CHORAL INTERLUDE I

Shocked at such defiance of heaven the Chorus invoke Sanct.i.ty, crowned as G.o.ddess in the nether world, to hear the awful words of Pentheus, uttered against the immortal son of Semele, first and best of G.o.ds, ruler of the flower-crowned feast, and the dance's jocund strife, and the laughter, and the sparkling wine-cup, and the sweet sleep that follows the festival. Sorrow closes the lot of such aweless, unbridled madness: stability is for the calmly reverent life, knitting whole houses in sweet domestic harmony. Clasp the present of brief life: no grasping after a bright future with far-fetched wisdom. Oh, for the lands where the graces and sweet desire have their haunts, and young loves soothe the heart with tender guile: fit regions for the Baccha.n.a.ls, whose joy is Peace--wealth-giver to rich and poor. Away with stern austerity: hail the homely wisdom of the mult.i.tude. {439}

EPISODE II

An officer brings in Dionysus as prisoner; he has yielded himself without resistance, while as for the imprisoned worshippers their chains have fallen off spontaneous, and they are away to the revels on the mountains. In long-drawn parallel dialogue Pentheus questions the Stranger--struck with his beauty though he be. Dionysus calmly answers to every point, but allows the orgies are secret and must not be revealed to the uninitiated. The King threatens in vain.

_Pen._ First I will clip away those soft bright locks.

_Dio._ My locks are holy, dedicate to my G.o.d.

_Pen._ Next, give thou me that thyrsus in thy hand.

_Dio._ Take it thyself; 'tis Dionysus' wand.

_Pen._ I'll bind thy body in strong iron chains.

_Dio._ My G.o.d himself will loose them when he will.

_Pen._ When thou invok'st him 'mid thy Baccha.n.a.ls.

_Dio._ Even now he is present, he beholds me now.

_Pen._ Where is he then? mine eyes perceive him not.

_Dio._ Near me: the impious eyes may not discern him.

The king relies on his superior strength.

_Dio._ Thou knowest not where thou art or what thou art.

_Pen._ Pentheus, Agave's son, my sire Echion.

_Dio._ Thou hast a name whose very sound is woe.

Dionysus is removed a prisoner to the palace of Pentheus, while the latter retires to prepare measures against the Maenads.

CHORAL INTERLUDE II

The Chorus, addressing the landscape before them, expostulate with the sacred stream in which the infant G.o.d was dipped for not accepting the divinity whose mystic name is 'Twice-born.' They call upon Dionysus to see them from Olympus, his rapt prophets at strife with dark necessity, and, golden wand in hand, to come to their rescue against the threats of the proud dragon-brood. They are wondering what fair land of song may be holding their sacred leader, when cries from within put an end to the ode. {582}

EPISODE III

In wild lyric s.n.a.t.c.hes shouts are interchanged between Dionysus within and groups of the disordered Chorus, bringing out the tumultuous scene--the earth rocking beneath them, sounds of crashing masonry, capitals of pillars hurled through the air; then _by the machinery of the hemicyclium the whole scene left of the center disappears and is replaced by a tableau representing Pentheus' palace in ruins, and the smouldering tomb of Semele surmounted by bright flame. From the ruins steps Dionysus, unharmed and free, the metre breaking into accelerated rhythm_. {613}

_Dio._ O, ye Barbarian women. Thus prostrate in dismay; Upon the earth ye've fallen! See ye not as ye may, How Bacchus Pentheus' palace In wrath hath shaken down?

Rise up! rise up! take courage--Shake off that trembling swoon.

_Chor._ O light that goodliest shinest Over our mystic rite, In state forlorn we saw thee--Saw with what deep affright!

_Dio._ How to despair ye yielded As I boldly entered in To Pentheus, as if captured, into that fatal gin.

_Chor._ How could I less? Who guards us If thou shouldst come to woe?

But how wast thou delivered From thy unG.o.dly foe?

_Dio._ Myself myself delivered With ease and effort slight.

_Chor._ Thy hands had he not bound them In halters strong and tight?

_Dio._ 'Twas even then I mocked him: He thought me in his chain; He touched me not nor reached me; His idle thoughts were vain!

In the stable stood a heifer Where he thought he had me bound; Round the beast's knees his cords And cloven hoofs he wound, Wrath-breathing, from his body The sweat fell like a flood, He bit his lips in fury, While I beside who stood Looked on in unmoved quiet.

As at that instant come, Shook Bacchus the strong palace, And on his mother's tomb Flames kindled. When he saw it, on fire the palace deeming, Hither he rushed and thither. For 'Water, water,' screaming; And every slave 'gan labor, But labored all in vain, The toil he soon abandoned. As though I had fled amain He rushed into the palace: In his hand the dark sword gleamed.

Then as it seemed, great Bromius--I say but, as it seemed-- In the hall a bright light kindled. On that he rushed, and there, As slaying me in vengeance, Stood stabbing the thin air.

But then the avenging Bacchus Wrought new calamities; From roof to base that palace In smouldering ruin lies.

Bitter ruing our imprisonment, With toil forespent he threw On earth his useless weapon. Mortal, he had dared to do 'Gainst a G.o.d unholy battle. But I, in quiet state, Unheeding Pentheus' anger, Came through the palace gate.

It seems even now his sandal Is sounding on its way; Soon is he here before us, And what now will he say?

With ease will I confront him, Ire-breathing though he stand.

'Tis easy to a wise man To practice self-command. {651}

Blank verse is resumed as Pentheus enters, and meets his escaped prisoner who calmly confronts him. As Pentheus begins to threaten, Dionysus advises him first to hear the messenger even now entering from Cithaeron. An elaborate _Messenger's Speech_ describes the miraculous life of the Maenads as they lie on the mountains, careless but not immodest. At the touch of their thyrsus the rock yields dew and the soil wine; their fingers lightly sc.r.a.ping the soil draw streams of exquisite milk, and honey distils from their ivied staffs. A city-bred agitator stirred up the herdsmen to confront them, but the phrensied women drove the men before them, and tore the herds to pieces; like a flock of birds they skimmed along the land, and all gave way before them.

And what they threw across their shoulders, clung Unfastened, nor fell down to the black ground, No bra.s.s, nor ponderous iron; on their locks Was fire that burned them not.

Then G.o.d-given fountains washed off the stains of their toil, and their serpents licked them clean. Even the Messenger advises submission to so mighty a G.o.d, dispensing such gifts.

Pentheus breathes nothing but defiance, and issues orders for the whole military force of Thebes to a.s.semble. He is bewildered by the stranger, who doing or suffering still holds his peace. In long-drawn parallel verses Dionysus gradually a.s.sumes the friend, and--still warning the king that he is on the side of the G.o.d--insinuates into the mind of Pentheus the idea of visiting the scene, disguised in the feminine robes of the revellers. As the king retires to prepare, Dionysus proclaims that he is fallen into the net, and vengeance shall first deprive him of sense and then destroy him. {868}

CHORAL INTERLUDE III

As the crisis comes nearer the Chorus long for the moment of escape--the sensation of the hart that has leaped the net and with storm-wind haste escaped the hunter's pursuit and reached the silent shadow of the old hospitable wood. VICTORY IS THE JOY OF JOYS. Slow and true are the avenging deities, with printless foot hounding the impious along their winding path: for law is old as oldest time.

VICTORY IS THE JOY OF JOYS. Happy the sailor in port, he whose race is o'er: hopes hover over thousands, but

Happiness alone is his That happy is to-day. {928}

EPISODE IV

Pentheus appears from the palace of Cadmus in disguise as a Maenad.

Infatuation has become a phrensy: he sees double, Dionysus seems a bull, his eyes penetrate into distance and perceive his mother and her comrades. Unconscious of the laughter of Dionysus he adjusts his feminine dress and practices the Maenad step. Irony is added:

_Dio._ Follow me! thy preserver goes before thee; Another takes thee hence.

_Pen._ Mean'st thou my mother?

_Dio._ Aloft shalt thou be borne-- _Pen._ O the soft carriage!

_Dio._ In thy mother's hands.

_Pen._ Wilt make me thus luxurious?

_Dio._ Strange luxury, indeed!

_Pen._ 'Tis my desert.

Exclaiming in ambiguous phrase as to the awful end to which he is destined, Dionysus leads the king out towards Cithaeron. {986}

CHORAL INTERLUDE IV

The crisis is come! Ho, to the mountains; where the Chorus picture the scene already being enacted, the hunter of the Baccha.n.a.ls caught in the inexorable net of death. VENGEANCE ON THE LAWLESS SON OF ECHION is the recurrent burden of the ode. Its prayer is to hold fast the pious mind, the smooth painless life at peace with heaven and earth, instead of fighting with the invincible, aweless outcast from all law. {1036}

EPISODE V

A _Messenger's Speech_ describes the catastrophe. How Pentheus, arrived within sight of the orderly Maenads, was not satisfied, but desired a higher station from which to view their unseemly life. Then a wonder: the stranger bent down an ash tree, and seating Pentheus in a fork of it let the tree return to its position, holding the wretched king aloft, seen of all.

The stranger from our view had vanished quite.

Then from the heavens a voice, as it should seem, Dionysus, shouted loud, "Behold, I bring, O maidens, him that you and me, our rites, Our orgies laughed to scorn; now take your vengeance."

And as he spake, a light of holy fire Stood up, and blazed from earth straight up to heaven.

Silent the air, silent the verdant grove Held its still leaves; no sound of living thing.

They, as their ears just caught the half-heard voice, Stood up erect, and rolled their wandering eyes, Again he shouted. But when Cadmus' daughters Heard manifest the G.o.d's awakening voice, Forth rushed they, fleeter than the winged dove, Their nimble feet quick coursing up and down.

How then the Maenads set upon him and tore him to pieces, his own mother leading them on: in triumph dance they are bringing his head to the city. Adore the G.o.ds, is the moral. {1164}

CHORAL INTERLUDE V