The Bacchae of Euripides Part 7

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 pa.s.sing 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 G.o.d's wild cry, "Awake, ye Baccha.n.a.ls! 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 G.o.d sent up to her, A darkling fountain. And if any lips Sought whiter draughts, with dipping finger-tips They pressed the sod, and gus.h.i.+ng 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 G.o.d 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 wors.h.i.+pping, 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 wors.h.i.+p of the Wand, with one accord Of heart and cry--"Iacchos, Bromios, Lord, G.o.d of G.o.d born!"--And all the mountain felt, And wors.h.i.+pped 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.d!"

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 gra.s.s. 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 mult.i.tudinous 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 G.o.d was in these things!

And the holy women back to those strange springs Returned, that G.o.d 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-a.s.suaging 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 G.o.d, no G.o.d 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 G.o.d, 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 G.o.d, 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 p.r.i.c.ks, since Dionyse Is G.o.d, 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 s.h.i.+elds 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. .h.i.ther, 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.