Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/430

402 From Bacchus' revel Agavê, Pentheus' mother,

And do our lord a kindness?" Well, thought we,

He spake, and we in ambush hid ourselves

Mid leaves of copses. At the appointed time

They waved the thyrsus for the revel-rites,

With one voice calling Iacchus, Clamour-king,

Zeus' seed. The hills, the wild things all, were thrilled

With ecstasy: nought but shook as on they rushed.

Now nigh to me Agavê chanced to leap,

And forth I sprang as who would seize on her,

Leaving the thicket of mine ambush void.

Then shouted she, "What ho, my fleetfoot hounds,

We are chased by these men! Ho ye, follow me—

Follow, the thyrsus-javelins in your hands!"

O then we fled, and fleeing scantly 'scaped

The Bacchanals' rending grasp. Down swooped they then

Upon our pasturing kine with swordless hand.

Then hadst thou seen thy mother in her grip

Clutch a deep-uddered heifer bellowing loud:

And others rent the calves in crimson shreds.

Ribs hadst thou seen and cloven hoofs far hurled

This way and that, and flakes of flesh that hung

And dripped all blood-bedabbled 'neath the pines.

Bulls, chafing, lowering fiercely along the horn

Erewhile, were tripped and hurled unto the earth,

Dragged down by countless-clutching maiden hands.

More swiftly was the flesh that lapped their bones

Stripped, than thou couldst have closed thy kingly eyes.

On swept they, racing like to soaring birds,

To lowland plains which by Asopus' streams

Bear the rich harvests of the Theban folk,—

Hysiae, Erythrae, 'neath Kithairon's scaur