Chapter 8
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?
AGAVE Where shall I turn me else? No home have I.
CADMUS I know not; I can help thee not.
AGAVE Farewell, O home, O ancient tower! Lo, I am outcast from my bower, And leave ye for a worser lot.
CADMUS Go forth, go forth to misery, The way Actaeon's father went!
AGAVE Father, for thee my tears are spent.
CADMUS Nay, Child, 'tis I must weep for thee; For thee and for thy sisters twain!
AGAVE On all this house, in bitter wise, Our Lord and Master, Dionyse, Hath poured the utter dregs of pain!
DIONYSUS In bitter wise, for bitter was the shame Ye did me, when Thebes honoured not my name.
AGAVE Then lead me where my sisters be; Together let our tears be shed, Our ways be wandered; where no red Kithaeron waits to gaze on me; Nor I gaze back; no thyrsus stem, Nor song, nor memory in the air. Oh, other Bacchanals be there, Not I, not I, to dream of them! [AGAVE _with her group of attendants goes out on the side away from the Mountain._ DIONYSUS _rises upon the Cloud and disappears._]
CHORUS There may be many shapes of mystery, And many things God makes to be, Past hope or fear. And the end men looked for cometh not, And a path is there where no man thought. So hath it fallen here. [_Exeunt_.]