XANTHIAS. Its whole face is ablaze.
DIONYSUS. And it has a brazen leg?
XANTHIAS. Aye, i' faith! and the other is an ass's leg,[419] rest well
assured of that.
DIONYSUS. Where shall I fly to?
XANTHIAS. And I?
DIONYSUS. Priest,[420] save me, that I may drink with you.
XANTHIAS. Oh! mighty Heracles! we are dead men.
DIONYSUS. Silence! I adjure you. Don't utter that name.
XANTHIAS. Well then, we are dead men, Dionysus!
DIONYSUS. That still less than the other.
XANTHIAS. Keep straight on, master, here, here, this way.
DIONYSUS. Well?
XANTHIAS. Be at ease, all goes well and we can say with Hegelochus,
"After the storm, I see the return of the _cat_."[421] The Empusa has
gone.
DIONYSUS. Swear it to me.
XANTHIAS. By Zeus!
DIONYSUS. Swear it again.
XANTHIAS. By Zeus!
DIONYSUS. Once more.
XANTHIAS. By Zeus!
DIONYSUS. Oh! my god! how white I went at the sight of the Empusa! But
yonder fellow got red instead, so horribly afraid was he![422] Alas! to
whom do I owe this terrible meeting? What god shall I accuse of having
sought my death? Might it be "the Aether, the dwelling of Zeus," or "the
wing of Time"?[423]
XANTHIAS. Hist!
DIONYSUS. What's the matter?
XANTHIAS. Don't you hear?
DIONYSUS. What then?
XANTHIAS. The sound of flutes.
DIONYSUS. Aye, certainly, and the wind wafts a smell of torches hither,
which bespeaks the Mysteries a league away. But make no noise; let us
hide ourselves and listen.
CHORUS.[424] Iacchus, oh! Iacchus! Iacchus, oh! Iacchus!
XANTHIAS. Master, these are the initiates, of whom Heracles spoke and who
are here at their sports; they are incessantly singing of Iacchus, just
like Diagoras.[425]
DIONYSUS. I believe you are right, but 'tis best to keep ourselves quiet
till we get better information.
CHORUS. Iacchus, venerated god, hasten at our call. Iacchus, oh! Iacchus!
come into this meadow, thy favourite resting-place; come to direct the
sacred choirs of the Initiate; may a thick crown of fruit-laden myrtle
branches rest on thy head and may thy bold foot step this free and joyful
dance, taught us by the Graces--this pure, religious measure, that our
sacred choirs rehearse.
XANTHIAS. Oh! thou daughter of Demeter, both mighty and revered, what a
delicious odour of pork!
DIONYSUS. Cannot you keep still then, fellow, once you get a whiff of a
bit of tripe?
CHORUS. Brandish the flaming torches and so revive their brilliancy.
Iacchus, oh! Iacchus! bright luminary of our nocturnal Mysteries. The
meadow sparkles with a thousand fires; the aged shake off the weight of
cares and years; they have once more found limbs of steel, wherewith to
take part in thy sacred measures; and do thou, blessed deity, lead the
dances of youth upon this dewy carpet of flowers with a torch in thine
hand.
Silence, make way for our choirs, you profane and impure souls, who have
neither been present at the festivals of the noble Muses, nor ever footed
a dance in their honour, and who are not initiated into the mysterious
language of the dithyrambs of the voracious Cratinus;[426] away from here
he who applauds misplaced buffoonery. Away from here the bad citizen, who
for his private ends fans and nurses the flame of sedition, the chief who
sells himself, when his country is weathering the storms, and surrenders
either fortresses or ships; who, like Thorycion,[427] the wretched
collector of tolls, sends prohibited goods from Aegina to Epidaurus, such
as oar-leathers, sailcloth and pitch, and who secures a subsidy for a
hostile fleet,[428] or soils the statues of Hecaté,[429] while he is
humming some dithyramb. Away from here, the orator who nibbles at the
salary of the poets, because he has been scouted in the ancient
solemnities of Dionysus; to all such I say, and I repeat, and I say it
again for the third time, "Make way for the choruses of the Initiate."
But you, raise you your voice anew; resume your nocturnal hymns as it is
meet to do at this festival.
Let each one advance boldly into the retreats of our flowery meads, let
him mingle in our dances, let him give vent to jesting, to wit and to
satire. Enough of junketing, lead forward! let our voices praise the
divine protectress[430] with ardent love, yea! praise her, who promises
to assure the welfare of this country for ever, in spite of Thorycion.
Let our hymns now be addressed to Demeter, the Queen of Harvest, the
goddess crowned with ears of corn; to her be dedicated the strains of our
divine concerts. Oh! Demeter, who presidest over the pure mysteries, help
us and protect thy choruses; far from all danger, may I continually yield
myself to sports and dancing, mingle laughter with seriousness, as is
fitting at thy festivals, and as the reward for my biting sarcasms may I
wreathe my head with the triumphal fillets. And now let our songs summon
hither the lovable goddess, who so often joins in our dances.
Oh, venerated Dionysus, who hast created such soft melodies for this
festival, come to accompany us to the goddess, show that you can traverse
a long journey without wearying.[431] Dionysus, the king of the dance,
guide my steps. 'Tis thou who, to raise a laugh and for the sake of
economy,[432] hast torn our sandals and our garments; let us bound, let
us dance at our pleasure, for we have nothing to spoil. Dionysus, king of
the dance, guide my steps. Just now I saw through a corner of my eye a
ravishing young girl, the companion of our sports; I saw the nipple of
her bosom peeping through a rent in her tunic. Dionysus, king of the
dance, guide my steps.
DIONYSUS. Aye, I like to mingle with these choruses; I would fain dance
and sport with that young girl.
XANTHIAS. And I too.
CHORUS. Would you like us to mock together at Archidemus? He is still
awaiting his seven-year teeth to have himself entered as a citizen;[433]
but he is none the less a chief of the people among the Athenians and the
greatest rascal of 'em all. I am told that Clisthenes is tearing the hair
out of his rump and lacerating his cheeks on the tomb of Sebinus, the
Anaphlystian;[434] with his forehead against the ground, he is beating
his bosom and groaning and calling him by name. As for Callias,[435] the
illustrious son of Hippobinus, the new Heracles, he is fighting a
terrible battle of love on his galleys; dressed up in a lion's skin, he
fights a fierce naval battle--with the girls' cunts.
DIONYSUS. Could you tell us where Pluto dwells? We are strangers and have
just arrived.
CHORUS. Go no farther, and know without further question that you are at
his gates.
DIONYSUS. Slave, pick up your baggage.
XANTHIAS. This wretched baggage, 'tis like Corinth, the daughter of Zeus,
for it's always in his mouth.[436]
CHORUS. And now do ye, who take part in this religious festival, dance a
gladsome round in the flowery grove in honour of the goddess.[437]
DIONYSUS. As for myself, I will go with the young girls and the women
into the enclosure, where the nocturnal ceremonies are held; 'tis I will
bear the sacred torch.
CHORUS. Let us go into the meadows, that are sprinkled with roses, to
form, according to our rites, the graceful choirs, over which the blessed
Fates preside. 'Tis for us alone that the sun doth shine; his glorious
rays illumine the Initiate, who have led the pious life, that is equally
dear to strangers and citizens.
DIONYSUS. Come now! how should we knock at this door? How do the dwellers
in these parts knock?
XANTHIAS. Lose no time and attack the door with vigour, if you have the
courage of Heracles as well as his costume.
DIONYSUS. Ho! there! Slave!
AEACUS. Who's there?
DIONYSUS. Heracles, the bold.
AEACUS. Ah! wretched, impudent, shameless, threefold rascal, the most
rascally of rascals. Ah! 'tis you who hunted out our dog Cerberus, whose
keeper I was! But I have got you to-day; and the black stones of Styx,
the rocks of Acheron, from which the blood is dripping, and the roaming
dogs of Cocytus shall account to me for you; the hundred-headed Hydra
shall tear your sides to pieces; the Tartessian Muraena[438] shall fasten
itself on your lungs and the Tithrasian[439] Gorgons shall tear your
kidneys and your gory entrails to shreds; I will go and fetch them as
quickly as possible.
XANTHIAS. Eh! what are you doing there?