Is on thee, madness wrought by some dread spell, But not by spell nor leechcraft to be cured! CHORUS. Grey prophet, worthy of Phoebus is thy word, And wise in honouring Bromios, our great God. CADMUS. My son, right well Teiresias points thy road. Oh, make thine habitation here with us, Not lonely, against men's uses. Hazardous Is this quick bird-like beating of thy thought Where no thought dwells.--Grant that this God be naught, Yet let that Naught be Somewhat in thy mouth; Lie boldly, and say He Is! So north and south Shall marvel, how there sprang a thing divine From Semelê's flesh, and honour all our line. [_Drawing nearer to_ PENTHEUS. Is there not blood before thine eyes even now? Our lost Actaeon's blood, whom long ago His own red hounds through yonder forest dim Tore unto death, because he vaunted him Against most holy Artemis? Oh, beware, And let me wreathe thy temples. Make thy prayer With us, and walk thee humbly in God's sight. [_He makes as if to set the wreath on_ PENTHEUS' _head_. PENTHEUS. Down with that hand! Aroint thee to thy rite, Nor smear on me thy foul contagion! [_Turning upon_ TEIRESIAS. This Thy folly's head and prompter shall not miss The justice that he needs!--Go, half my guard, Forth to the rock-seat where he dwells in ward O'er birds and wonders; rend the stone with crow And trident; make one wreck of high and low, And toss his bands to all the winds of air! Ha, have I found the way to sting thee, there? The rest, forth through the town! And seek amain This girl-faced stranger, that hath wrought such bane To all Thebes, preying on our maids and wives. Seek till ye find; and lead him here in gyves, Till he be judged and stoned, and weep in blood The day he troubled Pentheus with his God! [_The guards set forth in two bodies_; PENTHEUS _goes into the Castle_. TEIRESIAS. Hard heart, how little dost thou know what seed Thou sowest! Blind before, and now indeed Most mad!--Come, Cadmus, let us go our way, And pray for this our persecutor, pray For this poor city, that the righteous God Move not in anger.--Take thine ivy rod And help my steps, as I help thine. 'Twere ill, If two old men should fall by the roadway. Still, Come what come may, our service shall be done To Bacchios, the All-Father's mystic son. O Pentheus, named of sorrow! Shall he claim From all thy house fulfilment of his name, Old Cadmus?--Nay, I speak not from mine art, But as I see--blind words and a blind heart! [_The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain._ CHORUS. _Some Maidens._