Bacchae

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 541 sections

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women’s guise after making such terrible threats in the past. But now I will go to fit on Pentheus the dress he will wear to the house of Hades, slaughtered by his mother’s hands. He will recognize the son of Zeus,
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Dionysus, who is in fact a god, the most terrible and yet most mild to men.
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Shall I move my white foot in the night-long dance, aroused to a frenzy,
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throwing my head to the dewy air, like a fawn sporting in the green pleasures of the meadow, when it has escaped a fearful chase beyond the watchers
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over the well-woven nets, and the hunter hastens his dogs on their course with his call, while she, with great exertion and a storm-swift running, rushes along the plain by the river, rejoicing
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in the solitude apart from men and in the thickets of the shady-foliaged woods. What is wisdom? Or what greater honor do the gods give to mortals than to hold one’s hand
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in strength over the head of enemies? What is good is always dear.
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Divine strength is roused with difficulty, but still is sure. It chastises those mortals
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who honor folly and those who in their insanity do not extol the gods. The gods cunningly conceal the long pace of time and
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hunt the impious. For it is not right to determine or plan anything beyond the laws. For it is a light expense to hold that whatever is divine has power,
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and that which has been law for a long time is eternal and has its origin in nature. What is wisdom? Or what greater honor do the gods give to mortals than to hold one’s hand
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in strength over the head of enemies? What is good is always dear.
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Happy is he who has fled a storm on the sea, and reached harbor. Happy too is he who has overcome his hardships.
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One surpass another in different ways, in wealth or power. There are innumerable hopes to innumerable men, and some result in wealth to mortals, while others fail.
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But I call him blessed whose life is happy day to day.
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You who are eager to see what you ought not and hasty in pursuit of what ought not to be pursued—I mean you, Pentheus, come forth before the house, be seen by me,
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wearing the clothing of a woman, of an inspired maenad, a spy upon your mother and her company. Pentheus emerges. In appearance you are like one of Kadmos’ daughters.
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Oh look! I think I see two suns, and twin Thebes, the seven-gated city.
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And you seem to lead me, being like a bull and horns seem to grow on your head. But were you ever before a beast? For you have certainly now become a bull.
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The god accompanies us, now at truce with us, though formerly not propitious. Now you see what you should see.
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How do I look? Don’t I have the posture of Ino, or of my mother Agave?
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Looking at you I think I see them. But this lock of your hair has come out of place, not the way I arranged it under your headband.
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I displaced it indoors, shaking my head forwards and backwards and practising my Bacchic revelry.
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But I who ought to wait on you will re-arrange it. Hold up your head.
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Here, you arrange it; for I depend on you, indeed.
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Your girdle has come loose, and the pleats of your gown do not extend regularly down around your ankles.
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At least on my right leg, I believe they don’t. But on this side the robe sits well around the back of my leg.
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You will surely consider me the best of your friends,
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when contrary to your expectation you see the Bacchae acting modestly.
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But shall I be more like a maenad holding the thyrsos in my right hand, or in my left?
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You must hold it in your right hand and raise your right foot in unison with it. I praise you for having changed your mind.
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Could I carry on my shoulders the glens of Kithairon, Bacchae and all?
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You could if you were willing. The state of mind you had before was unsound, but now you think as you ought.
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Shall we bring levers? Or shall I draw them up with my hands,
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putting a shoulder or arm under the mountain-tops?
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But don’t destroy the seats of the Nymphs and the places where Pan plays his pipes.
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Well said. The women are not to be taken by force; I will hide in the pines.
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You will hide yourself as you should be hidden, coming as a crafty spy on the Maenads.
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Oh, yes! I imagine that like birds they are in the bushes held in the sweetest grips of love.
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You have been sent as a guard against this very event.
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Perhaps you will catch them, if you yourself are not caught before.
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Bring me through the midst of the Theban land. I am the only man of them who dares to perform this deed.
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You alone bear the burden for this city, you alone. Therefore the labors which are proper await you.
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Follow me. I am your saving guide: another will lead you down from there.
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Yes, my mother.
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And you will be remarkable to all.
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I am going for this reason.
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You will return here being carried—
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You talk of a delicacy for me.
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In the arms of your mother.
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You will force me to luxury.
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Yes indeed, such luxury!
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I will get what I deserve.
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You are terrible, terrible, and you go to terrible sufferings, so that you will find a renown reaching to heaven. Reach out your hands, Agave, and you too, her sisters, daughters of Kadmos. I lead this young man
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to a great contest, and Bromius and I will be the victors. The rest the matter itself will show.
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Go to the mountain, go, fleet hounds of Madness, where the daughters of Kadmos hold their company, and drive them raving
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against the mad spy on the Maenads, the one dressed in women’s attire. His mother will be the first to see him from a smooth rock or crag, as he lies in ambush, and she will cry out to the maenads:
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Who is this seeker of the mountain-going Kadmeans who has come to the mountain, to the mountain, Bacchae? Who bore him? For he was not born from a woman’s blood, but is the offspring of some lioness
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or of Libyan Gorgons. Let manifest justice go forth, let it go with sword in hand, slaying through the throat
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this godless, lawless, unjust, earth-born offspring of Echion.
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Whoever with wicked mind and unjust rage regarding your rites, Bacchus, and those of your mother, comes with raving heart
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and mad disposition violently to overcome by force what is invincible—death is the discipline for his purposes, accepting no excuses when the affairs of the gods are concerned; to act like a mortal—this is a life that is free from pain.
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I do not envy wisdom, but rejoice in hunting it. But other things are great and manifest. Oh, for life to flow towards the good, to be pure and pious day and night, and to honor the gods,
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banishing customs that are outside of justice. Let manifest justice go forth, let it go with sword in hand, slaying through the throat
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this godless, lawless, unjust, earth-born offspring of Echion.
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Appear as a bull or many-headed serpent or raging lion to see.
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Go, Bacchus, with smiling face throw a deadly noose around the hunter of the Bacchae as he falls beneath the flock of Maenads.
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Oh house once fortunate in Hellas,
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house of the Sidonian old man who once sowed in the ground the earth-born harvest of the serpent Ophis, how I groan for you, though I am a slave, but still the masters’ affairs are a concern to good servants..
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What is it? Do you bring some news from the Bacchae?
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Pentheus, the child of Echion, is dead.
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Lord Bacchus, truly you appear to be a great god.
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What do you mean? Why have you said this? Do you rejoice at the misfortunes of my master, woman?
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I, a foreign woman, rejoice with foreign songs;
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for no longer do I cower in fear of chains.
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Do you think Thebes so lacking in men?
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Dionysus, Dionysus, not Thebes, holds my allegiance.
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You may be forgiven, but still it is not good
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to rejoice at troubles once they have actually taken place, women.
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Tell me, speak, what kind of a death did he die, the unjust man who did unjust things?
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When we left the dwellings of the Theban land and crossed the streams of Asopus,
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we began to ascend the heights of Kithairon, Pentheus and I—for I was following my master—and the stranger who was our guide to the sight. First we sat in a grassy vale,
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keeping our feet and voices quiet, so that we might see them without being seen. There was a little valley surounded by precipices, irrigated with streams, shaded by pine trees, where the Maenads were sitting, their hands busy with delightful labors. Some of them were crowning again
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the worn thyrsos, making it leafy with ivy, while some, like colts freed from the painted yoke, were singing a Bacchic melody to one another. And the unhappy Pentheus said, not seeing the crowd of women: Stranger,
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from where we are standing I cannot see these false Maenads. But on the hill, ascending a lofty pine, I might view properly the shameful acts of the Maenads. And then I saw the stranger perform a marvelous deed. For seizing hold of the lofty top-most branch of the pine tree,
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he pulled it down, pulled it, pulled it to the dark earth. It was bent just as a bow or a curved wheel, when it is marked out by a compass, describes a circular course : in this way the stranger drew the mountain bough with his hands and bent it to the earth, doing no mortal’s deed.
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He sat Pentheus down on the pine branch, and let it go upright through his hands steadily, taking care not to shake him off. The pine stood firmly upright into the sky, with my master seated on its back.
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He was seen by the Maenads more than he saw them, for sitting on high he was all but apparent, and the stranger was no longer anywhere to be seen, when a voice, Dionysus as I guess, cried out from the air: Young women,
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I bring the one who has made you and me and my rites a laughing-stock. Now punish him! And as he said this a light of holy fire was placed between heaven and earth. The air became quiet and the woody glen
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kept its leaves silent, nor would you have heard the sounds of animals. But they, not having heard the sound clearly, stood upright and looked all around. He repeated his order, and when the daughters of Kadmos recognized the clear command of Bacchus,
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they rushed forth, swift as a dove, running with eager speed of feet, his mother Agave, and her sisters, and all the Bacchae. They leapt through the torrent-streaming valley and mountain cliffs, frantic with the inspiration of the god.
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When they saw my master sitting in the pine, first they climbed a rock towering opposite the tree and began to hurl at him boulders violently thrown. Some aimed with pine branches and other women hurled their thyrsoi through the air
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at Pentheus, a sad target indeed. But they did not reach him, for the wretched man, caught with no way out, sat at a height too great for their eagerness. Finally like lightning they smashed oak branches and began to tear up the roots of the tree with ironless levers.
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When they did not succeed in their toils, Agave said: Come, standing round in a circle, each seize a branch, Maenads, so that we may catch the beast who has climbed aloft, and so that he does not make public the secret dances of the god. They applied countless hands
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to the pine and dragged it up from the earth. Pentheus fell crashing to the ground from his lofty seat, wailing greatly: for he knew he was in terrible trouble. His mother, as priestess, began the slaughter,
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and fell upon him. He threw the headband from his head so that the wretched Agave might recognize and not kill him. Touching her cheek, he said: It is I, mother, your son, Pentheus, whom you bore in the house of Echion.
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Pity me, mother, and do not kill me, your child, for my sins. But she, foaming at the mouth and twisting her eyes all about, not thinking as she ought, was possessed by Bacchus, and he did not persuade her.
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Seizing his left arm at the elbow and propping her foot against the unfortunate man’s side, she tore out his shoulder, not by her own strength, but the god gave facility to her hands. Ino began to work on the other side,
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tearing his flesh, while Autonoe and the whole crowd of the Bacchae pressed on. All were making noise together, he groaning as much as he had life left in him, while they shouted in victory. One of them bore his arm, another a foot, boot and all. His ribs were stripped bare
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from their tearings. The whole band, hands bloodied, were playing a game of catch with Pentheus’ flesh. His body lies in different places, part under the rugged rocks, part in the deep foliage of the woods, not easy to be sought. His miserable head,

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.