* * * * * * * * * * And tell of Time, what gifts for thee he bears, What griefs and wonders in the winding years. For thou must change and be a Serpent Thing Strange, and beside thee she whom thou didst bring Of old to be thy bride from Heaven afar, Harmonia, daughter of the Lord of War. Yea, and a chariot of kine--so spake The word of Zeus--thee and thy Queen shall take Through many lands, Lord of a wild array Of orient spears. And many towns shall they Destroy beneath thee, that vast horde, until They touch Apollo's dwelling, and fulfil Their doom, back driven on stormy ways and steep. Thee only and thy spouse shall Ares keep, And save alive to the Islands of the Blest. Thus speaketh Dionysus, Son confessed Of no man but of Zeus!--Ah, had ye seen Truth in the hour ye would not, all had been Well with ye, and the Child of God your friend! AGAVE. Dionysus, we beseech thee! We have sinned! DIONYSUS. Too late! When there was time, ye knew me not! AGAVE. We have confessed. Yet is thine hand too hot. DIONYSUS. Ye mocked me, being God; this is your wage. AGAVE. Should God be like a proud man in his rage? DIONYSUS. 'Tis as my sire, Zeus, willed it long ago. AGAVE (_turning from him almost with disdain_). Old Man, the word is spoken; we must go. DIONYSUS. And seeing ye must, what is it that ye wait? CADMUS. Child, we are come into a deadly strait, All; thou, poor sufferer, and thy sisters twain, And my sad self. Far off to barbarous men, A grey-haired wanderer, I must take my road. And then the oracle, the doom of God, That I must lead a raging horde far-flown To prey on Hellas; lead my spouse, mine own Harmonia, Ares' child, discorporate And haunting forms, dragon and dragon-mate. Against the tombs and altar-stones of Greece, Lance upon lance behind us; and not cease From toils, like other men, nor dream, nor past The foam of Acheron find my peace at last. AGAVE. Father! And I must wander far from thee! CADMUS. O Child, why wilt thou reach thine arms to me, As yearns the milk-white swan, when old swans die? AGAVE. Where shall I turn me else? No home have I. CADMUS. I know not; I can help thee not. AGAVE. Farewell, O home, O ancient tower! Lo, I am outcast from my bower, And leave ye for a worser lot. CADMUS. Go forth, go forth to misery, The way Actaeon's father went! AGAVE. Father, for thee my tears are spent. CADMUS. Nay, Child, 'tis I must weep for thee; For thee and for thy sisters twain! AGAVE.