The Bacchae (649-740)

Did I not say—or did you not hear—that some one would deliver me?

Who? You are always introducing strange explanations.

He who produces the rich-clustering vine for mortals.

You reproach Dionysus for what is his glory.

I order you to close up all the towers around.

Why? Do gods not pass over walls too?

You are wise, wise at least in all save what you should be wise in.

I was born wise in all that I should be. Enter a messenger Listen first to the words of this man, who has come from the mountain to bring you some message. I will await you, I will not try to escape.

Pentheus, ruler of this land of Thebes, I have come from Kithairon, where the bright flakes of white snow never melt.

What important news do you come to bring?

Having seen the holy Bacchae, who

goaded to madness have darted from this land with their fair feet, I have come to tell you and the city, lord, that they are doing terrible things, beyond marvel. I wish to hear whether I should tell you in free speech the situation there or whether I should repress my report,

for I fear, lord, the quickness of your mood, your keen temper and your too imperious disposition.

Speak, as you will have immunity from me in any case. For it is not right to be angry with the just. The more you tell me terrible things about the Bacchae,

the more I will punish this one here who taught the women these tricks.

The herds of grazing cattle were just climbing up the hill, at the time when the sun sends forth its rays, warming the earth.

I saw three companies of dancing women, one of which Autonoe led, the second your mother Agave, and the third Ino. All were asleep, their bodies relaxed, some resting their backs against pine foliage,

others laying their heads at random on the oak leaves, modestly, not as you say drunk with the goblet and the sound of the flute, hunting out Aphrodite through the woods in solitude. Your mother raised a cry,

standing up in the midst of the Bacchae, to wake their bodies from sleep, when she heard the lowing of the horned cattle. And they, casting off refreshing sleep from their eyes, sprang upright, a marvel of orderliness to behold, old, young, and still unmarried virgins.

First they let their hair loose over their shoulders, and secured their fawn-skins, as many of them as had released the fastenings of their knots, girding the dappled hides with serpents licking their jaws. And some, holding in their arms a gazelle or wild

wolf-pup, gave them white milk, as many as had abandoned their new-born infants and had their breasts still swollen. They put on garlands of ivy, and oak, and flowering yew. One took her thyrsos and struck it against a rock,

from which a dewy stream of water sprang forth. Another let her thyrsos strike the ground, and there the god sent forth a fountain of wine. All who desired the white drink scratched the earth with the tips of their fingers and obtained streams of milk;

and a sweet flow of honey dripped from their ivy thyrsoi; so that, had you been present and seen this, you would have approached with prayers the god whom you now blame. We herdsmen and shepherds gathered in order to

debate with one another concerning what strange and amazing things they were doing. Some one, a wanderer about the city and practised in speaking, said to us all: You who inhabit the holy plains of the mountains, do you wish to hunt

Pentheus’ mother Agave out from the Bacchic revelry and do the king a favor? We thought he spoke well, and lay down in ambush, hiding ourselves in the foliage of bushes. They, at the appointed hour, began to wave the thyrsos in their revelries,

calling on Iacchus, the son of Zeus, Bromius, with united voice. The whole mountain revelled along with them and the beasts, and nothing was unmoved by their running. Agave happened to be leaping near me, and I sprang forth, wanting to snatch her,

abandoning the ambush where I had hidden myself. But she cried out: O my fleet hounds, we are hunted by these men; but follow me! follow armed with your thyrsoi in your hands! We fled and escaped

from being torn apart by the Bacchae, but they, with unarmed hands, sprang on the heifers browsing the grass. and you might see one rending asunder a fatted lowing calf, while others tore apart cows.

You might see ribs or cloven hooves tossed here and there; caught in the trees they dripped, dabbled in gore. Bulls who before were fierce, and showed their fury with their horns, stumbled to the ground,