While the oak and pine thy tresses entwine
In thy bacchanal-ecstasy. 110
And thy fawn-skin flecked, with a fringe be it decked
Of wool white-glistering
In silvery tassels;—O Bacchus' vassals,
High-tossed let the wild wands swing!
One dancing-band shall be all the land
When, led by the Clamour-king,
His revel-rout fills the hills—the hills
Where thy women abide till he come
Whom the Vine-god chasing, in frenzy racing,
Hunted from shuttle and loom.
(Ant. 3)
O cavern that rang when Curetes sang, 120
O bower of the Babe Zeus' birth,
Where the Corybants, dancing with helm-crests glancing
Through the dark halls under the earth,
This timbrel found whose hide-stretched round
We smite, and its Bacchanal mirth
They blent with the cry ringing sweet and high
From the flutes of the Phrygian land,
And its thunder, soaring o'er revel-shout's roaring,
They gave unto Rhea's hand;
But the gift passed on from the Mother, won 130
By the madding Satyr-band;
And to Semelê's child gave the woodfolk wild
The homage he holdeth dear,
When the timbrels clashing to feet white-flashing
Are wedded in each third year.
Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/401
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THE BACCHANALS.
373