Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/447

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Bromius my King! thou hast made thy godhead plain!

How, what is this thou say'st? Dost thou exult,

Woman, upon my lord's calamities?

An alien I, I chant glad outland strain,

Who cower no more in terror of the chain.

Deemest thou Thebes so void of men—

Dionysus it is, 'tis the King of the Vine

That hath lordship o'er me, no Thebes of thine!

This might be pardoned, save that base it is,

Women, to joy o'er evils past recall.

Tell to me, tell,—by what doom died he,

The villain devising villainy?