_This idyl narrates the murder of Pentheus_, _who was torn to pieces_
(_after the Dionysiac Ritual_) _by his mother_, _Agave_, _and other
Theban women_, _for having watched the celebration of the mysteries of
Dionysus_. _It is still dangerous for an Australian native to approach
the women of the tribe while they are celebrating their savage rites_.
_The conservatism of Greek religion is well illustrated by Theocritus’s
apology for the truly savage revenge commemorated in the old Theban
legend_.
* * * * *
INO, and Autonoe, and Agave of the apple cheeks,—three bands of Maenads
to the mountain-side they led, these ladies three. They stripped the
wild leaves of a rugged oak, and fresh ivy, and asphodel of the upper
earth, and in an open meadow they built twelve altars; for Semele three,
and nine for Dionysus. The mystic cakes {144} from the mystic chest they
had taken in their hands, and in silence had laid them on the altars of
new-stripped boughs; so Dionysus ever taught the rite, and herewith was
he wont to be well pleased.
Now Pentheus from a lofty cliff was watching all, deep hidden in an
ancient lentisk hush, a plant of that land. Autonoe first beheld him,
and shrieked a dreadful yell, and, rushing suddenly, with her feet dashed
all confused the mystic things of Bacchus the wild. For these are things
unbeholden of men profane. Frenzied was she, and then forthwith the
others too were frenzied. Then Pentheus fled in fear, and they pursued
after him, with raiment kirtled through the belt above the knee.
This much said Pentheus, ‘Women, what would ye?’ and thus answered
Autonoe, ‘That shalt thou straightway know, ere thou hast heard it.’
The mother seized her child’s head, and cried loud, as is the cry of a
lioness over her cubs, while Ino, for her part, set her heel on the body,
and brake asunder the broad shoulder, shoulder-blade and all, and in the
same strain wrought Autonoe. The other women tore the remnants
piecemeal, and to Thebes they came, all bedabbled with blood, from the
mountains bearing not Pentheus but repentance. {145}
I care for none of these things, nay, nor let another take thought to
make himself the foe of Dionysus, not though one should suffer yet
greater torments than these,—being but a child of nine years old or
entering, perchance, on his tenth year. For me, may I be pure and holy,
and find favour in the eyes of the pure!
From aegis-bearing Zeus hath this augury all honour, ‘to the children of
the godly the better fortune, but evil befall the offspring of the
ungodly.’
‘Hail to Dionysus, whom Zeus supreme brought forth in snowy Dracanus,
when he had unburdened his mighty thigh, and hail to beautiful Semele:
and to her sisters,—Cadmeian ladies honoured of all daughters of
heroes,—who did this deed at the behest of Dionysus, a deed not to be
blamed; let no man blame the actions of the gods.’
IDYL XXVII
THE WOOING OF DAPHNIS
_The authenticity of this idyl has been denied_, _partly because the
Daphnis of the poem is not identical in character with the Daphnis of the
first idyl_. _But the piece is certainly worthy of a place beside the
work of Theocritus_. _The dialogue is here arranged as in the text of
Fritzsche_.
* * * * *
_The Maiden_. Helen the wise did Paris, another neatherd, ravish!
_Daphnis_. ’Tis rather this Helen that kisses her shepherd, even me!
{147}
_The Maiden_. Boast not, little satyr, for kisses they call an empty
favour.
_Daphnis_. Nay, even in empty kisses there is a sweet delight.
_The Maiden_. I wash my lips, I blow away from me thy kisses!
_Daphnis_. Dost thou wash thy lips? Then give me them again to kiss!
_The Maiden_. ’Tis for thee to caress thy kine, not a maiden unwed.
_Daphnis_. Boast not, for swiftly thy youth flits by thee, like a dream.
_The Maiden_. The grapes turn to raisins, not wholly will the dry rose
perish.
_Daphnis_. Come hither, beneath the wild olives, that I may tell thee a
tale.
_The Maiden_. I will not come; ay, ere now with a sweet tale didst thou
beguile me.
_Daphnis_. Come hither, beneath the elms, to listen to my pipe!
_The Maiden_. Nay, please thyself, no woful tune delights me.
_Daphnis_. Ah maiden, see that thou too shun the anger of the Paphian.
_The Maiden_. Good-bye to the Paphian, let Artemis only be friendly!
_Daphnis_. Say not so, lest she smite thee, and thou fall into a trap
whence there is no escape.
_The Maiden_. Let her smite an she will; Artemis again would be my
defender. Lay no hand on me; nay, if thou do more, and touch me with thy
lips, I will bite thee. {148}
_Daphnis_. From Love thou dost not flee, whom never yet maiden fled.
_The Maiden_. Escape him, by Pan, I do, but thou dost ever bear his
yoke.
_Daphnis_. This is ever my fear lest he even give thee to a meaner man.
_The Maiden_. Many have been my wooers, but none has won my heart.
_Daphnis_. Yea I, out of many chosen, come here thy wooer.
_The Maiden_. Dear love, what can I do? Marriage has much annoy.
_Daphnis_. Nor pain nor sorrow has marriage, but mirth and dancing.
_The Maiden_. Ay, but they say that women dread their lords.
_Daphnis_. Nay, rather they always rule them,—whom do women fear?
_The Maiden_. Travail I dread, and sharp is the shaft of Eilithyia.
_Daphnis_. But thy queen is Artemis, that lightens labour.
_The Maiden_. But I fear childbirth, lest, perchance, I lose my beauty.
_Daphnis_. Nay, if thou bearest dear children thou wilt see the light
revive in thy sons.
_The Maiden_. And what wedding gift dost thou bring me if I consent?
_Daphnis_. My whole flock, all my groves, and all my pasture land shall
be thine.
_The Maiden_. Swear that thou wilt not win me, and then depart and leave
me forlorn.
_Daphnis_. So help me Pan I would not leave thee, didst thou even choose
to banish me!
_The Maiden_. Dost thou build me bowers, and a house, and folds for
flocks?
_Daphnis_. Yea, bowers I build thee, the flocks I tend are fair.
_The Maiden_. But to my grey old father, what tale, ah what, shall I
tell?
_Daphnis_. He will approve thy wedlock when he has heard my name.
_The Maiden_. Prithee, tell me that name of thine; in a name there is
often delight.
_Daphnis_. Daphnis am I, Lycidas is my father, and Nomaea is my mother.
_The Maiden_. Thou comest of men well-born, but there I am thy match.
_Daphnis_. I know it, thou art of high degree, for thy father is
Menalcas. {150a}
_The Maiden_. Show me thy grove, wherein is thy cattle-stall.
_Daphnis_. See here, how they bloom, my slender cypress-trees.
_The Maiden_. Graze on, my goats, I go to learn the herdsman’s labours.
_Daphnis_. Feed fair, my bulls, while I show my woodlands to my lady!
_The Maiden_. What dost thou, little satyr; why dost thou touch my
breast?
_Daphnis_. I will show thee that these earliset apples are ripe. {150b}
_The Maiden_. By Pan, I swoon; away, take back thy hand.
_Daphnis_. Courage, dear girl, why fearest thou me, thou art over
fearful!
_The Maiden_. Thou makest me lie down by the water-course, defiling my
fair raiment!
_Daphnis_. Nay, see, ’neath thy raiment fair I am throwing this soft
fleece.
_The Maiden_. Ah, ah, thou hast snatched my girdle too; why hast thou
loosed my girdle?
_Daphnis_. These first-fruits I offer, a gift to the Paphian.
_The Maiden_. Stay, wretch, hark; surely a stranger cometh; nay, I hear
a sound.
_Daphnis_. The cypresses do but whisper to each other of thy wedding.
_The Maiden_. Thou hast torn my mantle, and unclad am I.
_Daphnis_. Another mantle I will give thee, and an ampler far than
thine.
_The Maiden_. Thou dost promise all things, but soon thou wilt not give
me even a grain of salt.
_Daphnis_. Ah, would that I could give thee my very life.
_The Maiden_. Artemis, be not wrathful, thy votary breaks her vow.
_Daphnis_. I will slay a calf for Love, and for Aphrodite herself a
heifer.
_The Maiden_. A maiden I came hither, a woman shall I go homeward.
_Daphnis_. Nay, a wife and a mother of children shalt thou be, no more a
maiden.
So, each to each, in the joy of their young fresh limbs they were
murmuring: it was the hour of secret love. Then she arose, and stole to
herd her sheep; with shamefast eyes she went, but her heart was comforted
within her. And he went to his herds of kine, rejoicing in his wedlock.