From a Vase in the British Museum. 5th Century B.C.

p. 189

(1st Turn.)

CHORUS.(129)

To the glory and joy of Cadmus' daughter praise upraise !

Many-titled! Thunderer Zeus'

Begotten offspring! Charged to ward
Italy's famous land, and lord

O'er the mother-lap of Eleusis

Where a world resorts

Worshipping in Dêô's courts.(130)
For Thebe is all thine own,

Bacchus' Bacchanal town,

By sliding smooth Ismenïan sluices,

Soil of cruel Dragon sown!

(1st Counter-turn.)

And the murkily glow'ring flambeaux' flash hath seen

thy mien

O'er the twin-topt crest of the mountain,
Whereon the Nymphs Corycian (131) play

(Votaries all of Bacchus they),

Met beside the Castaly fountain.

And the Nysa (132) steeps,

Banks whereon the ivy heaps,

(While tongues superhuman phrase Jubilation of praise)

And vineyards cluster'd thick beyond counting

Speed thee home to Theban ways.

(2nd Turn.)

She loved us more than any nation,
She that died in thunder,(133) and thou
Lov'st us dearly: come! for we

Caught in grips of a malady rude
Labour all in our multitude.

O pass with feet of purification
Down along Parnassian brow,

Or by the moaning firth of sea ! (134)

(2nd Counter-turn.)

Arise! Thou, who lead'st to pleasure
Troops of stars (135) whose breath is a fire!
Marshal of the uproarious night!

Child of Zeus! The begotten of God!
Bring thy votaries wild, who trod

For thee the nightlong ecstasy-measure;

Steward of their hearts'-desire !

Bacchus! Arise! Appear to sight!

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mes. Neighbours to Cadmus' and Amphion's roof,
Never with commendation or reproof

Any estate in lives of men I'll hail :

For Chance may lift and Chance may dip the scale
Of fortune and misfortune any day.

No earthly seer the Appointed can foresay.

For Creon's lot, time was, I used to count Worth coveting: he throned it paramount In Thebe, ruled the land which he did save; And shewed, with flower of noble children, brave. And all foregone! For let a man forsake His joys-no more account of him I make As living he's a dead man, breathing still! Keep a proud house and costly, if you will, And keep a kingly style; if thus you live And have no joy of it, I would not give― For all but that-the shadow of a smoke ! L. of Cho. You've news? What more to afflict our

royal folk?

Mes. Deaths! And the guilt upon a living head.
L. of Cho. But who's the murderer, and who's the
dead?

Mes. Haemon, by hands familiar overthrown.
L. of Cho. By the hand of his father, or his own?
Mes. His own, enraged by murder against his sire.
L. of Cho. Seer, what direct event your words require !
Mes. Deal with it as you will, so stands the thing.
L. of Cho. But look, the unhappy consort of our king,
Eurydice, is with us! This advance

Abroad-is't tidings of her son, or chance?