Part 3
That would I, though it cost me all The gold of Thebes!
DIONYSUS.
So much? Thou art quick to fall To such great longing.
PENTHEUS (_somewhat bewildered at what he has said_).
Aye; 'twould grieve me much To see them flown with wine.
DIONYSUS.
Yet cravest thou such A sight as would much grieve thee?
PENTHEUS.
Yes; I fain Would watch, ambushed among the pines.
DIONYSUS.
'Twere vain To hide. They soon will track thee out.
PENTHEUS.
Well said! 'Twere best done openly.
DIONYSUS.
Wilt thou be led By me, and try the venture?
PENTHEUS.
Aye, indeed! Lead on. Why should we tarry?
DIONYSUS.
First we need A rich and trailing robe of fine-linen To gird thee.
PENTHEUS.
Nay; am I a woman, then, And no man more?
DIONYSUS.
Wouldst have them slay thee dead? No man may see their mysteries.
PENTHEUS.
Well said!-- I marked thy subtle temper long ere now.
DIONYSUS.
'Tis Dionyse that prompteth me.
PENTHEUS.
And how Mean'st thou the further plan?
DIONYSUS.
First take thy way Within. I will array thee.
PENTHEUS.
What array? The woman's? Nay, I will not.
DIONYSUS.
Doth it change So soon, all thy desire to see this strange Adoring?
PENTHEUS.
Wait! What garb wilt thou bestow About me?
DIONYSUS.
First a long tress dangling low Beneath thy shoulders.
PENTHEUS.
Aye, and next?
DIONYSUS.
The said Robe, falling to thy feet; and on thine head A snood.
PENTHEUS.
And after? Hast thou aught beyond?
DIONYSUS.
Surely; the dappled fawn-skin and the wand.
PENTHEUS (_after a struggle with himself_).
Enough! I cannot wear a robe and snood.
DIONYSUS.
Wouldst liefer draw the sword and spill men's blood?
PENTHEUS (_again doubting_).
True, that were evil.--Aye; 'tis best to go First to some place of watch.
DIONYSUS.
Far wiser so, Than seek by wrath wrath's bitter recompense.
PENTHEUS.
What of the city streets? Canst lead me hence Unseen of any?
DIONYSUS.
Lonely and untried Thy path from hence shall be, and I thy guide!
PENTHEUS.
I care for nothing, so these Bacchanals Triumph not against me! . . . Forward to my halls Within!--I will ordain what seemeth best.
DIONYSUS.
So be it, O King! 'Tis mine to obey thine hest, Whate'er it be.
PENTHEUS (_after hesitating once more and waiting_).
Well, I will go--perchance To march and scatter them with serried lance, Perchance to take thy plan. . . . I know not yet.
[_Exit_ PENTHEUS _into the Castle_.
DIONYSUS.
Damsels, the lion walketh to the net! He finds his Bacchae now, and sees and dies, And pays for all his sin!--O Dionyse, This is thine hour and thou not far away. Grant us our vengeance!--First, O Master, stay The course of reason in him, and instil A foam of madness. Let his seeing will, Which ne'er had stooped to put thy vesture on, Be darkened, till the deed is lightly done. Grant likewise that he find through all his streets Loud scorn, this man of wrath and bitter threats That made Thebes tremble, led in woman's guise. I go to fold that robe of sacrifice On Pentheus, that shall deck him to the dark, His mother's gift!--So shall he learn and mark God's true Son, Dionyse, in fulness God, Most fearful, yet to man most soft of mood.
[_Exit_ DIONYSUS, _following_ PENTHEUS _into the Castle_.
CHORUS.
_Some Maidens._
Will they ever come to me, ever again, The long long dances, On through the dark till the dim stars wane? Shall I feel the dew on my throat, and the stream Of wind in my hair? Shall our white feet gleam In the dim expanses? Oh, feet of a fawn to the greenwood fled, Alone in the grass and the loveliness; Leap of the hunted, no more in dread, Beyond the snares and the deadly press: Yet a voice still in the distance sounds, A voice and a fear and a haste of hounds; O wildly labouring, fiercely fleet, Onward yet by river and glen . . . Is it joy or terror, ye storm-swift feet? . . . To the dear lone lands untroubled of men, Where no voice sounds, and amid the shadowy green The little things of the woodland live unseen.
What else is Wisdom? What of man's endeavour Or God's high grace, so lovely and so great? To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait; To hold a hand uplifted over Hate; And shall not Loveliness be loved for ever?
_Others._
O Strength of God, slow art thou and still, Yet failest never! On them that worship the Ruthless Will, On them that dream, doth His judgment wait. Dreams of the proud man, making great And greater ever, Things which are not of God. In wide And devious coverts, hunter-wise, He coucheth Time's unhasting stride, Following, following, him whose eyes Look not to Heaven. For all is vain, The pulse of the heart, the plot of the brain, That striveth beyond the laws that live. And is thy Faith so much to give, Is it so hard a thing to see, That the Spirit of God, whate'er it be, The Law that abides and changes not, ages long, The Eternal and Nature-born--these things be strong?
What else is Wisdom? What of man's endeavour Or God's high grace so lovely and so great? To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait; To hold a hand uplifted over Hate; And shall not Loveliness be loved for ever?
LEADER.
Happy he, on the weary sea Who hath fled the tempest and won the haven. Happy whoso hath risen, free, Above his striving. For strangely graven Is the orb of life, that one and another In gold and power may outpass his brother. And men in their millions float and flow And seethe with a million hopes as leaven; And they win their Will, or they miss their Will, And the hopes are dead or are pined for still; But whoe'er can know, As the long days go, That To Live is happy, hath found his Heaven!
_Re-enter_ DIONYSUS _from the Castle_.
DIONYSUS.
O eye that cravest sights thou must not see, O heart athirst for that which slakes not! Thee, Pentheus, I call; forth and be seen, in guise Of woman, Maenad, saint of Dionyse, To spy upon His Chosen and thine own Mother!
[_Enter_ PENTHEUS, _clad like a Bacchanal, and strangely excited, a spirit of Bacchic madness overshadowing him_.
Thy shape, methinks, is like to one Of Cadmus' royal maids!
PENTHEUS.
Yea; and mine eye Is bright! Yon sun shines twofold in the sky, Thebes twofold and the Wall of Seven Gates. . . . And is it a Wild Bull this, that walks and waits Before me? There are horns upon thy brow! What art thou, man or beast? For surely now The Bull is on thee!
DIONYSUS.
He who erst was wrath, Goes with us now in gentleness. He hath Unsealed thine eyes to see what thou shouldst see.
PENTHEUS.
Say; stand I not as Ino stands, or she Who bore me?
DIONYSUS.
When I look on thee, it seems I see their very selves!--But stay; why streams That lock abroad, not where I laid it, crossed Under the coif?
PENTHEUS.
I did it, as I tossed My head in dancing, to and fro, and cried His holy music!
DIONYSUS (_tending him_).
It shall soon be tied Aright. 'Tis mine to tend thee. . . . Nay, but stand With head straight.
PENTHEUS.
In the hollow of thy hand I lay me. Deck me as thou wilt.
DIONYSUS.
Thy zone Is loosened likewise; and the folded gown Not evenly falling to the feet.
PENTHEUS.
'Tis so, By the right foot. But here, methinks, they flow In one straight line to the heel.
DIONYSUS (_while tending him_).
And if thou prove Their madness true, aye, more than true, what love And thanks hast thou for me?
PENTHEUS (_not listening to him_).
In my right hand Is it, or thus, that I should bear the wand, To be most like to them?
DIONYSUS.
Up let it swing In the right hand, timed with the right foot's spring. . . . 'Tis well thy heart is changed!
PENTHEUS (_more wildly_).
What strength is this! Kithaeron's steeps and all that in them is-- How say'st thou?--Could my shoulders lift the whole?
DIONYSUS.
Surely thou canst, and if thou wilt! Thy soul, Being once so sick, now stands as it should stand.
PENTHEUS.
Shall it be bars of iron? Or this bare hand And shoulder to the crags, to wrench them down?
DIONYSUS.
Wouldst wreck the Nymphs' wild temples, and the brown Rocks, where Pan pipes at noonday?
PENTHEUS.
Nay; not I! Force is not well with women. I will lie Hid in the pine-brake.
DIONYSUS.
Even as fits a spy On holy and fearful things, so shalt thou lie!
PENTHEUS (_with a laugh_).
They lie there now, methinks--the wild birds, caught By love among the leaves, and fluttering not!
DIONYSUS.
It may be. That is what thou goest to see, Aye, and to trap them--so they trap not thee!
PENTHEUS.
Forth through the Thebans' town! I am their king, Aye, their one Man, seeing I dare this thing!
DIONYSUS.
Yea, thou shalt bear their burden, thou alone; Therefore thy trial awaiteth thee!--But on; With me into thine ambush shalt thou come Unscathed; then let another bear thee home!
PENTHEUS.
The Queen, my mother.
DIONYSUS.
Marked of every eye.
PENTHEUS.
For that I go!
DIONYSUS.
Thou shalt be borne on high!
PENTHEUS.
That were like pride!
DIONYSUS.
Thy mother's hands shall share Thy carrying.
PENTHEUS.
Nay; I need not such soft care!
DIONYSUS.
So soft?
PENTHEUS.
Whate'er it be, I have earned it well!
[_Exit_ PENTHEUS _towards the Mountain_.
DIONYSUS.
Fell, fell art thou; and to a doom so fell Thou walkest, that thy name from South to North Shall shine, a sign for ever!--Reach thou forth Thine arms, Agave, now, and ye dark-browed Cadmeian sisters! Greet this prince so proud To the high ordeal, where save God and me, None walks unscathed!--The rest this day shall see.
[_Exit_ DIONYSUS _following_ PENTHEUS.
CHORUS.
_Some Maidens._
O hounds raging and blind, Up by the mountain road, Sprites of the maddened mind, To the wild Maids of God; Fill with your rage their eyes, Rage at the rage unblest, Watching in woman's guise, The spy upon God's Possessed.
_A Bacchanal._
Who shall be first, to mark Eyes in the rock that spy, Eyes in the pine-tree dark-- Is it his mother?--and cry: "Lo, what is this that comes, Haunting, troubling still, Even in our heights, our homes, The wild Maids of the Hill? What flesh bare this child? Never on woman's breast Changeling so evil smiled; Man is he not, but Beast! Lion-shape of the wild, Gorgon-breed of the waste!"
_All the Chorus._
Hither, for doom and deed! Hither with lifted sword, Justice, Wrath of the Lord, Come in our visible need! Smite till the throat shall bleed, Smite till the heart shall bleed, Him the tyrannous, lawless, Godless, Echion's earth-born seed!
_Other Maidens._
Tyrannously hath he trod; Marched him, in Law's despite, Against thy Light, O God, Yea, and thy Mother's Light; Girded him, falsely bold, Blinded in craft, to quell And by man's violence hold Things unconquerable.
_A Bacchanal._
A strait pitiless mind Is death unto godliness; And to feel in human kind Life, and a pain the less. Knowledge, we are not foes! I seek thee diligently; But the world with a great wind blows, Shining, and not from thee; Blowing to beautiful things, On, amid dark and light, Till Life, through the trammellings Of Laws that are not the Right, Breaks, clean and pure, and sings Glorying to God in the height!
_All the Chorus._
Hither for doom and deed! Hither with lifted sword, Justice, Wrath of the Lord, Come in our visible need! Smite till the throat shall bleed, Smite till the heart shall bleed, Him the tyrannous, lawless, Godless, Echion's earth-born seed!
LEADER.
Appear, appear, whatso thy shape or name O Mountain Bull, Snake of the Hundred Heads, Lion of Burning Flame! O God, Beast, Mystery, come! Thy mystic maids Are hunted!--Blast their hunter with thy breath, Cast o'er his head thy snare; And laugh aloud and drag him to his death, Who stalks thy herded madness in its lair!
_Enter hastily a_ MESSENGER _from the Mountain, pale and distraught_.
MESSENGER.
Woe to the house once blest in Hellas! Woe To thee, old King Sidonian, who didst sow The dragon-seed on Ares' bloody lea! Alas, even thy slaves must weep for thee!
LEADER.
News from the mountain?--Speak! How hath it sped?
MESSENGER.
Pentheus, my king, Echion's son, is dead!
LEADER.
All hail, God of the Voice, Manifest ever more!
MESSENGER.
What say'st thou?--And how strange thy tone, as though In joy at this my master's overthrow!
LEADER.
With fierce joy I rejoice, Child of a savage shore; For the chains of my prison are broken, and the dread where I cowered of yore!
MESSENGER.
And deem'st thou Thebes so beggared, so forlorn Of manhood, as to sit beneath thy scorn?
LEADER.
Thebes hath o'er me no sway! None save Him I obey, Dionysus, Child of the Highest, Him I obey and adore!
MESSENGER.
One can forgive thee!--Yet 'tis no fair thing, Maids, to rejoice in a man's suffering.
LEADER.
Speak of the mountain side! Tell us the doom he died, The sinner smitten to death, even where his sin was sore!
MESSENGER.
We climbed beyond the utmost habitings Of Theban shepherds, passed Asopus' springs, And struck into the land of rock on dim Kithaeron--Pentheus, and, attending him, I, and the Stranger who should guide our way. Then first in a green dell we stopped, and lay, Lips dumb and feet unmoving, warily Watching, to be unseen and yet to see. A narrow glen it was, by crags o'ertowered, Torn through by tossing waters, and there lowered A shadow of great pines over it. And there The Maenad maidens sate; in toil they were, Busily glad. Some with an ivy chain Tracked a worn wand to toss its locks again; Some, wild in joyance, like young steeds set free, Made answering songs of mystic melody. But my poor master saw not the great band Before him. "Stranger," cried he, "where we stand Mine eyes can reach not these false saints of thine. Mount we the bank, or some high-shouldered pine, And I shall see their follies clear!" At that There came a marvel. For the Stranger straight Touched a great pine-tree's high and heavenward crown, And lower, lower, lower, urged it down To the herbless floor. Round like a bending bow, Or slow wheel's rim a joiner forces to, So in those hands that tough and mountain stem Bowed slow--oh, strength not mortal dwelt in them!-- To the very earth. And there he set the King, And slowly, lest it cast him in its spring, Let back the young and straining tree, till high It towered again amid the towering sky; And Pentheus in the branches! Well, I ween, He saw the Maenads then, and well was seen! For scarce was he aloft, when suddenly There was no Stranger any more with me, But out of Heaven a Voice--oh, what voice else?-- 'Twas He that called! "Behold, O damosels, I bring ye him who turneth to despite Both me and ye, and darkeneth my great Light. 'Tis yours to avenge!" So spake he, and there came 'Twixt earth and sky a pillar of high flame. And silence took the air, and no leaf stirred In all the forest dell. Thou hadst not heard In that vast silence any wild thing's cry. And up they sprang; but with bewildered eye, Agaze and listening, scarce yet hearing true. Then came the Voice again. And when they knew Their God's clear call, old Cadmus' royal brood, Up, like wild pigeons startled in a wood, On flying feet they came, his mother blind, Agave, and her sisters, and behind All the wild crowd, more deeply maddened then, Through the angry rocks and torrent-tossing glen, Until they spied him in the dark pine-tree: Then climbed a crag hard by and furiously Some sought to stone him, some their wands would fling Lance-wise aloft, in cruel targeting. But none could strike. The height o'ertopped their rage, And there he clung, unscathed, as in a cage Caught. And of all their strife no end was found. Then, "Hither," cried Agave; "stand we round And grip the stem, my Wild Ones, till we take This climbing cat-o'-the-mount! He shall not make A tale of God's high dances!" Out then shone Arm upon arm, past count, and closed upon The pine, and gripped; and the ground gave, and down It reeled. And that high sitter from the crown Of the green pine-top, with a shrieking cry Fell, as his mind grew clear, and there hard by Was horror visible. 'Twas his mother stood O'er him, first priestess of those rites of blood. He tore the coif, and from his head away Flung it, that she might know him, and not slay To her own misery. He touched the wild Cheek, crying: "Mother, it is I, thy child, Thy Pentheus, born thee in Echion's hall! Have mercy, Mother! Let it not befall Through sin of mine, that thou shouldst slay thy son!" But she, with lips a-foam and eyes that run Like leaping fire, with thoughts that ne'er should be On earth, possessed by Bacchios utterly, Stays not nor hears. Round his left arm she put Both hands, set hard against his side her foot, Drew . . . and the shoulder severed!--Not by might Of arm, but easily, as the God made light Her hand's essay. And at the other side Was Ino rending; and the torn flesh cried, And on Autonoe pressed, and all the crowd Of ravening arms. Yea, all the air was loud With groans that faded into sobbing breath, Dim shrieks, and joy, and triumph-cries of death. And here was borne a severed arm, and there A hunter's booted foot; white bones lay bare With rending; and swift hands ensanguined Tossed as in sport the flesh of Pentheus dead. His body lies afar. The precipice Hath part, and parts in many an interstice Lurk of the tangled woodland--no light quest To find. And, ah, the head! Of all the rest, His mother hath it, pierced upon a wand, As one might pierce a lion's, and through the land, Leaving her sisters in their dancing place, Bears it on high! Yea, to these walls her face Was set, exulting in her deed of blood, Calling upon her Bromios, her God, Her Comrade, Fellow-Render of the Prey, Her All-Victorious, to whom this day She bears in triumph . . . her own broken heart! For me, after that sight, I will depart Before Agave comes.--Oh, to fulfil God's laws, and have no thought beyond His will, Is man's best treasure. Aye, and wisdom true, Methinks, for things of dust to cleave unto!
[_The_ MESSENGER _departs into the Castle_.
CHORUS.
_Some Maidens._
Weave ye the dance, and call Praise to God! Bless ye the Tyrant's fall! Down is trod Pentheus, the Dragon's Seed! Wore he the woman's weed? Clasped he his death indeed, Clasped the rod?
_A Bacchanal._
Yea, the wild ivy lapt him, and the doomed Wild Bull of Sacrifice before him loomed!
_Others._
Ye who did Bromios scorn, Praise Him the more, Bacchanals, Cadmus-born; Praise with sore Agony, yea, with tears! Great are the gifts he bears! Hands that a mother rears Red with gore!
LEADER.
But stay, Agave cometh! And her eyes Make fire around her, reeling! Ho, the prize Cometh! All hail, O Rout of Dionyse!
[_Enter from the Mountain_ AGAVE, _mad, and to all seeming wondrously happy, bearing the head of_ PENTHEUS _in her hand. The_ CHORUS MAIDENS _stand horror-struck at the sight; the_ LEADER, _also horror-struck, strives to accept it and rejoice in it as the God's deed_.
AGAVE.
Ye from the lands of Morn!
LEADER.
Call me not; I give praise!
AGAVE.
Lo, from the trunk new-shorn Hither a Mountain Thorn Bear we! O Asia-born Bacchanals, bless this chase!
LEADER.
I see. Yea; I see. Have I not welcomed thee?
AGAVE (_very calmly and peacefully_).
He was young in the wildwood: Without nets I caught him! Nay; look without fear on The Lion; I have ta'en him!
LEADER.
Where in the wildwood? Whence have ye brought him?
AGAVE.
Kithaeron. . . .
LEADER.
Kithaeron?
AGAVE.
The Mountain hath slain him!
LEADER.
Who first came nigh him?
AGAVE.
I, I, 'tis confessed! And they named me there by him Agave the Blessed!
LEADER.
Who was next in the band on him?
AGAVE.
The daughters. . .
LEADER.
The daughters?
AGAVE.
Of Cadmus laid hand on him. But the swift hand that slaughters Is mine; mine is the praise! Bless ye this day of days!
[_The_ LEADER _tries to speak, but is not able_; AGAVE _begins gently stroking the head_.
AGAVE.
Gather ye now to the feast!
LEADER.
Feast!--O miserable!
AGAVE.
See, it falls to his breast, Curling and gently tressed, The hair of the Wild Bull's crest-- The young steer of the fell!
LEADER.
Most like a beast of the wild That head, those locks defiled.
AGAVE (_lifting up the head, more excitedly_).
He wakened his Mad Ones, A Chase-God, a wise God! He sprang them to seize this! He preys where his band preys.
LEADER (_brooding, with horror_).
In the trail of thy Mad Ones Thou tearest thy prize, God!
AGAVE.
Dost praise it?
LEADER.
I praise this?
AGAVE.
Ah, soon shall the land praise!
LEADER.
And Pentheus, O Mother, Thy child?
AGAVE.
He shall cry on My name as none other, Bless the spoils of the Lion!
LEADER.
Aye, strange is thy treasure!
AGAVE.
And strange was the taking!
LEADER.
Thou art glad?
AGAVE.
Beyond measure; Yea, glad in the breaking Of dawn upon all this land, By the prize, the prize of my hand!
LEADER.
Show then to all the land, unhappy one, The trophy of this deed that thou hast done!
AGAVE.
Ho, all ye men that round the citadel And shining towers of ancient Thebe dwell, Come! Look upon this prize, this lion's spoil, That we have taken--yea, with our own toil, We, Cadmus' daughters! Not with leathern-set Thessalian javelins, not with hunter's net, Only white arms and swift hands' bladed fall. Why make ye much ado, and boast withal Your armourers' engines? See, these palms were bare That caught the angry beast, and held, and tare The limbs of him! . . . Father! . . . Go, bring to me My father! . . . Aye, and Pentheus, where is he, My son? He shall set up a ladder-stair Against this house, and in the triglyphs there Nail me this lion's head, that gloriously I bring ye, having slain him--I, even I!
[_She goes through the crowd towards the Castle, showing the head and looking for a place to hang it. Enter from the Mountain_ CADMUS, _with attendants, bearing the body of_ PENTHEUS _on a bier_.
CADMUS.
On, with your awful burden. Follow me, Thralls, to his house, whose body grievously With many a weary search at last in dim Kithaeron's glens I found, torn limb from limb, And through the interweaving forest weed Scattered.--Men told me of my daughters' deed, When I was just returned within these walls, With grey Teiresias, from the Bacchanals. And back I hied me to the hills again To seek my murdered son. There saw I plain Actaeon's mother, ranging where he died, Autonoe; and Ino by her side, Wandering ghastly in the pine-copses. Agave was not there. The rumour is She cometh fleet-foot hither.--Ah! 'Tis true; A sight I scarce can bend mine eyes unto.
AGAVE (_turning from the Palace and seeing him_).