such noisy joys, when the wild ones of Crete beat their cymbals round
the sunless caverns where the infant Jove was hidden, and these rites
of Rhoea soon mingled for the frantic Satyrs with the third year's
dances to Bacchus. Then the ode recurs to the bliss of such holy
rites, luxurious interchange of wild energy and delicious repose. They
long for the climax of the dance, when, with luxuriant hair all
floating, they can rage and madden to the clash of heavy cymbals and
the shout Evoe, Evoe, frisking like colts to the soft breathing of the
holy pipe, while the mountain echoes beneath their boundings. {178}

EPISODE I

The blind prophet Teiresias enters from Thebes, and is soon joined by
Cadmus from the palace. Old as they are they have put on the livery of
the god, and will join in the dance, for which supernatural strength
will be given: they alone of the city are wise.

The ancestral faith, coeval with our race,
No subtle reasoning, if it soar aloft
Ev'n to the height of wisdom, can o'erthrow.

They are stopped by the entrance of Pentheus, as from a far journey.
His opening words betray his anxiety as to the scandal in his
realm--the young women of his family, even his mother Agave, all gone
to join the impious revels.

In pretext, holy sacrificing Maenads,
But serving Aphrodite more than Bacchus.

Some he has imprisoned, the rest he will hunt from the mountains, and
put an end to the joyous movements of this fair stranger with golden
locks, who has come to guide their maidens to soft inebriate rites.
Suddenly he sees his hero ancestor and the prophet in Bacchic attire.
Bitter reproaches follow; the scene soon settling down into the
forensic contest. Teiresias elaborately puts the case for the god.
Man has two primal needs: one is the solid food of the boon mother, the
other has been discovered by the son of their Semele--the rich grape's
juice: this beguiles the miserable of their sorrow, this gives
all-healing sleep. The author of such blessings is recognized in
heaven as a god: yet Pentheus puts scorn upon him by the story of the
babe hidden in Jove's thigh. [This is explained away by a play upon
words, as between _ho meeros_, thigh, and _homeeros_, a hostage: Jove
hid the infant god in a cleft of air, a hostage from the wrath of
Here.] Prophecy is ascribed to the wine-god, for phrensy is prophetic;
and he is an ally in war, sending panic on the foe