.

First, we reached a green-lit glen, grass under feet
Saving the sound of steps, sparing our voices,
So that we could see without being seen.
There lies a ravine between two cliffs,
Streams flowing freely, pine trees knitting
Thick shadows overhead, and there the maenads
Were sitting, content with their pleasant tasks,
-Some twining ivy leaves round a thyrsus
That had come loose, others like foals unyoked,
Happily chanting their holy songs
To each other, like answers,
And questions.

Posted on 18 March 2015, 12:59 pm by scalar_machine  |  Permalink

Messenger

As we left behind us the last farms of Thebes
And crossed the stream of Asopos,
We found ourselves already in the foothills
Of Cithaeron - King Pentheus, and myself,
Following my master, and the stranger,
Who was the guide to our little spying party.

Posted on 23 March 2015, 11:10 pm by scalar_machine  |  Permalink

..

But the ill-fated king just did not see them.
And "Stranger" - he said - "from where we stand,
I cannot reach to see these false worshippers.
But higher up the cliffside, riding, maybe, a tree,
I'd have a proper view of their obscenities."
And then I saw the stranger do the impossible.

Posted on 23 March 2015, 11:12 pm by scalar_machine  |  Permalink

...

He chose the topmost, sky-reaching branch
Of a mountain fir tree, and he bent it;
He brought it down, down,
Down to the dark earth;
All bent in a half circle like a bow,
Or more like half the curved rim of a wheel,
-And we were looking at his hand. No mortal's.

Then, setting Pentheus astride on that branch,
He let go gradually, gently, through his hands,
Taking care it would not shake him off.
And the fir tree, straight as a tree,
Soared up,
Up, in the upsoaring skies!

Posted on 23 March 2015, 11:12 pm by scalar_machine  |  Permalink

....

But the king on its back was seen more quickly
Than he saw the maenads. Suddenly
The stranger was nowhere,
And a voice
- I thought Dionysus' - swooped through the ether:
"Women, this is the man who mocks at me
And you, and my mysteries. Punish him."
And a pillar of unearthly fire flashed
Between the ground and the sky.
The forest
Fell silent; silent the weightless wind,
And the leaves sleeping on the trees,
And there was no noise of beasts,
Or voice.
And they, the women, the call of their god
Still ringing confused in their ears, just stood,
Immobile, their eyes enormous.

Posted on 23 March 2015, 11:13 pm by scalar_machine  |  Permalink

.....

And then he called again.
And the moment
They knew the clear command of the god,
Like doves they darted, like arrows, forward,
The king's mother Agave, and her sisters,
And the rest of the Bacchae,
Leaping swiftly
Over the torrent-broken ground of the gorge,
Frantic, borne by the very breath of their God -
And they saw Pentheus.
First, they hurled rocks at him,
-Some climbing on the cliffs towering opposite -
And fir branches, well-aimed like javelins,
Some flung their thyrsus singing through the air
At the wretched king, the sitting target,
But he was too high even for their fury,
Paralyzed by height, helpless on his throne.
Then, the maenads tore oak branches, easy
As thunder, and dug at the feet of the fir,
Levering up the tree, wrenching its roots out.
Suddenly the queen commanded: "Come,
Stand in a circle and heave at the trunk.
We must catch this climbing beast and stop it
From revealing the secrets of our dance."

Posted on 23 March 2015, 11:13 pm by scalar_machine  |  Permalink

......

And, a myriad frail hands gripping the fir,
They pushed, they heaved it right off the ground,
And from it's crown,
Down streamed the man,
Reeling,
With one long incessant scream searing the air.
I believe he knew what end was near.
First, his mother, being the priestess,
Began the ritual kill.

Posted on 23 March 2015, 11:13 pm by scalar_machine  |  Permalink