ere lance crosses
lance. He will soon be a god celebrated through all Greece and hold
torchdance on the crags of Delphi. Let Thebes take her place among the
worshippers, fearing nought for the purity of its daughters, who will
be no less holy in the revel than at home.--The Chorus approve, and
Cadmus follows on the same side, urging policy: a splendid falsehood
making Semele the mother of a god will advance their household.
Pentheus shakes off Cadmus's clasp in disgust: bids some of his
servants go and overturn the prophet's place of divination, and others
seek out the stranger who leads the rebels. Exit to the palace, while
Teiresias and Cadmus depart, in horror at his impiety, in the direction
of Cithaeron. {379}

CHORAL INTERLUDE I

Shocked at such defiance of heaven the Chorus invoke Sanctity, crowned
as goddess in the nether world, to hear the awful words of Pentheus,
uttered against the immortal son of Semele, first and best of gods,
ruler of the flower-crowned feast, and the dance's jocund strife, and
the laughter, and the sparkling wine-cup, and the sweet sleep that
follows the festival. Sorrow closes the lot of such aweless, unbridled
madness: stability is for the calmly reverent life, knitting whole
houses in sweet domestic harmony. Clasp the present of brief life: no
grasping after a bright future with far-fetched wisdom. Oh, for the
lands where the graces and sweet desire have their haunts, and young
loves soothe the heart with tender guile: fit regions for the
Bacchanals, whose joy is Peace--wealth-giver to rich and poor. Away
with stern austerity: hail the homely wisdom of the multitude. {439}

EPISODE II

An officer brings in Dionysus as prisoner; he has yielded himself
without resistance, while as for the imprisoned worshippers their
chains have fallen off spontaneous, and they are away to the revels on
the mountains. In long-drawn parallel dialogue Pentheus questions the
Stranger--struck with his beauty though he be. Dionysus calmly answers
to every point, but allows the orgies are secret and must not be
revealed to the uninitiated. The King threatens in vain.

_Pen._ First I will clip away those soft bright locks.
_Dio._ My locks are holy, dedicate to my god.
_Pen._ Next, give thou me that thyrsus in thy hand.
_Dio._ Take it thyself; 'tis Dionysus' wand.
_Pen._ I'll bind thy body in strong iron chains.
_Dio._ My god himself will loose them when he will.
_Pen._