Hippolytus; The Bacchae

  O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing
  Through the swell and the storm-beating,
    Bore us thy Prince's daughter,
  Was it well she came from a joyous home
  To a far King's bridal across the foam?
    What joy hath her bridal brought her?
  Sure some spell upon either hand
  Flew with thee from the Cretan strand,
  Seeking Athena's tower divine;
  And there, where Munychus fronts the brine,
  Crept by the shore-flung cables' line,
    The curse from the Cretan water!

  And for that dark spell that about her clings,
  Sick desires of forbidden things
    The soul of her rend and sever;
  The bitter tide of calamity
  Hath risen above her lips; and she,
    Where bends she her last endeavour?
  She will hie her alone to her bridal room,
  And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom;
  And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose,
  A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose
  The one strait way for fame, and lose
    The Love and the pain for ever.

    [ The Voice of the NURSE is heard from within, crying,
     at first inarticulately, then clearly.]

    VOICE
  Help ho! The Queen! Help, whoso hearkeneth!
  Help! Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death!

    A WOMAN
  God, is it so soon finished? That bright head
  Swinging beneath the rafters! Phaedra dead!

    VOICE
  O haste! This knot about her throat is made
  So fast! Will no one bring me a swift blade?

    A WOMAN
  Say, friends, what think ye? Should we haste within,
  And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen?

    ANOTHER
  Nay, are there not men there? 'Tis an ill road
  In life, to finger at another's load.

    VOICE
  Let it lie straight! Alas! the cold white thing
  That guards his empty castle for the King!

    A WOMAN
  Ah! "Let it lie straight!" Heard ye what she said?
  No need for helpers now; the Queen is dead!
    [ The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed
     the approach of THESEUS. He enters from the left; his dress and the
     garland on his head show that he has returned from some oracle or
     special abode of a God. He stands for a moment perplexed.]

    THESEUS
  Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim
  Within the house? The vassals' outcry came
  To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet
  To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet
  With a joy held from God's Presence!
    [ The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him.
     A dirge-cry comes from the Castle.]

                                            How?
  Not Pittheus? Hath Time struck that hoary brow?
  Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were,
  Returning thus, to find his empty chair!
    [ The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward.]

    LEADER
  O Theseus, not on any old man's head
  This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead.

    THESEUS
  Ye Gods! One of my children torn from me?

    LEADER
  Thy motherless children live, most grievously.

    THESEUS
  How sayst thou? What? My wife?...
                                 Say how she died.
    LEADER
  In a high death-knot that her own hands tied.

    THESEUS
  A fit of the old cold anguish? Tell me all—
  That held her?   Or did some fresh thing befall?

    LEADER
  We know no more. But now arrived we be,
  Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity.
    [THESEUS stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow.
     He notices the wreath.]

    THESEUS
  What? And all garlanded I come to her
  With flowers, most evil-starred God's-messenger!
    Ho, varlets, loose the portal bars; undo
  The bolts; and let me see the bitter view
  Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own.
    [ The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body
     of PHAEDRA is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of
     Handmaids, wailing.]

    THE HANDMAIDS
  Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done:
    A deed to wrap this roof in flame!
  Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold?
  Wherefore. O dead in anger, dead in shame,
  The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold?
          O ill-starred Wife,
  What brought this blackness over all thy life?
    [ A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected.]

    THESEUS
          Ah me, this is the last
  —Hear, O my countrymen!—and bitterest
  Of Theseus' labours! Fortune all unblest,
  How hath thine heavy heel across me passed!
  Is it the stain of sins done long ago,
          Some fell God still remembereth,
  That must so dim and fret my life with death?
  I cannot win to shore; and the waves flow
  Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not.
          Ah wife, sweet wife, what name
          Can fit thine heavy lot?
  Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame,
  In one swift gust, where all things are forgot!
          Alas! this misery!
  Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled
          From age to age on me,
  For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old.

    LEADER
  Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one,
  A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone.

    THESEUS
          Deep, deep beneath the Earth,
          Dark may my dwelling be,
  And night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth,
  O Love, of thy most sweet society.
  This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine.
    [ He turns suddenly on the Attendants.]
  Speak who speak can! What was it? What malign
  Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee?
    [ He bends over PHAEDRA; then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up.]
  What, will ye speak? Or are they dumb as death,
  This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth?
    [ There is no answer. He bends again over PHAEDRA.]

    SOME WOMEN
          Woe, woe! God brings to birth
  A new grief here, close on the other's tread!
          My life hath lost its worth.
  May all go now with what is finishèd!
  The castle of my King is overthrown,
  A house no more, a house vanished and gone!

    OTHER WOMEN
  O God, if it may be in any way,
  Let not this house be wrecked! Help us who pray!
  I know not what is here: some unseen thing
  That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing.
   [THESEUS has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion.]

    THESEUS
  Oh, horror piled on horror!—Here is writ...
  Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it?

    LEADER
  What, O my King? If I may hear it, speak!

    THESEUS
  Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek,
  Things not to be forgotten?—Oh, to fly
  And hide mine head! No more a man am I.
      God what ghastly music echoes here!

    LEADER
  How wild thy voice! Some terrible thing is near.

    THESEUS
  No; my lips' gates will hold it back no more;
  This deadly word,
  That struggles on the brink and will not o'er,
  Yet will not stay unheard.
    [ He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present.]
  Ho, hearken all this land!
    [ The people gather expectantly about him.]
  Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand
  On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye.
    [ Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,
     raises both arms to heaven. ]
  Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry,
  Poseidon! Thou didst grant me for mine own
  Three prayers; for one of these, slay now my son,
  Hippolytus; let him not outlive this day,
  If true thy promise was! Lo, thus I pray.

    LEADER
  Oh, call that wild prayer back! O King, take heed!
  I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed.

    THESEUS
  It may not be.—And more, I cast him out
  From all my realms. He shall be held about
  By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath
  He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death;
  Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea,
  Shall live and drain the cup of misery.

    LEADER
  Ah; see! here comes he at the point of need.
  Shake off that evil mood, O King; have heed
  For all thine house and folk—Great Theseus, hear!
    [THESEUS stands silent in fierce gloom.     HIPPOLYTUS comes in from the right. ]

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear
  To help thee, but I see not yet the cause
  That racked thee so. Say, Father, what it was.
    [ The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,
     and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on HIPPOLYTUS
    and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier. ]
  Ah, what is that! Nay, Father, not the Queen
  Dead!
    [ Murmurs in the crowd. ]
  'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween.
  'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run
  Since here she stood and looked on this same sun.
  What is it with her? Wherefore did she die?
    [THESEUS remains silent. The murmurs increase. ]
  Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why,
  Why art thou silent? What doth silence know
  Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe?
  And human hearts in sorrow crave the more,
  For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore.
  It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in
  From one most near to thee, and more than kin.

    THESEUS ( to himself )
  Fond race of men, so striving and so blind,
  Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find,
  Desiring all and all imagining:
  But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing,
  To make a true heart there where no heart is!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  That were indeed beyond man's mysteries,
  To make a false heart true against his will.
  But why this subtle talk? It likes me ill,
  Father; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow.

    THESEUS ( as before )
  O would that God had given us here below
  Some test of love, some sifting of the soul,
  To tell the false and true! Or through the whole
  Of men two voices ran, one true and right,
  The other as chance willed it; that we might
  Convict the liar by the true man's tone,
  And not live duped forever, every one!

    HIPPOLYTUS ( misunderstanding him; then guessing at something
                of the truth )
  What? Hath some friend proved false?
                                Or in thine ear
  Whispered some slander? Stand I tainted here,
  Though utterly innocent?   [ Murmurs from the crowd.]
                            Yea, dazed am I;
  'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry,
  Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed!

    THESEUS
  O heart of man, what height wilt venture next?
  What end comes to thy daring and thy crime?
  For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb,
  And every age break out in blood and lies
  Beyond its fathers, must not God devise
  Some new world far from ours, to hold therein
  Such brood of all unfaithfulness and sin?
    Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life
  Sprung forth from mine! He hath defiled my wife;
  And standeth here convicted by the dead,
  A most black villain!
    [HIPPOLYTUS falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe.]
                       Nay, hide not thine head!
  Pollution, is it? Thee it will not stain.
  Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again!
    Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect;
  Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked!
  I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad,
  To deem that Gods love best the base and bad.
    Now is thy day! Now vaunt thee; thou so pure,
  No flesh of life may pass thy lips! Now lure
  Fools after thee; call Orpheus King and Lord;
  Make ecstasies and wonders! Thumb thine hoard
  Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries—
  Now thou art caught and known!
                         Shun men like these,
  I charge ye all! With solemn words they chase
  their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace.
  My wife is dead.—"Ha, so that saves thee now,"
  That is what grips thee worst, thou caitiff, thou!
  What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be
  Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee?
    "She hated thee," thou sayest; "the bastard born
  Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn
  To the true brood."—A sorry bargainer
  In the ills and goods of life thou makest her,
  If all her best-beloved she cast away
  To wreck blind hate on thee!—What, wilt thou say
  "Through every woman's nature one blind strand
  Of passion winds, that men scarce understand?"—
  Are we so different? Know I not the fire
  And perilous flood of a young man's desire,
  Desperate as any woman, and as blind,
  When Cypris stings? Save that the man behind
  Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twas thou...
    But what avail to wrangle with thee now,
  When the dead speaks for all to understand,
  A perfect witness!
                     Hie thee from this land
  To exile with all speed. Come never more
  To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore
  Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong!
  What? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong,
  And cower to thee? Not Isthmian Sinis so
  Will bear men witness that I laid him low,
  Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey,
  Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay!

    LEADER
  Alas! whom shall I call of mortal men
  Happy? The highest are cast down again.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart
  Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art
  Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare,
  Speech were not then so swift; nay, nor so fair...
    [ Murmurs again in the crowd.]
  I have no skill before a crowd to tell
  My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me well.—
  Nay that is natural; tongues that sound but rude
  In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude
  With music.
             None the less, since there is come
  This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb,
  But speak perforce... And there will I begin
  Where thou beganst, as though to strip my sin
  Naked, and I not speak a word!
                                  Dost see
  This sunlight and this earth? I swear to thee
  There dwelleth not in these one man—deny
  All that thou wilt!—more pure of sin than I.
    Two things I know on earth: God's worship first;
  Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst
  To hold them clean of all unrighteousness.
  Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less
  Who yieldeth to the tempters.—How, thou say'st,
  "Dupes that I jest at?" Nay; I make a jest
  Of no man. I am honest to the end,
  Near or far off, with him I call my friend.
  And most in that one thing, where now thy mesh
  Would grip me, stainless quite! No woman's flesh
  Hath e'er this body touched. Of all such deed
  Naught wot I, save what things a man may read
  In pictures or hear spoke; nor am I fain,
  Being virgin-souled, to read or hear again.
    My life of innocence moves thee not; so be it.
  Show then what hath seduced me; let me see it.
  Was that poor flesh so passing fair, beyond
  All woman's loveliness?
                         Was I some fond
  False plotter, that I schemed to win through her
  Thy castle's heirdom? Fond indeed I were!
  Nay, a stark madman! "But a crown," thou sayest,
  "Usurped, is sweet." Nay, rather most unblest
  To all wise-hearted; sweet to fools and them
  Whose eyes are blinded by the diadem.
  In contests of all valour fain would I
  Lead Hellas; but in rank and majesty
  Not lead, but be at ease, with good men near
  To love me, free to work and not to fear.
  That brings more joy than any crown or throne.
    [ He sees from the demeanor of THESEUS and of the crowd that his words
     are not winning them, but rather making them bitterer than before.
     It comes to his lips to speak the whole truth.]
  I have said my say; save one thing...one alone
    O had I here some witness in my need,
  As I was witness! Could she hear me plead,
  Face me and face the sunlight; well I know,
  Our deeds would search us out for thee, and show
  Who lies!
          But now, I swear—so hear me both,
  The Earth beneath and Zeus who Guards the Oath—
  I never touched this woman that was thine!
  No words could win me to it, nor incline
  My heart to dream it. May God strike me down,
  Nameless and fameless, without home or town,
  An outcast and a wanderer of the world;
  May my dead bones rest never, but be hurled
  From sea to land, from land to angry sea,
  If evil is my heart and false to thee!
    [ He waits a moment; but sees that his Father is unmoved.
     The truth again comes to his lips.]
  If 'twas some fear that made her cast away
  Her life... I know not. More I must not say.
  Right hath she done when in her was no right;
  And Right I follow to mine own despite!

    LEADER
  It is enough! God's name is witness large,
  And thy great oath, to assoil thee of this charge,

    THESEUS
  Is not the man a juggler and a mage,
  Cool wits and one right oath—what more?—to assuage
  Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Am I so cool? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood
  That makes me marvel! By my faith, wert thou
  The son, and I the sire; and deemed I now
  In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed,
  I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed,
  But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead!

    THESEUS
  Thou gentle judge! Thou shalt not so be sped
  To simple death, nor by thine own decree.
  Swift death is bliss to men in misery.
  Far off, friendless forever, thou shalt drain
  Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale,
  Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil?

    THESEUS
  Aye, if I could, past Pontus, and the red
  Atlantic marge! So do I hate thine head.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Wilt weigh nor oath nor faith nor prophet's word
  To prove me? Drive me from thy sight unheard?

    THESEUS
  This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot
  To speak from, tells me all. I ponder not
  Thy fowls that fly above us! Let them fly.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  O ye great Gods, wherefore unlock not I
  My lips, ere yet ye have slain me utterly,
  Ye whom I love most? No. It may not be!
  The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain
  To trust me. I should break mine oath in vain.

    THESEUS
  Death! but he chokes me with his saintly tone!—
  Up, get thee from this land! Begone! Begone!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Where shall I turn me? Think. To what friend's door
  Betake me, banished on a charge so sore?

    THESEUS
  Whoso delights to welcome to his hall
  Vile ravishers... to guard his hearth withal!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Thou seekst my heart, my tears? Aye, let it be
  Thus! I am vile to all men, and to thee!

    THESEUS
  There was a time for tears and thought; the time
  Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Ye stones, will ye not speak? Ye castle walls!
  Bear witness if I be so vile, so false!

    THESEUS
  Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses! Yet here
  A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Alas!
  Would I could stand and watch this thing, and see
  My face, and weep for very pity of me!

    THESEUS
  Full of thyself, as ever! Not a thought
  For them that gave thee birth; nay, they are naught!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  O my wronged Mother! O my birth of shame!
  May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name!

    THESEUS ( in a sudden blaze of rage )
  Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence! What,
  'Tis but a foreign felon! Heard ye not?
    [ The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury. ]

    HIPPOLYTUS
  They touch me at their peril! Thine own hand
  Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from the land.

    THESEUS
  That will I straight, unless my will be done!
    [HIPPOLYTUS comes close to him and kneels. ]
  Nay! Not for thee my pity! Get thee gone!
    [HIPPOLYTUS rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away.     THESEUS,  as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the
     Castle.  The door is closed again. HIPPOLYTUS has stopped for a
     moment before the Statue of ARTEMIS,  and, as THESEUS departs,
     breaks out in prayer. ]

    HIPPOLYTUS
  So; it is done! O dark and miserable!
  I see it all, but see not how to tell
  The tale.—O thou belovèd, Leto's Maid,
  Chase-comrade, fellow-rester in the glade,
  Lo, I am driven with a caitiff's brand
  Forth from great Athens! Fare ye well, O land
  And city of old Erechtheus! Thou, Trozên,
  What riches of glad youth mine eyes have seen
  In thy broad plain! Farewell! This is the end;
  The last word, the last look!
                             Come, every friend
  And fellow of my youth that still may stay,
  Give me god-speed and cheer me on my way.
  Ne'er shall ye see a man more pure of spot
  Than me, though mine own Father loves me not!
    [HIPPOLYTUS goes away to the right, followed by many Huntsmen and other
     young men. The rest of the crowd has by this time dispersed, except the
     Women of the Chorus and some Men of the Chorus of Huntsmen.]

      CHORUS

    Men  Surely the thought of the Gods hath balm in it alway, to win me
  Far from my griefs; and a thought, deep in the dark of my mind,
  Clings to a great Understanding. Yet all the spirit within me
  Faints, when I watch men's deeds matched with the guerdon they find.
              For Good comes in Evil's traces,
              And the Evil the Good replaces;
              And Life, 'mid the changing faces,
                Wandereth weak and blind.

    Women  What wilt thou grant me, O God? Lo, this is the prayer of my travail—
  Some well-being; and chance not very bitter thereby;
  Spirit uncrippled by pain; and a mind not deep to unravel
  Truth unseen, nor yet dark with the brand of a lie.
              With a veering mood to borrow
              Its light from every morrow,
              Fair friends and no deep sorrow,
                Well could man live and die!

    Men  Yet my spirit is no more clean,
      And the weft of my hope is torn,
  For the deed of wrong that mine eyes have seen,
      The lie and the rage and the scorn;
    A Star among men, yea, a Star
      That in Hellas was bright,
    By a Father's wrath driven far
      To the wilds and the night.
    Oh, alas for the sands of the shore!
      Alas for the brakes of the hill,
    Where the wolves shall fear thee no more,
      And thy cry to Dictynna is still!

    Women  No more in the yoke of thy car
      Shall the colts of Enetia fleet;
  Nor Limna's echoes quiver afar
      To the clatter of galloping feet.
    The sleepless music of old,
      That leaped in the lyre,
    Ceaseth now, and is cold,
      In the halls of thy sire.
    The bowers are discrowned and unladen
      Where Artemis lay on the lea;
    And the love-dream of many a maiden
      Lost, in the losing of thee.

    A Maiden  And I, even I,
  For thy fall, O Friend,
    Amid tears and tears,
  Endure to the end
    Of the empty years,
          Of a life run dry.
  In vain didst thou bear him,
    Thou Mother forlorn!
  Ye Gods that did snare him,
    Lo, I cast in your faces
  My hate and my scorn!
    Ye love-linkèd Graces,
      (Alas for the day!)
         Was he naught, then, to you,
       That ye cast him away,
         The stainless and true,
           From the old happy places?

    LEADER
  Look yonder! 'Tis the Prince's man, I ween
  Speeding toward this gate, most dark of mien.
    [A HENCHMAN enters in haste.]

    HENCHMAN
  Ye women, whither shall I go to seek
  King Theseus? Is he in this dwelling? Speak!

    LEADER
  Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate!
    [THESEUS comes out from the Castle.]

    HENCHMAN
  O King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight
  To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween,
  From Athens to the marches of Trozên.

    THESEUS
  What? Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me,
  The sister cities of my sovranty?

    HENCHMAN
  Hippolytus is...Nay, not dead; but stark
  Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark.

    THESEUS ( as though unmoved )
  How slain? Was there some other man, whose wife
  He had like mine denied, that sought his life?

    HENCHMAN
  His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire
  Curse of thy lips.
                    The boon of thy great Sire
  Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain.

    THESEUS
  Ye Gods! And thou, Poseidon! Not in vain
  I called thee Father; thou hast heard my prayer!
  How did he die? Speak on. How closed the snare
  Of Heaven to slay the shamer of my blood?

    HENCHMAN
  'Twas by the bank of beating sea we stood,
  We thralls, and decked the steeds, and combed each mane;
  Weeping; for word had come that ne'er again
  The foot of our Hippolytus should roam
  This land, but waste in exile by thy doom.
    So stood we till he came, and in his tone
  No music now save sorrow's, like our own,
  And in his train a concourse without end
  Of many a chase-fellow and many a friend.
  At last he brushed his sobs away, and spake:
  "Why this fond loitering? I would not break
  My Father's law—Ho, there! My coursers four
  And chariot, quick! This land is mine no more."
    Thereat, be sure, each man of us made speed.
  Swifter than speech we brought them up, each steed
  Well dight and shining, at our Prince's side.
  He grasped the reins upon the rail: one stride
  And there he stood, a perfect charioteer,
  Each foot in its own station set. Then clear
  His voice rose, and his arms to heaven were spread:
  "O Zeus, if I be false, strike thou me dead!
  But, dead or living, let my Father see
  One day, how falsely he hath hated me!"
    Even as he spake, he lifted up the goad
  And smote; and the steeds sprang. And down the road
  We henchmen followed, hard beside the rein,
  Each hand, to speed him, toward the Argive plain
  And Epidaurus.
                    So we made our way
  Up toward the desert region, where the bay
  Curls to a promontory near the verge
  Of our Trozên, facing the southward surge
  Of Saron's gulf. Just there an angry sound,
  Slow-swelling, like God's thunder underground
  Broke on us, and we trembled. And the steeds
  Pricked their ears skyward, and threw back their heads.
  And wonder came on all men, and affright,
  Whence rose that awful voice. And swift our sight
  Turned seaward, down the salt and roaring sand.
    And there, above the horizon, seemed to stand
  A wave unearthly, crested in the sky;
  Till Skiron's Cape first vanished from mine eye,
  Then sank the Isthmus hidden, then the rock
  Of Epidaurus. Then it broke, one shock
  And roar of gasping sea and spray flung far,
  And shoreward swept, where stood the Prince's car.
    Three lines of wave together raced, and, full
  In the white crest of them, a wild Sea-Bull
  Flung to the shore, a fell and marvellous Thing.
  The whole land held his voice, and answering
  Roared in each echo. And all we, gazing there,
  Gazed seeing not; 'twas more than eyes could bear.
    Then straight upon the team wild terror fell.
  Howbeit, the Prince, cool-eyed and knowing well
  Each changing mood a horse has, gripped the reins
  Hard in both hands; then as an oarsman strains
  Up from his bench, so strained he on the thong,
  Back in the chariot swinging. But the young
  Wild steeds bit hard the curb, and fled afar;
  Nor rein nor guiding hand nor morticed car
  Stayed them at all. For when he veered them round,
  And aimed their flying feet to grassy ground,
  In front uprose that Thing, and turned again
  The four great coursers, terror-mad. But when
  Their blind rage drove them toward the rocky places,
  Silent and ever nearer to the traces,
  It followed rockward, till one wheel-edge grazed.
    The chariot tript and flew, and all was mazed
  In turmoil. Up went wheel-box with a din,
  Where the rock jagged, and nave and axle-pin.
  And there—the long reins round him—there was he
  Dragging, entangled irretrievably.
  A dear head battering at the chariot side,
  Sharp rocks, and rippled flesh, and a voice that cried:
  "Stay, stay, O ye who fattened at my stalls,
  Dash me not into nothing!—O thou false
  Curse of my Father!—Help! Help, whoso can,
  An innocent, innocent and stainless man!"
    Many there were that laboured then, I wot,
  To bear him succour, but could reach him not,
  Till—who knows how?—at last the tangled rein
  Unclasped him, and he fell, some little vein
  Of life still pulsing in him.
                                All beside,
  The steeds, the hornèd Horror of the Tide,
  Had vanished—who knows where?—in that wild land.
    O King, I am a bondsman of thine hand;
  Yet love nor fear nor duty me shall win
  To say thine innocent son hath died in sin.
  All women born may hang themselves, for me,
  And swing their dying words from every tree
  On Ida! For I know that he was true!

    LEADER
  O God, so cometh new disaster, new
  Despair! And no escape from what must be!

    THESEUS
  Hate of the man thus stricken lifted me
  At first to joy at hearing of thy tale;
  But now, some shame before the Gods, some pale
  Pity for mine own blood, hath o'er me come.
  I laugh not, neither weep, at this fell doom.

    HENCHMAN
  How then? Behoves it bear him here, or how
  Best do thy pleasure?—Speak, Lord. Yet if thou
  Wilt mark at all my word, thou wilt not be
  Fierce-hearted to thy child in misery.

    THESEUS
  Aye, bring him hither. Let me see the face
  Of him who durst deny my deep disgrace
  And his own sin; yea, speak with him, and prove
  His clear guilt by God's judgments from above.
    [ The HENCHMAN departs to fetch HIPPOLYTUS; THESEUS sits waiting in
     stern gloom, while the CHORUS sing. At the close of their song a
     Divine Figure is seen approaching on a cloud in the air and the voice
     of ARTEMIS speaks.]

      CHORUS
          Thou comest to bend the pride
            Of the hearts of God and man,
          Cypris; and by thy side,
            In earth-encircling span,
          He of the changing plumes,
          The Wing that the world illumes,
          As over the leagues of land flies he,
          Over the salt and sounding sea.

          For mad is the heart of Love,
            And gold the gleam of his wing;
          And all to the spell thereof
            Bend, when he makes his spring;
          All life that is wild and young
            In mountain and wave and stream,
          All that of earth is sprung,
            Or breathes in the red sunbeam;
          Yea, and Mankind. O'er all a royal throne,
          Cyprian, Cyprian, is thine alone!

    A VOICE FROM THE CLOUD
  O thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall,
  I charge thee, hearken!
                         Yea, it is I,
  Artemis, Virgin of God most High.
  Thou bitter King, art thou glad withal
      For thy murdered son?
  For thine ear bent low to a lying Queen,
  For thine heart so swift amid things unseen?
  Lo, all may see what end thou hast won!
  Go, sink thine head in the waste abyss;
  Or aloft to another world than this,
      Birdwise with wings,
      Fly far to thine hiding,
  Far over this blood that clots and clings;
  For in righteous men and in holy things
      No rest is thine nor abiding!
    [ The cloud has become stationary in the air. ]
  Hear, Theseus, all the story of thy grief!
  Verily, I bring but anguish, not relief;
  Yet, 'twas for this I came, to show how high
  And clean was thy son's heart, that he may die
  Honoured of men; aye, and to tell no less
  The frenzy, or in some sort the nobleness,
  Of thy dead wife. One Spirit there is, whom we
  That know the joy of white virginity,
  Most hate in heaven. She sent her fire to run
  In Phaedra's veins, so that she loved thy son.
  Yet strove she long with love, and in the stress
  Fell not, till by her Nurse's craftiness
  Betrayed, who stole, with oaths of secrecy,
  To entreat thy son. And he, most righteously,
  Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn
  Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn,
  For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-eyed,
  Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died,
  Lying; but thou wast nimble to believe!
    [THESEUS,  at first bewildered, then dumfounded,
     now utters a deep groan. ]
  It stings thee, Theseus?—Nay, hear on and grieve
  Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine
  Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine?
  Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one—
  Thou vile King!—must be turned against thy son?
  The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard
  The call of prayer, and bowed him to his word.
  But thou in his eyes and in mine art found
  Evil, who wouldst not think, nor probe, nor sound
  The deeps of prophet's lore, nor day by day
  Leave Time to search; but swifter than man may,
  Let loose the curse to slay thine innocent son!

    THESEUS
  O Goddess, let me die!

    ARTEMIS
                      Nay; thou hast done
  A heavy wrong; yet even beyond this ill
  Abides for thee forgiveness. 'Twas the will
  Of Cypris that these evil things should be,
  Sating her wrath. And this immutably
  Hath Zeus ordained in heaven: no God may thwart
  A God's fixed will; we grieve but stand apart.
  Else, but for fear of the Great Father's blame,
  Never had I to such extreme of shame
  Bowed me, be sure, as here to stand and see
  Slain him I loved best of mortality!
    Thy fault, O King, its ignorance sunders wide
  From very wickedness; and she who died
  By death the more disarmed thee, making dumb
  The voice of question. And the storm has come
  Most bitterly of all on thee! Yet I
  Have mine own sorrow, too. When good men die,
  There is no joy in heaven, albeit our ire
  On child and house of the evil falls like fire.
    [ A throng is seen approaching; HIPPOLYTUS enters,
     supported by his attendants. ]

    CHORUS
    Lo, it is he! The bright young head
        Yet upright there!
    Ah the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair;
      Alas for the kindred's trouble!
    It falls as fire from a God's hand sped,
      Two deaths, and mourning double.

    HIPPOLYTUS
        Ah, pain, pain, pain!
  O unrighteous curse!   O unrighteous sire!
  No hope.—My head is stabbed with fire,
  And a leaping spasm about my brain.
    Stay, let me rest. I can no more.
  O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed,
  Have ye maimed me and slain, that loved me of yore?
  —Soft there, ye thralls!   No trembling hands
  As ye lift me, now!—Who is that that stands
  At the right?—Now firm, and with measured tread,
  Lift one accursèd and stricken sore
          By a father's sinning.

  Thou, Zeus, dost see me? Yea, it is I;
  The proud and pure, the server of God,
  The white and shining in sanctity!
  To a visible death, to an open sod,
              I walk my ways;
  And all the labour of saintly days
              Lost, lost, without meaning!

              Ah God, it crawls
                This agony, over me!
              Let be, ye thralls!
                Come, Death, and cover me:
            Come, O thou Healer blest!

              But a little more,
                And my soul is clear,
              And the anguish o'er!
            Oh, a spear, a spear!
          To rend my soul to its rest!

  Oh, strange, false Curse! Was there some blood-stained head,
  Some father of my line, unpunishèd,
             Whose guilt lived in his kin,
  And passed, and slept, till after this long day
  It lights... Oh, why on me? Me, far away
             And innocent of sin?

             O words that cannot save!
           When will this breathing end in that last deep
  Pain that is painlessness? 'Tis sleep I crave.
           When wilt thou bring me sleep,
  Thou dark and midnight magic of the grave!

    ARTEMIS
  Sore-stricken man, bethink thee in this stress,
  Thou dost but die for thine own nobleness.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Ah!
  O breath of heavenly fragrance! Though my pain
  Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again.
  The Goddess Artemis is with me here.

    ARTEMIS
  With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep?

    ARTEMIS
  Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver?

    ARTEMIS
  He dies but my love cleaves to him for ever.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh?

    ARTEMIS
  The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  The Cyprian? Now I see it!—Aye, 'twas she.

    ARTEMIS
  She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Three lives by her one hand! 'Tis all clear now.

    ARTEMIS
  Yea, three; thy father and his Queen and thou.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  My father; yea, he too is pitiable!

    ARTEMIS
  A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Father, where art thou?... Oh, thou sufferest sore!

    THESEUS
  Even unto death, child. There is joy no more.

    HIPPOLYTUS
  I pity thee in this coil; aye, more than me.

    THESEUS
  Would I could lie there dead instead of thee!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love!

    THESEUS
  Would God my lips had never breathed thereof!

    HIPPOLYTUS ( gently )
  Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise!

    THESEUS
  A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Ah me!
  Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God!

    ARTEMIS
  Let be! For not, though deep beneath the sod
  Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung
  Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' rancour sprung,
  Quell thee, mine own, the saintly and the true!
    My hand shall win its vengeance through and through,
  Piercing with flawless shaft what heart soe'er
  Of all men living is most dear to Her.
  Yea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake,
  Honours most high in Trozên will I make;
  For yokeless maids before their bridal night
  Shall shear for thee their tresses; and a rite
  Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store;
  And virgin's thoughts in music evermore
  Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song
  Of Phaedra's far-famed love and thy great wrong.
    O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now
  And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou!
  Not knowingly hast thou slain him; and man's way,
  When Gods send error, needs must fall astray.
    And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King,
  Thy father. Thou wast born to bear this thing.
    Farewell! I may not watch man's fleeting breath,
  Nor strain mine eyes with the effluence of death.
  And sure that Terror now is very near.
    [ The cloud slowly rises and floats away.]

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Farewell, farewell, most Blessèd! Lift thee clear
  Of soiling men! Thou wilt not grieve in heaven
  For my long love!...Father, thou art forgiven.
  It was Her will. I am not wroth with thee...
  I have obeyed Her all my days!...
                                      Ah me,
  The dark is drawing down upon mine eyes;
  It hath me!... Father!... Hold me! Help me rise!

    THESEUS ( supporting him in his arms )
  Ah, woe! How dost thou torture me, my son!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone.

    THESEUS
  Gone? And my hand red-reeking from this thing!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Nay, nay; thou art assoiled of manslaying.

    THESEUS
  Thou leav'st me clear of murder? Sayst thou so?

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow!

    THESEUS
  Dear Son! Ah, now I see thy nobleness!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Pray that a true-born child may fill my place.

    THESEUS
  Ah me, thy righteous and god-fearing heart!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Farewell;
  A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part!
    [THESEUS bends down and embraces him passionately.]

    THESEUS
  Not yet!—O hope and bear while thou hast breath!

    HIPPOLYTUS
  Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death...
  Quick, Father; lay the mantle on my face.
    [THESEUS covers his face with a mantle and rises. ]

    THESEUS
  Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race,
  What greatness have ye lost!
                               Woe, woe is me!
  Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee!

      CHORUS
        On all this folk, both low and high,
        A grief hath fallen beyond men's fears.
        There cometh a throbbing of many tears,
          A sound as of waters falling.
            For when great men die,
          A mighty name and a bitter cry
          Rise up from a nation calling.
       [ They move into the Castle, carrying the body of HIPPOLYTUS.]

  DIONYSUS, THE GOD; son of Zeus and of the Theban princess Semelê.
  CADMUS,  formerly King of Thebes, father of Semelê.
  PENTHEUS,  King of Thebes, grandson of Cadmus.
  AGAVE,  daughter of Cadmus, mother of Pentheus.
  TEIRESIAS,  an aged Theban prophet.
  A SOLDIER OF PENTHEUS' GUARD.
  TWO MESSENGERS.
  A CHORUS OF INSPIRED DAMSELS,  following Dionysus from the East.

     DIONYSUS
   Behold, God's Son is come unto this land
   Of heaven's hot splendour lit to life, when she
   Of Thebes, even I, Dionysus, whom the brand
   Who bore me, Cadmus' daughter Semelê,
   Died here. So, changed in shape from God to man,
   I walk again by Dirce's streams and scan
   Ismenus' shore. There by the castle side
   I see her place, the Tomb of the Lightning's Bride,
   The wreck of smouldering chambers, and the great
   Faint wreaths of fire undying—as the hate
   Dies not, that Hera held for Semelê.
     Aye, Cadmus hath done well; in purity
   He keeps this place apart, inviolate,
   His daughter's sanctuary; and I have set
   My green and clustered vines to robe it round
     Far now behind me lies the golden ground
   Of Lydian and of Phrygian; far away
   The wide hot plains where Persian sunbeams play,
   The Bactrian war-holds, and the storm-oppressed
   Clime of the Mede, and Araby the Blest,
   And Asia all, that by the salt sea lies
   In proud embattled cities, motley-wise
   Of Hellene and Barbarian interwrought;
   And now I come to Hellas—having taught
   All the world else my dances and my rite
   Of mysteries, to show me in men's sight
   Manifest God.
                   And first of Helene lands
   I cry this Thebes to waken; set her hands
   To clasp my wand, mine ivied javelin,
   And round her shoulders hang my wild fawn-skin.
   For they have scorned me whom it least beseemed,
   Semelê's sisters; mocked by birth, nor deemed
   That Dionysus sprang from Dian seed.
   My mother sinned, said they; and in her need,
   With Cadmus plotting, cloaked her human shame
   With the dread name of Zeus; for that the flame
   From heaven consumed her, seeing she lied to God.
     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.
   Thus shall this Thebes, how sore soe'er it smart,
   Learn and forget not, till she crave her part
   In mine adoring; thus must I speak clear
   To save my mother's fame, and crown me here,
   As true God, born by Semelê to Zeus.

   Now Cadmus yieldeth up his throne and use
   Of royal honour to his daughter's son
   Pentheus; who on my body hath begun
   A war with God. He thrusteth me away
   From due drink-offering, and, when men pray,
   My name entreats not. Therefore on his own
   Head and his people's shall my power be shown.
   Then to another land, when all things here
   Are well, must I fare onward, making clear
   My godhead's might. But should this Theban town
   Essay with wrath and battle to drag down
   My maids, lo, in their path myself shall be,
   And maniac armies battled after me!
   For this I veil my godhead with the wan
   Form of the things that die, and walk as Man.

   O Brood of Tmolus o'er the wide world flown,
   O Lydian band, my chosen and mine own,
   Damsels uplifted o'er the orient deep
   To wander where I wander, and to sleep
   Where I sleep; up, and wake the old sweet sound,
   The clang that I and mystic Rhea found,
   The Timbrel of the Mountain! Gather all
   Thebes to your song round Pentheus' royal hall.
   I seek my new-made worshippers, to guide
   Their dances up Kithaeron's pine clad side.

     [ As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen
      Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white
      robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and
      carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many
      bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They
      enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin
      their mystic song of worship. ]

       CHORUS

     A Maiden   From Asia, from the dayspring that uprises
     To Bromios ever glorying we came.
   We laboured for our Lord in many guises;
   We toiled, but the toil is as the prize is;
     Thou Mystery, we hail thee by thy name!

     Another   Who lingers in the road? Who espies us?
     We shall hide him in his house nor be bold.
   Let the heart keep silence that defies us;
   For I sing this day to Dionysus
     The song that is appointed from of old.

     All the Maidens   Oh, blessèd he in all wise,
     Who hath drunk the Living Fountain,
       Whose life no folly staineth,
         And his soul is near to God;
   Whose sins are lifted, pall-wise,
     As he worships on the Mountain,
       And where Cybele ordaineth,
         Our Mother, he has trod:

       His head with ivy laden
         And his thyrsus tossing high,
           For our God he lifts his cry;
       "Up, O Bacchae, wife and maiden,
         Come, O ye Bacchae, come;
       Oh, bring the Joy-bestower,
       God-seed of God the Sower,
       Bring Bromios in his power
           From Phrygia's mountain dome;
       To street and town and tower,
           Oh, bring ye Bromios home."

   Whom erst in anguish lying
     For an unborn life's desire,
       As a dead thing in the Thunder
         His mother cast to earth;
   For her heart was dying, dying,
     In the white heart of the fire;
       Till Zeus, the Lord of Wonder,
         Devised new lairs of birth;

          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 of 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.

     Some Maidens   All hail, O Thebes, thou nurse of Semelê!
     With Semelê's wild ivy crown thy towers;
   Oh, burst in bloom of wreathing bryony,
        Berries and leaves and flowers;
      Uplift the dark divine wand,
      The oak-wand and the pine-wand,
   And don thy fawn-skin, fringed in purity
      With fleecy white, like ours.

   Oh, cleanse thee in the wands' waving pride!
     Yea, all men shall dance with us and pray,
   When Bromios his companies shall guide
     Hillward, ever hillward, where they stay,
       The flock of the Believing,
       The maids from loom and weaving
     By the magic of his breath borne away.

     Others   Hail thou, O Nurse of Zeus, O Caverned Haunt
       Where fierce arms clanged to guard God's cradle rare,
     For thee of old crested Corybant
       First woke in Cretan air
     The wild orb of our orgies,
     The Timbrel; and thy gorges
   Rang with this strain; and blended Phrygian chant
      And sweet keen pipes were there.

     But the Timbrel, the Timbrel was another's,
       And away to Mother Rhea it must wend;
     And to our holy singing from the Mother's
       The mad Satyrs carried it, to blend
         In the dancing and the cheer
         Of our third and perfect Year;
     And it serves Dionysus in the end!

     A Maiden   O glad, glad on the mountains
     To swoon in the race outworn,
       When the holy fawn-skin clings,
         And all else sweeps away,
   To the joy of the red quick fountains,
     The blood of the hill-goat torn,
       The glory of wild-beast ravenings,
         Where the hill-tops catch the day;
   To the Phrygian, Lydian, mountains!
     'Tis Bromios leads the way.

     Another Maiden   Then streams the earth with milk, yea, streams
   With wine and nectar of the bee,
   And through the air dim perfume steams
   Of Syrian frankincense; and He,
   Our leader, from his thyrsus spray
   A torchlight tosses high and higher,
   A torchlight like a beacon-fire,
   To waken all that faint and stray;
   And sets them leaping as he sings,
   His tresses rippling to the sky,
   And deep beneath the Maenad cry
   His proud voice rings:
         "Come, O ye Bacchae, come!"

     All the Maidens   Hither, O fragrant of Tmolus the Golden,
     Come with the voice of timbrel and drum;
   Let the cry of your joyance uplift and embolden
     The God of the joy-cry; O Bacchanals, come!
   With pealing of pipes and with Phrygian clamour,
     On, where the vision of holiness thrills,
   And the music climbs and the maddening glamour,
     With the wild White Maids, to the hills, to the hills!
   Oh, then, like a colt as he runs by a river,
     A colt by his dam, when the heart of him sings,
   With the keen limbs drawn and the fleet foot a-quiver,
            Away the Bacchanal springs!

     [ Enter TEIRESIAS. He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff
      and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the
      Bacchic fawn-skin.]

     TEIRESIAS
   Ho, there, who keeps the gate?—Go, summon me
   Cadmus, Agênor's son, who crossed the sea
   From Sidon and upreared this Theban hold.
   Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be told
   Teiresias seeketh him. Himself will gauge
   Mine errand, and the compact, age with age,
   I vowed with him, grey hair with snow-white hair,
   To deck the new God's thyrsus, and to wear
   His fawn-skin, and with ivy crown our brows.

     [ Enter CADMUS from the Castle. He is even older than       TEIRESIAS,  and wears the same attire.]

     CADMUS
   True friend! I knew that voice of thine, that flows
   Like mellow wisdom from a fountain wise.
   And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guise
   And harness of this God. Are we not told
   His is the soul of that dead life of old
   That sprang from mine own daughter? Surely then
   Must thou and I with all the strength of men
   Exalt him.
               Where then shall I stand, where tread
   The dance and toss this bowed and hoary head?
   O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my grey
   And eld-worn steps, eld-worn Teiresias.—Nay;
   I am not weak.
     [ At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change;
      a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him. ]

                Surely this arm could smite
   The wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night,
   And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfully
   The dim years fall from off me!

     TEIRESIAS
                         As with thee,
   With me 'tis likewise. Light am I and young,
   And will essay the dancing and the song.

     CADMUS
   Quick, then, our chariots to the mountain road.

     TEIRESIAS
   Nay; to take steeds were to mistrust the God.

     CADMUS
   So be it.   Mine old arms shall guide thee there.

     TEIRESIAS
   The God himself shall guide! Have thou no care.

     CADMUS
   And in all Thebes shall no man dance but we?

     TEIRESIAS
   Aye, Thebes is blinded. Thou and I can see.

     CADMUS
   'Tis weary waiting; hold my hand, friend; so.

     TEIRESIAS
   Lo, there is mine. So linkèd let us go.

     CADMUS
   Shall things of dust the Gods' dark ways despise?

     TEIRESIAS
   Or prove our wit on Heaven's high mysteries?
   Not thou and I! That heritage sublime
   Our sires have left us, wisdom old as time,
   No word of man, how deep soe'er his thought
   And won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught.
     Aye, men will rail that I forgot my years,
   To dance and wreath with ivy these white hairs;
   What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath told
   To mark what man shall dance, or young or old;
   But craves his honours from mortality
   All, no man marked apart; and great shall be!

     CADMUS ( after looking away toward the Mountain ).
   Teiresias, since this light thou canst not read,
   I must be seer for thee. Here comes in speed
   Pentheus, Echîon's son, whom I have raised
   To rule my people in my stead.—Amazed
   He seems. Stand close, and mark what we shall hear.

     [ The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot
      haste PENTHEUS,  followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the      SOLDIER in command. ]

     PENTHEUS
   Scarce had I crossed our borders, when mine ear
   Was caught by this strange rumour, that our own
   Wives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flown
   To wild and secret rites; and cluster there
   High on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayer
   To adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,
   Whate'er he be!—And in their companies
   Deep wine-jars stand, and ever and anon
   Away into the loneliness now one
   Steals forth, and now a second, maid or dame
   Where love lies waiting, not of God! The flame
   They say, of Bacchios wraps them. Bacchios! Nay,
   'Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray.
   Howbeit, all that I have found, my men
   Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den;
   The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snare
   My birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayer
   And mountain song and rites of rascaldom!
   They tell me, too, there is a stranger come,
   A man of charm and spell, from Lydian seas,
   A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies,
   A wine-red cheek, and eyes that hold the light
   Of the very Cyprian. Day and livelong night
   He haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lip
   Dangling his cup of joyance! Let me grip
   Him once, but once, within these walls, right swift
   That wand shall cease its music, and that drift
   Of tossing curls lie still—when my rude sword
   Falls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word,
   This tale of Dionysus; how that same
   Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame
   With his dead mother, for that mother's lie,
   Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thigh
   Of Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these?
   Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? Blasphemies
   That crave the very gibbet?
                              Stay! God wot,
   Here is another marvel! See I not
   In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer
   Teiresias? And my mother's father here—
   O depth of scorn!—adoring with the wand
   Of Bacchios?—Father!—Nay, mine eyes are fond;
   It is not your white heads so fancy-flown!
   It cannot be! Cast off that ivy crown,
   O mine own mother's sire! Set free that hand
   That cowers about its staff.
                           'Tis thou hast planned
   This work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must set
   Another altar and another yet
   Amongst us, watch new birds, and win more hire
   Of gold, interpreting new signs of fire!
   But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true,
   Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew
   Of raving damsels, for this evil dream
   Thou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleam
   Of grapes hath lit a Woman's Festival,
   In all their prayers is no more health at all!

     LEADER OF THE CHORUS ( the words are not heard by PENTHEUS)
   Injurious King, hast thou no fear of God,
   Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod,
   Life-spring to great Echîon and to thee?

     TEIRESIAS
   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
     Lo this new God, whom thou dost flout withal,
   I cannot speak the greatness wherewith He
   In Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be,
   Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth.
   Dêmêtêr one is named; she is the Earth—
   Call her which name thou will!—who feeds man's frame
   With sustenance of things dry. And that which came
   Her work to perfect, second, is the Power
   From Semelê born. He found the liquid show
   Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim
   From grieving, when the vine exalteth him.
   He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day
   In cool forgetting. Is there any way
   With man's sore heart, save only to forget?
     Yea, being God, the blood of him is set
   Before the Gods in sacrifice, that we
   For his sake may be blest.—And so, to thee,
   That fable shames him, how this God was knit
   Into God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it
   Cleared from the false.—When from that deadly light
   Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height
   Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence
   Then Zeus devised him a divine defence.
   A fragment of the world-encircling fire
   He rent apart, and wrought to his desire
   Of shape and hue, in the image of the child,
   And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled
   By change and passing time, this tale was born,
   How the babe-god was hidden in the torn
   Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby.
     A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy
   Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else
   To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells
   The God himself, and speaks the thing to be.
   Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he.
   When mortal armies, mailêd 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.
     Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now;
   How toucheth this the part of Dionyse
   To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies,
   And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite
   Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white.
     Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate
   Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great
   And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He
   Rejoice in his due meed of majesty?
     Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I
   Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye,
   Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod!
   I will not lift mine arm to war with God
   For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell
   Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell,
   But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured!

     CHORUS
   Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word,
   And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God.

     CADMUS
   My son, right well Teiresias points thy road.
   Oh, make thine habitation here with us,
   Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous
   Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought
   Where no thought dwells.—Grant that this God be naught,
   Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth;
   Lie boldly, and say He is! So north and south
   Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine
   From Semelê's flesh, and honour all our line.
                     [ Drawing nearer to PENTHEUS.]
     Is there not blood before thine eyes even now?
   Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago
   His own red hounds through yonder forest dim
   Tore unto death, because he vaunted him
   Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware
   And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer
   With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight.
     [ He makes as if to set the wreath on PENTHEUS head.]

     PENTHEUS
   Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite
   Nor smear on me thy foul contagion!
                     [Turning upon TEIRESIAS.]
               This
   Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss
   The justice that he needs!—Go, half my guard
   Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward
   O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crown
   And trident; make one wreck of high and low
   And toss his bands to all the winds of air!
     Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there?
   The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain
   This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane
   To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives
   Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves,
   Till he be judged and stoned and weep in blood
   The day he troubled Pentheus with his God!
     [ The guards set forth in two bodies ) PENTHEUS goes into the Castle. ]

     TEIRESIAS
   Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed
   Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed
   Most mad!—Come, Cadmus, let us go our way,
   And pray for this our persecutor, pray
   For this poor city, that the righteous God
   Move not in anger.—Take thine ivy rod
   And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill,
   If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still,
   Come what come may, our service shall be done
   To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son
     O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim
   From all thy house fulfilment of his name,
   Old Cadmus?—Nay, I speak not from mine art,
   But as I see—blind words and a blind heart!
     [ The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain. ]

       CHORUS

     Some Maidens   Thou Immaculate on high;
   Thou Recording Purity;
   Thou that stoopest, Golden Wing,
   Earthward, manward, pitying,
   Hearest thou this angry King?
   Hearest thou the rage and scorn
     'Gainst the Lord of Many Voices,
   Him of mortal mother born,
   Him in whom man's heart rejoices,
   Girt with garlands and with glee,
   First in Heaven's sovranty?
     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 graperflood, flashed to heaven;
   Yea, and in the feasts of men
   Comes his crownèd slumber; then
     Pain is dead and hate forgiven!

     Others   Loose thy lips from out the rein;
   Lift thy wisdom to disdain;
   Whatso law thou canst not see,
   Scorning; so the end shall be
   Uttermost calamity!
   '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!

     Divers Maidens   Where is the Home for me?
     O Cyprus, set in the sea,
   Aphrodite's home In the soft sea-foam,
     Would I could wend to thee;
   Where the wings of the Loves are furled,
   And faint the heart of the world.

     Aye, unto Paphos' isle,
     Where the rainless meadows smile
   With riches rolled From the hundred-fold
     Mouths of the far-off Nile,
   Streaming beneath the waves
   To the roots of the seaward caves.

     But a better land is there
     Where Olympus cleaves the air,
   The high still dell Where the Muses dwell,
     Fairest of all things fair!
   O there is Grace, and there is the Heart's Desire,
   And peace to adore thee, thou Spirit of Guiding Fire!