The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Bacchae of EuripidesThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Bacchae of EuripidesAuthor: EuripidesTranslator: Gilbert MurrayRelease date: February 4, 2011 [eBook #35173]Most recently updated: January 7, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Barbara Watson and the Online DistributedProofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BACCHAE OF EURIPIDES ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: The Bacchae of EuripidesAuthor: EuripidesTranslator: Gilbert MurrayRelease date: February 4, 2011 [eBook #35173]Most recently updated: January 7, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Barbara Watson and the Online DistributedProofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
Title: The Bacchae of Euripides
Author: EuripidesTranslator: Gilbert Murray
Author: Euripides
Translator: Gilbert Murray
Release date: February 4, 2011 [eBook #35173]Most recently updated: January 7, 2021
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Barbara Watson and the Online DistributedProofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BACCHAE OF EURIPIDES ***
FOR ENGLISH READERS
A Series of Verse Translations of the GreekDramatic Poets, with Commentaries andExplanatory Notes.
Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 7s. 6d. each net.Each Volume Illustrated from ancientSculptures and Vase-Painting.
AESCHYLUS:The Orestean Trilogy.By Prof.G. C. Warr. With an Introduction onThe Rise of Greek Tragedy, and 13 Illustrations.
SOPHOCLES:Œdipus TyrannusandColoneus, andAntigone. By Prof.J. S. Phillimore. With an Introduction onSophocles and his Treatment of Tragedy, and 16 Illustrations.
EURIPIDES:Hippolytus;Bacchae;Aristophanes' 'Frogs.'By Prof.Gilbert Murray. With an Appendix onThe Lost Tragedies of Euripides, and an Introduction onThe Significance of the Bacchae in Athenian History, and 12 Illustrations.[Third Edition.
ALSO UNIFORM WITH THE ABOVE
THE HOMERIC HYMNS. A New Prose Rendering byAndrew Lang, with Essays Critical and Explanatory, and 14 Illustrations.
THE PLAYS OF EURIPIDES
Translated into English Rhyming Verse, with Explanatory Notes, by Prof.Gilbert Murray. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. each net.
The Trojan Women.Electra.
Dionysus, the God;son of Zeus and of the Theban princess Semelê.
Cadmus,formerly King of Thebes, father of Semelê.
Pentheus,King of Thebes, grandson of Cadmus.
Agâvê,daughter of Cadmus, mother of Pentheus.
Teiresias,an aged Theban prophet.
A Soldier of Pentheus' Guard.
Two Messengers.
A Chorus of Inspired Damsels,following Dionysus from the East.
"The play was first produced after the death of Euripides by his son, who bore the same name, together with the 'Iphigenîa in Aulis' and the 'Alcmaeon,' probably in the year405B.C."
The background represents the front of the Castle ofPentheus,King of Thebes. At one side is visible the sacred Tomb of Semelê, 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 GodDionysusis discovered alone.
Dionysus.
Behold, God's Son is come unto this landOf Thebes, even I, Dionysus, whom the brandOf heaven's hot splendour lit to life, when sheWho bore me, Cadmus' daughter Semelê,Died here. So, changed in shape from God to man,I walk again by Dirce's streams and scanIsmenus' shore. There by the castle sideI see her place, the Tomb of the Lightning's Bride,The wreck of smouldering chambers, and the greatFaint wreaths of fire undying—as the hateDies not, that Hera held for Semelê.Aye, Cadmus hath done well; in purityHe keeps this place apart, inviolate,His daughter's sanctuary; and I have setMy green and clustered vines to robe it round.Far now behind me lies the golden groundOf Lydian and of Phrygian; far awayThe wide hot plains where Persian sunbeams play,The Bactrian war-holds, and the storm-oppressedClime of the Mede, and Araby the Blest,And Asia all, that by the salt sea liesIn proud embattled cities, motley-wiseOf Hellene and Barbarian interwrought;And now I come to Hellas—having taughtAll the world else my dances and my riteOf mysteries, to show me in men's sightManifest God.And first of Hellene landsI cry thus Thebes to waken; set her handsTo clasp my wand, mine ivied javelin,And round her shoulders hang my wild fawn-skin.For they have scorned me whom it least beseemed,Semelê's sisters; mocked my birth, nor deemedThat Dionysus sprang from Dian seed.My mother sinned, said they; and in her need,With Cadmus plotting, cloaked her human shameWith the dread name of Zeus; for that the flameFrom heaven consumed her, seeing she lied to God.Thus must they vaunt; and therefore hath my rodOn them first fallen, and stung them forth wild-eyedFrom empty chambers; the bare mountain sideIs made their home, and all their hearts are flame.Yea, I have bound upon the necks of themThe harness of my rites. And with them allThe seed of womankind from hut and hallOf Thebes, hath this my magic goaded out.And there, with the old King's daughters, in a routConfused, they make their dwelling-place betweenThe roofless rocks and shadowy pine trees green.Thus shall this Thebes, how sore soe'er it smart,Learn and forget not, till she crave her partIn mine adoring; thus must I speak clearTo save my mother's fame, and crown me hereAs true God, born by Semelê to Zeus.Now Cadmus yieldeth up his throne and useOf royal honour to his daughter's sonPentheus; who on my body hath begunA war with God. He thrusteth me awayFrom due drink-offering, and, when men pray,My name entreats not. Therefore on his ownHead and his people's shall my power be shown.Then to another land, when all things hereAre well, must I fare onward, making clearMy godhead's might. But should this Theban townEssay with wrath and battle to drag downMy maids, lo, in their path myself shall be,And maniac armies battled after me!For this I veil my godhead with the wanForm of the things that die, and walk as Man.O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown,O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own,Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deepTo wander where I wander, and to sleepWhere I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound,The clang that I and mystic Rhea found,The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather allThebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall.I seek my new-made worshippers, to guideTheir dances up Kithaeron's pine-clad side.
[As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin their mystic song of worship.
Chorus.
A Maiden.
From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises,To Bromios ever glorying we came.We laboured for our Lord in many guises;We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is;Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name!
Another.
Who lingers in the road? Who espies us?He shall hide him in his house nor be bold.Let the heart keep silence that defies us;For I sing this day to DionysusThe song that is appointed from of old.
All the Maidens.
Oh, blessèd he in all wise,Who hath drunk the Living Fountain,Whose life no folly staineth,And his soul is near to God;Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise,As he worships on the Mountain,And where Cybele ordaineth,Our Mother, he has trod:His head with ivy ladenAnd his thyrsus tossing high,For our God he lifts his cry;"Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden,Come, O ye Bacchae, come;Oh, bring the Joy-bestower,God-seed of God the Sower,Bring Bromios in his powerFrom Phrygia's mountain dome;To street and town and tower,Oh, bring ye Bromios home!"Whom erst in anguish lyingFor an unborn life's desire,As a dead thing in the ThunderHis mother cast to earth;For her heart was dying, dying,In the white heart of the fire;Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder,Devised new lairs of birth;Yea, his own flesh tore to hide him,And with clasps of bitter goldDid a secret son enfold,And the Queen knew not beside him;Till the perfect hour was there;Then a hornèd God was found,And a God with serpents crowned;And for that are serpents woundIn the wands his maidens bear,And the songs of serpents soundIn the mazes of their hair.
Some Maidens.
All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semelê!With Semelê's wild ivy crown thy towers;Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony,Berries and leaves and flowers;Uplift the dark divine wand,The oak-wand and the pine-wand,And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purityWith fleecy white, like ours.Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride!Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray,When Bromios his companies shall guideHillward, ever hillward, where they stay,The flock of the Believing,The maids from loom and weavingBy the magic of his breath borne away.
Others.
Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned HauntWhere fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare,For thee of old some crested CorybantFirst woke in Cretan airThe wild orb of our orgies,Our Timbrel; and thy gorgesRang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chantAnd sweet keen pipes were there.But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's,And away to Mother Rhea it must wend;And to our holy singing from the Mother'sThe mad Satyrs carried it, to blendIn the dancing and the cheerOf our third and perfect Year;And it serves Dionysus in the end!
A Maiden.
O glad, glad on the mountainsTo swoon in the race outworn,When the holy fawn-skin clings,And all else sweeps away,To the joy of the red quick fountains,The blood of the hill-goat torn,The glory of wild-beast ravenings,Where the hill-tops catch the day;To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains!'Tis Bromios leads the way.
Another Maiden.
Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streamsWith wine and nectar of the bee,And through the air dim perfume steamsOf Syrian frankincense; and He,Our leader, from his thyrsus sprayA torchlight tosses high and higher,A torchlight like a beacon-fire,To waken all that faint and stray;And sets them leaping as he sings,His tresses rippling to the sky,And deep beneath the Maenad cryHis proud voice rings:"Come, O ye Bacchae, come!"
All the Maidens.
Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden,Come with the voice of timbrel and drum;Let the cry of your joyance uplift and emboldenThe God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come!With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour,On, where the vision of holiness thrills,And the music climbs and the maddening glamour,With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills!Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river,A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings,With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver,Away the Bacchanal springs!
EnterTeiresias.He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the Bacchic fawn-skin.
Teiresias.
Ho, there, who keeps the gate?—Go, summon meCadmus, Agênor's son, who crossed the seaFrom Sidon and upreared this Theban hold.Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be toldTeiresias seeketh him. Himself will gaugeMine errand, and the compact, age with age,I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair,To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wearHis fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows.
EnterCadmusfrom the Castle. He is even older thanTeiresias,and wears the same attire.
Cadmus.
True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flowsLike mellow wisdom from a fountain wise.And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guiseAnd harness of this God. Are we not toldHis is the soul of that dead life of oldThat sprang from mine own daughter? Surely thenMust thou and I with all the strength of menExalt him.Where then shall I stand, where treadThe dance and toss this bowed and hoary head?O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my greyAnd eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.—Nay;I am not weak.
[At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change; a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him.
Surely this arm could smiteThe wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night,And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfullyThe dim years fall from off me!
Teiresias.
As with thee,With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young,And will essay the dancing and the song.
Cadmus.
Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road.
Teiresias.
Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God.
Cadmus.
So be it. Mine old arm shall guide thee there.
Teiresias.
The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care.
Cadmus.
And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we?
Teiresias.
Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see.
Cadmus.
'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so.
Teiresias.
Lo, there is mine. So linkèd let us go.
Cadmus.
Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise?
Teiresias.
Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries?Not thou and I! That heritage sublimeOur sires have left us, wisdom old as time,No word of man, how deep soe'er his thoughtAnd won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught.Aye, men will rail that I forget my years,To dance and wreathe with ivy these white hairs;What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath toldTo mark what man shall dance, or young or old;But craves his honours from mortalityAll, no man marked apart; and great shall be!
Cadmus(after looking away toward the Mountain).
Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read,I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speedPentheus, Echîon's son, whom I have raisedTo rule my people in my stead.—AmazedHe seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear.
[The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot hastePentheus,followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to theSoldierin command.
Pentheus.
Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine earWas caught by this strange rumour, that our ownWives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flownTo wild and secret rites; and cluster thereHigh on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayerTo adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,Whate'er he be!—And in their companiesDeep wine-jars stand, and ever and anonAway into the loneliness now oneSteals forth, and now a second, maid or dame,Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame,They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray.Howbeit, all that I have found, my menHold bound and shackled in our dungeon den;The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snareMy birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayerAnd mountain song and rites of rascaldom!They tell me, too, there is a stranger come,A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas,A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies,A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the lightOf the very Cyprian. Day and livelong nightHe haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lipDangling his cup of joyance!—Let me gripHim once, but once, within these walls, right swiftThat wand shall cease its music, and that driftOf tossing curls lie still—when my rude swordFalls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word,This tale of Dionysus; how that sameBabe that was blasted by the lightning flameWith his dead mother, for that mother's lie,Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thighOf Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these?Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? BlasphemiesThat crave the very gibbet?Stay! God wot,Here is another marvel! See I notIn motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seerTeiresias? And my mother's father here—O depth of scorn!—adoring with the wandOf Bacchios?—Father!—Nay, mine eyes are fond;It is not your white heads so fancy-flown!It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown,O mine own mother's sire! Set free that handThat cowers about its staff.'Tis thou hast plannedThis work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must setAnother altar and another yetAmongst us, watch new birds, and win more hireOf gold, interpreting new signs of fire!But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true,Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crewOf raving damsels, for this evil dreamThou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleamOf grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival,In all their prayers is no more health at all!
Leader of the Chorus(the words are not heard byPentheus).
Injurious King, hast thou no care for God,Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod,Life-spring to great Echîon and to thee?
Teiresias.
Good words, my son, come easily, when heThat speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right.Else come they never! Swift are thine, and brightAs though with thought, yet have no thought at all.Lo, this new God, whom thou dost flout withal,I cannot speak the greatness wherewith HeIn Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be,Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth.Dêmêtêr one is named; she is the Earth—Call her which name thou will!—who feeds man's frameWith sustenance of things dry. And that which cameHer work to perfect, second, is the PowerFrom Semelê born. He found the liquid showerHid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dimFrom grieving, when the vine exalteth him.He giveth sleep to sink the fretful dayIn cool forgetting. Is there any wayWith man's sore heart, save only to forget?Yea, being God, the blood of him is setBefore the Gods in sacrifice, that weFor his sake may be blest.—And so, to thee,That fable shames him, how this God was knitInto God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it,Cleared from the false.—When from that deadly lightZeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' heightRaised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence,Then Zeus devised him a divine defence.A fragment of the world-encircling fireHe rent apart, and wrought to his desireOf shape and hue, in the image of the child,And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiledBy change and passing time, this tale was born,How the babe-god was hidden in the tornFlesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby.A prophet is he likewise. ProphecyCleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all elseTo frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwellsThe God himself, and speaks the thing to be.Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he.When mortal armies, mailèd and arrayed,Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade,Fled maddened, 'tis this God hath palsied them.Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diademThou yet shalt see him leaping with his trainOf fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain,Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand,And great in Hellas.—List and understand,King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power;Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sourAnd sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!—Up,Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cupOf sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow.Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now;How toucheth this the part of DionyseTo hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies,And their own hearts; and in the wildest riteCometh no stain to her whose heart is white.Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the GateStands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted greatAnd high by Thebes in clamour; shall not HeRejoice in his due meed of majesty?Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and IWill wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye,Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod!I will not lift mine arm to war with GodFor thee nor all thy words. Madness most fellIs on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell,But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured!
Chorus.
Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word,And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God.
Cadmus.
My son, right well Teiresias points thy road.Oh, make thine habitation here with us,Not lonely, against men's uses. HazardousIs this quick bird-like beating of thy thoughtWhere no thought dwells.—Grant that this God be naught,Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth;Lie boldly, and say He Is! So north and southShall marvel, how there sprang a thing divineFrom Semelê's flesh, and honour all our line.
[Drawing nearer toPentheus.
Is there not blood before thine eyes even now?Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long agoHis own red hounds through yonder forest dimTore unto death, because he vaunted himAgainst most holy Artemis? Oh, beware,And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayerWith us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight.
[He makes as if to set the wreath onPentheus'head.
Pentheus.
Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite,Nor smear on me thy foul contagion!
[Turning uponTeiresias.
ThisThy folly's head and prompter shall not missThe justice that he needs!—Go, half my guard,Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in wardO'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crowAnd trident; make one wreck of high and low,And toss his bands to all the winds of air!Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there?The rest, forth through the town! And seek amainThis girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such baneTo all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives.Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves,Till he be judged and stoned, and weep in bloodThe day he troubled Pentheus with his God!
[The guards set forth in two bodies;Pentheusgoes into the Castle.
Teiresias.
Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seedThou sowest! Blind before, and now indeedMost mad!—Come, Cadmus, let us go our way,And pray for this our persecutor, prayFor this poor city, that the righteous GodMove not in anger.—Take thine ivy rodAnd help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill,If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still,Come what come may, our service shall be doneTo Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son.O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claimFrom all thy house fulfilment of his name,Old Cadmus?—Nay, I speak not from mine art,But as I see—blind words and a blind heart!
[The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain.
Chorus.
Some Maidens.
Thou Immaculate on high;Thou Recording Purity;Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing,Earthward, manward, pitying,Hearest thou this angry King?Hearest thou the rage and scorn'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices,Him of mortal mother born,Him in whom man's heart rejoices,Girt with garlands and with glee,First in Heaven's sovranty?For his kingdom, it is there,In the dancing and the prayer,In the music and the laughter,In the vanishing of care,And of all before and after;In the Gods' high banquet, whenGleams the grape-blood, flashed to heaven;Yea, and in the feasts of menComes his crownèd slumber; thenPain is dead and hate forgiven!
Others.
Loose thy lips from out the rein;Lift thy wisdom to disdain;Whatso law thou canst not see,Scorning; so the end shall beUttermost calamity!'Tis the life of quiet breath,'Tis the simple and the true,Storm nor earthquake shattereth,Nor shall aught the house undoWhere they dwell. For, far away,Hidden from the eyes of day,Watchers are there in the skies,That can see man's life, and prizeDeeds well done by things of clay.But the world's Wise are not wise,Claiming more than mortal may.Life is such a little thing;Lo, their present is departed,And the dreams to which they clingCome not. Mad imaginingTheirs, I ween, and empty-hearted!
Divers Maidens.
Where is the Home for me?O Cyprus, set in the sea,Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam,Would I could wend to thee;Where the wings of the Loves are furled,And faint the heart of the world.Aye, unto Paphos' isle,Where the rainless meadows smileWith riches rolled From the hundred-foldMouths of the far-off Nile,Streaming beneath the wavesTo the roots of the seaward caves.But a better land is thereWhere Olympus cleaves the air,The high still dell Where the Muses dwell,Fairest of all things fair!O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire.And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire!
A God of Heaven is he,And born in majesty;Yet hath he mirth In the joy of the Earth,And he loveth constantlyHer who brings increase,The Feeder of Children, Peace.No grudge hath he of the great;No scorn of the mean estate;But to all that liveth His wine he giveth,Griefless, immaculate;Only on them that spurnJoy, may his anger burn.Love thou the Day and the Night;Be glad of the Dark and the Light;And avert thine eyes From the lore of the wise,That have honour in proud men's sight.The simple nameless herd of HumanityHath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me!
[As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the midst of themDionysus,bound.TheSoldierin command stands forth, asPentheus,hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle.
Soldier.
Our quest is finished, and thy prey, O King,Caught; for the chase was swift, and this wild thingMost tame; yet never flinched, nor thought to flee,But held both hands out unresistingly—No change, no blanching of the wine-red cheek.He waited while we came, and bade us wreakAll thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my hestEasy, till I for very shame confessedAnd said: 'O stranger, not of mine own willI bind thee, but his bidding to fulfilWho sent me.'And those prisoned Maids withalWhom thou didst seize and bind within the wallOf thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King,Free in the woods, a-dance and gloryingTo Bromios. Of their own impulse fellTo earth, men say, fetter and manacle,And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand.Yea, full of many wonders to thy landIs this man come. . . . Howbeit, it lies with thee!
Pentheus.
Ye are mad!—Unhand him. Howso swift he be,My toils are round him and he shall not fly.
[The guards loose the arms ofDionysus;Pentheusstudies him for a while in silence, then speaks jeeringly.Dionysusremains gentle and unafraid.
Marry, a fair shape for a woman's eye,Sir stranger! And thou seek'st no more, I ween!Long curls, withal! That shows thou ne'er hast beenA wrestler!—down both cheeks so softly tossedAnd winsome! And a white skin! It hath costThee pains, to please thy damsels with this whiteAnd red of cheeks that never face the light!
[Dionysusis silent.
Speak, sirrah; tell me first thy name and race.
Dionysus.
No glory is therein, nor yet disgrace.Thou hast heard of Tmolus, the bright hill of flowers?
Pentheus.
Surely; the ridge that winds by Sardis' towers
Dionysus.
Thence am I; Lydia was my fatherland.
Pentheus.
And whence these revelations, that thy bandSpreadeth in Hellas?
Dionysus.
Their intent and useDionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus.
Pentheus(brutally).
Is there a Zeus there, that can still begetYoung Gods?
Dionysus.
Nay, only He whose seal was setHere in thy Thebes on Semelê.
Pentheus.
What wayDescended he upon thee? In full dayOr vision of night?
Dionysus.
Most clear he stood, and scannedMy soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand.
Pentheus.
What like be they, these emblems?
Dionysus.
That may noneReveal, nor know, save his Elect alone.
Pentheus.