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Let us honor Bacchus with the dance, let us raise a shout for what has befallen  Pentheus, descendant of the serpent, who assumed female attire and the wand, the beautiful thyrsos—certain death—and a bull was the leader of his calamity.  Kadmean Bacchae, you have accomplished a glorious victory, but one that brings woe and tears. It is a noble contest to cover one's dripping hands with the blood of one's own son.
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