The Bacchae of Euripides

by Euripides

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.

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 hornèd 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.

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.

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 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.

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 crownèd slumber; then Pain is dead and hate forgiven!

'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!

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!

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

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!

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

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

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.

I will endure him gently, though he come in fury hot. For still are the ways of Wisdom, and her temper trembleth not!

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?

Happy he, on the weary sea Who hath fled the tempest and won the haven. Happy whoso hath risen, free, Above his striving. For strangely graven Is the orb of life, that one and another In gold and power may outpass his brother. And men in their millions float and flow And seethe with a million hopes as leaven; And they win their Will, or they miss their Will, And the hopes are dead or are pined for still; But whoe'er can know, As the long days go, That To Live is happy, hath found his Heaven!

Agave. Dionysus, we beseech thee! We have sinned! Dionysus. Too late! When there was time, ye knew me not! Agave. We have confessed. Yet is thine hand too hot. Dionysus. Ye mocked me, being God; this is your wage. Agave. Should God be like a proud man in his rage? Dionysus. 'Tis as my sire, Zeus, willed it long ago. Agave (turning from him almost with disdain). Old Man, the word is spoken; we must go.

Chorus. There be many shapes of mystery. And many things God makes to be, Past hope or fear. And the end men looked for cometh not, And a path is there where no man thought. So hath it fallen here. [Exeunt.

The Orphic congregations of later times, in their most holy gatherings, solemnly partook of the blood of a bull, which was, by a mystery, the blood of Dionysus-Zagreus himself, the "Bull of God," slain in sacrifice for the purification of man. And the Maenads of poetry and myth, among more beautiful proofs of their superhuman or infra-human character, have always to tear bulls in pieces and taste of the blood. It is noteworthy, and throws much light on the spirit of Orphism, that apart from this sacramental tasting of the blood, the Orphic worshipper held it an abomination to eat the flesh of animals at all. The same religious fervour and zeal for purity which made him reject the pollution of animal food, made him at the same time cling to a ceremonial which would utterly disgust the ordinary hardened flesh-eater. It fascinated him just because it was so incredibly primitive and uncanny; because it was a mystery which transcended reason!