THE BACCHE.

ARGUMENT.

PENTHEUS, the son of Echion, by Agave, the daughter of Cadmus, was king of Thebes. In spite of the remonstrances of his grandfather Cadmus, and the denunciations of the prophet Tiresias, he impiously persists in denying the divinity of Bacchus; and when the Theban women quit the city, to celebrate the orgies of this deity, affecting to believe that the solemnity is prejudicial to female modesty, he orders the god, who conducts the festival in the disguise of a young man, to be apprehended. The doors of the prison, in which Bacchus is confined, opening of their own accord, Pentheus becomes more irritated, and commands his soldiers to destroy the whole band of Bacchanals. This cruel order is however arrested by the interposition of the god, who inspires the monarch with a desire of witnessing the mysterious rites. For this purpose he hides himself in a wood on Mount Citharon: but here his curiosity soon proves fatal; for by the artifice of the injured deity, he is discovered in his place of concealment by the whole female company. These, mistaking the unhappy monarch for a young lion, rush simultaneously on him; and he is torn to pieces by his mother Agave, who is soon after restored to a full sense of the fatal effects of her frensy, and retires to Thessaly in despair; while Bacchus foretels to the disconsolate Cadmus the calamities which he is destined to undergo, and the deliverance which finally awaits him and his wife Harmonia. [The scene is at Thebes, before the vestibule of the palace of Pentheus.]

BACCHUS.

Now to this land, the realms of Thebes, I come,
Bacchus, the son of Jove, whom Semele,

Daughter of Cadmus, 'midst the lightning flames
Brought forth; the god beneath a mortal's form
Concealing, on the brink of Dirce's fount,
And where Ismenus rolls his stream, I tread.
I see my mother's tomb raised near the house
In which she perish'd by the thunder; yet
Its ruins smoke, the ethereal fire yet lives,
The everlasting mark of Juno's hate

Wreak'd on my mother. Cadmus hath my praise,
Who to his daughter raised this shrine, the ground
Hallow'd from vulgar tread: the clustering vine
I gave to wreathe around its verdant boughs.
Leaving the Lydian fields profuse of gold,
The Phrygian, and the Persian plains exposed
To the sun's rays, and from the tower'd forts
Of Bactria passing, from the frozen soil
Of Media, from Arabia the Bless'd,
And all that tract of Asia which along

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The salt sea lies, where with barbarians mix'd
The Grecians many a stately-structured town
Inhabit, to this city, first of Greece,

I come, here lead my dance, my mystic rites
Establish here, that mortals may confess

The manifest god. Of all the realms of Greece

In Thebes I first have raised my shouts, thus clothed
With a fawn's dappled hide, and in my hand

Thy thyrsus hold, this ivy-wreathed spear:
For that the sisters of my mother (least
Becomes it them) declared that not from Jove
I sprung, but, pregnant by some mortal's love,
That Semele on Jove had falsely charged
Her fault, the poor device of Cadmus; whence
They arrogantly said that Jove enraged
Slew her, because she falsely urged his love
As her excuse: for this my maddening stings
Impell'd them to forsake the house, and roam

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Distracted o'er the mountain, where perforce
They wear the habit of my orgies. All

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The females, who from Cadmus draw their birth,
Have I driven frantic from their houses forth;
And with the sons of Cadmus mix'd beneath

The dark-green firs, whose boughs o'er-roof the rocks,

They sit. This city must be taught to know,
Howe'er averse, that with my mystic rites
She is not hallow'd; and that I defend
The cause of Semele, to mortal men
Avow'd a god, the son of thundering Jove.
Cadmus his honors and imperial state
Resigns to Pentheus, from his daughter sprung:
He with profane contempt against me wars,
Drives me from the libations, in his vows
Deems me not worthy mention for which cause
To him, and all the Thebans, will I show
Myself a god. Things well appointed here,
Hence to some other realm will I remove,
And show myself: but should the Theban state
In rage attempt with hostile arms to drive
My Bacchæ from their confines, I will head
My Mænades, and lead them to the fight.
For this have I put off my godlike form,
Taking the semblance of a mortal man.
But you, my frolic train, who left the heights
Of Tmolus, Lydian mount; ye female troop,
Whom from barbaric coasts I led with me
Associates, and attendants on my march,
Resume your Phrygian timbrels framed by me
And mother Rhea, round the royal house

Of Pentheus let their hoarse notes roar, that Thebes

May see you. To Citharon's heights I go,

And with my circling Baccha join the dance.

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CHORUS.

PROSODE.

From Tmolus, whose majestic brow
Views Asia stretching wide below,
Light my frolic steps advance,
And to Bacchus lead the dance;
An easy, pleasing task, whilst high
Swells to the god the voice of harmony.
Is there who comes along the way?
Are there who in their houses stay?
Hence, begone, whoe'er you are.

To hallow'd sounds let each his voice prepare.
The song to Bacchus will I raise,

Hymning in order meet his praise.

STROPHE 1.

His happy state what blessings crown,

To whom the mysteries of the gods are known!
By these his life he sanctifies ;

And, deep imbibed their chaste and cleaning lore,
Hallows his soul for converse with the skies,
Enraptured ranging the wild mountains o'er ;
The mighty mother's orgies leading,
He his head with ivy shading,

His light spear wreathed with ivy-twine,
To Bacchus holds the rites divine.

Haste then, ye Bacchæ, haste,

Attend your god, the son of heaven's high king ;
From Phrygia's mountains wild and waste

To beauteous-structured Greece your Bacchus bring.

Him, as the pangs of child-birth came,

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Whilst all around her flash'd the lightning's flame, 100 Untimely did his mother bear,

Then in the thunder's volley'd blaze expire.

But favoring Jove, with all a father's care,
Snatch'd his loved infant from the blasting fire,
And, hid from Juno's jealous eye,
Closed the young Bacchus in his thigh,
And round the golden cincture clasp'd
Till the destined months elapsed,

Then gave the god to light,

His horned head with dragon-wreath entwined:
Hence on their savage-nursing height

The Mænades with these their tresses bind.

STROPHE II.

Illustrious Thebes, whose fostering arms

Rear'd the young Semele's advancing charms,
With ivy crown thy royal head,

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Bid the green smilax all around thee bloom,

And all around its clustering berries spread;

The oak's fresh verdure, or the fir's dark gloom

Before thee hold, and join our band;

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Soon shall dance each raptured land;
And o'er thy spotted vestments throw
Soft-wreathing wool as white as snow.
The wanton wands among

Be hallow'd. To the mountain's craggy brow
He leads his female train along,

Who from their hands the useless distaffs throw.

ANTISTROPHE 11.

O ye Curetes, friendly band,

You, the bless'd natives of Crete's sacred land,
Who tread those groves, which, darkening round,
O'er infant Jove their sheltering branches spread,
The Corybantes in their caves profound,
The triple crest high waving on their head,

This timbrel framed, whilst clear and high
Swell'd the Bacchic symphony,

116 The smilax is the yew-tree.

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