Bacchae 215-262 (Murray)
Anna Muh / Transphobia in Bacchae
- Created on 2023-06-15 23:05:02
- Modified on 2023-06-16 02:09:20
- Translated by George Gilbert Aimé Murray
- Aligned by Anna Muh
Pentheus speaks on the rumors of Dionysus
Ἑλληνική Transliterate
English
Πενθεύς
ἔκδημος ὢν μὲν τῆσδʼ ἐτύγχανον χθονός ,
κλύω δὲ νεοχμὰ τήνδʼ ἀνὰ πτόλιν κακά ,
γυναῖκας ἡμῖν δώματʼ ἐκλελοιπέναι
πλασταῖσι βακχείαισιν , ἐν δὲ δασκίοις
ὄρεσι θοάζειν , τὸν νεωστὶ δαίμονα
Διόνυσον , ὅστις ἔστι , τιμώσας χοροῖς ·
πλήρεις δὲ θιάσοις ἐν μέσοισιν ἑστάναι
κρατῆρας , ἄλλην δʼ ἄλλοσʼ εἰς ἐρημίαν
πτώσσουσαν εὐναῖς ἀρσένων ὑπηρετεῖν ,
πρόφασιν μὲν ὡς δὴ μαινάδας θυοσκόους ,
τὴν δʼ Ἀφροδίτην πρόσθʼ ἄγειν τοῦ Βακχίου .
ὅσας μὲν οὖν εἴληφα , δεσμίους χέρας
σῴζουσι πανδήμοισι πρόσπολοι στέγαις ·
ὅσαι δʼ ἄπεισιν , ἐξ ὄρους θηράσομαι ,
Ἰνώ τʼ Ἀγαύην θʼ , ἥ μʼ ἔτικτʼ Ἐχίονι ,
Ἀκταίονός τε μητέρʼ , Αὐτονόην λέγω .
καὶ σφᾶς σιδηραῖς ἁρμόσας ἐν ἄρκυσιν
παύσω κακούργου τῆσδε βακχείας τάχα .
λέγουσι δʼ ὥς τις εἰσελήλυθε ξένος ,
γόης ἐπῳδὸς Λυδίας ἀπὸ χθονός ,
ξανθοῖσι βοστρύχοισιν εὐοσμῶν κόμην ,
οἰνῶπας ὄσσοις χάριτας Ἀφροδίτης ἔχων ,
ὃς ἡμέρας τε κεὐφρόνας συγγίγνεται
τελετὰς προτείνων εὐίους νεάνισιν .
εἰ δʼ αὐτὸν εἴσω τῆσδε λήψομαι στέγης ,
παύσω κτυποῦντα θύρσον ἀνασείοντά τε
κόμας , τράχηλον σώματος χωρὶς τεμών .
ἐκεῖνος εἶναί φησι Διόνυσον θεόν ,
ἐκεῖνος ἐν μηρῷ ποτʼ ἐρράφθαι Διός ,
ὃς ἐκπυροῦται λαμπάσιν κεραυνίαις
σὺν μητρί , Δίους ὅτι γάμους ἐψεύσατο .
ταῦτʼ οὐχὶ δεινῆς ἀγχόνης ἔστʼ ἄξια ,
ὕβρεις ὑβρίζειν , ὅστις ἔστιν ὁ ξένος ;
ἀτὰρ τόδʼ ἄλλο θαῦμα , τὸν τερασκόπον
ἐν ποικίλαισι νεβρίσι Τειρεσίαν ὁρῶ
πατέρα τε μητρὸς τῆς ἐμῆσ — πολὺν γέλων —
νάρθηκι βακχεύοντʼ · ἀναίνομαι , πάτερ ,
τὸ γῆρας ὑμῶν εἰσορῶν νοῦν οὐκ ἔχον .
οὐκ ἀποτινάξεις κισσόν ; οὐκ ἐλευθέραν
θύρσου μεθήσεις χεῖρʼ , ἐμῆς μητρὸς πάτερ ;
σὺ ταῦτʼ ἔπεισας , Τειρεσία · τόνδʼ αὖ θέλεις
τὸν δαίμονʼ ἀνθρώποισιν ἐσφέρων νέον
σκοπεῖν πτερωτοὺς κἀμπύρων μισθοὺς φέρειν .
εἰ μή σε γῆρας πολιὸν ἐξερρύετο ,
καθῆσʼ ἂν ἐν βάκχαισι δέσμιος μέσαις ,
τελετὰς πονηρὰς εἰσάγων · γυναιξὶ γὰρ
ὅπου βότρυος ἐν δαιτὶ γίγνεται γάνος ,
οὐχ ὑγιὲς οὐδὲν ἔτι λέγω τῶν ὀργίων .
ἔκδημος ὢν μὲν τῆσδʼ ἐτύγχανον χθονός ,
κλύω δὲ νεοχμὰ τήνδʼ ἀνὰ πτόλιν κακά ,
γυναῖκας ἡμῖν δώματʼ ἐκλελοιπέναι
πλασταῖσι βακχείαισιν , ἐν δὲ δασκίοις
ὄρεσι θοάζειν , τὸν νεωστὶ δαίμονα
Διόνυσον , ὅστις ἔστι , τιμώσας χοροῖς ·
πλήρεις δὲ θιάσοις ἐν μέσοισιν ἑστάναι
κρατῆρας , ἄλλην δʼ ἄλλοσʼ εἰς ἐρημίαν
πτώσσουσαν εὐναῖς ἀρσένων ὑπηρετεῖν ,
πρόφασιν μὲν ὡς δὴ μαινάδας θυοσκόους ,
τὴν δʼ Ἀφροδίτην πρόσθʼ ἄγειν τοῦ Βακχίου .
ὅσας μὲν οὖν εἴληφα , δεσμίους χέρας
σῴζουσι πανδήμοισι πρόσπολοι στέγαις ·
ὅσαι δʼ ἄπεισιν , ἐξ ὄρους θηράσομαι ,
Ἰνώ τʼ Ἀγαύην θʼ , ἥ μʼ ἔτικτʼ Ἐχίονι ,
Ἀκταίονός τε μητέρʼ , Αὐτονόην λέγω .
καὶ σφᾶς σιδηραῖς ἁρμόσας ἐν ἄρκυσιν
παύσω κακούργου τῆσδε βακχείας τάχα .
λέγουσι δʼ ὥς τις εἰσελήλυθε ξένος ,
γόης ἐπῳδὸς Λυδίας ἀπὸ χθονός ,
ξανθοῖσι βοστρύχοισιν εὐοσμῶν κόμην ,
οἰνῶπας ὄσσοις χάριτας Ἀφροδίτης ἔχων ,
ὃς ἡμέρας τε κεὐφρόνας συγγίγνεται
τελετὰς προτείνων εὐίους νεάνισιν .
εἰ δʼ αὐτὸν εἴσω τῆσδε λήψομαι στέγης ,
παύσω κτυποῦντα θύρσον ἀνασείοντά τε
κόμας , τράχηλον σώματος χωρὶς τεμών .
ἐκεῖνος εἶναί φησι Διόνυσον θεόν ,
ἐκεῖνος ἐν μηρῷ ποτʼ ἐρράφθαι Διός ,
ὃς ἐκπυροῦται λαμπάσιν κεραυνίαις
σὺν μητρί , Δίους ὅτι γάμους ἐψεύσατο .
ταῦτʼ οὐχὶ δεινῆς ἀγχόνης ἔστʼ ἄξια ,
ὕβρεις ὑβρίζειν , ὅστις ἔστιν ὁ ξένος ;
ἀτὰρ τόδʼ ἄλλο θαῦμα , τὸν τερασκόπον
ἐν ποικίλαισι νεβρίσι Τειρεσίαν ὁρῶ
πατέρα τε μητρὸς τῆς ἐμῆσ — πολὺν γέλων —
νάρθηκι βακχεύοντʼ · ἀναίνομαι , πάτερ ,
τὸ γῆρας ὑμῶν εἰσορῶν νοῦν οὐκ ἔχον .
οὐκ ἀποτινάξεις κισσόν ; οὐκ ἐλευθέραν
θύρσου μεθήσεις χεῖρʼ , ἐμῆς μητρὸς πάτερ ;
σὺ ταῦτʼ ἔπεισας , Τειρεσία · τόνδʼ αὖ θέλεις
τὸν δαίμονʼ ἀνθρώποισιν ἐσφέρων νέον
σκοπεῖν πτερωτοὺς κἀμπύρων μισθοὺς φέρειν .
εἰ μή σε γῆρας πολιὸν ἐξερρύετο ,
καθῆσʼ ἂν ἐν βάκχαισι δέσμιος μέσαις ,
τελετὰς πονηρὰς εἰσάγων · γυναιξὶ γὰρ
ὅπου βότρυος ἐν δαιτὶ γίγνεται γάνος ,
οὐχ ὑγιὲς οὐδὲν ἔτι λέγω τῶν ὀργίων .
Pentheus
.
Scarce had I crossed our borders , when mine ear
Was caught by this strange rumour , that our own
Wives , our own sisters , from their hearths are flown
To wild and secret rites ; and cluster there
High on the shadowy hills , with dance and prayer
To adore this new-made God , this Dionyse ,
Whate ' er he be ! — And in their companies
Deep wine-jars stand , and ever and anon
Away into the loneliness now one
Steals forth , and now a second , maid or dame ,
Where love lies waiting , not of God ! The flame ,
They say , of Bacchios wraps them . Bacchios ! Nay ,
' Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray .
Howbeit , all that I have found , my men
Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den ;
The rest , I will go hunt them ! Aye , and snare
My birds with nets of iron , to quell their prayer
And mountain song and rites of rascaldom !
They tell me , too , there is a stranger come ,
A man of charm and spell , from Lydian seas ,
A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies ,
A wine-red cheek , and eyes that hold the light
Of the very Cyprian . Day and livelong night
He haunts amid the damsels , o ' er each lip
Dangling his cup of joyance ! — Let me grip
Him once , but once , within these walls , right swift
That wand shall cease its music , and that drift
Of tossing curls lie still — when my rude sword
Falls between neck and trunk ! ' Tis all his word ,
This tale of Dionysus ; how that same
Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame
With his dead mother , for that mother ' s lie ,
Was re-conceived , born perfect from the thigh
Of Zeus , and now is God ! What call ye these ?
Dreams ? Gibes of the unknown wanderer ? Blasphemies
That crave the very gibbet ?
Stay ! God wot ,
Here is another marvel ! See I not
In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer
Teiresias ? And my mother ' s father here —
O depth of scorn ! — adoring with the wand
Of Bacchios ? — Father ! — Nay , mine eyes are fond ;
It is not your white heads so fancy-flown !
It cannot be ! Cast off that ivy crown ,
O mine own mother ' s sire ! Set free that hand
That cowers about its staff .
' Tis thou hast planned
This work , Teiresias ! ' Tis thou must set
Another altar and another yet
Amongst us , watch new birds , and win more hire
Of gold , interpreting new signs of fire !
But for thy silver hairs , I tell thee true ,
Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew
Of raving damsels , for this evil dream
Thou hast brought us , of new Gods ! When once the gleam
Of grapes hath lit a Woman ' s Festival ,
In all their prayers is no more health at all !
Scarce had I crossed our borders , when mine ear
Was caught by this strange rumour , that our own
Wives , our own sisters , from their hearths are flown
To wild and secret rites ; and cluster there
High on the shadowy hills , with dance and prayer
To adore this new-made God , this Dionyse ,
Whate ' er he be ! — And in their companies
Deep wine-jars stand , and ever and anon
Away into the loneliness now one
Steals forth , and now a second , maid or dame ,
Where love lies waiting , not of God ! The flame ,
They say , of Bacchios wraps them . Bacchios ! Nay ,
' Tis more to Aphrodite that they pray .
Howbeit , all that I have found , my men
Hold bound and shackled in our dungeon den ;
The rest , I will go hunt them ! Aye , and snare
My birds with nets of iron , to quell their prayer
And mountain song and rites of rascaldom !
They tell me , too , there is a stranger come ,
A man of charm and spell , from Lydian seas ,
A head all gold and cloudy fragrancies ,
A wine-red cheek , and eyes that hold the light
Of the very Cyprian . Day and livelong night
He haunts amid the damsels , o ' er each lip
Dangling his cup of joyance ! — Let me grip
Him once , but once , within these walls , right swift
That wand shall cease its music , and that drift
Of tossing curls lie still — when my rude sword
Falls between neck and trunk ! ' Tis all his word ,
This tale of Dionysus ; how that same
Babe that was blasted by the lightning flame
With his dead mother , for that mother ' s lie ,
Was re-conceived , born perfect from the thigh
Of Zeus , and now is God ! What call ye these ?
Dreams ? Gibes of the unknown wanderer ? Blasphemies
That crave the very gibbet ?
Stay ! God wot ,
Here is another marvel ! See I not
In motley fawn-skins robed the vision-seer
Teiresias ? And my mother ' s father here —
O depth of scorn ! — adoring with the wand
Of Bacchios ? — Father ! — Nay , mine eyes are fond ;
It is not your white heads so fancy-flown !
It cannot be ! Cast off that ivy crown ,
O mine own mother ' s sire ! Set free that hand
That cowers about its staff .
' Tis thou hast planned
This work , Teiresias ! ' Tis thou must set
Another altar and another yet
Amongst us , watch new birds , and win more hire
Of gold , interpreting new signs of fire !
But for thy silver hairs , I tell thee true ,
Thou now wert sitting chained amid thy crew
Of raving damsels , for this evil dream
Thou hast brought us , of new Gods ! When once the gleam
Of grapes hath lit a Woman ' s Festival ,
In all their prayers is no more health at all !