ensied
women drove the men before them, and tore the herds to pieces; like a
flock of birds they skimmed along the land, and all gave way before
them.

And what they threw across their shoulders, clung
Unfastened, nor fell down to the black ground,
No brass, nor ponderous iron; on their locks
Was fire that burned them not.

Then god-given fountains washed off the stains of their toil, and their
serpents licked them clean. Even the Messenger advises submission to
so mighty a god, dispensing such gifts.

Pentheus breathes nothing but defiance, and issues orders for the whole
military force of Thebes to assemble. He is bewildered by the
stranger, who doing or suffering still holds his peace. In long-drawn
parallel verses Dionysus gradually assumes the friend, and--still
warning the king that he is on the side of the god--insinuates into the
mind of Pentheus the idea of visiting the scene, disguised in the
feminine robes of the revellers. As the king retires to prepare,
Dionysus proclaims that he is fallen into the net, and vengeance shall
first deprive him of sense and then destroy him. {868}

CHORAL INTERLUDE III

As the crisis comes nearer the Chorus long for the moment of
escape--the sensation of the hart that has leaped the net and with
storm-wind haste escaped the hunter's pursuit and reached the silent
shadow of the old hospitable wood. VICTORY IS THE JOY OF JOYS. Slow
and true are the avenging deities, with printless foot hounding the
impious along their winding path: for law is old as oldest time.
VICTORY IS THE JOY OF JOYS. Happy the sailor in port, he whose race is
o'er: hopes hover over thousands, but

Happiness alone is his
That happy is to-day. {928}

EPISODE IV

Pentheus appears from the palace of Cadmus in disguise as a Maenad.
Infatuation has become a phrensy: he sees double, Dionysus seems a
bull, his eyes penetrate into distance and perceive his mother and her
comrades. Unconscious of the laughter of Dionysus he adjusts his
feminine dress and practices the Maenad step. Irony is added:

_Dio._ Follow me! thy preserver goes before thee;
Another takes thee hence.
_Pen._ Mean'st thou my mother?
_Dio._ Aloft shalt thou be borne--
_Pen._ O the soft carriage!
_Dio._ In thy mother's hands.
_Pen._ Wilt make me thus luxurious?
_Dio._