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Do heav'n's rich stores, does wisdom know
A meed more glorious, than with conquering hand

To grasp the proud head of a foe?

Raptures still rise where Glory takes her stand. EPOD. Blest is the man, who, 'scap'd the stormy seas,

The welcome harbour gains :
And blest is he, who, now at ease,
Sees with success his weary labours crown'd.

But ’midst the various blessings round
One greater wealth, one higher pow'r obtains:
Yet to the myriads, which man's life supplies,
Myriads of hopes gay-smiling rise;

Some fruitless fade away,
Some to perfection cach fair blossom raise.

His happiness I praise,
Whose life with blessings cheers each joyful day.

BACC. Thou, who wou'dst see what to thy curious eye

Is not permitted, thou, who wou’dst attempt
Things not to be attempted, Pentheus, ho!
To thee I call, come forth, appear in sight,
In female vestments, like the Mänades,
Accoutred on thy mother and her train
To be a spy, thy graceful figure shew;

A daughter sure of Cadmus meets our eye.
PBNT. Methinks I see two suns, a double Thebes,

And its seven gates rise double to my sight.
A bull thou seem'st to lead us, on thy head
Thou bearest horns; art thou indeed a beast?
Thou hast the semblance of a beast. The god,

Before not friendly, goes with us along.
BACC. He is confederate with us: now thou seest

What thou shou’dst see.

985. Dr. Musgrave, following Tyrwhitt, assigas this line to Bacchus; but if it be read with a comma after op dersi,

'o Isòs ouæpriī, apóolay ñy ovx süpsyns, v. 921. it strongly marks the change in the mind of Pentheus, now touched with fienzy.


What figure do I make?
Have I not Ino's or Agave's air ?
BACC. So like, methinks I see them, seeing thee.

But this loose lock is started from its place,

Nor as beneath thy mitre I compos'd it. PENT. Tossing my head, and rolling it within,

. Acting these bacchic motions, I displac'd it. BACC. But we, whose care it is to deck thee forth

Will soon adjust it: upright bear thy head. PENT. See that thou dress me right; I trust to thee. BACC. Thy zone is loose, and these contracting folds

Let not thy robes flow seemly to thy feet.
PENT. At my right foot they seem so; but at this

They fall in decent order to my ancles.
BACC. Wilt thou not hold me dear, when thou shalt see,

Beyond thy warmest hopes, the modest Bacchæ ?
PENT. T appear like one of them how should I bear

The thyrsus, in my right hand, or in this?
BACC. In thy right hand, and with thy right foot raise it.

This change of resolution I commend.
PENT. What, may. I bear Cithæron's heights, and all

The Bacchæ with them, on my shoulders rais'd ?
BACC. Ay, if thou wilt, thou may'st: thy sense, before

Disorder'd, now is such as well becomes thee. PENT. Bear we then massy bars, or with my hands

Uprooted shall I place beneath its heights

My shoulders, or support them in my arms ? BACC. Nay, it were pity to destroy these haunts

Where the nymphs love to sport, the fav’rite seats

Of Pan, where oft he breathes his rural reeds. pent. Well hast thou said: these females will not be

By force subdued; I'll hide me 'mongst the firs.
BACC. Hide thee! Aye, hide thee where thou ought'st to hide;

A fraudful spy upon the Mänades.
PENT. They may be caught, I ween, amidst the thickets,

Like birds, in those delightful haunts that nest.
BACC. And therefore wou'dst thou watch them: thou perchance

May'st catch them too, unless thou first art caught.


PENT. Conduct me through the midst of Thebes ; alone

Of all her sons I dare attempt this deed.
BACC. Alone thou labourest for this state, alone;

Therefore a meed awaits thee, as is fit.
I will conduct thee safe; to bring thee back
Shall be another's office.

What, my mother's ?
BACC. To all conspicuous.

And for that I go.
BACC. Thou shalt come carried back.

Thy words import
My delicacy.

. In thy mother's arms.
Pent. Will she constrain me to this daintiness ?
BACC. Such dainties.

Such as I deserve I court.
Bacc. Ruthless thou art, and ruthless art thou gone

To ruthless sufferings: therefore shalt thou find
A glory firmly 'stablish'd in the skies.
Stretch forth thy hands, Agave, with thy sisters,
Daughters of Cadmus; see I bring this youth
To this great contest ; I shall be victorious,
And Bacchus: but th' event will shew the rest.



Go, ye fleet dogs of Madness, go,

Sweep o'er the mountain's rugged brow,
Where sport the dames of Cadmus' royal race:

Inflame their frentic fury high
To hold this female-vested wretch in chace,
Who madly dares their hallow'd haunts espy.

Him from Cithæron's rocky head,

Or some enclosure's rising mound,
His mother first shall view in ambush laid,

Then shouting call the Mænades around,

These heights, these heights, ye Bacchæ, who Ascends, our mountain-ranging train to view ?

Whence is his lineage trac'd ?


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His birth he to no woman owes;
But from some tygress in the howling waste,

Or Libyan Gorgon rose.
Vengeance, in all thy terrors clad, appear,

High thy thund'ring falchion rear,
Stain it in his unrighteous, impious gore,
And ruin on this earth-born tyrant pour.

He with unjust nefarious thought,

And with unholy madness fraught,
Against thy orgies, Bacchus, dares to fight,

Against his mother's hallow'd train,
By force to conquer thy unconquer'd might,
Swoln with obdurate pride and malice vain.

With peace their cloudless days shall shine,

Who wisdom's temp’rate pow'r obey :
But death on him, that spurns at rites divine,
Comes undisguis’d, and rushes on his prey.

With joy I see their greatness rise,
And envy not when Glory crowns the wise;

In honour train’d their lives

By day, by night the gods adore:
But lawless is his rage, who madly strives

T'insult their slighted pow'r.
Vengeance, in all thy terrors clad appear,

High thy thund'ring falchion rear;
Stain it in his unrighteous, impious gore,
And ruin on this earth-born tyrant pour,

His sense, O son of Jove, confound;
A bull to his astonish'd eyes appear;

Or as a dragon rear
An hundred threat'ning heads; or to his sight

A lion breathing flames around

His guilty soul affright.
Go, hunter god, pursue the chace,
Whilst the smile brightens on thy face:
Go, hunter god, thy Bacchæ lead,
Their unabating, fatal speed


Shall seize the savage as he flies,
And triumph o'er their trembling prize.

MESS. O house, illustrious once through Greece, thou house

Of th' old Sidonian chief, who sow'd in th' earth
The dragon harvest of the serpent's seed,
How I lament thee, though a slave; yet slaves,

If faithful, mourn the ruin of their lords.
chor. What tidings bearest thou ? from the Bacchæ aught?
MESS. Pentheus is dead, earth-born Echion's son.
CHOR. O sovereign Bacchus, thou art found a god !
MESS. What say’st thou, woman? what import thy words?

Dost thou then glory in my lord's ill fate? chor. A stranger, in barbaric strains I hymn

The god, nor longer dread the threaten'd chains.
MESS. Is there no manly spirit left in Thebes?
CHOR. O'er me not Thebes, but Bacchus hath command.
MESS. So far thou may'st be pardon'd; but to joy

In evils suffer'd, that becomes you not.
CHOR. But tell me how he perish’d, by what' death,

The ruthless man devising ruthless deeds.
Soon as we left Therapnæ, to our Thebes
Adjacent, and had pass’d Asopus' stream,
We mount Cithæron's steep, Pentheus, myself,
(I on my lord attended,) and our guide,
The stranger; to the forest first we came,
And trod with silent step the grassy ground,
Nor breath'd a whisper, for we went to see,
Not to be seen. An hollow glen was here,
On each side crags arose, and through the midst,
With pine trees shaded round, a streamlet flow'd.
There sate the Mænades, their hands employ'd
In grateful tasks: around the thyrsus some,
Deserted of its foliage, wreath'd afresh
The ivy twine; some, from the various heights
Like hinds descending, with melodious voice


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