Chapter I: Part 1

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BACCHAE

THE ATHENIAN DRAMA
FOR ENGLISH READERS

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EURIPIDES: _Hippolytus_; _Bacchae_; _Aristophanes' 'Frogs.'_ By
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of Euripides_, and an Introduction on _The Significance of the Bacchae
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THE
BACCHAE
OF
EURIPIDES

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH RHYMING VERSE
WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES BY

GILBERT MURRAY, M.A., LL.D.

EMERITUS PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY
OF GLASGOW; SOMETIME FELLOW OF
NEW COLLEGE, OXFORD

_SECOND EDITION_

LONDON
GEORGE ALLEN, 156, CHARING CROSS ROAD

One Shilling Net.

1906
[All rights reserved]

THE BACCHAE

CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY

DIONYSUS, THE GOD; _son of Zeus and of the Theban princess Semele_. CADMUS, _formerly King of Thebes, father of Semele_. PENTHEUS, _King of Thebes, grandson of Cadmus_. AGAVE, _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 'Iphigenia in Aulis' and the 'Alcmaeon,' probably in the year_ 405 B.C."

THE BACCHAE

_The background represents the front of the Castle of_ PENTHEUS, _King
of Thebes. At one side is visible the sacred Tomb of Semele, 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_ DIONYSUS _is discovered alone_.

DIONYSUS.

Behold, God's Son is come unto this land Of Thebes, even I, Dionysus, whom the brand Of heaven's hot splendour lit to life, when she Who bore me, Cadmus' daughter Semele, Died here. So, changed in shape from God to man, I walk again by Dirce's streams and scan Ismenus' shore. There by the castle side I see her place, the Tomb of the Lightning's Bride, The wreck of smouldering chambers, and the great Faint wreaths of fire undying--as the hate Dies not, that Hera held for Semele. Aye, Cadmus hath done well; in purity He keeps this place apart, inviolate, His daughter's sanctuary; and I have set My green and clustered vines to robe it round. Far now behind me lies the golden ground Of Lydian and of Phrygian; far away The wide hot plains where Persian sunbeams play, The Bactrian war-holds, and the storm-oppressed Clime of the Mede, and Araby the Blest, And Asia all, that by the salt sea lies In proud embattled cities, motley-wise Of Hellene and Barbarian interwrought; And now I come to Hellas--having taught All the world else my dances and my rite Of mysteries, to show me in men's sight Manifest God. And first of Hellene lands I cry thus Thebes to waken; set her hands To clasp my wand, mine ivied javelin, And round her shoulders hang my wild fawn-skin. For they have scorned me whom it least beseemed, Semele's sisters; mocked my birth, nor deemed That Dionysus sprang from Dian seed. My mother sinned, said they; and in her need, With Cadmus plotting, cloaked her human shame With the dread name of Zeus; for that the flame From heaven consumed her, seeing she lied to God. Thus must they vaunt; and therefore hath my rod On them first fallen, and stung them forth wild-eyed From empty chambers; the bare mountain side Is made their home, and all their hearts are flame. Yea, I have bound upon the necks of them The harness of my rites. And with them all The seed of womankind from hut and hall Of Thebes, hath this my magic goaded out. And there, with the old King's daughters, in a rout Confused, they make their dwelling-place between The 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 part In mine adoring; thus must I speak clear To save my mother's fame, and crown me here As true God, born by Semele to Zeus.

Now Cadmus yieldeth up his throne and use Of royal honour to his daughter's son Pentheus; who on my body hath begun A war with God. He thrusteth me away From due drink-offering, and, when men pray, My name entreats not. Therefore on his own Head and his people's shall my power be shown. Then to another land, when all things here Are well, must I fare onward, making clear My godhead's might. But should this Theban town Essay with wrath and battle to drag down My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be, And maniac armies battled after me! For this I veil my godhead with the wan Form 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 deep To wander where I wander, and to sleep Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound, The clang that I and mystic Rhea found, The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall. I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide Their 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 Dionysus The song that is appointed from of old.

_All the Maidens._

Oh, blessed 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 laden
And 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 power
From Phrygia's mountain dome;
To street and town and tower,
Oh, bring ye Bromios home!"

Whom erst in anguish lying
For an unborn life's desire,
As a dead thing in the Thunder
His 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 gold
Did a secret son enfold,
And the Queen knew not beside him;
Till the perfect hour was there;
Then a horned God was found,
And a God with serpents crowned;
And for that are serpents wound
In the wands his maidens bear,
And the songs of serpents sound
In the mazes of their hair.

_Some Maidens._

All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semele!
With Semele'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 purity
With 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 guide
Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay,
The flock of the Believing,
The maids from loom and weaving
By the magic of his breath borne away.

_Others._

Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt
Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare,
For thee of old some crested Corybant
First woke in Cretan air
The wild orb of our orgies,
Our Timbrel; and thy gorges
Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant
And 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's
The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend
In the dancing and the cheer
Of our third and perfect Year;
And it serves Dionysus in the end!

_A Maiden._

O glad, glad on the mountains
To 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, streams
With wine and nectar of the bee,
And through the air dim perfume steams
Of Syrian frankincense; and He,
Our leader, from his thyrsus spray
A 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 cry
His 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 embolden
The 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!

_Enter_ TEIRESIAS. _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 me Cadmus, Agenor's son, who crossed the sea From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold. Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge Mine 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 wear His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows.

_Enter_ CADMUS _from the Castle. He is even older than_ TEIRESIAS,
_and wears the same attire_.

CADMUS.

True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise. And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise And harness of this God. Are we not told His is the soul of that dead life of old That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then Must thou and I with all the strength of men Exalt him. Where then shall I stand, where tread The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head? O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey And 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 smite The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night, And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully The 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 linked 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 sublime Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time, No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought And 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 told To mark what man shall dance, or young or old; But craves his honours from mortality All, 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 speed Pentheus, Echion's son, whom I have raised To rule my people in my stead.--Amazed He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear.

[_The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot
haste_ PENTHEUS, _followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the_
SOLDIER _in command_.

PENTHEUS.

Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown To wild and secret rites; and cluster there High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse, Whate'er he be!--And in their companies Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon Away into the loneliness now one Steals 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 men Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den; The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer And 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 light Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip Dangling his cup of joyance!--Let me grip Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift That wand shall cease its music, and that drift Of tossing curls lie still--when my rude sword Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word, This tale of Dionysus; how that same Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame With his dead mother, for that mother's lie, Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these? Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies That crave the very gibbet? Stay! God wot, Here is another marvel! See I not In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer Teiresias? And my mother's father here-- O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wand Of 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 hand That cowers about its staff. 'Tis thou hast planned This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set Another altar and another yet Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire! But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true, Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew Of raving damsels, for this evil dream Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam Of 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 by_ PENTHEUS).

Injurious King, hast thou no care for God, Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod, Life-spring to great Echion and to thee?

TEIRESIAS.

Good words, my son, come easily, when he That speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right. Else come they never! Swift are thine, and bright As though with thought, yet have no thought at all. Lo, this new God, whom thou dost flout withal, I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be, Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth. Demeter one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semele born. He found the liquid shower Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him. He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget? Yea, being God, the blood of him is set Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this God was knit Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it, Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence, Then Zeus devised him a divine defence. A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and passing time, this tale was born, How the babe-god was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby. A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The God himself, and speaks the thing to be. Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he. When mortal armies, mailed 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 diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of 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 sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow. Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white. Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty? Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will 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 God For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is 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. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where 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 south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semele's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS. Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware, And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS' _head_.

PENTHEUS.

Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite, Nor smear on me thy foul contagion!

[_Turning upon_ TEIRESIAS.

This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard, Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crow And 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 amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To 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 blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God!

[_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle_.

TEIRESIAS.

Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And 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 done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son. O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From 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, when
Gleams the grape-blood, flashed to heaven;
Yea, and in the feasts of men
Comes his crowned slumber; then
Pain 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 be
Uttermost calamity!
'Tis the life of quiet breath,
'Tis the simple and the true,
Storm nor earthquake shattereth,
Nor shall aught the house undo
Where they dwell. For, far away,
Hidden from the eyes of day,
Watchers are there in the skies,
That can see man's life, and prize
Deeds 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 cling
Come not. Mad imagining
Theirs, 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 smile
With riches rolled From the hundred-fold
Mouths of the far-off Nile,
Streaming beneath the waves
To the roots of the seaward caves.

But a better land is there
Where 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 constantly
Her 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 spurn
Joy, 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 Humanity
Hath deeds and faith that are truth enough for me!

[_As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the
midst of them_ DIONYSUS, _bound_. _The_ SOLDIER _in command stands
forth, as_ PENTHEUS, _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 thing Most 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 wreak All thy decree; yea, laughed, and made my hest Easy, till I for very shame confessed And said: 'O stranger, not of mine own will I bind thee, but his bidding to fulfil Who sent me.' And those prisoned Maids withal Whom thou didst seize and bind within the wall Of thy great dungeon, they are fled, O King, Free in the woods, a-dance and glorying To Bromios. Of their own impulse fell To earth, men say, fetter and manacle, And bars slid back untouched of mortal hand. Yea, full of many wonders to thy land Is 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 of_ DIONYSUS; PENTHEUS _studies him for a
while in silence, then speaks jeeringly_. DIONYSUS _remains 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 been A wrestler!--down both cheeks so softly tossed And winsome! And a white skin! It hath cost Thee pains, to please thy damsels with this white And red of cheeks that never face the light! [DIONYSUS _is 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 band Spreadeth in Hellas?

DIONYSUS.

Their intent and use
Dionysus oped to me, the Child of Zeus.

PENTHEUS (_brutally_).

Is there a Zeus there, that can still beget Young Gods?

DIONYSUS.

Nay, only He whose seal was set
Here in thy Thebes on Semele.

PENTHEUS.

What way Descended he upon thee? In full day Or vision of night?

DIONYSUS.

Most clear he stood, and scanned
My soul, and gave his emblems to mine hand.

PENTHEUS.

What like be they, these emblems?

DIONYSUS.

That may none
Reveal, nor know, save his Elect alone.

PENTHEUS.

And what good bring they to the worshipper?

DIONYSUS.

Good beyond price, but not for thee to hear.

PENTHEUS.

Thou trickster! Thou wouldst prick me on the more To seek them out!

DIONYSUS.

His mysteries abhor
The touch of sin-lovers.

PENTHEUS.

And so thine eyes
Saw this God plain; what guise had he?

DIONYSUS.

What guise
It liked him. 'Twas not I ordained his shape.

PENTHEUS.

Aye, deftly turned again. An idle jape, And nothing answered!

DIONYSUS.

Wise words being brought
To blinded eyes will seem as things of nought.

PENTHEUS.

And comest thou first to Thebes, to have thy God Established?

DIONYSUS.

Nay; all Barbary hath trod
His dance ere this.

PENTHEUS.

A low blind folk, I ween,
Beside our Hellenes!

DIONYSUS.

Higher and more keen
In this thing, though their ways are not thy way.

PENTHEUS.

How is thy worship held, by night or day?

DIONYSUS.

Most oft by night; 'tis a majestic thing, The darkness.

PENTHEUS.

Ha! with women worshipping?
'Tis craft and rottenness!

DIONYSUS.

By day no less,
Whoso will seek may find unholiness.

PENTHEUS.

Enough! Thy doom is fixed, for false pretence Corrupting Thebes.

DIONYSUS.

Not mine; but thine, for dense
Blindness of heart, and for blaspheming God!

PENTHEUS.

A ready knave it is, and brazen-browed, This mystery-priest!

DIONYSUS.

Come, say what it shall be,
My doom; what dire thing wilt thou do to me?

PENTHEUS.

First, shear that delicate curl that dangles there.

[_He beckons to the soldiers, who approach_ DIONYSUS.

DIONYSUS.

I have vowed it to my God; 'tis holy hair.

[_The soldiers cut off the tress._

PENTHEUS.

Next, yield me up thy staff!

DIONYSUS.

Raise thine own hand
To take it. This is Dionysus' wand.

[PENTHEUS _takes the staff_.

PENTHEUS.

Last, I will hold thee prisoned here.

DIONYSUS.

My Lord
God will unloose me, when I speak the word.

PENTHEUS.

He may, if e'er again amid his bands Of saints he hears thy voice!

DIONYSUS.

Even now he stands
Close here, and sees all that I suffer.

PENTHEUS.

What?
Where is he? For mine eyes discern him not.

DIONYSUS.

Where I am! 'Tis thine own impurity That veils him from thee.

PENTHEUS.

The dog jeers at me!
At me and Thebes! Bind him!

[_The soldiers begin to bind him._

DIONYSUS.

I charge ye, bind
Me not! I having vision and ye blind!

PENTHEUS.

And I, with better right, say bind the more!

[_The soldiers obey._

DIONYSUS.

Thou knowest not what end thou seekest, nor What deed thou doest, nor what man thou art!

PENTHEUS. (_mocking_).

Agave's son, and on the father's part Echion's, hight Pentheus!

DIONYSUS.

So let it be,
A name fore-written to calamity!

PENTHEUS.

Away, and tie him where the steeds are tied; Aye, let him lie in the manger!--There abide And stare into the darkness!--And this rout Of womankind that clusters thee about, Thy ministers of worship, are my slaves! It may be I will sell them o'er the waves, Hither and thither; else they shall be set To labour at my distaffs, and forget Their timbrel and their songs of dawning day!

DIONYSUS.

I go; for that which may not be, I may Not suffer! Yet for this thy sin, lo, He Whom thou deniest cometh after thee For recompense. Yea, in thy wrong to us, Thou hast cast Him into thy prison-house!

[DIONYSUS, _without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly
bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon_. PENTHEUS _returns
into the Palace_.

CHORUS.

_Some Maidens._

Acheloues' roaming daughter,
Holy Dirce, virgin water,
Bathed he not of old in thee,
The Babe of God, the Mystery?
When from out the fire immortal
To himself his God did take him,
To his own flesh, and bespake him:
"Enter now life's second portal,
Motherless Mystery; lo, I break
Mine own body for thy sake,
Thou of the Twofold Door, and seal thee
Mine, O Bromios,"--thus he spake--
"And to this thy land reveal thee."

_All._

Still my prayer toward thee quivers,
Dirce, still to thee I hie me;
Why, O Blessed among Rivers,
Wilt thou fly me and deny me?
By His own joy I vow,
By the grape upon the bough,
Thou shalt seek Him in the midnight, thou shalt love
Him, even now!

_Other Maidens._

Dark and of the dark impassioned
Is this Pentheus' blood; yea, fashioned
Of the Dragon, and his birth
From Echion, child of Earth.
He is no man, but a wonder;
Did the Earth-Child not beget him,
As a red Giant, to set him
Against God, against the Thunder?
He will bind me for his prize,
Me, the Bride of Dionyse;
And my priest, my friend, is taken
Even now, and buried lies;
In the dark he lies forsaken!

_All._

Lo, we race with death, we perish,
Dionysus, here before thee!
Dost thou mark us not, nor cherish,
Who implore thee, and adore thee?
Hither down Olympus' side,
Come, O Holy One defied,
Be thy golden wand uplifted o'er the tyrant in his pride!

_A Maiden._

Oh, where art thou? In thine own Nysa, thou our help alone? O'er fierce beasts in orient lands Doth thy thronging thyrsus wave, By the high Corycian Cave, Or where stern Olympus stands; In the elm-woods and the oaken, There where Orpheus harped of old, And the trees awoke and knew him, And the wild things gathered to him, As he sang amid the broken Glens his music manifold? Blessed Land of Pierie, Dionysus loveth thee; He will come to thee with dancing, Come with joy and mystery; With the Maenads at his hest Winding, winding to the West; Cross the flood of swiftly glancing Axios in majesty; Cross the Lydias, the giver Of good gifts and waving green; Cross that Father-Stream of story, Through a land of steeds and glory Rolling, bravest, fairest River E'er of mortals seen!

A VOICE WITHIN.

Io! Io!
Awake, ye damsels; hear my cry,
Calling my Chosen; hearken ye!

A MAIDEN.

Who speaketh? Oh, what echoes thus?

ANOTHER.

A Voice, a Voice, that calleth us!

THE VOICE.

Be of good cheer! Lo, it is I,
The Child of Zeus and Semele.

A MAIDEN.

O Master, Master, it is Thou!

ANOTHER.

O Holy Voice, be with us now!

THE VOICE.

Spirit of the Chained Earthquake,
Hear my word; awake, awake!

[_An Earthquake suddenly shakes the pillars of the Castle._

A MAIDEN.

Ha! what is coming? Shall the hall
Of Pentheus racked in ruin fall?

LEADER.

Our God is in the house! Ye maids adore Him!

CHORUS.

We adore Him all!

THE VOICE.

Unveil the Lightning's eye; arouse
The fire that sleeps, against this house!

[_Fire leaps up on the Tomb of Semele._

A MAIDEN.

Ah, saw ye, marked ye there the flame
From Semele's enhallowed sod
Awakened? Yea, the Death that came
Ablaze from heaven of old, the same
Hot splendour of the shaft of God?

LEADER.

Oh, cast ye, cast ye, to the earth! The Lord
Cometh against this house! Oh, cast ye down,
Ye trembling damsels; He, our own adored,
God's Child hath come, and all is overthrown!

[_The Maidens cast themselves upon the ground, their eyes earthward._
DIONYSUS, _alone and unbound, enters from the Castle_.

DIONYSUS.

Ye Damsels of the Morning Hills, why lie ye thus dismayed? Ye marked him, then, our Master, and the mighty hand he laid On tower and rock, shaking the house of Pentheus?--But arise, And cast the trembling from your flesh, and lift untroubled eyes.

LEADER.

O Light in Darkness, is it thou? O Priest, is this thy face? My heart leaps out to greet thee from the deep of loneliness.

DIONYSUS.

Fell ye so quick despairing, when beneath the Gate I passed? Should the gates of Pentheus quell me, or his darkness make me fast?

LEADER.

Oh, what was left if thou wert gone? What could I but despair? How hast thou 'scaped the man of sin? Who freed thee from the snare?

DIONYSUS.

I had no pain nor peril; 'twas mine own hand set me free.

LEADER.

Thine arms were gyved!

DIONYSUS.

Nay, no gyve, no touch, was laid on me! 'Twas there I mocked him, in his gyves, and gave him dreams for food. For when he led me down, behold, before the stall there stood A Bull of Offering. And this King, he bit his lips, and straight Fell on and bound it, hoof and limb, with gasping wrath and sweat. And I sat watching!--Then a Voice; and lo, our Lord was come, And the house shook, and a great flame stood o'er his mother's tomb. And Pentheus hied this way and that, and called his thralls amain For water, lest his roof-tree burn; and all toiled, all in vain. Then deemed a-sudden I was gone; and left his fire, and sped Back to the prison portals, and his lifted sword shone red. But there, methinks, the God had wrought--I speak but as I guess-- Some dream-shape in mine image; for he smote at emptiness, Stabbed in the air, and strove in wrath, as though 'twere me he slew. Then 'mid his dreams God smote him yet again! He overthrew All that high house. And there in wreck for evermore it lies, That the day of this my bondage may be sore in Pentheus' eyes! And now his sword is fallen, and he lies outworn and wan Who dared to rise against his God in wrath, being but man. And I uprose and left him, and in all peace took my path Forth to my Chosen, recking light of Pentheus and his wrath. But soft, methinks a footstep sounds even now within the hall; 'Tis he; how think ye he will stand, and what words speak withal? I will endure him gently, though he come in fury hot. For still are the ways of Wisdom, and her temper trembleth not!

_Enter_ PENTHEUS _in fury_.

PENTHEUS.

It is too much! This Eastern knave hath slipped His prison, whom I held but now, hard gripped In bondage.--Ha! 'Tis he!--What, sirrah, how Show'st thou before my portals?

[_He advances furiously upon him._

DIONYSUS.

Softly thou!
And set a quiet carriage to thy rage.

PENTHEUS.

How comest thou here? How didst thou break thy cage? Speak!

DIONYSUS.

Said I not, or didst thou mark not me,
There was One living that should set me free?

PENTHEUS.

Who? Ever wilder are these tales of thine.

DIONYSUS.

He who first made for man the clustered vine.

PENTHEUS.

I scorn him and his vines!

DIONYSUS.

For Dionyse
'Tis well; for in thy scorn his glory lies.

PENTHEUS (_to his guard_).

Go swift to all the towers, and bar withal Each gate!

DIONYSUS.

What, cannot God o'erleap a wall?

PENTHEUS.

Oh, wit thou hast, save where thou needest it!

DIONYSUS.

Whereso it most imports, there is my wit!-- Nay, peace! Abide till he who hasteth from The mountain side with news for thee, be come. We will not fly, but wait on thy command.

[_Enter suddenly and in haste a Messenger from the Mountain._

MESSENGER.

Great Pentheus, Lord of all this Theban land, I come from high Kithaeron, where the frore Snow spangles gleam and cease not evermore. . .

PENTHEUS.

And what of import may thy coming bring?

MESSENGER.

I have seen the Wild White Women there, O King, Whose fleet limbs darted arrow-like but now From Thebes away, and come to tell thee how They work strange deeds and passing marvel. Yet I first would learn thy pleasure. Shall I set My whole tale forth, or veil the stranger part? Yea, Lord, I fear the swiftness of thy heart, Thine edged wrath and more than royal soul.

PENTHEUS.

Thy tale shall nothing scathe thee.--Tell the whole. It skills not to be wroth with honesty. Nay, if thy news of them be dark, 'tis he Shall pay it, who bewitched and led them on.

MESSENGER.

Our herded kine were moving in the dawn Up to the peaks, the greyest, coldest time, When the first rays steal earthward, and the rime Yields, when I saw three bands of them. The one Autonoe led, one Ino, one thine own Mother, Agave. There beneath the trees Sleeping they lay, like wild things flung at ease In the forest; one half sinking on a bed Of deep pine greenery; one with careless head Amid the fallen oak leaves; all most cold In purity--not as thy tale was told Of wine-cups and wild music and the chase For love amid the forest's loneliness. Then rose the Queen Agave suddenly Amid her band, and gave the God's wild cry, "Awake, ye Bacchanals! I hear the sound Of horned kine. Awake ye!"--Then, all round, Alert, the warm sleep fallen from their eyes, A marvel of swift ranks I saw them rise, Dames young and old, and gentle maids unwed Among them. O'er their shoulders first they shed Their tresses, and caught up the fallen fold Of mantles where some clasp had loosened hold, And girt the dappled fawn-skins in with long Quick snakes that hissed and writhed with quivering tongue. And one a young fawn held, and one a wild Wolf cub, and fed them with white milk, and smiled In love, young mothers with a mother's breast And babes at home forgotten! Then they pressed Wreathed ivy round their brows, and oaken sprays And flowering bryony. And one would raise Her wand and smite the rock, and straight a jet Of quick bright water came. Another set Her thyrsus in the bosomed earth, and there Was red wine that the God sent up to her, A darkling fountain. And if any lips Sought whiter draughts, with dipping finger-tips They pressed the sod, and gushing from the ground Came springs of milk. And reed-wands ivy-crowned Ran with sweet honey, drop by drop.--O King, Hadst thou been there, as I, and seen this thing, With prayer and most high wonder hadst thou gone To adore this God whom now thou rail'st upon! Howbeit, the kine-wardens and shepherds straight Came to one place, amazed, and held debate; And one being there who walked the streets and scanned The ways of speech, took lead of them whose hand Knew but the slow soil and the solemn hill, And flattering spoke, and asked: "Is it your will, Masters, we stay the mother of the King, Agave, from her lawless worshipping, And win us royal thanks?"--And this seemed good To all; and through the branching underwood We hid us, cowering in the leaves. And there Through the appointed hour they made their prayer And worship of the Wand, with one accord Of heart and cry--"Iacchos, Bromios, Lord, God of God born!"--And all the mountain felt, And worshipped with them; and the wild things knelt And ramped and gloried, and the wilderness Was filled with moving voices and dim stress. Soon, as it chanced, beside my thicket-close The Queen herself passed dancing, and I rose And sprang to seize her. But she turned her face Upon me: "Ho, my rovers of the chase, My wild White Hounds, we are hunted! Up, each rod And follow, follow, for our Lord and God!" Thereat, for fear they tear us, all we fled Amazed; and on, with hand unweaponed They swept toward our herds that browsed the green Hill grass. Great uddered kine then hadst thou seen Bellowing in sword-like hands that cleave and tear, A live steer riven asunder, and the air Tossed with rent ribs or limbs of cloven tread, And flesh upon the branches, and a red Rain from the deep green pines. Yea, bulls of pride, Horns swift to rage, were fronted and aside Flung stumbling, by those multitudinous hands Dragged pitilessly. And swifter were the bands Of garbed flesh and bone unbound withal Than on thy royal eyes the lids may fall. Then on like birds, by their own speed upborne, They swept toward the plains of waving corn That lie beside Asopus' banks, and bring To Thebes the rich fruit of her harvesting. On Hysiae and Erythrae that lie nursed Amid Kithaeron's bowering rocks, they burst Destroying, as a foeman's army comes. They caught up little children from their homes, High on their shoulders, babes unheld, that swayed And laughed and fell not; all a wreck they made; Yea, bronze and iron did shatter, and in play Struck hither and thither, yet no wound had they; Caught fire from out the hearths, yea, carried hot Flames in their tresses and were scorched not! The village folk in wrath took spear and sword, And turned upon the Bacchae. Then, dread Lord, The wonder was. For spear nor barbed brand Could scathe nor touch the damsels; but the Wand, The soft and wreathed wand their white hands sped, Blasted those men and quelled them, and they fled Dizzily. Sure some God was in these things! And the holy women back to those strange springs Returned, that God had sent them when the day Dawned, on the upper heights; and washed away The stain of battle. And those girdling snakes Hissed out to lap the waterdrops from cheeks And hair and breast. Therefore I counsel thee, O King, receive this Spirit, whoe'er he be, To Thebes in glory. Greatness manifold Is all about him; and the tale is told That this is he who first to man did give The grief-assuaging vine. Oh, let him live; For if he die, then Love herself is slain, And nothing joyous in the world again!

LEADER.

Albeit I tremble, and scarce may speak my thought To a king's face, yet will I hide it not. Dionyse is God, no God more true nor higher!

PENTHEUS.

It bursts hard by us, like a smothered fire, This frenzy of Bacchic women! All my land Is made their mock.--This needs an iron hand! Ho, Captain! Quick to the Electran Gate; Bid gather all my men-at-arms thereat; Call all that spur the charger, all who know To wield the orbed targe or bend the bow; We march to war!--'Fore God, shall women dare Such deeds against us? 'Tis too much to bear!

DIONYSUS.

Thou mark'st me not, O King, and holdest light My solemn words; yet, in thine own despite, I warn thee still. Lift thou not up thy spear Against a God, but hold thy peace, and fear His wrath! He will not brook it, if thou fright His Chosen from the hills of their delight.

PENTHEUS.

Peace, thou! And if for once thou hast slipped thy chain, Give thanks!--Or shall I knot thine arms again?

DIONYSUS.

Better to yield him prayer and sacrifice Than kick against the pricks, since Dionyse Is God, and thou but mortal.

PENTHEUS.

That will I! Yea, sacrifice of women's blood, to cry His name through all Kithaeron!

DIONYSUS.

Ye shall fly, All, and abase your shields of bronzen rim Before their wands.

PENTHEUS.

There is no way with him, This stranger that so dogs us! Well or ill I may entreat him, he must babble still!

DIONYSUS.

Wait, good my friend! These crooked matters may Even yet be straightened.

[PENTHEUS _has started as though to seek his army at the gate._

PENTHEUS.

Aye, if I obey
Mine own slaves' will; how else?

DIONYSUS.

Myself will lead
The damsels hither, without sword or steed.

PENTHEUS.

How now?--This is some plot against me!

DIONYSUS.

What
Dost fear? Only to save thee do I plot.

PENTHEUS.

It is some compact ye have made, whereby To dance these hills for ever!

DIONYSUS.

Verily,
That is my compact, plighted with my Lord!

PENTHEUS (_turning from him_).

Ho, armourers! Bring forth my shield and sword!-- And thou, be silent!

DIONYSUS
(_after regarding him fixedly, speaks with resignation_).

Ah!--Have then thy will!

[_He fixes his eyes upon_ PENTHEUS _again, while the armourers bring
out his armour; then speaks in a tone of command_.

Man, thou wouldst fain behold them on the hill Praying!

PENTHEUS
(_who during the rest of this scene, with a few exceptions, simply
speaks the thoughts that_ DIONYSUS _puts into him, losing power over
his own mind_).

That would I, though it cost me all
The gold of Thebes!

DIONYSUS.

So much? Thou art quick to fall
To such great longing.

PENTHEUS
(_somewhat bewildered at what he has said_).

Aye; 'twould grieve me much
To see them flown with wine.

DIONYSUS.

Yet cravest thou such
A sight as would much grieve thee?

PENTHEUS.

Yes; I fain
Would watch, ambushed among the pines.

DIONYSUS.

'Twere vain
To hide. They soon will track thee out.

PENTHEUS.

Well said!
'Twere best done openly.

DIONYSUS.

Wilt thou be led
By me, and try the venture?

PENTHEUS.

Aye, indeed!
Lead on. Why should we tarry?

DIONYSUS.

First we need A rich and trailing robe of fine-linen To gird thee.

PENTHEUS.

Nay; am I a woman, then,
And no man more?

DIONYSUS.

Wouldst have them slay thee dead?
No man may see their mysteries.

PENTHEUS.

Well said!--
I marked thy subtle temper long ere now.

DIONYSUS.

'Tis Dionyse that prompteth me.

PENTHEUS.

And how
Mean'st thou the further plan?

DIONYSUS.

First take thy way
Within. I will array thee.

PENTHEUS.

What array?
The woman's? Nay, I will not.

DIONYSUS.

Doth it change So soon, all thy desire to see this strange Adoring?

PENTHEUS.

Wait! What garb wilt thou bestow
About me?

DIONYSUS.

First a long tress dangling low
Beneath thy shoulders.

PENTHEUS.

Aye, and next?

DIONYSUS.

The said Robe, falling to thy feet; and on thine head A snood.

PENTHEUS.

And after? Hast thou aught beyond?

DIONYSUS.

Surely; the dappled fawn-skin and the wand.

PENTHEUS (_after a struggle with himself_).

Enough! I cannot wear a robe and snood.

DIONYSUS.

Wouldst liefer draw the sword and spill men's blood?

PENTHEUS (_again doubting_).

True, that were evil.--Aye; 'tis best to go First to some place of watch.

DIONYSUS.

Far wiser so,
Than seek by wrath wrath's bitter recompense.

PENTHEUS.

What of the city streets? Canst lead me hence Unseen of any?

DIONYSUS.

Lonely and untried
Thy path from hence shall be, and I thy guide!

PENTHEUS.

I care for nothing, so these Bacchanals Triumph not against me! . . . Forward to my halls Within!--I will ordain what seemeth best.

DIONYSUS.

So be it, O King! 'Tis mine to obey thine hest, Whate'er it be.

PENTHEUS
(_after hesitating once more and waiting_).

Well, I will go--perchance To march and scatter them with serried lance, Perchance to take thy plan. . . . I know not yet.

[_Exit_ PENTHEUS _into the Castle_.

DIONYSUS.

Damsels, the lion walketh to the net! He finds his Bacchae now, and sees and dies, And pays for all his sin!--O Dionyse, This is thine hour and thou not far away. Grant us our vengeance!--First, O Master, stay The course of reason in him, and instil A foam of madness. Let his seeing will, Which ne'er had stooped to put thy vesture on, Be darkened, till the deed is lightly done. Grant likewise that he find through all his streets Loud scorn, this man of wrath and bitter threats That made Thebes tremble, led in woman's guise. I go to fold that robe of sacrifice On Pentheus, that shall deck him to the dark, His mother's gift!--So shall he learn and mark God's true Son, Dionyse, in fulness God, Most fearful, yet to man most soft of mood.

[_Exit_ DIONYSUS, _following_ PENTHEUS _into the Castle_.

CHORUS.

_Some Maidens._

Will they ever come to me, ever again,
The long long dances,
On through the dark till the dim stars wane?
Shall I feel the dew on my throat, and the stream
Of wind in my hair? Shall our white feet gleam
In the dim expanses?
Oh, feet of a fawn to the greenwood fled,
Alone in the grass and the loveliness;
Leap of the hunted, no more in dread,
Beyond the snares and the deadly press:
Yet a voice still in the distance sounds,
A voice and a fear and a haste of hounds;
O wildly labouring, fiercely fleet,
Onward yet by river and glen . . .
Is it joy or terror, ye storm-swift feet? . . .
To the dear lone lands untroubled of men,
Where no voice sounds, and amid the shadowy green
The little things of the woodland live unseen.

What else is Wisdom? What of man's endeavour
Or God's high grace, so lovely and so great?
To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait;
To hold a hand uplifted over Hate;
And shall not Loveliness be loved for ever?

_Others._