XANTHIAS. SHALL I crack any of those old jokes, master, |
|
At which the audience never fail to laugh? |
|
DIONYSUS. Aye, what you will, except I’m getting crushed: |
|
Fight shy of that: I’m sick of that already. |
4 |
XAN. Nothing else smart? |
|
DIO. Aye, save my shoulder’s aching. |
|
XAN. Come now, that comical joke? |
|
DIO. With all my heart. |
8 |
Only be careful not to shift your pole. |
|
And— XAN. What? DIO. And vow that you’ve a belly-ache. |
|
XAN. May I not say I’m overburdened so |
|
That if none ease me, I must ease myself? |
12 |
DIO. For mercy’s sake, not till I’m going to vomit. |
|
XAN. What! must I bear these burdens, and not make |
|
One of the jokes Ameipsias and Lycis |
|
And Phrynichus, in every play they write, |
16 |
Put in the mouths of all their burden-bearers? |
|
DIO. Don’t make them; no! I tell you when I see |
|
Their plays, and hear those jokes, I come away |
|
More than a twelvemonth older than I went. |
20 |
XAN. O, thrice unlucky neck of mine, which now |
|
Is getting crushed, yet must not crack its joke! |
|
DIO. Now is not this fine pampered insolence |
|
When I myself, Dionysus, son of—Pipkin, |
24 |
Toil on afoot, and let this fellow ride, |
|
Taking no trouble, and no burden bearing? |
|
XAN. What, don’t I bear? DIO. How can you when you’re riding? |
|
XAN. Why, I bear these. DIO. How? XAN. Most unwillingly. |
28 |
DIO. Does not the donkey bear the load you’re bearing? |
|
XAN. Not what I bear myself: by Zeus, not he. |
|
DIO. How can you bear, when you are borne yourself? |
|
XAN. Don’t know: but anyhow my shoulder’s aching. |
32 |
DIO. Then since you say the donkey helps you not, |
|
You lift him up and carry him in turn. |
|
XAN. O, hang it all! why didn’t I fight at sea? |
|
You should have smarted bitterly for this. |
36 |
DIO. Get down, you rascal; I’ve been trudging on |
|
Till now I’ve reached the portal, where I’m going |
|
First to turn in. Boy! Boy! I say there, Boy! |
|
HERACLES. Who banged the door? How like a prancing Centaur |
40 |
He drove against it! Mercy o’ me, what’s this? |
|
DIO. Boy. XAN. Yes. DIO. Did you observe? XAN. What? DIO. How alarmed |
|
He is. XAN. Aye, truly, lest you’ve lost your wits. |
|
HER. O, by Demeter, I can’t choose but laugh. |
44 |
Biting my lips won’t stop me. Ha! ha! ha! |
|
DIO. Pray you, come hither, I have need of you. |
|
HER. I vow I can’t help laughing, I can’t help it. |
|
A lion’s hide upon a yellow silk, |
48 |
A club and buskin! What’s it all about? |
|
Where were you going? DIO. I was serving lately |
|
Aboard the—Cleisthenes. HER. And fought? DIO. And sank |
|
More than a dozen of the enemy’s ships. |
52 |
HER. You two? DIO. We two. HER. And then I awoke, and lo! |
|
DIO. There as, on deck, I’m reading to myself |
|
The “Andromeda,” a sudden pang of longing |
|
Shoots through my heart, you can’t conceive how keenly. |
56 |
HER. How big a pang? DIO. A small one, Molon’s size. |
|
HER. Caused by a woman? DIO. No. HER. A boy? DIO. No, no. |
|
HER. A man? DIO. Ah! ah! HER. Was it for Cleisthenes? |
|
DIO. Don’t mock me, brother; on my life I am |
60 |
In a bad way: such fierce desire consumes me. |
|
HER. Aye, little brother? how? DIO. I can’t describe it. |
|
But yet I’ll tell you in a riddling way. |
|
Have you e’er felt a sudden lust for soup? |
64 |
HER. Soup! Zeus-a-mercy, yes, ten thousand times. |
|
DIO. Is the thing clear, or must I speak again? |
|
HER. Not of the soup: I’m clear about the soup. |
|
DIO. Well, just that sort of pang devours my heart |
68 |
For lost Euripides. HER. A dead man too. |
|
DIO. And no one shall persuade me not to go |
|
After the man. HER. Do you mean below, to Hades? |
|
DIO. And lower still, if there’s a lower still. |
72 |
HER. What on earth for? DIO. I want a genuine poet, |
|
“For some are not, and those that are, are bad.” |
|
HER. What! does not Iophon live? DIO. Well, he’s the sole |
|
Good thing remaining, if even he is good. |
76 |
For even of that I’m not exactly certain. |
|
HER. If go you must, there’s Sophocles—he comes |
|
Before Euripides—why not take him? |
|
DIO. Not till I’ve tried if Iophon’s coin rings true |
80 |
When he’s alone, apart from Sophocles. |
|
Besides, Euripides, the crafty rogue, |
|
Will find a thousand shifts to get away, |
|
But he was easy here, is easy there. |
84 |
HER. But Agathon, where is he? DIO. He has gone and left us. |
|
A genial poet, by his friends much missed. |
|
HER. Gone where? DIO. To join the blessed in their banquets. |
|
HER. But what of Xenocles? DIO. O, he be hanged! |
88 |
HER. Pythangelus? XAN. But never a word of me, |
|
Not though my shoulder’s chafed so terribly. |
|
HER. But have you not a shoal of little songsters, |
|
Tragedians by the myriad, who can chatter |
92 |
A furlong faster than Euripides? |
|
DIO. Those be mere vintage-leavings, jabberers, choirs |
|
Of swallow-broods, degraders of their art, |
|
Who get one chorus, and are seen no more, |
96 |
The Muses’ love once gained. But, O my friend, |
|
Search where you will, you’ll never find a true |
|
Creative genius, uttering startling things. |
|
HER. Creative? how do you mean? DIO. I mean a man |
100 |
Who’ll dare some novel venturesome conceit, |
|
Air, Zeus’ chamber, or Time’s foot, or this: |
|
’Twas not my mind that swore: my tongue committed |
|
A little perjury on its own account. |
104 |
HER. You like that style? DIO. Like it? I dote upon it. |
|
HER. I vow it’s ribald nonsense, and you know it. |
|
DIO. “Rule not my mind”: you’ve got a house to mind. |
|
HER. Really and truly, though, ’tis paltry stuff. |
108 |
DIO. Teach me to dine! XAN. But never a word of me. |
|
DIO. But tell me truly—’twas for this I came |
|
Dressed up to mimic you—what friends received |
|
And entertained you when you went below |
112 |
To bring back Cerberus, in case I need them. |
|
And tell me too the havens, fountains, shops, |
|
Roads, resting-places, stews, refreshment rooms, |
|
Towns, lodgings, hostesses, with whom were found |
116 |
The fewest bugs. XAN. But never a word of me. |
|
HER. You are really game to go? |
|
DIO. O, drop that, can’t you? |
|
And tell me this: of all the roads you know, |
120 |
Which is the quickest way to get to Hades? |
|
I want one not too warm, nor yet too cold. |
|
HER. Which shall I tell you first? which shall it be? |
|
There’s one by rope and bench: you launch away |
124 |
And—hang yourself. DIO. No, thank you: that’s too stifling. |
|
HER. Then there’s a track, a short and beaten cut, |
|
By pestle and mortar. DIO. Hemlock, do you mean? |
|
HER. Just so. DIO. No, that’s too deathly cold a way; |
128 |
You have hardly started ere your shins get numbed. |
|
HER. Well, would you like a steep and swift descent? |
|
DIO. Aye, that’s the style: my walking powers are small. |
|
HER. Go down to the Cerameicus. DIO. And do what? |
132 |
HER. Climb to the tower’s top pinnacle— DIO. And then? |
|
HER. Observe the torch-race started, and when all |
|
The multitude is shouting Let them go, |
|
Let yourself go. DIO. Go whither? HER. To the ground. |
136 |
DIO. O, that would break my brain’s two envelopes. |
|
I’ll not try that. HER. Which will you try? DIO. The way |
|
You went yourself. HER. A parlous voyage that, |
|
For first you’ll come to an enormous lake |
140 |
Of fathomless depth. DIO. And how and I to cross? |
|
HER. An ancient mariner will row you over |
|
In a wee boat, so big. The fare’s two obols. |
|
DIO. Fie! The power two obols have, the whole world through! |
144 |
How came they thither? HER. Theseus took them down. |
|
And next you’ll see great snakes and savage monsters |
|
In tens of thousands. DIO. You needn’t try to scare me, |
|
I’m going to go. HER. Then weltering seas of filth |
148 |
And ever-rippling dung: and plunged therein, |
|
Whoso has wronged the stranger here on earth, |
|
Or robbed his boylove of the promised pay, |
|
Or swinged his mother, or profanely smitten |
152 |
His father’s cheek, or sworn an oath forsworn, |
|
Or copied out a speech of Morsimus. |
|
DIO. There too, perdie, should he be plunged, whoe’er |
|
Has danced the sword-dance of Cinesias. |
156 |
HER. And next the breath of flutes will float around you, |
|
And glorious sunshine, such as ours, you’ll see, |
|
And myrtle groves, and happy bands who clap |
|
Their hands in triumph, men and women too. |
160 |
DIO. And who are they? HER. The happy mystic bands, |
|
XAN. And I’m the donkey in the mystery show. |
|
But I’ll not stand it, not one instant longer. |
|
HER. Who’ll tell you everything you want to know. |
164 |
You’ll find them dwelling close beside the road |
|
You are going to travel, just at Pluto’s gate. |
|
And fare thee well, my brother. DIO. And to you |
|
Good cheer. (To Xan.) Now, sirrah, pick you up the traps. |
168 |
XAN. Before I’ve put them down? DIO. And quickly too. |
|
XAN. No, prithee, no; but hire a body, one |
|
They’re carrying out, on purpose for the trip. |
|
DIO. If I can’t find one? XAN. Then I’ll take them. DIO. Good. |
172 |
And see! they are carrying out a body now. |
|
Hallo! you there, you deadman, are you willing |
|
To carry down our little traps to Hades? |
|
CORPSE. What are they? DIO. These. CORP. Two drachmas for the job? |
176 |
DIO. Nay, that’s too much. CORP. Out of the pathway, you! |
|
DIO. Beshrew thee, stop: maybe we’ll strike a bargain. |
|
CORP. Pay me two drachmas, or it’s no use talking. |
|
DIO. One and a half. CORP. I’d liefer live again! |
180 |
XAN. How absolute the knave is! He be hanged! |
|
I’ll go myself. DIO. You’re the right sort, my man. |
|
Now to the ferry. CHARON. Yoh, up! lay her to. |
|
XAN. Whatever’s that? DIO. Why, that’s the lake, by Zeus, |
184 |
Whereof he spake, and yon’s the ferry-boat. |
|
XAN. Poseidon, yes, and that old fellow’s Charon. |
|
DIO. Charon! O welcome, Charon! welcome, Charon! |
|
CHAR. Who’s for the Rest from every pain and ill? |
188 |
Who’s for the Lethe’s plain? the Donkey-shearings? |
|
Who’s for Cerberia? Taenarum? or the Ravens? |
|
DIO. I. CHAR. Hurry in. DIO. But where are you going really? |
|
In truth to the Ravens? CHAR. Aye, for your behoof. |
192 |
Step in. DIO. (To Xan.) Now, lad. CHAR. A slave? I take no slave, |
|
Unless he has fought for his bodyrights at sea. |
|
XAN. I couldn’t go. I’d got the eye-disease. |
|
CHAR. Then fetch a circuit round about the lake. |
196 |
XAN. Where must I wait? CHAR. Beside the Withering stone, |
|
Hard by the Rest. DIO. You understand? XAN. Too well. |
|
O, what ill omen crossed me as I started! |
|
CHAR. (To Dio.) Sit to the oar. (Calling.) Who else for the boat? Be quick. |
200 |
(To Dio.) Hi! What are you doing? DIO. What am I doing? Sitting |
|
On to the oar. You told me to, yourself. |
|
CHAR. Now sit you there, you little Potgut. DIO. So? |
|
CHAR. Now stretch your arms full length before you. DIO. So? |
204 |
CHAR. Come, don’t keep fooling; plant your feet, and now |
|
Pull with a will. DIO. Why, how am I to pull? |
|
I’m not an oarsman, seaman, Salaminian. |
|
I can’t! CHAR. You can. Just dip your oar in once, |
208 |
You’ll hear the loveliest timing songs. DIO. What from? |
|
CHAR. Frog-swans, most wonderful. DIO. Then give the word. |
|
CHAR. Heave ahoy! heave ahoy! |
|
FROGS. Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax! |
212 |
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax! |
|
We children of the fountain and the lake, |
|
Let us wake |
|
Our full choir-shout, as the flutes are ringing out, |
216 |
Our symphony of clear-voiced song. |
|
The song we used to love, in the Marshland up above, |
|
In praise of Dionysus to produce, |
|
Of Nysaean Dionysus, son of Zeus, |
220 |
When the revel-tipsy throng, all crapulous and gay, |
|
To our precinct reeled along on the holy |
|
Pitcher day. |
|
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. |
224 |
DIO. O, dear! O, dear! now I declare |
|
I’ve got a bump upon my rump. |
|
FR. Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. |
|
DIO. But you, perchance, don’t care. |
228 |
FR. Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. |
|
DIO. Hang you, and your ko-axing too! |
|
There’s nothing but ko-ax with you. |
|
FR. That is right, Mr. Busybody, right! |
232 |
For the Muses of the lyre love us well; |
|
And hornfoot Pan who plays on the pipe his jocund lays; |
|
And Apollo, Harper bright, in our Chorus takes delight; |
|
For the strong reed’s sake which I grow within my lake |
236 |
To be girdled in his lyre’s deep shell. |
|
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. |
|
DIO. My hands are blistered very sore; |
|
My stern below is sweltering so, |
240 |
’Twill soon, I know, upturn and roar |
|
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. |
|
O tuneful race, O, pray give o’er, |
|
O, sing no more. FR. Ah, no! ah, no! |
244 |
Loud and louder our chant must flow. |
|
Sing if ever ye sang of yore, |
|
When in sunny and glorious days |
|
Through the rushes and marsh-flags springing |
248 |
On we swept, in the joy of singing |
|
Myriad-diving roundelays. |
|
Or when fleeing the storm, we went |
|
Down to the depths, and our choral song |
252 |
Wildly raised to a loud and long |
|
Bubble-bursting accompaniment. |
|
FR. and DIO. Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. |
|
DIO. This timing song I take from you. |
256 |
FR. That’s a dreadful thing to do. |
|
DIO. Much more dreadful, if I row |
|
Till I burst myself, I trow. |
|
FR. and DIO. Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. |
260 |
DIO. Go, hang yourselves; for what care I? |
|
FR. All the same we’ll shout and cry, |
|
Stretching all our throats with song, |
|
Shouting, crying, all day long, |
264 |
FR. and DIO. Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. |
|
DIO. In this you’ll never, never win. |
|
FR. This you shall not beat us in. |
|
DIO. No, nor ye prevail o’er me. |
268 |
Never! never! I’ll my song |
|
Shout, if need be, all day long, |
|
Until I’ve learned to master your ko-ax. |
|
Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax. |
272 |
I thought I’d put a stop to your ko-ax. |
|
CHAR. Stop! Easy! Take the oar and push her to. |
|
Now pay your fare and go. DIO. Here ’tis: two obols. |
|
Xanthias! where’s Xanthias? Is it Xanthias there? |
276 |
XAN. Hoi, hoi! DIO. Come hither. XAN. Glad to meet you, master. |
|
DIO. What have you there? XAN. Nothing but filth and darkness. |
|
DIO. But tell me, did you see the parricides |
|
And perjured folk he mentioned? XAN. Didn’t you? |
280 |
DIO. Poseidon, yes. Why, look! (Pointing to the audience.) I see them now. |
|
What’s the next step? XAN. We’d best be moving on. |
|
This is the spot where Heracles declared |
|
Those savage monsters dwell. DIO. O, hang the fellow! |
284 |
That’s all his bluff: he thought to scare me off, |
|
The jealous dog, knowing my plucky ways. |
|
There’s no such swaggerer lives as Heracles. |
|
Why, I’d like nothing better than to achieve |
288 |
Some bold adventure, worthy of our trip. |
|
XAN. I know you would. Hallo! I hear a noise. |
|
DIO. Where? what? XAN. Behind us, there. DIO. Get you behind. |
|
XAN. No, it’s in front. DIO. Get you in front directly. |
292 |
XAN. And now I see the most ferocious monster. |
|
DIO. O, what’s it like? XAN. Like everything by turns. |
|
Now it’s a bull: now it’s a mule: and now |
|
The loveliest girl. DIO. O, where? I’ll go and meet her. |
296 |
XAN. It’s ceased to be a girl: it’s a dog now. |
|
DIO. It is Empusa! XAN. Well, its face is all |
|
Ablaze with fire. DIO. Has it a copper leg? |
|
XAN. A copper leg? yes, one; and one of cow dung. |
300 |
DIO. O, whither shall I flee? XAN. O, whither I? |
|
DIO. My priest, protect me, and we’ll sup together. |
|
XAN. King Heracles, we’re done for. DIO. O, forbear, |
|
Good fellow, call me anything but that. |
304 |
XAN. Well, then, Dionysus. DIO. O, that’s worse again. |
|
XAN. (To the Spectre.) Aye, go thy way. O master, here, come here. |
|
DIO. O, what’s up now? XAN. Take courage; all’s serene. |
|
And, like Hegelochus, we now may say, |
308 |
“Out of the storm there comes a new fine wether.” |
|
Empusa’s gone. DIO. Swear it. XAN. By Zeus she is. |
|
DIO. Swear it again. XAN. By Zeus. DIO. Again. XAN. By Zeus. |
|
O, dear, O, dear, how pale I grew to see her, |
312 |
But he from fright has yellowed me all over. |
|
DIO. Ah me, whence fall these evils on my head? |
|
Who is the god to blame for my destruction? |
|
Air, Zeus’ chamber, or the Foot of Time? |
316 |
(A flute is played behind the scenes.)
DIO. Hist! XAN. What’s the matter? DIO. Didn’t you hear it? |
|
XAN. What? |
|
DIO. The breath of flutes. XAN. Aye, and a whiff of torches |
|
Breathed o’er me too; a very mystic whiff. |
320 |
DIO. Then crouch we down, and mark what’s going on. |
|
CHORUS. (In the distance.) O Iacchus! |
|
O Iacchus! O Iacchus! |
|
XAN. O have it, master: ’tis those blessed Mystics, |
324 |
Of whom he told us, sporting hereabouts. |
|
They sing the Iacchus which Diagoras made. |
|
DIO. I think so too: we had better both keep quiet |
|
And so find out exactly what it is. |
328 |
(The calling forth of Iacchus.)
CHOR. O Iacchus! power excelling, here in stately temples dwelling, |
|
O Iacchus! O Iacchus! |
|
Come to tread this verdant level, |
|
Come to dance in mystic revel, |
332 |
Come whilst round thy forehead hurtles |
|
Many a wreath of fruitful myrtles, |
|
Come with wild and saucy paces |
|
Mingling in our joyous dance, |
336 |
Pure and holy, which embraces all the charms of all the Graces, |
|
When the mystic choirs advance. |
|
XAN. Holy and sacred queen, Demeter’s daughter, |
|
O, what a jolly whiff of pork breathed o’er me! |
340 |
DIO. Hist! and perchance you’ll get some tripe yourself. |
|
(The welcome to Iacchus.)
CHOR. Come, arise, from sleep awaking, come the fiery torches shaking, |
|
O Iacchus! O Iacchus! |
|
Morning Star that shinest nightly. |
344 |
Lo, the mead is blazing brightly, |
|
Age forgets its years and sadness, |
|
Agèd knees curvet for gladness, |
|
Lift thy flashing torches o’er us, |
348 |
Marshal all thy blameless train, |
|
Lead, O, lead the way before us; lead the lovely youthful Chorus |
|
To the marshy flowery plain. |
|
(The warning-off of the profane.)
All evil thoughts and profane be still: far hence, far hence from our choirs depart, |
352 |
Who knows not well what the Mystics tell, or is not holy and pure of heart; |
|
Who ne’er has the noble revelry learned, or danced the dance of the Muses high; |
|
Or shared in the Bacchic rites which old bull-eating Cratinus’ word supply; |
|
Who vulgar coarse buffoonery loves, though all untimely the jests they make; |
356 |
Or lives not easy and kind with all, or kindling faction forbears to slake, |
|
But fans the fire, from a base desire some pitiful gain for himself to reap; |
|
Or takes, in office, his gifts and bribes, while the city is tossed on the stormy deep; |
|
Who fort or fleet to the foe betrays; or, a vile Thorycion, ships away |
360 |
Forbidden stores from Aegina’s shores, to Epidaurus across the Bay |
|
Transmitting oar-pads and sails and tar, that curst collector of five per cents; |
|
The knave who tries to procure supplies for the use of the enemy’s armaments; |
|
The Cyclian singer who dares befoul the Lady Hecate’s wayside shrine; |
364 |
The public speaker who once lampooned in our Bacchic feasts would, with heart malign, |
|
Keep nibbling away the Comedians’ pay;—to these I utter my warning cry, |
|
I charge them once, I charge them twice, I charge them thrice, that they draw not nigh |
|
To the sacred dance of the mystic choir. But YE, my comrades, awake the song, |
368 |
The night-long revels of joy and mirth which ever of right to our feast belong. |
|
(The start of the procession.)
Advance, true hearts, advance! |
|
On to the gladsome bowers, |
|
On to the sward, with flowers |
372 |
Embosomed bright! |
|
March on with jest, and jeer, and dance, |
|
Full well ye’ve supped to-night. |
|
(The processional hymn to Persephone.)
March, chanting loud your lays, |
376 |
Your hearts and voices raising, |
|
The Saviour goddess praising |
|
Who vows she’ll still |
|
Our city save to endless days, |
380 |
Whate’er Thorycion’s will. |
|
Break off the measure, and change the time; and now with chanting and hymns adorn |
|
Demeter, goddess mighty and high, the harvest-queen, the giver of corn. |
|
(The processional hymn to Demeter.)
O Lady, over our rites presiding, |
384 |
Preserve and succour thy choral throng, |
|
And grant us all, in thy help confiding, |
|
To dance and revel the whole day long; |
|
AND MUCH in earnest, and much in jest, |
388 |
Worthy thy feast, may we speak therein. |
|
And when we have bantered and laughed our best, |
|
The victor’s wreath be it ours to win. |
|
Call we now the youthful god, call him hither without delay, |
392 |
Him who travels amongst his chorus, dancing along on the Sacred Way. |
|
(The processional hymn to Iacchus.)
O, come with the joy of thy festival song, |
|
O, come to the goddess, O, mix with our throng |
|
Untired, though the journey be never so long. |
396 |
O Lord of the frolic and dance, |
|
Iacchus, beside me advance! |
|
For fun, and for cheapness, our dress thou hast rent, |
|
Through thee we may dance to the top of our bent, |
400 |
Reviling, and jeering, and none will resent. |
|
O Lord of the frolic and dance, |
|
Iacchus, beside me advance! |
|
A sweet pretty girl I observed in the show, |
404 |
Her robe had been torn in the scuffle, and lo, |
|
There peeped through the tatters a bosom of snow. |
|
O Lord of the frolic and dance, |
|
Iacchus, beside me advance! |
408 |
DIO. Wouldn’t I like to follow on, and try |
|
A little sport and dancing? XAN. Wouldn’t I? |
|
(The banter at the bridge of Cephisus.)
CHOR. Shall we all a merry joke |
|
At Archedemus poke, |
412 |
Who has not cut his guildsmen yet, though seven years old; |
|
Yet up among the dead |
|
He is demagogue and head, |
|
And contrives the topmost place of the rascaldom to hold? |
416 |
And Cleisthenes, they say, |
|
Is among the tombs all day, |
|
Bewailing for his lover with a lamentable whine. |
|
And Callias, I’m told, |
420 |
Has become a sailor bold, |
|
And casts a lion’s hide o’er his members feminine. |
|
DIO. Can any of you tell |
|
Where Pluto here may dwell? |
424 |
For we, sirs, are two strangers who were never here before. |
|
CHOR. O, then no further stray, |
|
Nor again inquire the way, |
|
For know that ye have journeyed to his very entrance-door. |
428 |
DIO. Take up the wraps, my lad. |
|
XAN. Now is not this too bad? |
|
Like “Zeus’ Corinth,” he “the wraps” keeps saying o’er and o’er. |
|
CHOR. Now wheel your sacred dances through the glade with flowers bedight, |
432 |
All ye who are partakers of the holy festal rite; |
|
And I will with the women and the holy maidens go |
|
Where they keep the nightly vigil, an auspicious light to show. |
|
(The departure for the Thriasian Plain)
Now haste we to the roses, |
436 |
And the meadows full of posies, |
|
Now haste we to the meadows |
|
In our own old way, |
|
In choral dances blending, |
440 |
In dances never ending, |
|
Which only for the holy |
|
The Destinies array. |
|
O happy mystic chorus, |
444 |
The blessed sunshine o’er us |
|
On us alone is smiling, |
|
In its soft sweet light: |
|
On us who strove for ever |
448 |
With holy, pure endeavour, |
|
Alike by friend and stranger |
|
To guide our steps aright. |
|
DIO. What’s the right way to knock? I wonder how |
452 |
The natives here are wont to knock at doors. |
|
XAN. No dawdling: taste the door. You’ve got, remember, |
|
The lion-hide and pride of Heracles. |
|
DIO. Boy! Boy! AEACUS. Who’s there? DIO. I, Heracles the strong! |
456 |
AEAC. O you most shameless desperate ruffian, you! |
|
O villain, villain, arrant vilest villain! |
|
Who seized our Cerberus by the throat, and fled, |
|
And ran, and rushed, and bolted, haling off |
460 |
The dog, my charge! But now I’ve got thee fast. |
|
So close the Styx’s inky-hearted rock, |
|
The blood-bedabbled peak of Acheron |
|
Shall hem thee in: the hell-hounds of Cocytus |
464 |
Prowl round thee; whilst the hundred-headed Asp |
|
Shall rive thy heart-strings: the Tartesian Lamprey |
|
Prey on thy lungs: and those Tithrasian Gorgons |
|
Mangle and tear thy kidneys, mauling them, |
468 |
Entrails and all, into one bloody mash. |
|
I’ll speed a running foot to fetch them hither. |
|
XAN. Hallo! what now? DIO. I’ve done it: call the god. |
|
XAN. Get up, you laughing-stock; get up directly, |
472 |
Before you’re seen. DIO. What, I get up? I’m fainting. |
|
Please dab a sponge of water on my heart. |
|
XAN. Here! DIO. Dab it, you. XAN. Where? O ye golden gods, |
|
Lies your heart there? DIO. It got so terrified |
476 |
It fluttered down into my stomach’s pit. |
|
XAN. Cowardliest of gods and men! DIO. The cowardliest? I? |
|
What, I, who asked you for a sponge, a thing |
|
A coward never would have done! XAN. What then? |
480 |
DIO. A coward would have lain there wallowing; |
|
But I stood up, and wiped myself withal. |
|
XAN. Poseidon! quite heroic. DIO. ’Deed I think so. |
|
But weren’t you frightened at those dreadful threats |
484 |
And shoutings? XAN. Frightened? Not a bit. I cared not. |
|
DIO. Come then, if you’re so very brave a man, |
|
Will you be I, and take the hero’s club |
|
And lion’s skin, since you’re so monstrous plucky? |
488 |
And I’ll be now the slave, and bear the luggage. |
|
XAN. Hand them across. I cannot choose but take them. |
|
And now observe the Xanthio-heracles |
|
If I’m a coward and a sneak like you. |
492 |
DIO. Nay, you’re the rogue from Melite’s own self. |
|
And I’ll pick up and carry on the traps. |
|
MAID. O, welcome, Heracles! come in, sweetheart. |
|
My Lady, when they told her, set to work, |
496 |
Baked mighty loaves, boiled two or three tureens |
|
Of lentil soup, roasted a prime ox whole, |
|
Made rolls and honey-cakes. So come along. |
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