First Episode

(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 meCadmus, Agenor's son, who crossed the seaFrom Sidon and upreared this Theban hold.Go, whosoe'er thou art. See he be toldTeiresias seeketh him. Himself will gaugeMine 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 wearHis 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 flowsLike mellow wisdom from a fountain wise.And, lo, I come prepared, in all the guiseAnd harness of this God. Are we not toldHis is the soul of that dead life of oldThat sprang from mine own daughter? Surely thenMust thou and I with all the strength of menExalt him.Where then shall I stand, where treadThe dance and toss this bowed and hoary head?O friend, in thee is wisdom; guide my greyAnd 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 smiteThe wild earth with its thyrsus, day and night,And faint not! Sweetly and forgetfullyThe 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 arm 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 linked 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 sublimeOur sires have left us, wisdom old as time,No word of man, how deep soe'er his thoughtAnd won of subtlest toil, may bring to naught.Aye, men will rail that I forget my years,To dance and wreathe with ivy these white hairs;What recks it? Seeing the God no line hath toldTo mark what man shall dance, or young or old;But craves his honours from mortalityAll, 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 speedPentheus, Echion's son, whom I have raisedTo rule my people in my stead.--AmazedHe 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 earWas caught by this strange rumour, that our ownWives, our own sisters, from their hearths are flownTo wild and secret rites; and cluster thereHigh on the shadowy hills, with dance and prayerTo adore this new-made God, this Dionyse,Whate'er he be!--And in their companiesDeep wine-jars stand, and ever and anonAway into the loneliness now oneSteals 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 menHold bound and shackled in our dungeon den;The rest, I will go hunt them! Aye, and snareMy birds with nets of iron, to quell their prayerAnd 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 lightOf the very Cyprian. Day and livelong nightHe haunts amid the damsels, o'er each lipDangling his cup of joyance!--Let me gripHim once, but once, within these walls, right swiftThat wand shall cease its music, and that driftOf tossing curls lie still--when my rude swordFalls between neck and trunk! 'Tis all his word,This tale of Dionysus; how that sameBabe that was blasted by the lightning flameWith his dead mother, for that mother's lie,Was re-conceived, born perfect from the thighOf Zeus, and now is God! What call ye these?Dreams? Gibes of the unknown wanderer? BlasphemiesThat crave the very gibbet?Stay! God wot,Here is another marvel! See I notIn motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seerTeiresias? And my mother's father here--O depth of scorn!--adoring with the wandOf 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 handThat cowers about its staff.'Tis thou hast plannedThis work, Teiresias! 'Tis thou must setAnother altar and another yetAmongst us, watch new birds, and win more hireOf gold, interpreting new signs of fire!But for thy silver hairs, I tell thee true,Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crewOf raving damsels, for this evil dreamThou hast brought us, of new Gods! When once the gleamOf 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 care for God,Nor Cadmus, sower of the Giants' Sod,Life-spring to great Echion and to thee?

TEIRESIAS.Good words, my son, come easily, when heThat speaks is wise, and speaks but for the right.Else come they never! Swift are thine, and brightAs though with thought, yet have no thought at all.Lo, this new God, whom thou dost flout withal,I cannot speak the greatness wherewith HeIn Hellas shall be great! Two spirits there be,Young Prince, that in man's world are first of worth.Demeter one is named; she is the Earth--Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frameWith sustenance of things dry. And that which cameHer work to perfect, second, is the PowerFrom Semele born. He found the liquid showerHid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dimFrom grieving, when the vine exalteth him.He giveth sleep to sink the fretful dayIn cool forgetting. Is there any wayWith man's sore heart, save only to forget?Yea, being God, the blood of him is setBefore the Gods in sacrifice, that weFor his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee,That fable shames him, how this God was knitInto God's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it,Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly lightZeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' heightRaised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence,Then Zeus devised him a divine defence.A fragment of the world-encircling fireHe rent apart, and wrought to his desireOf shape and hue, in the image of the child,And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiledBy change and passing time, this tale was born,How the babe-god was hidden in the tornFlesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby.A prophet is he likewise. ProphecyCleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all elseTo frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwellsThe God himself, and speaks the thing to be.Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he.When mortal armies, mailed 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 diademThou yet shalt see him leaping with his trainOf 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 sourAnd sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up,Receive this God to Thebes; pour forth the cupOf sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow.Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now;How toucheth this the part of DionyseTo hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies,And their own hearts; and in the wildest riteCometh no stain to her whose heart is white.Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the GateStands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted greatAnd high by Thebes in clamour; shall not HeRejoice in his due meed of majesty?Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and IWill 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 GodFor thee nor all thy words. Madness most fellIs 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. HazardousIs this quick bird-like beating of thy thoughtWhere 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 southShall marvel, how there sprang a thing divineFrom Semele'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 agoHis own red hounds through yonder forest dimTore unto death, because he vaunted himAgainst most holy Artemis? Oh, beware,And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayerWith 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.)

ThisThy folly's head and prompter shall not missThe justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard,Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in wardO'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crowAnd 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 amainThis girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such baneTo 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 bloodThe 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 seedThou sowest! Blind before, and now indeedMost mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way,And pray for this our persecutor, prayFor this poor city, that the righteous GodMove not in anger.--Take thine ivy rodAnd 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 doneTo Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son.O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claimFrom 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!