Who is at the gates? Call from the house Kadmos, son of Agenor, who leaving the city of Sidon built this towering city of the Thebans. Let someone go and announce that Teiresias is looking for him. He knows why I have come and what agreement I, an old man, have made with him, older still: to twine the thyrsoi, to wear fawn-skins, and to crown our heads with ivy branches.

Dearest friend, for inside the house I heard and recognized your wise voice, the voice of a wise man; I have come prepared with this equipment of the god. For we must extol him, the child of my daughter, [Dionysus, who has appeared as a god to men] as much as is in our power. Where must I dance, where set my feet and shake my grey head? Show me the way, Teiresias, one old man leading another; for you are wise. And so I shall never tire night or day striking the ground with the thyrsos. Gladly I have forgotten that I am old.

Then you and I have the same feelings, for I too feel young and will try to dance.

Then will we go to the mountain in a chariot?

But then the god would not have equal honor.

I, an old man, will lead you, an old man, like a pupil.

The god will lead us there without trouble.

Are we the only ones in the city who will dance in Bacchus' honor?

Yes, for we alone think rightly, the rest wrongly.

The delay is long; come, take hold of my hand.

Here, take hold, and join your hand with mine.

Having been born mortal I do not scorn the gods.

We mortals have no cleverness in the eyes of the the gods.Dodds admits that the text, as it appears in Murray, should be translated this way, but feels that the line should mean “nor do we use cleverness on the gods” or something similar. He argues for another reading that would allow this. Our ancestral traditions, and those which we have held throughout our lives, no argument will overturn, not even if some craftiness should be discovered by the depths of our wits. This translation, though literal, fudges on the meaning: a)krai\ fre/nes must mean something like “best” or “most subtle minds.” Will anyone say that I do not respect old age, being about to dance with my head covered in ivy? No, for the god has made no distinction as to whether it is right for men young or old to dance, but wishes to have common honors from all and to be extolled, setting no one apart.

Since you do not see this light, Teiresias, I will be your interpreter. Pentheus, child of Echion, to whom I gave control of this land, is coming here to the house now in haste. How fluttered he is! What new matter will he tell us?

I happened to be at a distance from this land, when I heard of strange evils throughout this city, that the women have left our homes in contrived Bacchic rites, and rush about in the shadowy mountains, honoring with dances this new deity Dionysus, whoever he is. I hear that mixing-bowls stand full in the midst of their assemblies, and that they each creep off different ways into secrecy to serve the beds of men, on the pretext that they are Maenads worshipping; but they consider Aphrodite before Bacchus.

As many of them as I have caught, servants keep in the public strongholds with their hands bound, and as many as are absent I will hunt from the mountains, [I mean Ino and Agave, who bore me to Echion, and Autonoe, the mother of Actaeon.] And having bound them in iron fetters, I will soon stop them from this ill-working revelry. And they say that some stranger has come, a sorcerer, a conjuror from the Lydian land, fragrant in hair with golden curls, having in his eyes the wine-dark graces of Aphrodite. He is with the young girls day and night, alluring them with joyful mysteries. If I catch him within this house, I will stop him from making a noise with the thyrsos and shaking his hair, by cutting his head off.

That one claims that Dionysus is a god, claims that he was once stitched into the thigh of Zeus—Dionysus, who was burnt up with his mother by the flame of lightning, because she had falsely claimed a marriage with Zeus. Is this not worthy of a terrible death by hanging, for a stranger to insult me with these insults, whoever he is?

But here is another wonder—I see Teiresias the soothsayer in dappled fawn-skins and my mother's father—a great absurdity—raging about with a thyrsos. I shrink, father, from seeing your old age devoid of sense. Won't you cast away the ivy? Grandfather, will you not free your hand of the thyrsos? You persuaded him to this, Teiresias. Do you wish, by introducing another new god to men, to examine birds and receive rewards for sacrifices? If your gray old age did not defend you, you would sit in chains in the midst of the Bacchae, for introducing wicked rites. For where women have the delight of the grape-cluster at a feast, I say that none of their rites is healthy any longer.

Oh, what impiety! O stranger, do you not reverence the gods and Kadmos who sowed the earth-born crop? Do you, the child of Echion, bring shame to your race?

Whenever a wise man takes a good occasion for his speech, it is not a great task to speak well. You have a rapid tongue as though you were sensible, but there is no sense in your words. A man powerful in his boldness, one capable of speaking well, becomes a bad citizen in his lack of sense. This new god, whom you ridicule, I am unable to express how great he will be throughout Hellas. For two things, young man, are first among men: the goddess Demeter—she is the earth, but call her whatever name you wish; she nourishes mortals with dry food; but he who came afterwards, the offspring of Semele, discovered a match to it, the liquid drink of the grape, and introduced it to mortals. It releases wretched mortals from grief, whenever they are filled with the stream of the vine, and gives them sleep, a means of forgetting their daily troubles, nor is there another cure for hardships. He who is a god is poured out in offerings to the gods, so that by his means men may have good things.

And do you laugh at him, because he was sewn up in Zeus' thigh? I will teach you that this is well: when Zeus snatched him out of the lighting-flame, and led the child as a god to Olympus, Hera wished to banish him from the sky, but Zeus, as a god, had a counter-contrivance. Having broken a part of the air which surrounds the earth, he gave this to Hera as a pledge <protecting the real> A line of text has apparently been lost here.Dionysus from her hostility. But in time, mortals say that he was nourished in the thigh of Zeus, changing the word, because a god he had served as a hostage for the goddess Hera, and composing the story. The account given in lines 292f. of the development of this legend is based on the similarity between the Greek words for hostage （o(/mhros） and thigh （mhro/s）.

Old man, you do not shame Phoebus with your words, and honoring Dionysus, a great god, you are prudent.

My child, Teiresias has advised you well. Dwell with us, not apart from the laws. For now you flit about and have thoughts without thinking. Even if, as you say, he is not a god, call him one; and tell a glorious falsehood, so that Semele might seem to have borne a god, and honor might come to all our race. You see the wretched fate of Actaeon, who was torn apart in the meadows by the blood-thirsty hounds he had raised, having boasted that he was superior in the hunt to Artemis. May you not suffer this. Come, let me crown your head with ivy; honor the god along with us.

Don't lay a hand on me! Go off and hold your revels, but don't wipe your foolishness off on me. I will seek the punishment of this teacher of your folly. Let someone go quickly to the seat where he watches the flights of birds, upset and overturn it with levers, turning everything upside down; and release his garlands to the winds and storms. In this way I will especially wound him. And some of you hunt throughout the city for this effeminate stranger, who introduces a new disease to women and pollutes our beds. If you catch him, bring him here bound, so that he might suffer as punishment a death by stoning, having seen a bitter Bacchic revelry in Thebes.

O wretched man, how little you know what you are saying! You are mad now, and even before you were out of your wits. Let us go, Kadmos, and entreat the god, on behalf of him, though he is savage, and on behalf of the city, to do no ill. But follow me with the ivy-clad staff, and try to support my body, and I will try to support yours; it would be shameful for two old men to fall down. But let that pass, for we must serve Bacchus, the son of Zeus. Beware lest Pentheus bring trouble to your house, Kadmos; I do not speak in prophecy, but judging from the state of things; for a foolish man speaks foolishness.

Pentheus, we are here, having caught this prey for which you sent us, nor have we set out in vain. This beast was docile in our hands and did not withdraw in flight, but yielded not unwillingly. He did not turn pale or change the wine-dark complexion of his cheek, but laughed and allowed us to bind him and lead him away. He remained still, making my work easy, and I in shame said: “Stranger, I do not lead you away willingly, but by order of Pentheus, who sent me.”

And the Bacchae whom you shut up, whom you carried off and bound in the chains of the public prison, are set loose and gone, and are gamboling in the meadows, invoking Bromius as their god. Of their own accord, the chains were loosed from their feet and keys opened the doors without human hand. This man has come to Thebes full of many wonders. You must take care of the rest.

Release his hands, for caught in the nets he is not so swift as to escape me. But your body is not ill-formed, stranger, for women's purposes, for which reason you have come to Thebes. For your hair is long, not through wrestling, scattered over your cheeks, full of desire; and you have a white skin from careful preparation, hunting after Aphrodite by your beauty not exposed to strokes of the sun, but beneath the shade. First then tell me who your family is.

I can tell you this easily, without boasting. I suppose you are familiar with flowery Tmolus.

I know of it; it surrounds the city of Sardis.

I am from there, and Lydia is my fatherland.

Why do you bring these rites to Hellas?

Dionysus, the child of Zeus, sent me.

Is there a Zeus who breeds new gods there?

No, but the one who married Semele here.

Did he compel you at night, or in your sight?

Seeing me just as I saw him, he gave me sacred rites.

What appearance do your rites have?

They can not be told to mortals uninitiated in Bacchic revelry.

And do they have any profit to those who sacrifice?

It is not lawful for you to hear, but they are worth knowing.

You have counterfeited this well, so that I desire to hear.

The rites are hostile to whoever practices impiety.

Are you saying that you saw clearly what the god was like?

He was as he chose; I did not order this.

Again you diverted my question well, speaking mere nonsense.

One will seem to be foolish if he speaks wisely to an ignorant man.

Did you come here first, bringing the god?

All the barbarians celebrate these rites.

Yes, for they are far more foolish than Hellenes.

In this at any rate they are wiser; but their laws are different.

Do you perform the rites by night or by day?

Mostly by night; darkness conveys awe.

This is treacherous towards women, and unsound.

Even during the day someone may devise what is shameful.

You must pay the penalty for your evil contrivances.

And you for your ignorance and impiety toward the god.

How bold the Bacchant is, and not unpracticed in speaking!

Tell me what I must suffer; what harm will you do to me?

First I will cut off your delicate hair.

My hair is sacred. I am growing it for the god.

Next give me this thyrsos from your hands.

Take it from me yourself. I bear it as the ensign of Dionysus.

We will guard your body within, in prison.

The god himself will release me, whenever I want.

Yes, when you call him, standing among the Bacchae.

Even now he see my sufferings from close by.

Where is he? He is not visible to my eyes.

Near me; but you, being impious, do not see him.

Seize him; he insults me and Thebes!

I warn you not to bind me, since I am in my senses and you are not.

And I, more masterful than you, bid them to bind you.

You do not know why you live, or what you are doing, or who you are.

I am Pentheus, son of Echion and Agave.

You are well-suited to be miserable in your name.Punning on pe/nqos, grief.

Go.

Shut him up near the horse stable, so that he may see only darkness.

Dance there; and as for these women whom you have led here as accomplices to your crimes, we will either sell them or, stopping their hands from this noise and beating of skins, I will keep them as slaves at the loom.

I will go, for I need not suffer that which is not necessary. But Dionysus, who you claim does not exist, will pursue you for these insults. For in injuring us, you put him in bonds.

Io! Hear my voice, hear it, Io Bacchae, Io Bacchae!

Who is here, who? From what quarter did the voice of the Joyful one summon me?

Io! Io! I say again; it is I, the child of Zeus and Semele.

Io! Io! Master, master! Come now to our company, Bromius.

Shake the world's plain, lady Earthquake!

Oh! Oh! Soon the palace of Pentheus will be shaken in ruin.

The following lines are probably delivered by individual chorus members. —Dionysus is in the halls. Revere him.

—We revere him!

—Did you see these stone lintels on the pillars falling apart? Bromius cries out in victory indoors.

Light the fiery lamp of lightning! Burn, burn Pentheus' home!

Oh! Oh! Do you not see the the fire, do you not perceive, about the sacred tomb of Semele, the flame that Zeus' thunderbolt left? Cast on the ground your trembling bodies, Maenads, cast them down, for our lord, Zeus' son, is coming against this palace, turning everything upside down.

Barbarian women, have you fallen on the ground so stricken with fear? You have, so it seems, felt Bacchus shaking the house of Pentheus. But get up and take courage, putting a stop to your trembling.

Oh greatest light for us in our joyful revelry, how happy I am to see you—I who was alone and desolate before.

Did you despair when I was sent to fall into Pentheus' dark dungeon?

How not? Who was my guardian, if you met with misfortune? But how were you freed, having met with an impious man?

By myself I saved myself easily, without trouble.

Did he not tie your hands in binding knots?

In this too I mocked him, for, thinking to bind me, he neither touched nor handled me, but fed on hope. He found a bull by the stable where he took and shut me up, and threw shackles around its knees and hooves, breathing out fury, dripping sweat from his body, gnashing his teeth in his lips. But I, being near, sitting quietly, looked on. Meanwhile, Bacchus came and shook the house and kindled a flame on his mother's tomb. When Pentheus saw this, thinking that the house was burning, he ran here and there, calling to the slaves to bring water, and every servant was at work, toiling in vain.

Then he let this labor drop, as I had escaped, and snatching a dark sword rushed into the house. Then Bromius, so it seems to me—I speak my opinion— created a phantom in the courtyard. Pentheus rushed at it headlong, stabbing at the shining air, as though slaughtering me. Besides this, Bacchus inflicted other damage on him: he knocked his house to the ground, and everything was shattered into pieces, while he saw my bitter chains. From fatigue, dropping his sword, he is exhausted. For he, a man, dared to join battle with a god. Now I have quietly left the house and come to you, with no thought of Pentheus.

But I think—at any rate I hear the tramping of feet inside—he will soon come to the front of the house. What will he say after this? I shall easily bear him, even if he comes boasting greatly. For it is the part of a wise man to practice restrained good temper.

I have suffered terrible things; the stranger, who was recently constrained in bonds, has escaped me. Ah! Here is the man. What is this? How do you appear in front of my house, having come out?

Stop, and put a stop to your anger.

How have you escaped your chains and come outside?

Did I not say—or did you not hear—that some one would deliver me?

Who? You are always introducing strange explanations.

He who produces the rich-clustering vine for mortals.

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You reproach Dionysus for what is his glory.

I order you to close up all the towers around.

Why? Do gods not pass over walls too?

You are wise, wise at least in all save what you should be wise in.

I was born wise in all that I should be.

Listen first to the words of this man, who has come from the mountain to bring you some message. I will await you, I will not try to escape.

Pentheus, ruler of this land of Thebes, I have come from Kithairon, where the bright flakes of white snow never melt.

What important news do you come to bring?

Having seen the holy Bacchae, who goaded to madness have darted from this land with their fair feet, I have come to tell you and the city, lord, that they are doing terrible things, beyond marvel. I wish to hear whether I should tell you in free speech the situation there or whether I should repress my report, for I fear, lord, the quickness of your mood, your keen temper and your too imperious disposition.

Speak, as you will have immunity from me in any case. For it is not right to be angry with the just. The more you tell me terrible things about the Bacchae, the more I will punish this one here who taught the women these tricks.

The herds of grazing cattle were just climbing up the hill, at the time when the sun sends forth its rays, warming the earth. I saw three companies of dancing women, one of which Autonoe led, the second your mother Agave, and the third Ino. All were asleep, their bodies relaxed, some resting their backs against pine foliage, others laying their heads at random on the oak leaves, modestly, not as you say drunk with the goblet and the sound of the flute, hunting out Aphrodite through the woods in solitude.

Your mother raised a cry, standing up in the midst of the Bacchae, to wake their bodies from sleep, when she heard the lowing of the horned cattle. And they, casting off refreshing sleep from their eyes, sprang upright, a marvel of orderliness to behold, old, young, and still unmarried virgins. First they let their hair loose over their shoulders, and secured their fawn-skins, as many of them as had released the fastenings of their knots, girding the dappled hides with serpents licking their jaws. And some, holding in their arms a gazelle or wild wolf-pup, gave them white milk, as many as had abandoned their new-born infants and had their breasts still swollen. They put on garlands of ivy, and oak, and flowering yew. One took her thyrsos and struck it against a rock, from which a dewy stream of water sprang forth. Another let her thyrsos strike the ground, and there the god sent forth a fountain of wine. All who desired the white drink scratched the earth with the tips of their fingers and obtained streams of milk; and a sweet flow of honey dripped from their ivy thyrsoi; so that, had you been present and seen this, you would have approached with prayers the god whom you now blame.

We herdsmen and shepherds gathered in order to debate with one another concerning what strange and amazing things they were doing. Some one, a wanderer about the city and practised in speaking, said to us all: “You who inhabit the holy plains of the mountains, do you wish to hunt Pentheus' mother Agave out from the Bacchic revelry and do the king a favor?” We thought he spoke well, and lay down in ambush, hiding ourselves in the foliage of bushes. They, at the appointed hour, began to wave the thyrsos in their revelries, calling on Iacchus, the son of Zeus, Bromius, with united voice. The whole mountain revelled along with them and the beasts, and nothing was unmoved by their running.

You who are eager to see what you ought not and hasty in pursuit of what ought not to be pursued—I mean you, Pentheus, come forth before the house, be seen by me, wearing the clothing of a woman, of an inspired maenad, a spy upon your mother and her company.

In appearance you are like one of Kadmos' daughters.

Oh look! I think I see two suns, and twin Thebes, the seven-gated city. And you seem to lead me, being like a bull and horns seem to grow on your head. But were you ever before a beast? For you have certainly now become a bull.

The god accompanies us, now at truce with us, though formerly not propitious. Now you see what you should see.

How do I look? Don't I have the posture of Ino, or of my mother Agave?

Looking at you I think I see them. But this lock of your hair has come out of place, not the way I arranged it under your headband.

I displaced it indoors, shaking my head forwards and backwards and practising my Bacchic revelry.

But I who ought to wait on you will re-arrange it. Hold up your head.

Here, you arrange it; for I depend on you, indeed.

Your girdle has come loose, and the pleats of your gown do not extend regularly down around your ankles.

At least on my right leg, I believe they don't. But on this side the robe sits well around the back of my leg.

You will surely consider me the best of your friends, when contrary to your expectation you see the Bacchae acting modestly.

But shall I be more like a maenad holding the thyrsos in my right hand, or in my left?

You must hold it in your right hand and raise your right foot in unison with it. I praise you for having changed your mind.

Could I carry on my shoulders the glens of Kithairon, Bacchae and all?

You could if you were willing. The state of mind you had before was unsound, but now you think as you ought.

Shall we bring levers? Or shall I draw them up with my hands, putting a shoulder or arm under the mountain-tops?

But don't destroy the seats of the Nymphs and the places where Pan plays his pipes.

Well said. The women are not to be taken by force; I will hide in the pines.

You will hide yourself as you should be hidden, coming as a crafty spy on the Maenads.

Oh, yes! I imagine that like birds they are in the bushes held in the sweetest grips of love.

You have been sent as a guard against this very event. Perhaps you will catch them, if you yourself are not caught before.

Bring me through the midst of the Theban land. I am the only man of them who dares to perform this deed.

You alone bear the burden for this city, you alone. Therefore the labors which are proper await you. Follow me. I am your saving guide: another will lead you down from there.

Yes, my mother.

And you will be remarkable to all.

I am going for this reason.

You will return here being carried—

You talk of a delicacy for me.

In the arms of your mother.

You will force me to luxury.

Yes indeed, such luxury!

I will get what I deserve.

You are terrible, terrible, and you go to terrible sufferings, so that you will find a renown reaching to heaven. Reach out your hands, Agave, and you too, her sisters, daughters of Kadmos. I lead this young man to a great contest, and Bromius and I will be the victors. The rest the matter itself will show.

Oh house once fortunate in Hellas, house of the Sidonian old man who once sowed in the ground the earth-born harvest of the serpent Ophis, how I groan for you, though I am a slave, but still [the masters' affairs are a concern to good servants].This line is most likely interpolated from Eur. Med. 54.

What is it? Do you bring some news from the Bacchae?

Pentheus, the child of Echion, is dead.

Lord Bacchus, truly you appear to be a great god.

What do you mean? Why have you said this? Do you rejoice at the misfortunes of my master, woman?

I, a foreign woman, rejoice with foreign songs; for no longer do I cower in fear of chains.

Do you think Thebes so lacking in men?

Dionysus, Dionysus, not Thebes, holds my allegiance.

You may be forgiven, but still it is not good to rejoice at troubles once they have actually taken place, women.

Tell me, speak, what kind of a death did he die, the unjust man who did unjust things?

When we left the dwellings of the Theban land and crossed the streams of Asopus, we began to ascend the heights of Kithairon, Pentheus and I—for I was following my master—and the stranger who was our guide to the sight. First we sat in a grassy vale, keeping our feet and voices quiet, so that we might see them without being seen. There was a little valley surounded by precipices, irrigated with streams, shaded by pine trees, where the Maenads were sitting, their hands busy with delightful labors. Some of them were crowning again the worn thyrsos, making it leafy with ivy, while some, like colts freed from the painted yoke, were singing a Bacchic melody to one another. And the unhappy Pentheus said, not seeing the crowd of women: “Stranger, from where we are standing I cannot see these false Maenads. But on the hill, ascending a lofty pine, I might view properly the shameful acts of the Maenads.”

And then I saw the stranger perform a marvelous deed. For seizing hold of the lofty top-most branch of the pine tree, he pulled it down, pulled it, pulled it to the dark earth. It was bent just as a bow or a curved wheel, when it is marked out by a compass, describes a circular course The sense of the text here is not clear. The translation （which follows Dodds） assumes that the “curved wheel” is not a hollow circle connected to the hub by spokes, but a single piece of wood which has been cut into the shape of a circle. In the action described, a peg （to/rnos） is fixed into the center of the word-section. A string with a piece of chalk on one end is then attached to the peg, and the chalk, held tight against the string, is able to mark out an even circle. The bending of the tree thus resembles the circular path taken by the chalk.: in this way the stranger drew the mountain bough with his hands and bent it to the earth, doing no mortal's deed. He sat Pentheus down on the pine branch, and let it go upright through his hands steadily, taking care not to shake him off. The pine stood firmly upright into the sky, with my master seated on its back. He was seen by the Maenads more than he saw them, for sitting on high he was all but apparent, and the stranger was no longer anywhere to be seen, when a voice, Dionysus as I guess, cried out from the air: “Young women, I bring the one who has made you and me and my rites a laughing-stock. Now punish him!” And as he said this a light of holy fire was placed between heaven and earth.

The air became quiet and the woody glen kept its leaves silent, nor would you have heard the sounds of animals. But they, not having heard the sound clearly, stood upright and looked all around. He repeated his order, and when the daughters of Kadmos recognized the clear command of Bacchus, they rushed forth, swift as a dove, running with eager speed of feet, his mother Agave, and her sisters, and all the Bacchae. They leapt through the torrent-streaming valley and mountain cliffs, frantic with the inspiration of the god. When they saw my master sitting in the pine, first they climbed a rock towering opposite the tree and began to hurl at him boulders violently thrown. Some aimed with pine branches and other women hurled their thyrsoi through the air at Pentheus, a sad target indeed. But they did not reach him, for the wretched man, caught with no way out, sat at a height too great for their eagerness. Finally like lightning they smashed oak branches and began to tear up the roots of the tree with ironless levers. When they did not succeed in their toils, Agave said: “Come, standing round in a circle, each seize a branch, Maenads, so that we may catch the beast who has climbed aloft, and so that he does not make public the secret dances of the god.” They applied countless hands to the pine and dragged it up from the earth. Pentheus fell crashing to the ground from his lofty seat, wailing greatly: for he knew he was in terrible trouble.