Little it costs, faith's precious heritage,
To trust that whatsoe'er from Heaven is sent
Hath sovereign sway, whate'er through age on age
Hath gathered sanction by our nature's bent.
What wisdom's crown, what guerdon, shines more glorious
That Gods can give the sons of men, than this—
O'er crests of foes to stretch the hand victorious? 900
Honour is precious evermore, I wis.
(Epode)
Blest who from ravening seas
Hath 'scaped to haven-peace,
Blest who hath triumphed in endeavour's toil and throe.
This man to higher height
Attains, of wealth, of might,
Than that; yet myriad hopes in myriad hearts still glow:
To fair fruition brought
Are some, some come to nought: 910
Happy is he whose bliss from day to day doth grow.
Enter Dionysus.
Dionysus.
Thou who dost burn to see forefended things,
Pentheus, O zealous with an evil zeal,
Come forth before thine halls: be seen of me
Womanlike clothed in frenzied Bacchant's garb, 915
To spy upon thy mother and her troop.
Enter Pentheus.
So!—like a daughter of Kadmus is thy form.
Pentheus.
Aha! meseemeth I behold two suns,
