DIONYSUS In bitter wise, for bitter was the shame Ye did me, when Thebes honoured not my name. AGAVE Then lead me where my sisters be; Together let our tears be shed, Our ways be wandered; where no red Kithaeron waits to gaze on me; Nor I gaze back; no thyrsus stem, Nor song, nor memory in the air. Oh, other Bacchanals be there, Not I, not I, to dream of them! [AGAVE _with her group of attendants goes out on the side away from the Mountain._ DIONYSUS _rises upon the Cloud and disappears._] CHORUS There may be many shapes of mystery, And many things God makes to be, Past hope or fear. And the end men looked for cometh not, And a path is there where no man thought. So hath it fallen here. [_Exeunt_.]