The Bacchae (745-814)

dragged down by countless young hands. The garment of flesh was torn apart faster then you could blink your royal eyes. And like birds raised in their course, they proceeded along the level plains, which by the streams of the Asopus

produce the bountiful Theban crop. And falling like soldiers upon Hysiae and Erythrae, towns situated below the rock of Kithairon, they turned everything upside down. They were snatching children from their homes;

and whatever they put on their shoulders, whether bronze or iron, was not held on by bonds, nor did it fall to the ground. They carried fire on their locks, but it did not burn them. Some people in rage took up arms, being plundered by the Bacchae,

and the sight of this was terrible to behold, lord. For their pointed spears drew no blood, but the women, hurling the thyrsoi from their hands, kept wounding them and turned them to flight—women did this to men, not without the help of some god.

And they returned where they had come from, to the very fountains which the god had sent forth for them, and washed off the blood, and snakes cleaned the drops from the women’s cheeks with their tongues. Receive this god then, whoever he is,

into this city, master. For he is great in other respects, and they say this too of him, as I hear, that he gives to mortals the vine that puts an end to grief. Without wine there is no longer Aphrodite or any other pleasant thing for men.

I fear to speak freely to the king, but I will speak nevertheless: Dionysus is inferior to none of the gods.

Already like fire does this insolence of the Bacchae blaze up, a great reproach for the Hellenes.

But we must not hesitate. Go to the Electran gates, bid all the shield-bearers and riders of swift-footed horses to assemble, as well as all who brandish the light shield and pluck bowstrings with their hands, so that we can make an assault against

the Bacchae. For it is indeed too much if we suffer what we are suffering at the hands of women.

Pentheus, though you hear my words, you obey not at all. Though I suffer ill at your hands, still I say that it is not right for you to raise arms against a god,

but to remain calm. Bromius will not allow you to remove the Bacchae from the joyful mountains.

Do not instruct me, but be content in your escape from prison. Or shall I bring punishment upon you again?

I would sacrifice to the god rather

than kick against his spurs in anger, a mortal against a god.

I will sacrifice, making a great slaughter of the women, as they deserve, in the glens of Kithairon.

You will all flee. And it will be a source of shame that you turn your bronze shields away from the thyrsoi of the Bacchae.

This stranger with whom I am locked together is impossible, and neither suffering nor doing will he be quiet.

My friend, there is still opportunity to arrange these things well.

Doing what? Being a slave to my slaves?

Without weapons I will bring the women here.

Alas! You are contriving this as a trick against me.

What sort, if I wish to save you by my contrivances?

You have devised this together, so that you may have your revelry forever.

I certainly did—that is so—with the god.

To a servant Bring me my armor. To Dionysus And you, stop speaking.

Ah! Do you wish to see them sitting together in the mountains?

Certainly. I’d give an enormous amount of gold for that.

Why do you desire this so badly?

I would be sorry to see them in their drunkenness.