Fare forward you, while I go here
With matron and with maiden,
To make their night-long roaming clear
With tossing torches laden.
Chorus (of Worshipping Women, as they file off).
Then on 'mid the meadows deep,
Where thickest the rosebuds creep
And the dewdrops are pearliest:
A jubilant step advance
In our own, our eternal dance,
Till its joy the Glad Fates entrance
Who threaded it earliest.
For ours is the sunshine bright,
Yea, ours is the joy of light
All pure, without danger:
For we thine Elect have been,
Thy secrets our eyes have seen,
And our hearts we have guarded clean
Toward kinsman and stranger!
Dionysus.
I ought by rights to knock; but how, I wonder.
I don't know how they do knock in this country.
Xanthias.
Oh, don't waste time. Go in and do your best,
Like Heracles in heart as well as garb.
