Bacchae

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 541 sections

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breathing out fury, dripping sweat from his body, gnashing his teeth in his lips. But I, being near, sitting quietly, looked on. Meanwhile, Bacchus came and shook the house and kindled a flame on his mother’s tomb. When Pentheus saw this, thinking that the house was burning,
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he ran here and there, calling to the slaves to bring water, and every servant was at work, toiling in vain. Then he let this labor drop, as I had escaped, and snatching a dark sword rushed into the house. Then Bromius, so it seems to me—I speak my opinion—
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created a phantom in the courtyard. Pentheus rushed at it headlong, stabbing at the shining air, as though slaughtering me. Besides this, Bacchus inflicted other damage on him: he knocked his house to the ground, and everything was shattered into pieces, while he saw my bitter chains. From fatigue,
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dropping his sword, he is exhausted. For he, a man, dared to join battle with a god. Now I have quietly left the house and come to you, with no thought of Pentheus. But I think—at any rate I hear the tramping of feet inside—he will soon come to the front of the house. What will he say after this?
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I shall easily bear him, even if he comes boasting greatly. For it is the part of a wise man to practice restrained good temper.
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I have suffered terrible things; the stranger, who was recently constrained in bonds, has escaped me. Ah!
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Here is the man. What is this? How do you appear in front of my house, having come out?
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Stop, and put a stop to your anger.
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How have you escaped your chains and come outside?
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Did I not say—or did you not hear—that some one would deliver me?
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Who? You are always introducing strange explanations.
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He who produces the rich-clustering vine for mortals.
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You reproach Dionysus for what is his glory.
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I order you to close up all the towers around.
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Why? Do gods not pass over walls too?
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You are wise, wise at least in all save what you should be wise in.
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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.
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Pentheus, ruler of this land of Thebes, I have come from Kithairon, where the bright flakes of white snow never melt.
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What important news do you come to bring?
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Having seen the holy Bacchae, who
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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,
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for I fear, lord, the quickness of your mood, your keen temper and your too imperious disposition.
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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,
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the more I will punish this one here who taught the women these tricks.
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The herds of grazing cattle were just climbing up the hill, at the time when the sun sends forth its rays, warming the earth.
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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,
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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,
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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.
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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
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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,
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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;
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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
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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
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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,
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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,
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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
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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.
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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,
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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
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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;
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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,
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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.
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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,
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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.
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I fear to speak freely to the king, but I will speak nevertheless: Dionysus is inferior to none of the gods.
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Already like fire does this insolence of the Bacchae blaze up, a great reproach for the Hellenes.
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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
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the Bacchae. For it is indeed too much if we suffer what we are suffering at the hands of women.
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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,
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but to remain calm. Bromius will not allow you to remove the Bacchae from the joyful mountains.
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Do not instruct me, but be content in your escape from prison. Or shall I bring punishment upon you again?
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I would sacrifice to the god rather
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than kick against his spurs in anger, a mortal against a god.
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I will sacrifice, making a great slaughter of the women, as they deserve, in the glens of Kithairon.
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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.
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This stranger with whom I am locked together is impossible, and neither suffering nor doing will he be quiet.
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My friend, there is still opportunity to arrange these things well.
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Doing what? Being a slave to my slaves?
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Without weapons I will bring the women here.
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Alas! You are contriving this as a trick against me.
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What sort, if I wish to save you by my contrivances?
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You have devised this together, so that you may have your revelry forever.
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I certainly did—that is so—with the god.
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To a servant Bring me my armor. To Dionysus And you, stop speaking.
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Ah! Do you wish to see them sitting together in the mountains?
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Certainly. I’d give an enormous amount of gold for that.
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Why do you desire this so badly?
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I would be sorry to see them in their drunkenness.
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But would you see gladly what is grievous to you?
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To be sure, sitting quietly under the pines.
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But they will track you down, even if you go in secret.
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You are right: I will go openly.
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Shall I guide you? Will you attempt the journey?
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Lead me as quickly as possible. I grudge you the time.
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Put linen clothes on your body then.
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What is this? Shall I then, instead of a man, be reckoned among the women?
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Lest they kill you if you are seen there as a man.
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Again you speak correctly: how wise you have been all along!
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Dionysus taught me these things fully.
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How can your advice to me be well carried out?
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I will go inside and dress you.
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In what clothing? Female? But shame holds me back.
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Are you no longer eager to view the maenads?
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What clothing do you bid me to put on my body?
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I will spread out hair at length on your head.
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What is the second part of my outfit?
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A robe down to your feet. And you will wear a headband.
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And what else will you add to this for me?
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A thyrsos in your hand, and a dappled fawn-skin.
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I could not put on a woman’s dress.
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But you will shed blood if you join battle with the Bacchae.
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True. We must go first and spy.
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This is at any rate wiser than hunting trouble with trouble.
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And how will I go through the city without being seen by the Thebans?
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We will go on deserted roads. I will lead you.
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Anything is better than to be mocked by the Bacchae. We two will go into the house . . . and I will consider what seems best.
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It will be so; in any case I am ready.
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I will go in. For either I will go bearing arms, or I will obey your counsels.
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Women, the man is caught in our net. He will go to the Bacchae, where he will pay the penalty with his death. Dionysus, now it is your job; for you are not far off.
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Let us punish him. First drive him out of his wits, send upon him a dizzying madness, since if he is of sound mind he will not consent to wear women’s clothing, but driven out of his senses he will put it on. I want him to be a source of laughter to the Thebans, led through the city in

Perseus Greek. CTS URN tlg0006.tlg017.perseus-eng2. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: Available under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Source.