craze thou first his brain, 850 Indarting sudden madness. Whole of wit, Ne'er will he yield to don the woman's robe: Yet shall he don, driven wide of reason's course. I long withal to make him Thebes' derision, In woman-semblance led the city through, 855 After the erstwhile terrors of his threats. I go, to lay on Pentheus the attire Which he shall take with him to Hades, slain By a mother's hands. And he shall know Zeus' son Dionysus, who hath risen at last a God 860 Most terrible, yet kindest unto men. [Exit.
Chorus.
(Str.) Ah, shall my white feet in the dances gleam The livelong night again? Ah, shall I there Float through the Bacchanal's ecstatic dream, Tossing my neck into the dewy air?— ​Like to a fawn that gambols mid delight Of pastures green, when she hath left behind The chasing horror, and hath sped her flight Past watchers, o'er nets deadly-deftly twined,
Though shouting huntsmen cheer the racing hounds 870 Onward, the while with desperate stress and strain And bursts of tempest-footed speed she bounds Far over reaches of the river-plain,
Till sheltering arms of trees around her close, The twilight of the tresses of the woods;— O happy ransomed one, safe hid from foes Where no man tracks the forest-solitudes!
What wisdom's crown, what guerdon, shines more glorious That Gods can give the sons of men, than this— O'er crests of foes to stretch the hand victorious? 880 Honour is precious evermore, I wis. (Ant.) Slowly on-sweepeth, but unerringly, The might of Heaven, with sternest lessoning For men who in their own mad fantasy Exalt their unbelief, and crown it king—
Mortals who dare belittle things divine! Ah, but the Gods in subtle ambush wait: On treads the foot of time; but their design Is unrelinquished, and the ruthless fate
Quests as a sleuth-hound till it shall have tracked 890 The godless down in that relentless hunt. We may not, in the heart's thought or the act, Set us above the law of use and wont. ​Little it costs, faith's precious heritage, To trust that whatsoe'er from Heaven is sent Hath sovereign sway, whate'er through age on age Hath gathered sanction by our nature's bent.
What wisdom's crown, what guerdon, shines more glorious That Gods can give the sons of men, than this— O'er crests of foes to stretch the hand victorious? 900 Honour is precious evermore, I wis. (Epode) Blest who from ravening seas Hath 'scaped to haven-peace, Blest who hath triumphed in endeavour's toil and throe. This man to higher height Attains, of wealth, of might, Than that; yet myriad hopes in myriad hearts still glow: To fair fruition brought Are some, some come to nought: 910 Happy is he whose bliss from day to day doth grow.
Enter Dionysus.
Dionysus.
Thou who dost burn to see forefended things, Pentheus, O zealous with an evil zeal, Come forth before thine halls: be seen of me Womanlike clothed in frenzied Bacchant's garb, 915 To spy upon thy mother and her troop. Enter Pentheus. So!—like a daughter of Kadmus is thy form.
Pentheus.
Aha! meseemeth I behold two suns, ​A twofold Thebes, our seven-gated burg! A bull thou seem'st that leadeth on before; 920 And horns upon thine head have sprouted forth. How, wast thou brute?—bull art thou verily now!
Dionysus.
The God attends us, gracious not ere this, Leagued with us now: now seest thou as thou shouldst.
Pentheus.
Whose semblance bear I? Have I not the mien 925 Of Ino, or my mother Agavê's port?
Dionysus.
Their very selves I seem to see in thee. Yet, what?—this tress hath from his place escaped, Not as I braided it beneath the coif.
Pentheus.
Tossing it forth and back within, in whirls 930 Of Bacchic frenzy, I disordered it.
Dionysus.
Nay, I, who have taken thy tire-maiden's part, Will rearrange it. Come, hold up thine head.
Pentheus.
Lo there—thou lay it smooth: to thee I look.
Dionysus.
Now is thy girdle loose; thy garment's folds 935 Droop not below thine ankles evenly.
Pentheus.
Yea, by my right foot so, meseems, it is. To left, true by the sinew hangs the robe.
Dionysus.
Me wilt thou surely count thy chiefest friend, When sight of sober Bacchants cheats thine hopes. 940
Pentheus.
This thyrsus—shall I hold it in this hand, Or this, the more to seem true Bacchanal.
Dionysus.
In the right hand, and with the right foot timed Bear it:—all praise to thy converted heart!
Pentheus.
Could I upon my shoulders raise the glens 945 Of Mount Kithairon, yea, and the Bacchanals?
Dionysus.
Thou mightest, an thou wouldst: erewhile thy soul Was warped; but now 'tis even as befits.
Pentheus.
With levers?—or shall mine hands tear it up With arm or shoulder thrust beneath its crests? 950
Dionysus.
Now nay—the shrines of Nymphs destroy not thou, And haunts of Pan that with his piping ring.
Pentheus.
True—true: we must not overcome by force The women. I will hide me midst the pines.
Dionysus.
Such hiding shall be thine as fate ordains, 955 Who com'st with guile, a spy on Bacchanals.
Pentheus.
Methinks I see them mid the copses caught, Like birds, in toils of their sweet dalliance.
Dionysus.
To this end then art thou appointed watchman: Perchance shalt catch them—if they catch not thee. 960
Pentheus.
On through the midst of Thebes' town usher me, For I, I only of them, dare such deed.
Dionysus.
Alone for Thebes thou travailest, thou alone; Wherefore for thee wait tug and strain foredoomed. Follow: all safely will I usher thee. 965 Another thence shall bring thee,—
Pentheus.
Ay, my mother.
Dionysus.
To all men manifest—
Pentheus.
For this I come.
Dionysus.
High-borne shalt thou return—
Pentheus.
O silken ease!
Dionysus.
On a mother's hands.
Pentheus.
Thou wouldst thrust pomp on me!
Dionysus.
Nay, 'tis but such pomp—
Pentheus.
As is my desert. 970
Dionysus.
Strange, strange man! Strange shall thine experience be. So shalt thou win renown that soars to heaven. [Exit Pentheus. ​Agavê, stretch forth hands; ye sisters, stretch, Daughters of Kadmus! To a mighty strife I bring this prince. The victor I shall be 975 And Bromius. All else shall the issue show. [Exit.
Chorus.
(Str.) Up, ye swift hell-hounds of Madness! Away to the mountain-glens, where Kadmus's daughters hold revel, and sting them to fury, to tear Him who hath come woman-vestured to spy on the Bacchanals there,
Frenzy-struck fool that he is!—for his mother shall foremost descry 980 Him, as from water-worn scaur or from storm-riven tree he would spy That which they do, and her shout to the Maenads shall peal from on high:—
"Who hath come hither, hath trodden the paths to the mountain that lead, Spying on Kadmus's daughters, the maids o'er the mountains that speed, Bacchanal-sisters?—what mother hath brought to the birth such a seed?
Who was it?—who?—for I ween he was born not of womankind's blood: Rather he sprang from the womb of a lioness, scourge of the wood; Haply is spawn of the Gorgons of Libya, the demon-brood." 990 ​Justice, draw nigh us, draw nigh, with the sword of avenging appear: Slay the unrighteous, the seed of Echion the earth-born, and shear Clean through his throat, for he feareth not God, neither law doth he fear. (Ant.) Lo, how in impious mood, and with lawless intent, and with spite Madness-distraught, with thy rites and thy mother's he cometh to fight, Bacchus—to bear the invincible down by his impotent might! 1000
Thus shall one gain him a sorrowless life, if he keepeth his soul Sober in spirit, and swift in obedience to heaven's control, Murmuring not, neither pressing beyond his mortality's goal.
No such presumptuous wisdom I covet: I seek for mine own— Yea, in the quest is mine happiness—things that not so may be known, Glorious wisdom and great, from the days everlasting forth-shown,
Even to fashion in pureness my life and in holiness aye, Following ends that are noble from dawn to the death of the day, Honouring Gods, and refusing to walk in injustice's way. 1010 ​Justice, draw nigh us, draw nigh, with the sword of avenging appear: Slay the unrighteous, the seed of Echion the earth-born, and shear Clean through his throat; for he feareth not God, neither law doth he fear. (Epode) O Dionysus, reveal thee!—appear as a bull to behold, Or be thou seen as a dragon, a monster of heads manifold, Or as a lion, with splendours of flame round the limbs of him rolled.
Come to us, Bacchus, and smiling in mockery compass him round 1020 Now with the toils of destruction, and so shall the hunter be bound, Trapped mid the throng of the Maenads, the quarry his questing hath found.
Enter Messenger.
Messenger.
O house of old through Hellas prosperous 1025 Of that Sidonian patriarch, who sowed The earth-born serpent's dragon-teeth in earth, How I bemoan thee! What though thrall I be, Their lords' calamities touch loyal thralls.
Chorus.
What now?—hast tidings of the Bacchanals? 1030
Messenger.
Pentheus is dead: Echion's son is dead.
Chorus.
Bromius my King! thou hast made thy godhead plain!
Messenger.
How, what is this thou say'st? Dost thou exult, Woman, upon my lord's calamities?
Chorus.
An alien I, I chant glad outland strain, 1035 Who cower no more in terror of the chain.
Messenger.
Deemest thou Thebes so void of men—
Chorus.
Dionysus it is, 'tis the King of the Vine That hath lordship o'er me, no Thebes of thine!
Messenger.
This might be pardoned, save that base it is, Women, to joy o'er evils past recall. 1040
Chorus.
Tell to me, tell,—by what doom died he, The villain devising villainy?
Messenger.
When, from the homesteads of this Theban land Departing, we had crossed Asopus' streams, Then we began to breast Kithairon's steep, 1045 Pentheus and I,—for to my lord I clave,— And he who ushered us unto the scene. First in a grassy dell we sat us down With footfall hushed and tongues refrained from speech, That so we might behold, all unbeheld. 1050 There was a glen crag-walled, with rills o'erstreamed, Closed in with pine-shade, where the Maenad girls Sat with hands busied with their blithesome toils. The faded thyrsus some with ivy-sprays Twined, till its tendril-tresses waved again: 1055 Others, like colts from carven wain-yokes loosed, Re-echoed each to each the Bacchic chant. But hapless Pentheus, seeing ill the throng Of women, spake thus: "Stranger, where we stand, Are these mock-maenad maids beyond my ken. 1060 Some knoll or pine high-crested let me climb, And I shall see the Maenads' lewdness well." A marvel then I saw the stranger do. A soaring pine-branch by the top he caught, And dragged down—down—still down to the dark earth. 1065 Arched as a bow it grew, or curving wheel That on the lathe sweeps out its circle's round: So bowed the stranger's hands that mountain-branch, And bent to earth—a deed past mortal might! Then Pentheus on the pine-boughs seated he, 1070 And let the branch rise, sliding through his hands Gently, with heedful care to unseat him not. ​High up into the heights of air it soared, Bearing my master throned upon its crest, More by the Maenads seen than seeing them. 1075 For scarce high-lifted was he manifest, When lo, the stranger might no more be seen; And fell from heaven a voice—the voice, most like, Of Dionysus,—crying, "O ye maids, I bring him who would mock at you and me, 1080 And at my rites. Take vengeance on him ye!" Even as he cried, up heavenward, down to earth, He flashed a pillar-splendour of awful flame. Hushed was the welkin: that fair grassy glen Held hushed its leaves; no wild thing's cry was heard. 1085 But they, whose ears not clearly caught the sound, Sprang up, and shot keen glances right and left. Again he cried his hest: then Kadmus' daughters Knew certainly the Bacchic God's command, And darted: and the swiftness of their feet 1090 Was as of doves in onward-straining race— His mother Agavê and her sisters twain, And all the Bacchanals. Through torrent gorge, O'er boulders, leapt they, with the God's breath mad. When seated on the pine they saw my lord, 1095 First torrent-stones with might and main they hurled, Scaling a rock, their counter-bastion, And javelined him with branches of the pine: And others shot their thyrsi through the air At Pentheus—woeful mark!—yet nought availed. 1100 For, at a height above their fury's pitch, Trapped in despair's gin, horror-struck he sat. Last, oak-limbs from their trunks they thundered down, And heaved at the roots with levers—not of iron. But when they won no end of toil and strain, 1105 ​Agavê cried, "Ho, stand we round the trunk, Maenads, and grasp, that we may catch the beast Crouched there, that he may not proclaim abroad Our God's mysterious rites!" Their countless hands Set they unto the pine, tore from the soil:— 1110 And he. high-seated, crashed down from his height: And earthward fell with frenzy of shriek on shriek Pentheus, for now he knew his doom at hand. His mother first, priest-like, began the slaughter, And fell on him: but from his hair the coif 1115 He tore, that she might know and slay him not,— Hapless Agavê!—and he touched her cheek, Crying, "'Tis I—O mother!—thine own son Pentheus—thou bar'st me in Echion's halls! Have mercy, O my mother!—for my sin 1120 Murder not thou thy son—thy very son!" But she, with foaming lips and eyes that rolled Wildly, and reckless madness-clouded soul, Possessed of Bacchus, gave no heed to him; But his left arm she clutched in both her hands, 1125 And set against the wretch's ribs her foot, And tore his shoulder out—not by her strength, But the God made it easy to her hands. And Ino laboured on the other side, Rending his flesh: Autonoë pressed on—all 1130 The Bacchanal throng. One awful blended cry Rose—the king's screams while life was yet in him, And triumph-yells from them. One bare an arm, One a foot sandal-shod. His ribs were stripped In mangled shreds: with blood-bedabbled hands 1135 Each to and fro was tossing Pentheus' flesh. ​Wide-sundered lies his corse: part 'neath rough rocks, Part mid the tangled depths of forest-shades:— Hard were the search. His miserable head Which in her hands his mother chanced to seize, 1140 Impaled upon her thyrsus-point she bears, Like mountain-lion's, through Kithairon's midst, Leaving her sisters in their Maenad dance; And, in her ghastly quarry exulting, comes Within these walls, to Bacchus crying aloud, 1145 Her fellow-hunter, helper in the chase Triumphant—all its triumph-prize is tears! But from this sight of misery will I Depart, or ever Agavê reach the halls. Ay, self-restraint, and reverence for the Gods 1150 Are best, I ween; 'tis wisest far for men To get these in possession, and cleave thereto. [Exit.
Chorus.
Raise we to Bacchus the choral acclaim, Shout we aloud for the fall Of the king, of the blood of the Serpent who came, Who arrayed him in woman's pall; And the thyrsus-ferule he grasped—but the same Was a passport to Hades' hall: And a bull was his guide to a doom of shame! O Bacchanal-maids Kadmeian, 1160 Ye have gained for you glory—a victory-pæan To be drowned in lamenting and weeping. O contest triumphantly won, when a mother in blood of her son Her fingers is steeping! ​But lo, I see fast hurrying to the halls 1165 Agavê, Pentheus' mother, with wild eyes Rolling:—hail ye the revel of our God!
Enter Agavê, carrying the head of Pentheus.
Agave.
(Str.) Asian Bacchanals!
Chorus.
Why dost thou challenge me?—say.
Agave.
Lo, from the mountain-side I bear A newly-severed ivy-spray 1170 Unto our halls, a goodly prey.
Chorus.
I see—to our revels I welcome thee.
Agave.
I trapped him, I, with never a snare! 'Tis a lion—the whelp of a lion, plain to see.
Chorus.
Where in the wilderness, where?
Agave.
Kithairon—
Chorus.
What hath Kithairon wrought?
Agave.
Him hath Kithairon to slaughter brought.
Chorus.
Who was it smote him first?
Agave.
Mine, mine is the guerdon. Their revel-rout singeth me—"Happy Agavê!" their burden. 1180
Chorus.
Who then?
Agave.
Of Kadmus—
Chorus.
Of Kadmus what wilt thou tell?
Agave.
His daughter after me smote the monster fell— After me! O fortunate hunting! Is it not well? (Ant.) Now share in the banquet!—
Chorus.
Alas! wherein shall I share?
Agave.
This whelp is yet but a tender thing, And over its jaws yet sprouteth fair The down 'neath the crest of its waving hair.
Chorus.
Yea, the hair of a beast of the wold might it be.
Agave.
Uproused was the Maenad gathering To the chase, by a cunning hunter full cunningly. 1190
Chorus.
Yea, a hunter is Bacchus our King.
Agave.
Dost thou praise me?
Chorus.
How can I choose but praise?
Agave.
Ay, and full soon shall Kadmus' race—
Chorus.
And Pentheus thy son—
Agave.
Yea, I shall have praise of my scion For the prey that is taken, even this whelp of a lion.
Chorus.
Strange quarry!—
Agave.
And strangely taken.
Chorus.
Art glad?
Agave.
I am fain For the triumph achieved, both goodly and great, and plain For the land to see, in the booty mine hands have ta'en.
Chorus.
Show forth now, hapless one, to all the folk 1200 The triumph-spoil that hither thou hast brought.
Agave.
Ye, in the fair-towered burg of Theban land Which dwell, draw nigh to look upon this prey, The beast we, Kadmus' daughters, hunted down— Not with the thong-whirled darts of Thessaly, 1205 Neither with nets, but with the fingers white Of our own hands. What boots the idle vaunt Of men who get them tools by armourers wrought, When we, with bare hands only, took the prey, And rent asunder all the monster's limbs? 1210 Where is mine ancient sire? Let him draw near. And my son Pentheus where? Let him upraise A ladder's stair against the palace wall, That to the triglyphs he may nail this head, This lion's head that I from hunting bring. 1215
Enter Kadmus, with attendants carrying a bier.
Kadmus.
Follow me, henchmen, to the palace-front; Follow me, bearing Pentheus' ghastly load, ​Whose limbs by toilsome searchings manifold, About Kithairon's glens all rent apart I found, and bring—no twain in one place found, 1220 But lying all about the trackless wood. For of my daughters' desperate deeds I heard, Even as I passed within the city-walls With old Teiresias from the Bacchant revel. Back to the mountain turned I; and I bring 1225 My son thence, who by Maenads hath been slain. There her who bore Aktaion to Aristaius I saw, Autonoë, saw Ino there Still midst the oak-groves, wretches frenzy-stung. But hitherward, said one, with Bacchant feet 1230 Had passed Agavê, and the truth I heard: For I behold her—sight of misery!
Agave.
My father, proudest boast is thine to make, To have begotten daughters best by far Of mortals—all thy daughters, chiefly me, 1235 Me who left loom and shuttle, and pressed on To high emprise, to hunt beasts with mine hands. And in mine arms I bring, thou seest, this The prize I took, against thy palace-wall To hang: receive it, father, in thine hands. 1240 And now, triumphant in mine hunting's spoil, Bid to a feast thy friends; for blest art thou, Blest verily, since we have achieved such deeds.
Kadmus.
O anguish measureless that blasts the sight! O murder compassed by these wretched hands! 1245 Fair victim this to cast before the Gods, ​And bid to such a banquet Thebes and me! Woe for our sorrows!—first for thine, then mine! How hath the God, King Bromius, ruined us!— Just stroke—yet ruthless—is he not our kin? 1250
Agave.
How sour of mood is greybeard eld in men, Flow sullen-eyed! Framed in his mother's mould A mighty hunter may my son become, When with the Theban youths he speedeth forth Questing the quarry!—But he can do nought 1255 Save war with Gods! Father, our part it is To warn him not to joy in baneful wisdom. Where is he? Who will call him hitherward To see me, and behold mine happiness?
Kadmus.
Alas! when ye are ware what ye have done, 1260 With sore grief shall ye grieve! If to life's end Ye should abide on aye in this your state, Ye should not, though unblest, seem all accurst.
Agave.
What is not well here?—what that calls for grief?
Kadmus.
First cast thou up thine eye to yonder heaven. 1265
Agave.
Lo, so I do. Why bid me look thereon?
Kadmus.
Seems it the same? Or hath it changed to thee?
Agave.
Brighter it is—more clear than heretofore.
Kadmus.
Is this delirium tossing yet thy soul?
Agave.
This comprehend I not:—yet—yet—it passes, 1270 My late mood—I am coming to myself.
Kadmus.
Canst hearken aught then? Clearly canst reply?
Agave.
Our words late-spoken—father, I forget them.
Kadmus.
To what house earnest thou with bridal-hymns?
Agave.
Echion's—of the Dragon-seed, men say. 1275
Kadmus.
Thou barest—in thine halls, to thy lord—whom?
Agave.
Pentheus—born of my union with his sire.
Kadmus.
Whose head—whose?—art thou bearing in thine arms?
Agave.
A lion's—so said they which hunted it.
Kadmus.
Look well thereon:—small trouble this, to look. 1280
Agave.
Ah-h! what do I see? What bear I in mine hands?
Kadmus.
Gaze, gaze on it, and be thou certified.
Agave.
I see—mine uttermost anguish! Woe is me!
Kadmus.
Seems it to thee now like a lion's head?
Agave.
No!—wretched!—wretched!—Pentheus' head I hold! 1285
Kadmus.
Of me bewailed ere recognised of thee.
Agave.
Who murdered him? How came he to mine hands?
Kadmus.
O piteous truth that so untimely dawns!
Agave.
Speak! Hard my heart beats, waiting for its doom.
Kadmus.
Thou!—thou, and those thy sisters murdered him. 1290
Agave.
Where perished he?—at home, or in what place?
Kadmus.
There, where Aktaion erst by hounds was torn.
Agave.
How to Kithairon went this hapless one?
Kadmus.
To mock the God and thy wild rites he went.
Agave.
But we—for what cause thither journeyed we? 1295
Kadmus.
Ye were distraught: all Thebes went Bacchant-wild.
Agave.
Dionysus ruined us! I see it now.
Kadmus.
Ye flouted him, would not believe him God.
Agave.
Where, father, is my son's belovèd corse?
Kadmus.
Here do I bear it, by hard searching found. 1300
Agave.
Is it all meetly fitted limb to limb?
Kadmus.
[Yea—now I add thereto this dear-loved head.]
Agave.
But—in my folly what was Pentheus' part?
Kadmus.
He was as ye, revering not the God, Who therefore in one mischief whelmed you all, You, and this prince, so ruining all our house 1305 And me, who had no manchild of mine own, Who see now, wretched daughter, this the fruit Of thy womb horribly and foully slain. To thee our house looked up, O son, the stay Of mine old halls; my daughter's offspring thou, 1310 Thou wast the city's dread: was none dared mock The old man, none that turned his eyes on thee, O gallant head!—thou hadst well requited him. Now from mine halls shall I in shame be cast— Kadmus the great, who sowed the seed of Thebes, 1315 And reaped the goodliest harvest of the world. O best-beloved!—for, though thou be no more, Thou shalt be counted best-beloved, O child, Thou who shalt fondle never more my head, ​Nor clasp and call me "Mother's father," child, 1320 Crying, "Who wrongs thee, ancient?—flouts thee who? Who vexeth thee to trouble thine heart's peace? Speak, that I may chastise the wrong, my sire." Now am I anguish-stricken, wretched thou, Woeful thy mother, and her sisters wretched! 1325 If any man there be that scorns the Gods, This man's death let him note, and so believe.
Chorus.
Kadmus, for thee I grieve. Thy daughter's son Hath but just doom—yet bitter doom for thee.
Agave.
Father, thou seest what change hath passed o'er me— 1330
[A large portion of the play has here been lost, containing (1) the lament of Agavê over her son; (2) a few lines, probably by the Chorus, announcing the appearance, in his shape as a God, of Dionysus; (3) the commencement of Dionysus' speech, in which he points out how Pentheus' sin has proved his destruction, how Agavê and her sisters have, by their unbelief, involved themselves in his punishment, and will be exiles till death; and how Kadmus himself must suffer with his house, how he shall wander exiled from Hellas,—the portion preserved commencing with the prophecy of his weird transformation.]
Dionysus.
—Thou to a serpent shalt be changed: thy wife Harmonia, Ares' child, whom thou didst wed When man, embruted shall to a snake be changed. Thou with thy wife shalt drive a wain of steers ​Leading barbaric hordes, Zeus' oracle saith, 1335 And many a city with thy countless host Shalt sack: but when they plunder Loxias' shrine, Then shall they get them bitter home-return. Thee and Harmonia shall Ares save, And stablish in the Blessèd Land your lives. 1340 This say I, of no mortal father born, Dionysus, but of Zeus. Had ye but learnt Wisdom, what time ye would not, ye had been Blest now, with Zeus' son for your champion gained.
Agave.
Dionysus, we beseech thee!—we have sinned. 1345
Dionysus.
Too late ye know me, who knew not in your hour.
Agave.
We know it: but thy vengeance passeth bounds.
Dionysus.
I am a God: ye did despite to me.
Agave.
It fits not that in wrath Gods be as men.
Dionysus.
Long since my father Zeus ordained this so. 1350
Agave.
Alas! our woeful exile's doom is sealed!
Dionysus.
Why then delay the fate that needs must be? [Exit.
Kadmus.
Daughter, to what dread misery are we come, Thou—woe is thee!—thy sisters, and thy son! I must in sorrow visit alien men, A grey-haired sojourner. I am doomed withal 1355 On Greeks to lead a mingled alien host; And Ares' child, Harmonia my wife, In serpent form shall I, a serpent, lead Against our Hellas' altars and her tombs, Captaining spears. And I shall find no rest 1360 From woes, alas! nor that down-rushing stream Of Acheron shall I cross and be at peace!
Agave.
Robbed of thee, father, exiled shall I be!
Kadmus.
Why cast thine arms about me, hapless child? Like white swan cherishing its helpless sire? 1365
Agave.
Whither can I turn, outcast from my land?
Kadmus.
I know not, child. Small help thy father is.
Agave.
Farewell, mine home; farewell, ye city-towers Of fatherland! In anguish of despair I pass an exile from my bridal bowers. 1370
Kadmus.
Child, to the halls of Aristaius fare: Abide thou there.
Agave.
I mourn thee, father!
Kadmus.
Child, I mourn for thee; And for thy sisters do I weep withal.
Agave.
For Dionysus' tyrannous majesty Most fearfully hath caused upon thine hall This shame to fall.
Kadmus.
Yea, outrage foul to him of you was done, In that his name in Thebes was held in scorn.
Agave.
Farewell, my father.
Kadmus.
Farewell, hapless one, Daughter!—ah, hardly shalt thou reach such bourn! 1380
Agave.
O ye, to my sisters guide me, My companions in banishment's misery. O that afar I might hide me Where accursèd Kithairon shall look not on me, ​Neither I with mine eyes shall Kithairon see, Where memorial is none of the thyrsus-spear! Be these unto other Bacchanals dear.
Chorus.
O the works of the Gods—in manifold wise they reveal them: Manifold things unhoped-for the Gods to accomplishment bring. And the things that we looked for, the Gods deign not to fulfil them; 1390 And the paths undiscerned of our eyes, the Gods unseal them. So fell this marvellous thing.
[Exeunt omnes.
* ↑ Or (Elmsley and Tyrrell), "Let him hence: in his home let him stay."
* ↑ Or, "Tempting them with the—" (Paley).
* ↑ Drumming on the timbrels with the wand tipped with the pine-cone.
* ↑ Or, "Didst thou . . . and wouldst thou . . . ?" (Paley).
* ↑ Insinuating that priests and diviners had an interest in introducing new gods, with their special sacrifices and revelations, as this would bring to them, as the officiating medium, larger fees.
* ↑ Tyrrell, following Wecklein, reads γλώσσῃ for δυνατὸς, "The man who is rash of tongue and ready of speech."
* ↑ i.e. Gave this counterfeit Dionysus to Hera, to hold as a hostage, as a guarantee against his investing her rival Semelê's child with the honours of divinity.
* ↑ The genuineness of this passage (ll. 286–227) is greatly disputed. The point of the rationalistic derivation lies in the similarity of three Greek words:—meros, a fragment; homēros, hostage; ho mēros, the thigh.
* ↑ Hitherto consecrated to Apollo alone.
* ↑ This riddling utterance receives perhaps the simplest explanation if we refer the "spells" in l. 327 to the judicial madness, the "possession" inflicted by Bacchus, which could not be removed by any such "spells" (326) as were commonly employed by human exorcists. Pentheus is the Pharaoh of Greek legend, and his heart is represented here as hardened in punishment for his unbelief.
* ↑ Implying that Teiresias shows due reverence to the new god without dishonouring the old deity whose prophet he is (Sandys).
* ↑ The name Pentheus suggested to the Greek the word penthos, sorrow. Such plays on words are common in the Tragedians. They are not to be regarded as beneath the dignity of tragedy, since the Greeks, like the Hebrews, regarded a man's name as not only foreshowing his destiny, but even as contributing to bring it about. See l. 508.
* ↑ Macedonia; where, at the court of king Archelaus, Euripides composed this play, and where the bacchanalian rites were celebrated with great enthusiasm.
* ↑ Tyrrell retains manuscript reading μαίνεσθε, "Ye are mad! Once in the toils of these mine hands."
* ↑ i.e. Never, as I do not intend that you shall escape to rejoin them.
* ↑ Or (οὐδ᾽ ὃ δρᾷς, Reiske, followed by Paley), "Thy life, thy deeds, thyself, thou knowest not."
* ↑ The river Acheloüs was in legend the Father of all Greek streams. Dirkê, the sacred fountain of Thebes, is addressed as representing that city.
* ↑ A line inserted conjecturally, to complete stichomuthia.
* ↑ Reading σοι for σ᾽ οὐ (MS.), which would mean, "I grudge not such delay," i.e. the postponement of hostilities till the project of espial, which is to ensure their success, be first carried out.
* ↑ Implying that it will not be theirs; but the manuscript reading is uncertain, and it is doubtful if it can bear this or any satisfactory sense. Tyrrell approves Housman's conjecture, εὐμαθὴς εἶ: "How?—be detected? singly fight yon Maenads?"
* ↑ Or (Tyrrell) "Who reveals at last a godhead."
* ↑ Among signs of incipient madness is a failure to discriminate resistance, so that the patient, while raising slight weights, (here, the thyrsus), imagines himself to be putting forth strength enough to raise enormous ones.
* ↑ Henceforth the dialogue is all Tragic Irony, the words of Dionysus bearing one meaning for Pentheus, and another for the audience.
* ↑ To preserve the symmetry of the dialogue, the messenger should speak a distich: accordingly Paley suggests, to supply the lacuna— "that ills Have left her powerless all to punish thee?"
* ↑ Others, "by rending nails."
* ↑ Following Reid and Tyrrell.
* ↑ Or, retaining manuscript reading, "She hath won for her."
* ↑ Reading εὐτυχής γ᾽ ἅδ᾽ ἄγρα, and assigning to Agavê.
* ↑ One of the many touches by which Euripides reminds us that the ancients had studied to some purpose the pathology of mental disorders. He begins the process of restoring the broken links of her memory by going back to what can most surely be counted on in the old, the memories of youth.
* ↑ A line inserted conjecturally, to fill lacuna.
* ↑ For preserved fragments of this lost portion, see Appendix which follows this play.
* ↑ i.e. As to fare well.
APPENDIX TO THE "BACCHANALS."
A few fragments, given below, of the lost portion of the Bacchæ have been collected, chiefly from the Christus Patiens, "a wretchedly stupid drama, falsely attributed to Gregory Nazianzenus, giving an account of the circumstances leading up to the Passion of Christ, and consisting of a cento of verses taken chiefly from the Bacchæ, Rhesus, and Troades" (Tyrrell, Introduction to his edition of the Bacchæ).
The lines marked A. may be taken as from the speech of Agavê; those marked D., as from that of Dionysus.
A.To find a doom of rending midst the rocks . . . . ········· How shall I press him—woe's me!—tenderly Unto my breast?—in what wise wail o'er him? ········· For, had mine hands received not mine own curse . . . ········· To rend to utter fragments every limb . . . . ········· Kissing the shreds of flesh which once I nursed . . . . ········· Come, ancient, this thrice-hapless wretch's head Compose we reverently, and all the frame Lay we together, far as in us lies. ········· O best-belovèd face, O youthful cheek . . . . ········· Lo, with this vesture do I veil thine head, And these thy blood-bedabbled, furrow-scarred Limbs . . . . .
​D.He dared the chain, he dared the scoffing word . . . ········· They which should have been last to slay him, slew . . . ········· All this hath yon man suffered righteously. ········· Yea, and the nation's doom I will not hide . . . . ········· That they must leave this city, expiate The impious pollution of his murder, And see no more their own land: that were sin. ········· All woes thou too must suffer will I tell.
* ↑ This line is from Lucian.
* ↑ This line is from the Scholiast to Aristophanes Plutus.