[A page or more has here been torn out of the MS. from which all our copies of "The Bacchae" are derived. It evidently contained a speech of Agave (followed presumably by some words of the Chorus), and an appearance of DIONYSUS upon a cloud. He must have pronounced judgment upon the Thebans in general, and especially upon the daughters of CADMUS, have justified his own action, and declared his determination to establish his godhead. Where the MS. begins again, we find him addressing CADMUS.]
DIONYSUS.
* * * * * * * * * * And tell of Time, what gifts for thee he bears, What griefs and wonders in the winding years. For thou must change and be a Serpent Thing Strange, and beside thee she whom thou didst bring Of old to be thy bride from Heaven afar, Harmonia, daughter of the Lord of War. Yea, and a chariot of kine--so spake The word of Zeus--thee and thy Queen shall take Through many lands, Lord of a wild array Of orient spears. And many towns shall they Destroy beneath thee, that vast horde, until They touch Apollo's dwelling, and fulfil Their doom, back driven on stormy ways and steep. Thee only and thy spouse shall Ares keep, And save alive to the Islands of the Blest. Thus speaketh Dionysus, Son confessed Of no man but of Zeus!--Ah, had ye seen Truth in the hour ye would not, all had been Well with ye, and the Child of God your friend!
AGAVE.
Dionysus, we beseech thee! We have sinned!
DIONYSUS.
Too late! When there was time, ye knew me not!
AGAVE.
We have confessed. Yet is thine hand too hot.
DIONYSUS.
Ye mocked me, being God; this is your wage.
AGAVE.
Should God be like a proud man in his rage?
DIONYSUS.
'Tis as my sire, Zeus, willed it long ago.
AGAVE (turning from him almost with disdain).
Old Man, the word is spoken; we must go.
DIONYSUS.
And seeing ye must, what is it that ye wait?
CADMUS.
Child, we are come into a deadly strait, All; thou, poor sufferer, and thy sisters twain, And my sad self. Far off to barbarous men, A grey-haired wanderer, I must take my road. And then the oracle, the doom of God, That I must lead a raging horde far-flown To prey on Hellas; lead my spouse, mine own Harmonia, Ares' child, discorporate And haunting forms, dragon and dragon-mate. Against the tombs and altar-stones of Greece, Lance upon lance behind us; and not cease From toils, like other men, nor dream, nor past The foam of Acheron find my peace at last.
AGAVE.
Father! And I must wander far from thee!
CADMUS.
O Child, why wilt thou reach thine arms to me, As yearns the milk-white swan, when old swans die?