Part 2 (1/2)

Demeter one is named; she is the Earth-- Call her which name thou will!--who feeds man's frame With sustenance of things dry. And that which came Her work to perfect, second, is the Power From Semele born. He found the liquid shower Hid in the grape. He rests man's spirit dim From grieving, when the vine exalteth him.

He giveth sleep to sink the fretful day In cool forgetting. Is there any way With man's sore heart, save only to forget?

Yea, being G.o.d, the blood of him is set Before the G.o.ds in sacrifice, that we For his sake may be blest.--And so, to thee, That fable shames him, how this G.o.d was knit Into G.o.d's flesh? Nay, learn the truth of it, Cleared from the false.--When from that deadly light Zeus saved the babe, and up to Olympus' height Raised him, and Hera's wrath would cast him thence, Then Zeus devised him a divine defence.

A fragment of the world-encircling fire He rent apart, and wrought to his desire Of shape and hue, in the image of the child, And gave to Hera's rage. And so, beguiled By change and pa.s.sing time, this tale was born, How the babe-G.o.d was hidden in the torn Flesh of his sire. He hath no shame thereby.

A prophet is he likewise. Prophecy Cleaves to all frenzy, but beyond all else To frenzy of prayer. Then in us verily dwells The G.o.d himself, and speaks the thing to be.

Yea, and of Ares' realm a part hath he.

When mortal armies, mailed and arrayed, Have in strange fear, or ever blade met blade, Fled maddened, 'tis this G.o.d hath palsied them.

Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in h.e.l.las.--List and understand, King Pentheus! Dream not thou that force is power; Nor, if thou hast a thought, and that thought sour And sick, oh, dream not thought is wisdom!--Up, Receive this G.o.d to Thebes; pour forth the cup Of sacrifice, and pray, and wreathe thy brow.

Thou fearest for the damsels? Think thee now; How toucheth this the part of Dionyse To hold maids pure perforce? In them it lies, And their own hearts; and in the wildest rite Cometh no stain to her whose heart is white.

Nay, mark me! Thou hast thy joy, when the Gate Stands thronged, and Pentheus' name is lifted great And high by Thebes in clamour; shall not He Rejoice in his due meed of majesty?

Howbeit, this Cadmus whom thou scorn'st and I Will wear His crown, and tread His dances! Aye, Our hairs are white, yet shall that dance be trod!

I will not lift mine arm to war with G.o.d For thee nor all thy words. Madness most fell Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured!

CHORUS.

Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great G.o.d.

CADMUS.

My son, right well Teiresias points thy road.

Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this G.o.d be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He Is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semele's flesh, and honour all our line.

[_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS.

Is there not blood before thine eyes even now?

Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware, And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in G.o.d's sight.

[_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS' _head_.

PENTHEUS.

Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite, Nor smear on me thy foul contagion!

[_Turning upon_ TEIRESIAS.

This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard, Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crow And trident; make one wreck of high and low, And toss his bands to all the winds of air!

Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there?

The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives.

Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned, and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his G.o.d!

[_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle_.

TEIRESIAS.

Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous G.o.d Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son.

O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart!

[_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._

CHORUS.