_Dio._ O, ye Barbarian women. Thus prostrate in dismay; Upon the earth ye've fallen! See ye not as ye may, How Bacchus Pentheus' palace In wrath hath shaken down? Rise up! rise up! take courage--Shake off that trembling swoon. _Chor._ O light that goodliest shinest Over our mystic rite, In state forlorn we saw thee--Saw with what deep affright! _Dio._ How to despair ye yielded As I boldly entered in To Pentheus, as if captured, into that fatal gin. _Chor._ How could I less? Who guards us If thou shouldst come to woe? But how wast thou delivered From thy ungodly foe? _Dio._ Myself myself delivered With ease and effort slight. _Chor._ Thy hands had he not bound them In halters strong and tight? _Dio._ 'Twas even then I mocked him: He thought me in his chain; He touched me not nor reached me; His idle thoughts were vain! In the stable stood a heifer Where he thought he had me bound; Round the beast's knees his cords And cloven hoofs he wound, Wrath-breathing, from his body The sweat fell like a flood, He bit his lips in fury, While I beside who stood Looked on in unmoved quiet. As at that instant come, Shook Bacchus the strong palace, And on his mother's tomb Flames kindled. When he saw it, on fire the palace deeming, Hither he rushed and thither. For 'Water, water,' screaming; And every slave 'gan labor, But labored all in vain, The toil he soon abandoned. As though I had fled amain He rushed into the palace: In his hand the dark sword gleamed. Then as it seemed, great Bromius--I say but, as it seemed-- In the hall a bright light kindled. On that he rushed, and there, As slaying me in vengeance, Stood stabbing the thin air. But then the avenging Bacchus Wrought new calamities; From roof to base that palace In smouldering ruin lies. Bitter ruing our imprisonment, With toil forespent he threw On earth his useless weapon. Mortal, he had dared to do 'Gainst a god unholy battle. But I, in quiet state, Unheeding Pentheus' anger, Came through the palace gate. It seems even now his sandal Is sounding on its way; Soon is he here before us, And what now will he say? With ease will I confront him, Ire-breathing though he stand. 'Tis easy to a wise man To practice self-command. {651}