{"id":29,"date":"2017-06-24T20:36:19","date_gmt":"2017-06-24T20:36:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/chapter\/the-bacchae-of-euripides-i\/"},"modified":"2017-07-20T17:42:37","modified_gmt":"2017-07-20T17:42:37","slug":"the-bacchae-of-euripides-i","status":"web-only","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-geneseo-humanities1-1\/chapter\/the-bacchae-of-euripides-i\/","title":{"raw":"The Bacchae of Euripides I","rendered":"The Bacchae of Euripides I"},"content":{"raw":"
<\/div>\r\n\r\n
\r\n\r\n

CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY<\/h3>\r\n

Dionysus, the God<\/span>; son of Zeus and of the Theban princess Semel\u00ea<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n

Cadmus<\/span>, formerly King of Thebes, father of Semel\u00ea<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n

Pentheus<\/span>, King of Thebes, grandson of Cadmus<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n

Ag\u00e2v\u00ea<\/span>, daughter of Cadmus, mother of Pentheus<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n

Teiresias<\/span>, an aged Theban prophet<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n

A Soldier of Pentheus' Guard.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

Two Messengers.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

A Chorus of Inspired Damsels<\/span>, following Dionysus from the East.<\/i><\/p>\r\n\"The play was first produced after the death of Euripides by his son, who bore the same name, together with the 'Iphigen\u00eea in Aulis' and the 'Alcmaeon,' probably in the year<\/i> 405 B.C.<\/span>\"\r\n\r\n \r\n

\"\"<\/div>\r\n

THE BACCHAE<\/h2>\r\n
\r\n

The background represents the front of the Castle of<\/i> Pentheus<\/span>, King of Thebes. At one side is visible the sacred Tomb of Semel\u00ea, a little enclosure overgrown with wild vines, with a cleft in the rocky floor of it from which there issues at times steam or smoke. The God<\/i> Dionysus<\/span> is discovered alone<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Dionysus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
\r\n\r\nBehold, God's Son is come unto this land\r\nOf Thebes, even I, Dionysus, whom the brand\r\nOf heaven's hot splendour lit to life, when she\r\nWho bore me, Cadmus' daughter Semel\u00ea,\r\nDied here. So, changed in shape from God to man,\r\nI walk again by Dirce's streams and scan\r\nIsmenus' shore. There by the castle side\r\nI see her place, the Tomb of the Lightning's Bride,\r\nThe wreck of smouldering chambers, and the great\r\nFaint wreaths of fire undying\u2014as the hate\r\nDies not, that Hera held for Semel\u00ea.\r\nAye, Cadmus hath done well; in purity\r\nHe keeps this place apart, inviolate,\r\nHis daughter's sanctuary; and I have set\r\nMy green and clustered vines to robe it round.\r\nFar now behind me lies the golden ground\r\nOf Lydian and of Phrygian; far away\r\nThe wide hot plains where Persian sunbeams play,\r\nThe Bactrian war-holds, and the storm-oppressed\r\nClime of the Mede, and Araby the Blest,\r\nAnd Asia all, that by the salt sea lies\r\nIn proud embattled cities, motley-wise\r\nOf Hellene and Barbarian interwrought;\r\nAnd now I come to Hellas\u2014having taught\r\nAll the world else my dances and my rite\r\nOf mysteries, to show me in men's sight\r\nManifest God.\r\nAnd first of Hellene lands\r\nI cry thus Thebes to waken; set her hands\r\nTo clasp my wand, mine ivied javelin,\r\nAnd round her shoulders hang my wild fawn-skin.\r\nFor they have scorned me whom it least beseemed,\r\nSemel\u00ea's sisters; mocked my birth, nor deemed\r\nThat Dionysus sprang from Dian seed.\r\nMy mother sinned, said they; and in her need,\r\nWith Cadmus plotting, cloaked her human shame\r\nWith the dread name of Zeus; for that the flame\r\nFrom heaven consumed her, seeing she lied to God.\r\nThus must they vaunt; and therefore hath my rod\r\nOn them first fallen, and stung them forth wild-eyed\r\nFrom empty chambers; the bare mountain side\r\nIs made their home, and all their hearts are flame.\r\nYea, I have bound upon the necks of them\r\nThe harness of my rites. And with them all\r\nThe seed of womankind from hut and hall\r\nOf Thebes, hath this my magic goaded out.\r\nAnd there, with the old King's daughters, in a rout\r\nConfused, they make their dwelling-place between\r\nThe roofless rocks and shadowy pine trees green.\r\nThus shall this Thebes, how sore soe'er it smart,\r\nLearn and forget not, till she crave her part\r\nIn mine adoring; thus must I speak clear\r\nTo save my mother's fame, and crown me here\r\nAs true God, born by Semel\u00ea to Zeus.\r\n\r\nNow Cadmus yieldeth up his throne and use\r\nOf royal honour to his daughter's son\r\nPentheus; who on my body hath begun\r\nA war with God. He thrusteth me away\r\nFrom due drink-offering, and, when men pray,\r\nMy name entreats not. Therefore on his own\r\nHead and his people's shall my power be shown.\r\nThen to another land, when all things here\r\nAre well, must I fare onward, making clear\r\nMy godhead's might. But should this Theban town\r\nEssay with wrath and battle to drag down\r\nMy maids, lo, in their path myself shall be,\r\nAnd maniac armies battled after me!\r\nFor this I veil my godhead with the wan\r\nForm of the things that die, and walk as Man.\r\n\r\nO Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown,\r\nO Lydian band, my chosen and mine own,\r\nDamsels uplifted o'er the orient deep\r\nTo wander where I wander, and to sleep\r\nWhere I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound,\r\nThe clang that I and mystic Rhea found,\r\nThe Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all\r\nThebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall.\r\nI seek my new-made worshippers, to guide\r\nTheir dances up Kithaeron's pine-clad side.\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n

[As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left\u00a0<\/em>a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the\u00a0<\/em>sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and\u00a0<\/em>ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes,\u00a0<\/em>and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and\u00a0<\/em>other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or\u00a0<\/em>sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. <\/em>They enter stealthily till they see that the place is <\/em>empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship.<\/em>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Chorus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n

A Maiden<\/h4>\r\n
From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises,\r\nTo Bromios ever glorying we came.\r\nWe laboured for our Lord in many guises;\r\nWe toiled, but the toil is as the prize is;\r\nThou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name!<\/div>\r\n

Another<\/h4>\r\n
Who lingers in the road? Who espies us?\r\nHe shall hide him in his house nor be bold.\r\nLet the heart keep silence that defies us;\r\nFor I sing this day to Dionysus\r\nThe song that is appointed from of old.<\/div>\r\n

All the Maidens<\/h4>\r\n
\r\n\r\nOh, bless\u00e8d he in all wise,\r\nWho hath drunk the Living Fountain,\r\nWhose life no folly staineth,\r\nAnd his soul is near to God;\r\nWhose sins are lifted, pall-wise,\r\nAs he worships on the Mountain,\r\nAnd where Cybele ordaineth,\r\nOur Mother, he has trod:\r\n\r\nHis head with ivy laden\r\nAnd his thyrsus tossing high,\r\nFor our God he lifts his cry;\r\n\"Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden,\r\nCome, O ye Bacchae, come;\r\nOh, bring the Joy-bestower,\r\nGod-seed of God the Sower,\r\nBring Bromios in his power\r\nFrom Phrygia's mountain dome;\r\nTo street and town and tower,\r\nOh, bring ye Bromios home!\"\r\n\r\nWhom erst in anguish lying\r\nFor an unborn life's desire,\r\nAs a dead thing in the Thunder\r\nHis mother cast to earth;\r\nFor her heart was dying, dying,\r\nIn the white heart of the fire;\r\nTill Zeus, the Lord of Wonder,\r\nDevised new lairs of birth;\r\n\r\nYea, his own flesh tore to hide him,\r\nAnd with clasps of bitter gold\r\nDid a secret son enfold,\r\nAnd the Queen knew not beside him;\r\nTill the perfect hour was there;\r\nThen a horn\u00e8d God was found,\r\nAnd a God with serpents crowned;\r\nAnd for that are serpents wound\r\nIn the wands his maidens bear,\r\nAnd the songs of serpents sound\r\nIn the mazes of their hair.\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n

Some Maidens<\/h4>\r\n
\r\n\r\nAll hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel\u00ea!\r\nWith Semel\u00ea's wild ivy crown thy towers;\r\nOh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony,\r\nBerries and leaves and flowers;\r\nUplift the dark divine wand,\r\nThe oak-wand and the pine-wand,\r\nAnd don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity\r\nWith fleecy white, like ours.\r\n\r\nOh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride!\r\nYea, all men shall dance with us and pray,\r\nWhen Bromios his companies shall guide\r\nHillward, ever hillward, where they stay,\r\nThe flock of the Believing,\r\nThe maids from loom and weaving\r\nBy the magic of his breath borne away.\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n

Others<\/h3>\r\n
\r\n\r\nHail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt\r\nWhere fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare,\r\nFor thee of old some crested Corybant\r\nFirst woke in Cretan air\r\nThe wild orb of our orgies,\r\nOur Timbrel; and thy gorges\r\nRang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant\r\nAnd sweet keen pipes were there.\r\n\r\nBut the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's,\r\nAnd away to Mother Rhea it must wend;\r\nAnd to our holy singing from the Mother's\r\nThe mad Satyrs carried it, to blend\r\nIn the dancing and the cheer\r\nOf our third and perfect Year;\r\nAnd it serves Dionysus in the end!\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n

A Maiden<\/h4>\r\n
O glad, glad on the mountains\r\nTo swoon in the race outworn,\r\nWhen the holy fawn-skin clings,\r\nAnd all else sweeps away,\r\nTo the joy of the red quick fountains,\r\nThe blood of the hill-goat torn,\r\nThe glory of wild-beast ravenings,\r\nWhere the hill-tops catch the day;\r\nTo the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains!\r\n'Tis Bromios leads the way.<\/div>\r\n

Another Maiden<\/h4>\r\n
Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams\r\nWith wine and nectar of the bee,\r\nAnd through the air dim perfume steams\r\nOf Syrian frankincense; and He,\r\nOur leader, from his thyrsus spray\r\nA torchlight tosses high and higher,\r\nA torchlight like a beacon-fire,\r\nTo waken all that faint and stray;\r\nAnd sets them leaping as he sings,\r\nHis tresses rippling to the sky,\r\nAnd deep beneath the Maenad cry\r\nHis proud voice rings:\r\n\"Come, O ye Bacchae, come!\"<\/div>\r\n

All the Maidens<\/h4>\r\n
Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden,\r\nCome with the voice of timbrel and drum;\r\nLet the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden\r\nThe God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come!\r\nWith pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour,\r\nOn, where the vision of holiness thrills,\r\nAnd the music climbs and the maddening glamour,\r\nWith the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills!\r\nOh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river,\r\nA colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings,\r\nWith the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver,\r\nAway the Bacchanal springs!<\/div>\r\n

[Enter<\/i> Teiresias<\/span>. He is an old man and blind, <\/i>leaning upon a staff and moving with slow <\/i>stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the\u00a0<\/i>Bacchic fawn-skin.<\/i>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Ho, there, who keeps the gate?\u2014Go, summon me\r\nCadmus, Ag\u00eanor's son, who crossed the sea\r\nFrom Sidon and upreared this Theban hold.\r\nGo, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told\r\nTeiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge\r\nMine errand, and the compact, age with age,\r\nI vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair,\r\nTo deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear\r\nHis fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows.<\/div>\r\n

[Enter<\/i> Cadmus<\/span> from the Castle. He is even older\u00a0<\/i>than<\/i> Teiresias<\/span>, and wears the same attire<\/i>.]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows\r\nLike mellow wisdom from a fountain wise.\r\nAnd, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise\r\nAnd harness of this God. Are we not told\r\nHis is the soul of that dead life of old\r\nThat sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then\r\nMust thou and I with all the strength of men\r\nExalt him.\r\nWhere then shall I stand, where tread\r\nThe dance and toss this bowed and hoary head?\r\nO friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey\r\nAnd eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.\u2014Nay;\r\nI am not weak.<\/div>\r\n

[At the first movement of worship his manner <\/em>begins to change; a mysterious strength and <\/i>exaltation enter into him.<\/i>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Surely this arm could smite\r\nThe wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night,\r\nAnd faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully\r\nThe dim years fall from off me!<\/div>\r\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
As with thee,\r\nWith me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young,\r\nAnd will essay the dancing and the song.<\/div>\r\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road.<\/div>\r\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God.<\/div>\r\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
So be it. Mine old arm shall guide thee there.<\/div>\r\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care.<\/div>\r\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we?<\/div>\r\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see.<\/div>\r\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so.<\/div>\r\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Lo, there is mine. So link\u00e8d let us go.<\/div>\r\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise?<\/div>\r\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries?\r\nNot thou and I! That heritage sublime\r\nOur sires have left us, wisdom old as time,\r\nNo word of man, how deep soe'er his thought\r\nAnd won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught.\r\nAye, men will rail that I forget my years,\r\nTo dance and wreathe with ivy these white hairs;\r\nWhat recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told\r\nTo mark what man shall dance, or young or old;\r\nBut craves his honours from mortality\r\nAll, no man marked apart; and great shall be!<\/div>\r\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n

(after looking away toward the Mountain<\/i>)<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read,\r\nI must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed\r\nPentheus, Ech\u00eeon's son, whom I have raised\r\nTo rule my people in my stead.\u2014Amazed\r\nHe seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear.<\/div>\r\n

[The two stand back, partially concealed, while\u00a0<\/em>there enters in hot haste Pentheus<\/span>, followed by\u00a0<\/em>a bodyguard. He is speaking to the Soldier\u00a0<\/span><\/em>in command<\/em>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Pentheus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear\r\nWas caught by this strange rumour, that our own\r\nWives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown\r\nTo wild and secret rites; and cluster there\r\nHigh on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer\r\nTo adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,\r\nWhate'er he be!\u2014And in their companies\r\nDeep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon\r\nAway into the loneliness now one\r\nSteals forth, and now a second, maid or dame,\r\nWhere love lies waiting, not of God! The flame,\r\nThey say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,\r\n'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray.\r\nHowbeit, all that I have found, my men\r\nHold bound and shackled in our dungeon den;\r\nThe rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare\r\nMy birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer\r\nAnd mountain song and rites of rascaldom!\r\nThey tell me, too, there is a stranger come,\r\nA man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas,\r\nA head all gold and cloudy fragrancies,\r\nA wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light\r\nOf the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night\r\nHe haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip\r\nDangling his cup of joyance!\u2014Let me grip\r\nHim once, but once, within these walls, right swift\r\nThat wand shall cease its music, and that drift\r\nOf tossing curls lie still\u2014when my rude sword\r\nFalls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word,\r\nThis tale of Dionysus; how that same\r\nBabe that was blasted by the lightning flame\r\nWith his dead mother, for that mother's lie,\r\nWas re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh\r\nOf Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these?\r\nDreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies\r\nThat crave the very gibbet?\r\nStay! God wot,\r\nHere is another marvel! See I not\r\nIn motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer\r\nTeiresias? And my mother's father here\u2014\r\nO depth of scorn!\u2014adoring with the wand\r\nOf Bacchios?\u2014Father!\u2014Nay, mine eyes are fond;\r\nIt is not your white heads so fancy-flown!\r\nIt cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown,\r\nO mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand\r\nThat cowers about its staff.\r\n'Tis thou hast planned\r\nThis work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set\r\nAnother altar and another yet\r\nAmongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire\r\nOf gold, interpreting new signs of fire!\r\nBut for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true,\r\nThou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew\r\nOf raving damsels, for this evil dream\r\nThou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam\r\nOf grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival,\r\nIn all their prayers is no more health at all!<\/div>\r\n

Leader of the Chorus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n

(the words are not heard by<\/i> Pentheus<\/span>)<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Injurious King, hast thou no care for God,\r\nNor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod,\r\nLife-spring to great Ech\u00eeon and to thee?<\/div>\r\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Good words, my son, come easily, when he\r\nThat speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right.\r\nElse come they never! Swift are thine, and bright\r\nAs though with thought, yet have no thought at all.\r\nLo, this new God, whom thou dost flout withal,\r\nI cannot speak the greatness wherewith He\r\nIn Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be,\r\nYoung Prince, that in man's world are first of worth.\r\nD\u00eam\u00eat\u00ear one is named; she is the Earth\u2014\r\nCall her which name thou will!\u2014who feeds man's frame\r\nWith sustenance of things dry. And that which came\r\nHer work to perfect, second, is the Power\r\nFrom Semel\u00ea born. He found the liquid shower\r\nHid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim\r\nFrom grieving, when the vine exalteth him.\r\nHe giveth sleep to sink the fretful day\r\nIn cool forgetting. Is there any way\r\nWith man's sore heart, save only to forget?\r\nYea, being God, the blood of him is set\r\nBefore the Gods in sacrifice, that we\r\nFor his sake may be blest.\u2014And so, to thee,\r\nThat fable shames him, how this God was knit\r\nInto God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it,\r\nCleared from the false.\u2014When from that deadly light\r\nZeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height\r\nRaised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence,\r\nThen Zeus devised him a divine defence.\r\nA fragment of the world-encircling fire\r\nHe rent apart, and wrought to his desire\r\nOf shape and hue, in the image of the child,\r\nAnd gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled\r\nBy change and passing time, this tale was born,\r\nHow the babe-god was hidden in the torn\r\nFlesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby.\r\nA prophet is he likewise. Prophecy\r\nCleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else\r\nTo frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells\r\nThe God himself, and speaks the thing to be.\r\nYea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he.\r\nWhen mortal armies, mail\u00e8d and arrayed,\r\nHave in strange fear, or ever blade met blade,\r\nFled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them.\r\nAye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem\r\nThou yet shalt see him leaping with his train\r\nOf fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain,\r\nFlaming the darkness with his mystic wand,\r\nAnd great in Hellas.\u2014List and understand,\r\nKing Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power;\r\nNor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour\r\nAnd sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!\u2014Up,\r\nReceive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup\r\nOf sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow.\r\nThou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now;\r\nHow toucheth this the part of Dionyse\r\nTo hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies,\r\nAnd their own hearts; and in the wildest rite\r\nCometh no stain to her whose heart is white.\r\nNay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate\r\nStands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great\r\nAnd high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He\r\nRejoice in his due meed of majesty?\r\nHowbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I\r\nWill wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye,\r\nOur hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod!\r\nI will not lift mine arm to war with God\r\nFor thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell\r\nIs on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell,\r\nBut not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured!<\/div>\r\n

Chorus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word,\r\nAnd wise in honouring Bromios, our great God.<\/div>\r\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
My son, right well Teiresias points thy road.\r\nOh, make thine habitation here with us,\r\nNot lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous\r\nIs this quick bird-like beating of thy thought\r\nWhere no thought dwells.\u2014Grant that this God be naught,\r\nYet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth;\r\nLie boldly, and say He Is! So north and south\r\nShall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine\r\nFrom Semel\u00ea's flesh, and honour all our line.<\/div>\r\n

[Drawing nearer to<\/i> Pentheus<\/em><\/span>.<\/em>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Is there not blood before thine eyes even now?\r\nOur lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago\r\nHis own red hounds through yonder forest dim\r\nTore unto death, because he vaunted him\r\nAgainst most holy Artemis? Oh, beware,\r\nAnd let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer\r\nWith us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight.<\/div>\r\n

[He makes as if to set the wreath on<\/i> Pentheus'<\/span> head<\/i>.]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Pentheus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite,\r\nNor smear on me thy foul contagion!<\/div>\r\n

[Turning upon Teiresias<\/span>.<\/em>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

This\r\nThy folly's head and prompter shall not miss\r\nThe justice that he needs!\u2014Go, half my guard,\r\nForth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward\r\nO'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crow\r\nAnd trident; make one wreck of high and low,\r\nAnd toss his bands to all the winds of air!\r\nHa, have I found the way to sting thee, there?\r\nThe rest, forth through the town! And seek amain\r\nThis girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane\r\nTo all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives.\r\nSeek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves,\r\nTill he be judged and stoned, and weep in blood\r\nThe day he troubled Pentheus with his God!<\/div>\r\n

[The guards set forth in two bodies; Pentheus<\/span> goes into the Castle.<\/em>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed\r\nThou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed\r\nMost mad!\u2014Come, Cadmus, let us go our way,\r\nAnd pray for this our persecutor, pray\r\nFor this poor city, that the righteous God\r\nMove not in anger.\u2014Take thine ivy rod\r\nAnd help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill,\r\nIf two old men should fall by the roadway. Still,\r\nCome what come may, our service shall be done\r\nTo Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son.\r\nO Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim\r\nFrom all thy house fulfilment of his name,\r\nOld Cadmus?\u2014Nay, I speak not from mine art,\r\nBut as I see\u2014blind words and a blind heart!<\/div>\r\n

[The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain.<\/em>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Chorus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n

Some Maidens<\/h4>\r\n
Thou Immaculate on high;\r\nThou Recording Purity;\r\nThou that stoopest, Golden Wing,\r\nEarthward, manward, pitying,\r\nHearest thou this angry King?\r\nHearest thou the rage and scorn\r\n'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices,\r\nHim of mortal mother born,\r\nHim in whom man's heart rejoices,\r\nGirt with garlands and with glee,\r\nFirst in Heaven's sovranty?\r\nFor his kingdom, it is there,\r\nIn the dancing and the prayer,\r\nIn the music and the laughter,\r\nIn the vanishing of care,\r\nAnd of all before and after;\r\nIn the Gods' high banquet, when\r\nGleams the grape-blood, flashed to heaven;\r\nYea, and in the feasts of men\r\nComes his crown\u00e8d slumber; then\r\nPain is dead and hate forgiven!<\/div>\r\n

Others<\/h3>\r\n
Loose thy lips from out the rein;\r\nLift thy wisdom to disdain;\r\nWhatso law thou canst not see,\r\nScorning; so the end shall be\r\nUttermost calamity!\r\n'Tis the life of quiet breath,\r\n'Tis the simple and the true,\r\nStorm nor earthquake shattereth,\r\nNor shall aught the house undo\r\nWhere they dwell. For, far away,\r\nHidden from the eyes of day,\r\nWatchers are there in the skies,\r\nThat can see man's life, and prize\r\nDeeds well done by things of clay.\r\nBut the world's Wise are not wise,\r\nClaiming more than mortal may.\r\nLife is such a little thing;\r\nLo, their present is departed,\r\nAnd the dreams to which they cling\r\nCome not. Mad imagining\r\nTheirs, I ween, and empty-hearted!<\/div>\r\n

Divers Maidens<\/h3>\r\n
\r\n\r\nWhere is the Home for me?\r\nO Cyprus, set in the sea,\r\nAphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam,\r\nWould I could wend to thee;\r\nWhere the wings of the Loves are furled,\r\nAnd faint the heart of the world.\r\n\r\nAye, unto Paphos' isle,\r\nWhere the rainless meadows smile\r\nWith riches rolled From the hundred-fold\r\nMouths of the far-off Nile,\r\nStreaming beneath the waves\r\nTo the roots of the seaward caves.\r\n\r\nBut a better land is there\r\nWhere Olympus cleaves the air,\r\nThe high still dell Where the Muses dwell,\r\nFairest of all things fair!\r\nO there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire.\r\nAnd peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire!\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n
\r\n\r\nA God of Heaven is he,\r\nAnd born in majesty;\r\nYet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth,\r\nAnd he loveth constantly\r\nHer who brings increase,\r\nThe Feeder of Children, Peace.\r\n\r\nNo grudge hath he of the great;\r\nNo scorn of the mean estate;\r\nBut to all that liveth His wine he giveth,\r\nGriefless, immaculate;\r\nOnly on them that spurn\r\nJoy, may his anger burn.\r\n\r\nLove thou the Day and the Night;\r\nBe glad of the Dark and the Light;\r\nAnd avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise,\r\nThat have honour in proud men's sight.\r\nThe simple nameless herd of Humanity\r\nHath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me!\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n

[As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, <\/i>leading in the midst of them<\/i> Dionysus<\/span>, bound<\/i>.\u00a0The<\/i> Soldier<\/span> in command stands forth, <\/i>as<\/i> Pentheus<\/span>,\u00a0hearing the tramp of feet, <\/i>comes out from the Castle<\/i>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Soldier<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King,\r\nCaught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing\r\nMost tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee,\r\nBut held both hands out unresistingly\u2014\r\nNo change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek.\r\nHe waited while we came, and bade us wreak\r\nAll thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my hest\r\nEasy, till I for very shame confessed\r\nAnd said: 'O stranger, not of mine own will\r\nI bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil\r\nWho sent me.'\r\nAnd those prisoned Maids withal\r\nWhom thou didst seize and bind within the wall\r\nOf thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King,\r\nFree in the woods, a-dance and glorying\r\nTo Bromios. Of their own impulse fell\r\nTo earth, men say, fetter and manacle,\r\nAnd bars slid back untouched of mortal hand.\r\nYea, full of many wonders to thy land\r\nIs this man come. . . . Howbeit, it lies with thee!<\/div>\r\n

Pentheus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
Ye are mad!\u2014Unhand him. Howso swift he be,\r\nMy toils are round him and he shall not fly.<\/div>\r\n

[The guards loose the arms of Dionysus<\/span>; <\/em>Pentheus<\/span> studies him for a while in silence,\u00a0<\/em>then speaks jeeringly.\u00a0Dionysus\u00a0<\/span>remains\u00a0<\/em>gentle and unafraid.<\/em>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye,\r\nSir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween!\r\nLong curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast been\r\nA wrestler!\u2014down both cheeks so softly tossed\r\nAnd winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost\r\nThee pains, to please thy damsels with this white\r\nAnd red of cheeks that never face the light!<\/div>\r\n

[Dionysus<\/span> is silent.<\/em>]<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race.<\/div>\r\n

Dionysus<\/span><\/h3>\r\n
No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace.\r\nThou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers?<\/div>\r\n<\/div>","rendered":"
<\/div>\n
\n

CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY<\/h3>\n

Dionysus, the God<\/span>; son of Zeus and of the Theban princess Semel\u00ea<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Cadmus<\/span>, formerly King of Thebes, father of Semel\u00ea<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Pentheus<\/span>, King of Thebes, grandson of Cadmus<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Ag\u00e2v\u00ea<\/span>, daughter of Cadmus, mother of Pentheus<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Teiresias<\/span>, an aged Theban prophet<\/i>.<\/p>\n

A Soldier of Pentheus’ Guard.<\/span><\/p>\n

Two Messengers.<\/span><\/p>\n

A Chorus of Inspired Damsels<\/span>, following Dionysus from the East.<\/i><\/p>\n

“The play was first produced after the death of Euripides by his son, who bore the same name, together with the ‘Iphigen\u00eea in Aulis’ and the ‘Alcmaeon,’ probably in the year<\/i> 405 B.C.<\/span>”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/div>\n

THE BACCHAE<\/h2>\n
\n

The background represents the front of the Castle of<\/i> Pentheus<\/span>, King of Thebes. At one side is visible the sacred Tomb of Semel\u00ea, a little enclosure overgrown with wild vines, with a cleft in the rocky floor of it from which there issues at times steam or smoke. The God<\/i> Dionysus<\/span> is discovered alone<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Dionysus<\/span><\/h3>\n
\n

Behold, God’s Son is come unto this land
\nOf Thebes, even I, Dionysus, whom the brand
\nOf heaven’s hot splendour lit to life, when she
\nWho bore me, Cadmus’ daughter Semel\u00ea,
\nDied here. So, changed in shape from God to man,
\nI walk again by Dirce’s streams and scan
\nIsmenus’ shore. There by the castle side
\nI see her place, the Tomb of the Lightning’s Bride,
\nThe wreck of smouldering chambers, and the great
\nFaint wreaths of fire undying\u2014as the hate
\nDies not, that Hera held for Semel\u00ea.
\nAye, Cadmus hath done well; in purity
\nHe keeps this place apart, inviolate,
\nHis daughter’s sanctuary; and I have set
\nMy green and clustered vines to robe it round.
\nFar now behind me lies the golden ground
\nOf Lydian and of Phrygian; far away
\nThe wide hot plains where Persian sunbeams play,
\nThe Bactrian war-holds, and the storm-oppressed
\nClime of the Mede, and Araby the Blest,
\nAnd Asia all, that by the salt sea lies
\nIn proud embattled cities, motley-wise
\nOf Hellene and Barbarian interwrought;
\nAnd now I come to Hellas\u2014having taught
\nAll the world else my dances and my rite
\nOf mysteries, to show me in men’s sight
\nManifest God.
\nAnd first of Hellene lands
\nI cry thus Thebes to waken; set her hands
\nTo clasp my wand, mine ivied javelin,
\nAnd round her shoulders hang my wild fawn-skin.
\nFor they have scorned me whom it least beseemed,
\nSemel\u00ea’s sisters; mocked my birth, nor deemed
\nThat Dionysus sprang from Dian seed.
\nMy mother sinned, said they; and in her need,
\nWith Cadmus plotting, cloaked her human shame
\nWith the dread name of Zeus; for that the flame
\nFrom heaven consumed her, seeing she lied to God.
\nThus must they vaunt; and therefore hath my rod
\nOn them first fallen, and stung them forth wild-eyed
\nFrom empty chambers; the bare mountain side
\nIs made their home, and all their hearts are flame.
\nYea, I have bound upon the necks of them
\nThe harness of my rites. And with them all
\nThe seed of womankind from hut and hall
\nOf Thebes, hath this my magic goaded out.
\nAnd there, with the old King’s daughters, in a rout
\nConfused, they make their dwelling-place between
\nThe roofless rocks and shadowy pine trees green.
\nThus shall this Thebes, how sore soe’er it smart,
\nLearn and forget not, till she crave her part
\nIn mine adoring; thus must I speak clear
\nTo save my mother’s fame, and crown me here
\nAs true God, born by Semel\u00ea to Zeus.<\/p>\n

Now Cadmus yieldeth up his throne and use
\nOf royal honour to his daughter’s son
\nPentheus; who on my body hath begun
\nA war with God. He thrusteth me away
\nFrom due drink-offering, and, when men pray,
\nMy name entreats not. Therefore on his own
\nHead and his people’s shall my power be shown.
\nThen to another land, when all things here
\nAre well, must I fare onward, making clear
\nMy godhead’s might. But should this Theban town
\nEssay with wrath and battle to drag down
\nMy maids, lo, in their path myself shall be,
\nAnd maniac armies battled after me!
\nFor this I veil my godhead with the wan
\nForm of the things that die, and walk as Man.<\/p>\n

O Brood of Tmolus o’er the wide world flown,
\nO Lydian band, my chosen and mine own,
\nDamsels uplifted o’er the orient deep
\nTo wander where I wander, and to sleep
\nWhere I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound,
\nThe clang that I and mystic Rhea found,
\nThe Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all
\nThebes to your song round Pentheus’ royal hall.
\nI seek my new-made worshippers, to guide
\nTheir dances up Kithaeron’s pine-clad side.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

[As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left\u00a0<\/em>a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the\u00a0<\/em>sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and\u00a0<\/em>ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes,\u00a0<\/em>and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and\u00a0<\/em>other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or\u00a0<\/em>sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. <\/em>They enter stealthily till they see that the place is <\/em>empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship.<\/em>]<\/p>\n

Chorus<\/span><\/h3>\n

A Maiden<\/h4>\n
From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises,
\nTo Bromios ever glorying we came.
\nWe laboured for our Lord in many guises;
\nWe toiled, but the toil is as the prize is;
\nThou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name!<\/div>\n

Another<\/h4>\n
Who lingers in the road? Who espies us?
\nHe shall hide him in his house nor be bold.
\nLet the heart keep silence that defies us;
\nFor I sing this day to Dionysus
\nThe song that is appointed from of old.<\/div>\n

All the Maidens<\/h4>\n
\n

Oh, bless\u00e8d he in all wise,
\nWho hath drunk the Living Fountain,
\nWhose life no folly staineth,
\nAnd his soul is near to God;
\nWhose sins are lifted, pall-wise,
\nAs he worships on the Mountain,
\nAnd where Cybele ordaineth,
\nOur Mother, he has trod:<\/p>\n

His head with ivy laden
\nAnd his thyrsus tossing high,
\nFor our God he lifts his cry;
\n“Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden,
\nCome, O ye Bacchae, come;
\nOh, bring the Joy-bestower,
\nGod-seed of God the Sower,
\nBring Bromios in his power
\nFrom Phrygia’s mountain dome;
\nTo street and town and tower,
\nOh, bring ye Bromios home!”<\/p>\n

Whom erst in anguish lying
\nFor an unborn life’s desire,
\nAs a dead thing in the Thunder
\nHis mother cast to earth;
\nFor her heart was dying, dying,
\nIn the white heart of the fire;
\nTill Zeus, the Lord of Wonder,
\nDevised new lairs of birth;<\/p>\n

Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him,
\nAnd with clasps of bitter gold
\nDid a secret son enfold,
\nAnd the Queen knew not beside him;
\nTill the perfect hour was there;
\nThen a horn\u00e8d God was found,
\nAnd a God with serpents crowned;
\nAnd for that are serpents wound
\nIn the wands his maidens bear,
\nAnd the songs of serpents sound
\nIn the mazes of their hair.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Some Maidens<\/h4>\n
\n

All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semel\u00ea!
\nWith Semel\u00ea’s wild ivy crown thy towers;
\nOh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony,
\nBerries and leaves and flowers;
\nUplift the dark divine wand,
\nThe oak-wand and the pine-wand,
\nAnd don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity
\nWith fleecy white, like ours.<\/p>\n

Oh, cleanse thee in the wands’ waving pride!
\nYea, all men shall dance with us and pray,
\nWhen Bromios his companies shall guide
\nHillward, ever hillward, where they stay,
\nThe flock of the Believing,
\nThe maids from loom and weaving
\nBy the magic of his breath borne away.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Others<\/h3>\n
\n

Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt
\nWhere fierce arms clanged to guard God’s cradle rare,
\nFor thee of old some crested Corybant
\nFirst woke in Cretan air
\nThe wild orb of our orgies,
\nOur Timbrel; and thy gorges
\nRang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant
\nAnd sweet keen pipes were there.<\/p>\n

But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another’s,
\nAnd away to Mother Rhea it must wend;
\nAnd to our holy singing from the Mother’s
\nThe mad Satyrs carried it, to blend
\nIn the dancing and the cheer
\nOf our third and perfect Year;
\nAnd it serves Dionysus in the end!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

A Maiden<\/h4>\n
O glad, glad on the mountains
\nTo swoon in the race outworn,
\nWhen the holy fawn-skin clings,
\nAnd all else sweeps away,
\nTo the joy of the red quick fountains,
\nThe blood of the hill-goat torn,
\nThe glory of wild-beast ravenings,
\nWhere the hill-tops catch the day;
\nTo the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains!
\n‘Tis Bromios leads the way.<\/div>\n

Another Maiden<\/h4>\n
Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams
\nWith wine and nectar of the bee,
\nAnd through the air dim perfume steams
\nOf Syrian frankincense; and He,
\nOur leader, from his thyrsus spray
\nA torchlight tosses high and higher,
\nA torchlight like a beacon-fire,
\nTo waken all that faint and stray;
\nAnd sets them leaping as he sings,
\nHis tresses rippling to the sky,
\nAnd deep beneath the Maenad cry
\nHis proud voice rings:
\n“Come, O ye Bacchae, come!”<\/div>\n

All the Maidens<\/h4>\n
Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden,
\nCome with the voice of timbrel and drum;
\nLet the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden
\nThe God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come!
\nWith pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour,
\nOn, where the vision of holiness thrills,
\nAnd the music climbs and the maddening glamour,
\nWith the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills!
\nOh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river,
\nA colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings,
\nWith the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver,
\nAway the Bacchanal springs!<\/div>\n

[Enter<\/i> Teiresias<\/span>. He is an old man and blind, <\/i>leaning upon a staff and moving with slow <\/i>stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the\u00a0<\/i>Bacchic fawn-skin.<\/i>]<\/p>\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\n
Ho, there, who keeps the gate?\u2014Go, summon me
\nCadmus, Ag\u00eanor’s son, who crossed the sea
\nFrom Sidon and upreared this Theban hold.
\nGo, whosoe’er thou art. See he be told
\nTeiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge
\nMine errand, and the compact, age with age,
\nI vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair,
\nTo deck the new God’s thyrsus, and to wear
\nHis fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows.<\/div>\n

[Enter<\/i> Cadmus<\/span> from the Castle. He is even older\u00a0<\/i>than<\/i> Teiresias<\/span>, and wears the same attire<\/i>.]<\/p>\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\n
True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows
\nLike mellow wisdom from a fountain wise.
\nAnd, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise
\nAnd harness of this God. Are we not told
\nHis is the soul of that dead life of old
\nThat sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then
\nMust thou and I with all the strength of men
\nExalt him.
\nWhere then shall I stand, where tread
\nThe dance and toss this bowed and hoary head?
\nO friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey
\nAnd eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.\u2014Nay;
\nI am not weak.<\/div>\n

[At the first movement of worship his manner <\/em>begins to change; a mysterious strength and <\/i>exaltation enter into him.<\/i>]<\/p>\n

Surely this arm could smite
\nThe wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night,
\nAnd faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully
\nThe dim years fall from off me!<\/div>\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\n
As with thee,
\nWith me ’tis likewise. Light am I and young,
\nAnd will essay the dancing and the song.<\/div>\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\n
Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road.<\/div>\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\n
Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God.<\/div>\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\n
So be it. Mine old arm shall guide thee there.<\/div>\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\n
The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care.<\/div>\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\n
And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we?<\/div>\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\n
Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see.<\/div>\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\n
‘Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so.<\/div>\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\n
Lo, there is mine. So link\u00e8d let us go.<\/div>\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\n
Shall things of dust the Gods’ dark ways despise?<\/div>\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\n
Or prove our wit on Heaven’s high mysteries?
\nNot thou and I! That heritage sublime
\nOur sires have left us, wisdom old as time,
\nNo word of man, how deep soe’er his thought
\nAnd won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught.
\nAye, men will rail that I forget my years,
\nTo dance and wreathe with ivy these white hairs;
\nWhat recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told
\nTo mark what man shall dance, or young or old;
\nBut craves his honours from mortality
\nAll, no man marked apart; and great shall be!<\/div>\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\n

(after looking away toward the Mountain<\/i>)<\/p>\n

Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read,
\nI must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed
\nPentheus, Ech\u00eeon’s son, whom I have raised
\nTo rule my people in my stead.\u2014Amazed
\nHe seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear.<\/div>\n

[The two stand back, partially concealed, while\u00a0<\/em>there enters in hot haste Pentheus<\/span>, followed by\u00a0<\/em>a bodyguard. He is speaking to the Soldier\u00a0<\/span><\/em>in command<\/em>]<\/p>\n

Pentheus<\/span><\/h3>\n
Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear
\nWas caught by this strange rumour, that our own
\nWives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown
\nTo wild and secret rites; and cluster there
\nHigh on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer
\nTo adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,
\nWhate’er he be!\u2014And in their companies
\nDeep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon
\nAway into the loneliness now one
\nSteals forth, and now a second, maid or dame,
\nWhere love lies waiting, not of God! The flame,
\nThey say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,
\n‘Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray.
\nHowbeit, all that I have found, my men
\nHold bound and shackled in our dungeon den;
\nThe rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare
\nMy birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer
\nAnd mountain song and rites of rascaldom!
\nThey tell me, too, there is a stranger come,
\nA man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas,
\nA head all gold and cloudy fragrancies,
\nA wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light
\nOf the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night
\nHe haunts amid the damsels, o’er each lip
\nDangling his cup of joyance!\u2014Let me grip
\nHim once, but once, within these walls, right swift
\nThat wand shall cease its music, and that drift
\nOf tossing curls lie still\u2014when my rude sword
\nFalls between neck and trunk! ‘Tis all his word,
\nThis tale of Dionysus; how that same
\nBabe that was blasted by the lightning flame
\nWith his dead mother, for that mother’s lie,
\nWas re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh
\nOf Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these?
\nDreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies
\nThat crave the very gibbet?
\nStay! God wot,
\nHere is another marvel! See I not
\nIn motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer
\nTeiresias? And my mother’s father here\u2014
\nO depth of scorn!\u2014adoring with the wand
\nOf Bacchios?\u2014Father!\u2014Nay, mine eyes are fond;
\nIt is not your white heads so fancy-flown!
\nIt cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown,
\nO mine own mother’s sire! Set free that hand
\nThat cowers about its staff.
\n‘Tis thou hast planned
\nThis work, Teiresias! ‘Tis thou must set
\nAnother altar and another yet
\nAmongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire
\nOf gold, interpreting new signs of fire!
\nBut for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true,
\nThou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew
\nOf raving damsels, for this evil dream
\nThou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam
\nOf grapes hath lit a Woman’s Festival,
\nIn all their prayers is no more health at all!<\/div>\n

Leader of the Chorus<\/span><\/h3>\n

(the words are not heard by<\/i> Pentheus<\/span>)<\/p>\n

Injurious King, hast thou no care for God,
\nNor Cadmus, sower of the Giants’ Sod,
\nLife-spring to great Ech\u00eeon and to thee?<\/div>\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\n
Good words, my son, come easily, when he
\nThat speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right.
\nElse come they never! Swift are thine, and bright
\nAs though with thought, yet have no thought at all.
\nLo, this new God, whom thou dost flout withal,
\nI cannot speak the greatness wherewith He
\nIn Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be,
\nYoung Prince, that in man’s world are first of worth.
\nD\u00eam\u00eat\u00ear one is named; she is the Earth\u2014
\nCall her which name thou will!\u2014who feeds man’s frame
\nWith sustenance of things dry. And that which came
\nHer work to perfect, second, is the Power
\nFrom Semel\u00ea born. He found the liquid shower
\nHid in the grape. He rests man’s spirit dim
\nFrom grieving, when the vine exalteth him.
\nHe giveth sleep to sink the fretful day
\nIn cool forgetting. Is there any way
\nWith man’s sore heart, save only to forget?
\nYea, being God, the blood of him is set
\nBefore the Gods in sacrifice, that we
\nFor his sake may be blest.\u2014And so, to thee,
\nThat fable shames him, how this God was knit
\nInto God’s flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it,
\nCleared from the false.\u2014When from that deadly light
\nZeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus’ height
\nRaised him, and Hera’s wrath would cast him thence,
\nThen Zeus devised him a divine defence.
\nA fragment of the world-encircling fire
\nHe rent apart, and wrought to his desire
\nOf shape and hue, in the image of the child,
\nAnd gave to Hera’s rage. And so, beguiled
\nBy change and passing time, this tale was born,
\nHow the babe-god was hidden in the torn
\nFlesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby.
\nA prophet is he likewise. Prophecy
\nCleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else
\nTo frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells
\nThe God himself, and speaks the thing to be.
\nYea, and of Ares’ realm a part hath he.
\nWhen mortal armies, mail\u00e8d and arrayed,
\nHave in strange fear, or ever blade met blade,
\nFled maddened, ’tis this God hath palsied them.
\nAye, over Delphi’s rock-built diadem
\nThou yet shalt see him leaping with his train
\nOf fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain,
\nFlaming the darkness with his mystic wand,
\nAnd great in Hellas.\u2014List and understand,
\nKing Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power;
\nNor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour
\nAnd sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!\u2014Up,
\nReceive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup
\nOf sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow.
\nThou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now;
\nHow toucheth this the part of Dionyse
\nTo hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies,
\nAnd their own hearts; and in the wildest rite
\nCometh no stain to her whose heart is white.
\nNay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate
\nStands thronged, and Pentheus’ name is lifted great
\nAnd high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He
\nRejoice in his due meed of majesty?
\nHowbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn’st and I
\nWill wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye,
\nOur hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod!
\nI will not lift mine arm to war with God
\nFor thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell
\nIs on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell,
\nBut not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured!<\/div>\n

Chorus<\/span><\/h3>\n
Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word,
\nAnd wise in honouring Bromios, our great God.<\/div>\n

Cadmus<\/span><\/h3>\n
My son, right well Teiresias points thy road.
\nOh, make thine habitation here with us,
\nNot lonely, against men’s uses. Hazardous
\nIs this quick bird-like beating of thy thought
\nWhere no thought dwells.\u2014Grant that this God be naught,
\nYet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth;
\nLie boldly, and say He Is! So north and south
\nShall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine
\nFrom Semel\u00ea’s flesh, and honour all our line.<\/div>\n

[Drawing nearer to<\/i> Pentheus<\/em><\/span>.<\/em>]<\/p>\n

Is there not blood before thine eyes even now?
\nOur lost Actaeon’s blood, whom long ago
\nHis own red hounds through yonder forest dim
\nTore unto death, because he vaunted him
\nAgainst most holy Artemis? Oh, beware,
\nAnd let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer
\nWith us, and walk thee humbly in God’s sight.<\/div>\n

[He makes as if to set the wreath on<\/i> Pentheus’<\/span> head<\/i>.]<\/p>\n

Pentheus<\/span><\/h3>\n
Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite,
\nNor smear on me thy foul contagion!<\/div>\n

[Turning upon Teiresias<\/span>.<\/em>]<\/p>\n

This
\nThy folly’s head and prompter shall not miss
\nThe justice that he needs!\u2014Go, half my guard,
\nForth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward
\nO’er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crow
\nAnd trident; make one wreck of high and low,
\nAnd toss his bands to all the winds of air!
\nHa, have I found the way to sting thee, there?
\nThe rest, forth through the town! And seek amain
\nThis girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane
\nTo all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives.
\nSeek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves,
\nTill he be judged and stoned, and weep in blood
\nThe day he troubled Pentheus with his God!<\/div>\n

[The guards set forth in two bodies; Pentheus<\/span> goes into the Castle.<\/em>]<\/p>\n

Teiresias<\/span><\/h3>\n
Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed
\nThou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed
\nMost mad!\u2014Come, Cadmus, let us go our way,
\nAnd pray for this our persecutor, pray
\nFor this poor city, that the righteous God
\nMove not in anger.\u2014Take thine ivy rod
\nAnd help my steps, as I help thine. ‘Twere ill,
\nIf two old men should fall by the roadway. Still,
\nCome what come may, our service shall be done
\nTo Bacchios, the All-Father’s mystic son.
\nO Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim
\nFrom all thy house fulfilment of his name,
\nOld Cadmus?\u2014Nay, I speak not from mine art,
\nBut as I see\u2014blind words and a blind heart!<\/div>\n

[The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain.<\/em>]<\/p>\n

Chorus<\/span><\/h3>\n

Some Maidens<\/h4>\n
Thou Immaculate on high;
\nThou Recording Purity;
\nThou that stoopest, Golden Wing,
\nEarthward, manward, pitying,
\nHearest thou this angry King?
\nHearest thou the rage and scorn
\n‘Gainst the Lord of Many Voices,
\nHim of mortal mother born,
\nHim in whom man’s heart rejoices,
\nGirt with garlands and with glee,
\nFirst in Heaven’s sovranty?
\nFor his kingdom, it is there,
\nIn the dancing and the prayer,
\nIn the music and the laughter,
\nIn the vanishing of care,
\nAnd of all before and after;
\nIn the Gods’ high banquet, when
\nGleams the grape-blood, flashed to heaven;
\nYea, and in the feasts of men
\nComes his crown\u00e8d slumber; then
\nPain is dead and hate forgiven!<\/div>\n

Others<\/h3>\n
Loose thy lips from out the rein;
\nLift thy wisdom to disdain;
\nWhatso law thou canst not see,
\nScorning; so the end shall be
\nUttermost calamity!
\n‘Tis the life of quiet breath,
\n‘Tis the simple and the true,
\nStorm nor earthquake shattereth,
\nNor shall aught the house undo
\nWhere they dwell. For, far away,
\nHidden from the eyes of day,
\nWatchers are there in the skies,
\nThat can see man’s life, and prize
\nDeeds well done by things of clay.
\nBut the world’s Wise are not wise,
\nClaiming more than mortal may.
\nLife is such a little thing;
\nLo, their present is departed,
\nAnd the dreams to which they cling
\nCome not. Mad imagining
\nTheirs, I ween, and empty-hearted!<\/div>\n

Divers Maidens<\/h3>\n
\n

Where is the Home for me?
\nO Cyprus, set in the sea,
\nAphrodite’s home In the soft sea-foam,
\nWould I could wend to thee;
\nWhere the wings of the Loves are furled,
\nAnd faint the heart of the world.<\/p>\n

Aye, unto Paphos’ isle,
\nWhere the rainless meadows smile
\nWith riches rolled From the hundred-fold
\nMouths of the far-off Nile,
\nStreaming beneath the waves
\nTo the roots of the seaward caves.<\/p>\n

But a better land is there
\nWhere Olympus cleaves the air,
\nThe high still dell Where the Muses dwell,
\nFairest of all things fair!
\nO there is Grace, and there is the Heart’s Desire.
\nAnd peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

A God of Heaven is he,
\nAnd born in majesty;
\nYet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth,
\nAnd he loveth constantly
\nHer who brings increase,
\nThe Feeder of Children, Peace.<\/p>\n

No grudge hath he of the great;
\nNo scorn of the mean estate;
\nBut to all that liveth His wine he giveth,
\nGriefless, immaculate;
\nOnly on them that spurn
\nJoy, may his anger burn.<\/p>\n

Love thou the Day and the Night;
\nBe glad of the Dark and the Light;
\nAnd avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise,
\nThat have honour in proud men’s sight.
\nThe simple nameless herd of Humanity
\nHath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

[As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, <\/i>leading in the midst of them<\/i> Dionysus<\/span>, bound<\/i>.\u00a0The<\/i> Soldier<\/span> in command stands forth, <\/i>as<\/i> Pentheus<\/span>,\u00a0hearing the tramp of feet, <\/i>comes out from the Castle<\/i>]<\/p>\n

Soldier<\/span><\/h3>\n
Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King,
\nCaught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thing
\nMost tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee,
\nBut held both hands out unresistingly\u2014
\nNo change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek.
\nHe waited while we came, and bade us wreak
\nAll thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my hest
\nEasy, till I for very shame confessed
\nAnd said: ‘O stranger, not of mine own will
\nI bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil
\nWho sent me.’
\nAnd those prisoned Maids withal
\nWhom thou didst seize and bind within the wall
\nOf thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King,
\nFree in the woods, a-dance and glorying
\nTo Bromios. Of their own impulse fell
\nTo earth, men say, fetter and manacle,
\nAnd bars slid back untouched of mortal hand.
\nYea, full of many wonders to thy land
\nIs this man come. . . . Howbeit, it lies with thee!<\/div>\n

Pentheus<\/span><\/h3>\n
Ye are mad!\u2014Unhand him. Howso swift he be,
\nMy toils are round him and he shall not fly.<\/div>\n

[The guards loose the arms of Dionysus<\/span>; <\/em>Pentheus<\/span> studies him for a while in silence,\u00a0<\/em>then speaks jeeringly.\u00a0Dionysus\u00a0<\/span>remains\u00a0<\/em>gentle and unafraid.<\/em>]<\/p>\n

Marry, a fair shape for a woman’s eye,
\nSir stranger! And thou seek’st no more, I ween!
\nLong curls, withal! That shows thou ne’er hast been
\nA wrestler!\u2014down both cheeks so softly tossed
\nAnd winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost
\nThee pains, to please thy damsels with this white
\nAnd red of cheeks that never face the light!<\/div>\n

[Dionysus<\/span> is silent.<\/em>]<\/p>\n

Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race.<\/div>\n

Dionysus<\/span><\/h3>\n
No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace.
\nThou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers?<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\t\t\t
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Candela Citations<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t
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Public domain content<\/div>