Euripides, Bacchae 434-450 (Johnston)
Josh Kemp /
- Created on 2023-02-03 20:07:33
- Modified on 2023-02-04 17:52:01
- Translated by Ian Johnston
- Aligned by Josh Kemp
The soldier's report to Pentheus.
Ἑλληνική Transliterate
English
Θεράπων
Πενθεῦ , πάρεσμεν τήνδʼ ἄγραν ἠγρευκότες
ἐφʼ ἣν ἔπεμψας , οὐδʼ ἄκρανθʼ ὡρμήσαμεν .
ὁ θὴρ δʼ ὅδʼ ἡμῖν πρᾶος οὐδʼ ὑπέσπασεν
φυγῇ πόδʼ , ἀλλʼ ἔδωκεν οὐκ ἄκων χέρας
οὐδʼ ὠχρός , οὐδʼ ἤλλαξεν οἰνωπὸν γένυν ,
γελῶν δὲ καὶ δεῖν κἀπάγειν ἐφίετο
ἔμενέ τε , τοὐμὸν εὐτρεπὲς ποιούμενος .
κἀγὼ διʼ αἰδοῦς εἶπον · Ὦ ξένʼ , οὐχ ἑκὼν
ἄγω σε , Πενθέως δʼ ὅς μʼ ἔπεμψʼ ἐπιστολαῖς .
ἃς δʼ αὖ σὺ βάκχας εἷρξας , ἃς συνήρπασας
κἄδησας ἐν δεσμοῖσι πανδήμου στέγης ,
φροῦδαί γʼ ἐκεῖναι λελυμέναι πρὸς ὀργάδας
σκιρτῶσι Βρόμιον ἀνακαλούμεναι θεόν ·
αὐτόματα δʼ αὐταῖς δεσμὰ διελύθη ποδῶν
κλῇδές τʼ ἀνῆκαν θύρετρʼ ἄνευ θνητῆς χερός .
πολλῶν δʼ ὅδʼ ἁνὴρ θαυμάτων ἥκει πλέως
ἐς τάσδε Θήβας . σοὶ δὲ τἄλλα χρὴ μέλειν .
Πενθεῦ , πάρεσμεν τήνδʼ ἄγραν ἠγρευκότες
ἐφʼ ἣν ἔπεμψας , οὐδʼ ἄκρανθʼ ὡρμήσαμεν .
ὁ θὴρ δʼ ὅδʼ ἡμῖν πρᾶος οὐδʼ ὑπέσπασεν
φυγῇ πόδʼ , ἀλλʼ ἔδωκεν οὐκ ἄκων χέρας
οὐδʼ ὠχρός , οὐδʼ ἤλλαξεν οἰνωπὸν γένυν ,
γελῶν δὲ καὶ δεῖν κἀπάγειν ἐφίετο
ἔμενέ τε , τοὐμὸν εὐτρεπὲς ποιούμενος .
κἀγὼ διʼ αἰδοῦς εἶπον · Ὦ ξένʼ , οὐχ ἑκὼν
ἄγω σε , Πενθέως δʼ ὅς μʼ ἔπεμψʼ ἐπιστολαῖς .
ἃς δʼ αὖ σὺ βάκχας εἷρξας , ἃς συνήρπασας
κἄδησας ἐν δεσμοῖσι πανδήμου στέγης ,
φροῦδαί γʼ ἐκεῖναι λελυμέναι πρὸς ὀργάδας
σκιρτῶσι Βρόμιον ἀνακαλούμεναι θεόν ·
αὐτόματα δʼ αὐταῖς δεσμὰ διελύθη ποδῶν
κλῇδές τʼ ἀνῆκαν θύρετρʼ ἄνευ θνητῆς χερός .
πολλῶν δʼ ὅδʼ ἁνὴρ θαυμάτων ἥκει πλέως
ἐς τάσδε Θήβας . σοὶ δὲ τἄλλα χρὴ μέλειν .
SOLDIER
Pentheus , we’re here because we’ve caught the prey
you sent us out to catch . Yes , our attempts
have proved successful . The beast you see here
was tame with us . He didn’t try to run .
No , he surrendered willingly enough ,
without turning pale or changing colour
on those wine dark cheeks . He even laughed at us ,
inviting us to tie him up and lead him off .
He stood still , making it easier for me
to take him in . It was awkward , so I said ,
" Stranger , I don’t want to lead you off ,
but I’m under orders here from Pentheus ,
who sent me . " And there’s something else —
those Bacchic women you locked up , the ones
you took in chains into the public prison —
they’ve all escaped . They’re gone — playing around
in some meadow , calling out to Bromius ,
summoning their god . Chains fell off their feet ,
just dropping on their own . Keys opened doors
not turned by human hands . This man here
has come to Thebes full of amazing tricks .
But now the rest of this affair is up to you .
Pentheus , we’re here because we’ve caught the prey
you sent us out to catch . Yes , our attempts
have proved successful . The beast you see here
was tame with us . He didn’t try to run .
No , he surrendered willingly enough ,
without turning pale or changing colour
on those wine dark cheeks . He even laughed at us ,
inviting us to tie him up and lead him off .
He stood still , making it easier for me
to take him in . It was awkward , so I said ,
" Stranger , I don’t want to lead you off ,
but I’m under orders here from Pentheus ,
who sent me . " And there’s something else —
those Bacchic women you locked up , the ones
you took in chains into the public prison —
they’ve all escaped . They’re gone — playing around
in some meadow , calling out to Bromius ,
summoning their god . Chains fell off their feet ,
just dropping on their own . Keys opened doors
not turned by human hands . This man here
has come to Thebes full of amazing tricks .
But now the rest of this affair is up to you .
Euripides, Bacchae 434-450 (Theodoridis)
Josh Kemp /
- Created on 2023-02-04 17:51:09
- Modified on 2023-02-06 18:22:23
- Translated by George Theodoridis
- Aligned by Josh Kemp
The soldier's report to Pentheus.
Ἑλληνική Transliterate
English
Πενθεῦ , πάρεσμεν τήνδʼ ἄγραν ἠγρευκότες
ἐφʼ ἣν ἔπεμψας , οὐδʼ ἄκρανθʼ ὡρμήσαμεν .
ὁ θὴρ δʼ ὅδʼ ἡμῖν πρᾶος οὐδʼ ὑπέσπασεν
φυγῇ πόδʼ , ἀλλʼ ἔδωκεν οὐκ ἄκων χέρας
οὐδʼ ὠχρός , οὐδʼ ἤλλαξεν οἰνωπὸν γένυν ,
γελῶν δὲ καὶ δεῖν κἀπάγειν ἐφίετο
ἔμενέ τε , τοὐμὸν εὐτρεπὲς ποιούμενος .
κἀγὼ διʼ αἰδοῦς εἶπον · Ὦ ξένʼ , οὐχ ἑκὼν
ἄγω σε , Πενθέως δʼ ὅς μʼ ἔπεμψʼ ἐπιστολαῖς .
ἃς δʼ αὖ σὺ βάκχας εἷρξας , ἃς συνήρπασας
κἄδησας ἐν δεσμοῖσι πανδήμου στέγης ,
φροῦδαί γʼ ἐκεῖναι λελυμέναι πρὸς ὀργάδας
σκιρτῶσι Βρόμιον ἀνακαλούμεναι θεόν ·
αὐτόματα δʼ αὐταῖς δεσμὰ διελύθη ποδῶν
κλῇδές τʼ ἀνῆκαν θύρετρʼ ἄνευ θνητῆς χερός .
πολλῶν δʼ ὅδʼ ἁνὴρ θαυμάτων ἥκει πλέως
ἐς τάσδε Θήβας . σοὶ δὲ τἄλλα χρὴ μέλειν .
ἐφʼ ἣν ἔπεμψας , οὐδʼ ἄκρανθʼ ὡρμήσαμεν .
ὁ θὴρ δʼ ὅδʼ ἡμῖν πρᾶος οὐδʼ ὑπέσπασεν
φυγῇ πόδʼ , ἀλλʼ ἔδωκεν οὐκ ἄκων χέρας
οὐδʼ ὠχρός , οὐδʼ ἤλλαξεν οἰνωπὸν γένυν ,
γελῶν δὲ καὶ δεῖν κἀπάγειν ἐφίετο
ἔμενέ τε , τοὐμὸν εὐτρεπὲς ποιούμενος .
κἀγὼ διʼ αἰδοῦς εἶπον · Ὦ ξένʼ , οὐχ ἑκὼν
ἄγω σε , Πενθέως δʼ ὅς μʼ ἔπεμψʼ ἐπιστολαῖς .
ἃς δʼ αὖ σὺ βάκχας εἷρξας , ἃς συνήρπασας
κἄδησας ἐν δεσμοῖσι πανδήμου στέγης ,
φροῦδαί γʼ ἐκεῖναι λελυμέναι πρὸς ὀργάδας
σκιρτῶσι Βρόμιον ἀνακαλούμεναι θεόν ·
αὐτόματα δʼ αὐταῖς δεσμὰ διελύθη ποδῶν
κλῇδές τʼ ἀνῆκαν θύρετρʼ ἄνευ θνητῆς χερός .
πολλῶν δʼ ὅδʼ ἁνὴρ θαυμάτων ἥκει πλέως
ἐς τάσδε Θήβας . σοὶ δὲ τἄλλα χρὴ μέλειν .
Pentheus
,
my
Lord
,
here
we
are
with
the
prey
you’ve
asked
us
to
hunt
for
.
We’ve
sat
and
we’ve
waited
and
,
true
enough
,
we’ve
caught
him
.
Our
watch
was
not
wasted
.
Now this… " beast " was quite tame with me , my Lord . Never shook his legs or anything , trying to escape , like , but gave his hands to me without the slightest hesitation . He didn’t become pale or lose the deep blush of his cheeks . He just let himself be taken easily , laughed even and wondered where we’d be taking him . Towards me , in any case , this man was a proper gentleman and I felt a bit ashamed about tying him up , see , so I said to him , " Stranger , " I said , " I ain’t doin’ this out of my own accord , it’s ‘cause of Pentheus’ orders . He sent us to do it , " I said .
And as for all them women , me Lord , them that follow that god , my Lord , the Bacchants , those whom you grabbed and locked up with chains and all in all the city’s buildings , well , sir , they’re all loose , sir . Running about all over the countryside , sir , all ready for their orgiasums sir , and they’re all calling out for their Bellowing God , Dionysos . All their chains fell apart all by themselves , letting their legs free . So did all the padlocks of the gates . They’ve all gone and opened themselves right up without even one human hand touching them ! This man here has a great many tricks up his sneaky sleeves .
It’s your call now , my Lord .
Now this… " beast " was quite tame with me , my Lord . Never shook his legs or anything , trying to escape , like , but gave his hands to me without the slightest hesitation . He didn’t become pale or lose the deep blush of his cheeks . He just let himself be taken easily , laughed even and wondered where we’d be taking him . Towards me , in any case , this man was a proper gentleman and I felt a bit ashamed about tying him up , see , so I said to him , " Stranger , " I said , " I ain’t doin’ this out of my own accord , it’s ‘cause of Pentheus’ orders . He sent us to do it , " I said .
And as for all them women , me Lord , them that follow that god , my Lord , the Bacchants , those whom you grabbed and locked up with chains and all in all the city’s buildings , well , sir , they’re all loose , sir . Running about all over the countryside , sir , all ready for their orgiasums sir , and they’re all calling out for their Bellowing God , Dionysos . All their chains fell apart all by themselves , letting their legs free . So did all the padlocks of the gates . They’ve all gone and opened themselves right up without even one human hand touching them ! This man here has a great many tricks up his sneaky sleeves .
It’s your call now , my Lord .
JohnstonParodos
Josh Kemp /
- Created on 2023-04-11 21:08:55
- Modified on 2023-05-17 20:44:00
- Aligned by Josh Kemp
Bacchae, vv. 64-169
Ἑλληνική Transliterate
Ἑλληνική Transliterate
https://scaife.perseus.org/reader/urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0006.tlg017.perseus-grc2:64-169?right=perseus-eng2
http://johnstoniatexts.x10host.com/euripides/bacchaehtml.html
Ἀσίας ἀπὸ γᾶς
ἱερὸν Τμῶλον ἀμείψασα θοάζω
Βρομίῳ πόνον ἡδὺν κάματόν τʼ εὐκάματον ,
Βάκχιον εὐαζομένα .
τίς ὁδῷ τίς ὁδῷ ; τίς ;
μελάθροις ἔκτοπος ἔστω , στόμα τʼ εὔφημον
ἅπας ἐξοσιούσθω ·
τὰ νομισθέντα γὰρ αἰεὶ
Διόνυσον ὑμνήσω .
Χορός
ὦ
μάκαρ , ὅστις εὐδαίμων
τελετὰς θεῶν εἰδὼς
βιοτὰν ἁγιστεύει καὶ
θιασεύεται ψυχὰν
ἐν ὄρεσσι βακχεύων
ὁσίοις καθαρμοῖσιν ,
τά τε ματρὸς μεγάλας ὄργια
Κυβέλας θεμιτεύων ,
ἀνὰ θύρσον τε τινάσσων ,
κισσῷ τε στεφανωθεὶς
Διόνυσον θεραπεύει .
ἴτε βάκχαι , ἴτε βάκχαι ,
Βρόμιον παῖδα θεὸν θεοῦ
Διόνυσον κατάγουσαι
Φρυγίων ἐξ ὀρέων Ἑλλάδος εἰς
εὐρυχόρους ἀγυιάς , τὸν Βρόμιον ·
Χορός
ὅν
ποτʼ ἔχουσʼ ἐν ὠδίνων
λοχίαις ἀνάγκαισι
πταμένας Διὸς βροντᾶς νηδύος
ἔκβολον μάτηρ
ἔτεκεν , λιποῦσʼ αἰῶνα
κεραυνίῳ πληγᾷ ·
λοχίοις δʼ αὐτίκα νιν δέξατο
θαλάμαις Κρονίδας Ζεύς ,
κατὰ μηρῷ δὲ καλύψας
χρυσέαισιν συνερείδει
περόναις κρυπτὸν ἀφʼ Ἥρας .
ἔτεκεν δʼ , ἁνίκα Μοῖραι
τέλεσαν , ταυρόκερων θεὸν
στεφάνωσέν τε δρακόντων
στεφάνοις , ἔνθεν ἄγραν θηροτρόφον
μαινάδες ἀμφιβάλλονται
πλοκάμοις .
Χορός
ὦ Σεμέλας τροφοὶ Θῆβαι ,
στεφανοῦσθε κισσῷ ·
βρύετε βρύετε χλοήρει
μίλακι καλλικάρπῳ
καὶ καταβακχιοῦσθε δρυὸς
ἢ ἐλάτας κλάδοισι ,
στικτῶν τʼ ἐνδυτὰ νεβρίδων
στέφετε λευκοτρίχων πλοκάμων
μαλλοῖς · ἀμφὶ δὲ νάρθηκας ὑβριστὰς
ὁσιοῦσθʼ · αὐτίκα γᾶ πᾶσα χορεύσει —
Βρόμιος ὅστις ἄγῃ θιάσουσ —
εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος , ἔνθα μένει
θηλυγενὴς ὄχλος
ἀφʼ ἱστῶν παρὰ κερκίδων τʼ
οἰστρηθεὶς Διονύσῳ .
Χορός
ὦ θαλάμευμα Κουρήτων
ζάθεοί τε Κρήτας
Διογενέτορες ἔναυλοι ,
ἔνθα τρικόρυθες ἄντροις
βυρσότονον κύκλωμα τόδε
μοι Κορύβαντες ηὗρον ·
βακχείᾳ δʼ ἀνὰ συντόνῳ
κέρασαν ἁδυβόᾳ Φρυγίων
αὐλῶν πνεύματι ματρός τε Ῥέας ἐς
χέρα θῆκαν , κτύπον εὐάσμασι Βακχᾶν ·
παρὰ δὲ μαινόμενοι Σάτυροι
ματέρος ἐξανύσαντο θεᾶς ,
ἐς δὲ χορεύματα
συνῆψαν τριετηρίδων ,
αἷς χαίρει Διόνυσος .
Χορός
ἡδὺς ἐν ὄρεσιν , ὅταν ἐκ θιάσων δρομαίων
πέσῃ πεδόσε , νεβρίδος
ἔχων ἱερὸν ἐνδυτόν , ἀγρεύων
αἷμα τραγοκτόνον , ὠμοφάγον χάριν , ἱέμενος
ἐς ὄρεα Φρύγια , Λύδιʼ , ὁ δʼ ἔξαρχος Βρόμιος ,
εὐοἷ .
ῥεῖ δὲ γάλακτι πέδον , ῥεῖ δʼ οἴνῳ , ῥεῖ δὲ μελισσᾶν
νέκταρι .
Συρίας δʼ ὡς λιβάνου καπνὸν
ὁ Βακχεὺς ἀνέχων
πυρσώδη φλόγα πεύκας
ἐκ νάρθηκος ἀίσσει
δρόμῳ καὶ χοροῖσιν
πλανάτας ἐρεθίζων
ἰαχαῖς τʼ ἀναπάλλων ,
τρυφερόν τε πλόκαμον εἰς αἰθέρα ῥίπτων .
ἅμα δʼ εὐάσμασι τοιάδʼ ἐπιβρέμει ·
Ὦ ἴτε βάκχαι ,
ὦ ἴτε βάκχαι ,
Τμώλου χρυσορόου χλιδᾷ
μέλπετε τὸν Διόνυσον
βαρυβρόμων ὑπὸ τυμπάνων ,
εὔια τὸν εὔιον ἀγαλλόμεναι θεὸν
ἐν Φρυγίαισι βοαῖς ἐνοπαῖσί τε ,
λωτὸς ὅταν εὐκέλαδος
ἱερὸς ἱερὰ παίγματα βρέμῃ , σύνοχα
φοιτάσιν εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος · ἡδομένα
δʼ ἄρα , πῶλος ὅπως ἅμα ματέρι
φορβάδι , κῶλον ἄγει ταχύπουν σκιρτήμασι βάκχα .
ἱερὸν Τμῶλον ἀμείψασα θοάζω
Βρομίῳ πόνον ἡδὺν κάματόν τʼ εὐκάματον ,
Βάκχιον εὐαζομένα .
τίς ὁδῷ τίς ὁδῷ ; τίς ;
μελάθροις ἔκτοπος ἔστω , στόμα τʼ εὔφημον
ἅπας ἐξοσιούσθω ·
τὰ νομισθέντα γὰρ αἰεὶ
Διόνυσον ὑμνήσω .
Χορός
ὦ
μάκαρ , ὅστις εὐδαίμων
τελετὰς θεῶν εἰδὼς
βιοτὰν ἁγιστεύει καὶ
θιασεύεται ψυχὰν
ἐν ὄρεσσι βακχεύων
ὁσίοις καθαρμοῖσιν ,
τά τε ματρὸς μεγάλας ὄργια
Κυβέλας θεμιτεύων ,
ἀνὰ θύρσον τε τινάσσων ,
κισσῷ τε στεφανωθεὶς
Διόνυσον θεραπεύει .
ἴτε βάκχαι , ἴτε βάκχαι ,
Βρόμιον παῖδα θεὸν θεοῦ
Διόνυσον κατάγουσαι
Φρυγίων ἐξ ὀρέων Ἑλλάδος εἰς
εὐρυχόρους ἀγυιάς , τὸν Βρόμιον ·
Χορός
ὅν
ποτʼ ἔχουσʼ ἐν ὠδίνων
λοχίαις ἀνάγκαισι
πταμένας Διὸς βροντᾶς νηδύος
ἔκβολον μάτηρ
ἔτεκεν , λιποῦσʼ αἰῶνα
κεραυνίῳ πληγᾷ ·
λοχίοις δʼ αὐτίκα νιν δέξατο
θαλάμαις Κρονίδας Ζεύς ,
κατὰ μηρῷ δὲ καλύψας
χρυσέαισιν συνερείδει
περόναις κρυπτὸν ἀφʼ Ἥρας .
ἔτεκεν δʼ , ἁνίκα Μοῖραι
τέλεσαν , ταυρόκερων θεὸν
στεφάνωσέν τε δρακόντων
στεφάνοις , ἔνθεν ἄγραν θηροτρόφον
μαινάδες ἀμφιβάλλονται
πλοκάμοις .
Χορός
ὦ Σεμέλας τροφοὶ Θῆβαι ,
στεφανοῦσθε κισσῷ ·
βρύετε βρύετε χλοήρει
μίλακι καλλικάρπῳ
καὶ καταβακχιοῦσθε δρυὸς
ἢ ἐλάτας κλάδοισι ,
στικτῶν τʼ ἐνδυτὰ νεβρίδων
στέφετε λευκοτρίχων πλοκάμων
μαλλοῖς · ἀμφὶ δὲ νάρθηκας ὑβριστὰς
ὁσιοῦσθʼ · αὐτίκα γᾶ πᾶσα χορεύσει —
Βρόμιος ὅστις ἄγῃ θιάσουσ —
εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος , ἔνθα μένει
θηλυγενὴς ὄχλος
ἀφʼ ἱστῶν παρὰ κερκίδων τʼ
οἰστρηθεὶς Διονύσῳ .
Χορός
ὦ θαλάμευμα Κουρήτων
ζάθεοί τε Κρήτας
Διογενέτορες ἔναυλοι ,
ἔνθα τρικόρυθες ἄντροις
βυρσότονον κύκλωμα τόδε
μοι Κορύβαντες ηὗρον ·
βακχείᾳ δʼ ἀνὰ συντόνῳ
κέρασαν ἁδυβόᾳ Φρυγίων
αὐλῶν πνεύματι ματρός τε Ῥέας ἐς
χέρα θῆκαν , κτύπον εὐάσμασι Βακχᾶν ·
παρὰ δὲ μαινόμενοι Σάτυροι
ματέρος ἐξανύσαντο θεᾶς ,
ἐς δὲ χορεύματα
συνῆψαν τριετηρίδων ,
αἷς χαίρει Διόνυσος .
Χορός
ἡδὺς ἐν ὄρεσιν , ὅταν ἐκ θιάσων δρομαίων
πέσῃ πεδόσε , νεβρίδος
ἔχων ἱερὸν ἐνδυτόν , ἀγρεύων
αἷμα τραγοκτόνον , ὠμοφάγον χάριν , ἱέμενος
ἐς ὄρεα Φρύγια , Λύδιʼ , ὁ δʼ ἔξαρχος Βρόμιος ,
εὐοἷ .
ῥεῖ δὲ γάλακτι πέδον , ῥεῖ δʼ οἴνῳ , ῥεῖ δὲ μελισσᾶν
νέκταρι .
Συρίας δʼ ὡς λιβάνου καπνὸν
ὁ Βακχεὺς ἀνέχων
πυρσώδη φλόγα πεύκας
ἐκ νάρθηκος ἀίσσει
δρόμῳ καὶ χοροῖσιν
πλανάτας ἐρεθίζων
ἰαχαῖς τʼ ἀναπάλλων ,
τρυφερόν τε πλόκαμον εἰς αἰθέρα ῥίπτων .
ἅμα δʼ εὐάσμασι τοιάδʼ ἐπιβρέμει ·
Ὦ ἴτε βάκχαι ,
ὦ ἴτε βάκχαι ,
Τμώλου χρυσορόου χλιδᾷ
μέλπετε τὸν Διόνυσον
βαρυβρόμων ὑπὸ τυμπάνων ,
εὔια τὸν εὔιον ἀγαλλόμεναι θεὸν
ἐν Φρυγίαισι βοαῖς ἐνοπαῖσί τε ,
λωτὸς ὅταν εὐκέλαδος
ἱερὸς ἱερὰ παίγματα βρέμῃ , σύνοχα
φοιτάσιν εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος · ἡδομένα
δʼ ἄρα , πῶλος ὅπως ἅμα ματέρι
φορβάδι , κῶλον ἄγει ταχύπουν σκιρτήμασι βάκχα .
From
Asia
,
from
sacred
Tmolus
I’ve come to dance ,
to move swiftly in my dance—
for Bromius—
sweet and easy task ,
to cry out in celebration ,
hailing great god Bacchus .
Who’s in the street ? Who’s there ? Who ?
Let him stay inside
out of our way .
Let every mouth be pure ,
completely holy ,
speak no profanities .
In my hymn I celebrate
our old eternal custom ,
hailing Dionysus .
O blessed is the man ,
the fortunate man who knows
the rituals of the gods ,
who leads a pious life ,
whose spirit merges
with these Bacchic celebrations ,
frenzied dancing in the mountains ,
our purifying rites—
one who reveres these mysteries
from Cybele , our great mother ,
who , waving the thyrsus ,
forehead crowned with ivy ,
serves Dionysus .
On Bacchae ! Bacchae , move !
Bring home Bromius , our god ,
son of god , great Dionysus ,
from Phrygian mountains
to spacious roads of Greece—
Hail Bromius !
His mother dropped him early ,
as her womb , in forceful birth pangs ,
was struck by Zeus’s flying lightning bolt ,
a blast which took her life .
Then Zeus , son of Cronos ,
at once hid him away
in a secret birthing chamber ,
buried in his thigh ,
shut in with golden clasps ,
concealed from Hera .
Fates made him perfect .
Then Zeus gave birth to him ,
the god with ox’s horns ,
crowned with wreaths of snakes—
that’s why the Maenads
twist in their hair
wild snakes they capture .
O Thebes , nursemaid of Semele ,
put on your ivy crown ,
flaunt your green yew ,
flaunt its sweet fruit !
Consecrate yourselves to Bacchus ,
with stems of oak or fir ,
Dress yourselves in spotted fawn skins ,
trimmed with white sheep’s wool .
As you wave your thyrsus ,
revere the violence it contains .
All the earth will dance at once .
Whoever leads our dancing—
that one is Bromius !
To the mountain , to the mountain ,
where the pack of women waits ,
all stung to frenzied madness
to leave their weaving shuttles ,
goaded on by Dionysus .
O you dark chambers of the Curetes ,
you sacred caves in Crete ,
birthplace of Zeus ,
where the Corybantes in their caves ,
men with triple helmets , made for me
this circle of stretched hide .
In their wild ecstatic dancing ,
they mixed this drum beat
with the sweet seductive tones
of flutes from Phrygia ,
then gave it to mother Rhea
to beat time for the Bacchae ,
when they sang in ecstasy .
Nearby , orgiastic satyrs ,
in ritual worship of the mother goddess ,
took that drum , then brought it
into their biennial dance ,
bringing joy to Dionysus .
He’s welcome in the mountains ,
when he sinks down to the ground ,
after the running dance ,
wrapped in holy deerskin ,
hunting the goat’s blood ,
blood of the slain beast ,
devouring its raw flesh with joy ,
rushing off into the mountains ,
in Phrygia , in Lydia ,
leading the dance—
Bromius—Evoë !
The land flows with milk ,
the land flows with wine ,
the land flows with honey from the bees .
He holds the torch high ,
our leader , the Bacchic One ,
blazing flame of pine ,
sweet smoke like Syrian incense ,
trailing from his thyrsus .
As he dances , he runs ,
here and there ,
rousing the stragglers ,
stirring them with his cries ,
thick hair rippling in the breeze .
Among the Maenads’ shouts
his voice reverberates :
" On Bacchants , on !
With the glitter of Tmolus ,
which flows with gold ,
chant songs to Dionysus ,
to the loud beat of our drums .
Celebrate the god of joy
with your own joy ,
with Phrygian cries and shouts !
When sweet sacred pipes
play out their rhythmic holy song ,
in time to the dancing wanderers ,
then to the mountains ,
on , on to the mountains . "
Then the bacchanalian woman
is filled with total joy—
like a foal in pasture
right beside her mother—
her swift feet skip in playful dance .
I’ve come to dance ,
to move swiftly in my dance—
for Bromius—
sweet and easy task ,
to cry out in celebration ,
hailing great god Bacchus .
Who’s in the street ? Who’s there ? Who ?
Let him stay inside
out of our way .
Let every mouth be pure ,
completely holy ,
speak no profanities .
In my hymn I celebrate
our old eternal custom ,
hailing Dionysus .
O blessed is the man ,
the fortunate man who knows
the rituals of the gods ,
who leads a pious life ,
whose spirit merges
with these Bacchic celebrations ,
frenzied dancing in the mountains ,
our purifying rites—
one who reveres these mysteries
from Cybele , our great mother ,
who , waving the thyrsus ,
forehead crowned with ivy ,
serves Dionysus .
On Bacchae ! Bacchae , move !
Bring home Bromius , our god ,
son of god , great Dionysus ,
from Phrygian mountains
to spacious roads of Greece—
Hail Bromius !
His mother dropped him early ,
as her womb , in forceful birth pangs ,
was struck by Zeus’s flying lightning bolt ,
a blast which took her life .
Then Zeus , son of Cronos ,
at once hid him away
in a secret birthing chamber ,
buried in his thigh ,
shut in with golden clasps ,
concealed from Hera .
Fates made him perfect .
Then Zeus gave birth to him ,
the god with ox’s horns ,
crowned with wreaths of snakes—
that’s why the Maenads
twist in their hair
wild snakes they capture .
O Thebes , nursemaid of Semele ,
put on your ivy crown ,
flaunt your green yew ,
flaunt its sweet fruit !
Consecrate yourselves to Bacchus ,
with stems of oak or fir ,
Dress yourselves in spotted fawn skins ,
trimmed with white sheep’s wool .
As you wave your thyrsus ,
revere the violence it contains .
All the earth will dance at once .
Whoever leads our dancing—
that one is Bromius !
To the mountain , to the mountain ,
where the pack of women waits ,
all stung to frenzied madness
to leave their weaving shuttles ,
goaded on by Dionysus .
O you dark chambers of the Curetes ,
you sacred caves in Crete ,
birthplace of Zeus ,
where the Corybantes in their caves ,
men with triple helmets , made for me
this circle of stretched hide .
In their wild ecstatic dancing ,
they mixed this drum beat
with the sweet seductive tones
of flutes from Phrygia ,
then gave it to mother Rhea
to beat time for the Bacchae ,
when they sang in ecstasy .
Nearby , orgiastic satyrs ,
in ritual worship of the mother goddess ,
took that drum , then brought it
into their biennial dance ,
bringing joy to Dionysus .
He’s welcome in the mountains ,
when he sinks down to the ground ,
after the running dance ,
wrapped in holy deerskin ,
hunting the goat’s blood ,
blood of the slain beast ,
devouring its raw flesh with joy ,
rushing off into the mountains ,
in Phrygia , in Lydia ,
leading the dance—
Bromius—Evoë !
The land flows with milk ,
the land flows with wine ,
the land flows with honey from the bees .
He holds the torch high ,
our leader , the Bacchic One ,
blazing flame of pine ,
sweet smoke like Syrian incense ,
trailing from his thyrsus .
As he dances , he runs ,
here and there ,
rousing the stragglers ,
stirring them with his cries ,
thick hair rippling in the breeze .
Among the Maenads’ shouts
his voice reverberates :
" On Bacchants , on !
With the glitter of Tmolus ,
which flows with gold ,
chant songs to Dionysus ,
to the loud beat of our drums .
Celebrate the god of joy
with your own joy ,
with Phrygian cries and shouts !
When sweet sacred pipes
play out their rhythmic holy song ,
in time to the dancing wanderers ,
then to the mountains ,
on , on to the mountains . "
Then the bacchanalian woman
is filled with total joy—
like a foal in pasture
right beside her mother—
her swift feet skip in playful dance .
Bacchae vv. 1202-1232, my translation
Josh Kemp /
- Created on 2023-04-26 16:59:09
- Modified on 2023-05-16 21:31:07
- Aligned by Josh Kemp
Cadmus confronts Agave as she returns with the head of Pentheus.
Ἑλληνική Transliterate
English
ὦ καλλίπυργον ἄστυ Θηβαίας χθονὸς ναίοντες ἔλθεθʼ ὡς ἴδητε τήνδʼ ἄγραν Κάδμου θυγατέρες θηρὸς ἣν ἠγρεύσαμεν οὐκ ἀγκυλητοῖς Θεσσαλῶν στοχάσμασιν οὐ δικτύοισιν ἀλλὰ λευκοπήχεσι χειρῶν ἀκμαῖσιν κᾆτα κομπάζειν χρεὼν καὶ λογχοποιῶν ὄργανα κτᾶσθαι μάτην ἡμεῖς δέ γʼ αὐτῇ χειρὶ τόνδε θʼ εἵλομεν χωρίς τε θηρὸς ἄρθρα διεφορήσαμεν ποῦ μοι πατὴρ ὁ πρέσβυς ἐλθέτω πέλας Πενθεύς τʼ ἐμὸς παῖς ποῦ ʼστιν αἰρέσθω λαβὼν πηκτῶν πρὸς οἴκους κλιμάκων προσαμβάσεις ὡς πασσαλεύσῃ κρᾶτα τριγλύφοις τόδε λέοντος ὃν πάρειμι θηράσασʼ ἐγώ ἕπεσθέ μοι φέροντες ἄθλιον βάρος Πενθέως ἕπεσθε πρόσπολοι δόμων πάρος οὗ σῶμα μοχθῶν μυρίοις ζητήμασιν φέρω τόδʼ εὑρὼν ἐν Κιθαιρῶνος πτυχαῖς διασπαρακτόν κοὐδὲν ἐν ταὐτῷ πέδῳ λαβών ἐν ὕλῃ κείμενον δυσευρέτῳ ἤκουσα γάρ του θυγατέρων τολμήματα ἤδη κατʼ ἄστυ τειχέων ἔσω βεβὼς σὺν τῷ γέροντι Τειρεσίᾳ Βακχῶν πάρα πάλιν δὲ κάμψας εἰς ὄρος κομίζομαι τὸν κατθανόντα παῖδα Μαινάδων ὕπο καὶ τὴν μὲν Ἀκτέωνʼ Ἀρισταίῳ ποτὲ τεκοῦσαν εἶδον Αὐτονόην Ἰνώ θʼ ἅμα ἔτʼ ἀμφὶ δρυμοὺς οἰστροπλῆγας ἀθλίας τὴν δʼ εἶπέ τίς μοι δεῦρο βακχείῳ ποδὶ στείχειν Ἀγαύην οὐδʼ ἄκραντʼ ἠκούσαμεν λεύσσω γὰρ αὐτήν ὄψιν οὐκ εὐδαίμονα
Oh
you
who
are
dwelling
in
this
beautifully
towered
city
of
Theban
ground
come
so
you
can
see
this
catch
of
a
beast
which
we
the
daughters
of
Cadmus
hunted
not
with
hurled
Thessalian
javelins
not
with
nets
but
with
the
white
fingertips
of
our
hands
Then
is
it
necessary
to
boast
and
uselessly
acquire
the
tools
of
spear
makers
We
took
this
with
our
own
hands
and
ripped
the
apart
the
joints
of
the
beast
Where
is
my
father
the
old
man
Let
him
come
near
And
where
is
my
son
Pentheus
Let
him
take
up
a
ladder
taking
its
steps
up
against
the
house
so
that
he
can
pin
to
the
triglyphs
this
head
of
a
lion
which
I
captured
and
come
here
with
Follow
me
carrying
the
miserable
load
of
Pentheus
follow
me
servants
in
front
of
the
house
where
I
carry
this
body
weary
from
a
multitude
of
searches
having
found
it
torn
to
pieces
in
the
glens
of
Cithaeron
I
took
nothing
in
that
same
place
and
it
was
lying
in
the
impenetrable
forest
For
I
heard
about
the
adventures
of
my
daughter
when
I
was
already
coming
inside
the
walls
of
the
city
from
the
Bacchae
with
old
Teiresias
Having
turned
back
to
the
mountain
I
now
carry
home
the
child
killed
by
the
Maenads
And
I
saw
Autonoe
who
once
bore
Acteon
to
Aristaeus
and
Ino
at
the
same
time
wretched
and
still
driven
wild
in
the
thicket
But
someone
said
to
me
that
Agave
was
coming
here
with
Bacchic
foot
and
I
did
not
hear
in
vain
for
I
see
her
not
a
happy
appearance