So Lycurgos was tormented by the warring plants ; but now a trouble appeared worse than any. For Rheia of the mountains armed against Arabia the seagod, Earthshaker who splits the foundations of the earth with a crash, and hurls them about. Then Earthshaker the ruler of the sea struck with his trident, and knocked away the great bar which held up the wide floor of the land, while the caverns of the earth were beaten by internal winds, subterranean winds, for blasts in the hidden parts hollow out grinning chasms with moving shock. The unshakable soil of Arabia quaked, cloudcapt palaces were dissolved by the shattering shock; trees fell to the earth, and the firm ground about Arabian Nysa struck by the trident shook and danced. The elm lay on the ground, the laurel’s leaves were in the dust, the pine self-uprooted lay beside the fir.
While Earthshaker with wild subterranean blasts shook the roots of the hollows and caverns below, a new calamity came: the woodranging Nysian women, lashed by the whip of dragonhair Megaira, bellowed like bulls and murdered their children. One would rush forward and throw her boy flying into the air, sliding headlong from the air into the dust. Another dragged her own baby along the ground, and forgot the breast. Another stained her hand with childslaying steel, and carved her son like another mad Agaue. So they rushed on their own children, the newborn sons whom they had brought forth, and cut them piecemeal with the knife. Beside them the Arabian shepherd crouching under Pan’s whip ran amok among the animals.
So the oxherd, seething by the god’s maddening device, carved up his children, and feasted on his own sons with child-devouring jaws: the belly of delirious drovers was the tomb of their own boys, whom they should have cared for. All the while Lycurgos was beaten by the Nymphs’ hands. He was fast bound with many knots of leafage smothering him. Yet he bent not a knee before Lyaios, held not out a hand to Zeus for mercy in his extremity, feared not the thunder, but glared with fury at the Bassarids. He saw the lightning flash against his head, and would not yield to Lyaios. Blows fell on him from all sides, but he stood unmoved by all this impetuous onslaught of innumerable blows, facing alone Zeus, Poseidaon, Rheia, Earth, Nereus, Bacchos, with only Ares to help him; and in his pain he shrieked out unbridled defiance :
“Make fire, let us burn all this stuff, let all these Bacchic leaves lie in the flames! Let us throw the blazing gardenvines into the sea for Dionysos in the deeps, to show the courage of Arabs! Let Thetis herself catch the scorched fruit in the waves, and quench the burning viny ashes in the sea! Loose these phantasms, this cunning witchery of bonds! I see here witchery of the Nereids and Poseidon. Loose me and bring me to the sea! I will take arms against this prophet-wizard Proteus. Light a torch, that I may go down to the sea in my avenging wrath, and set fire to Melicertes the entertainer of Bromios !
So he spoke, threatening Nereus and Dionysos.
Now Hera came to Arabia, and saved the afflicted son of Enyalios from the leafy battle. She held the iron sword of Ares, and bared the flashing blade of the divine glaive over the Bacchants, scattering in flight the army of Cybelid women. She cut through Ambrosia’s leaves with that iron, and untied the bonds of the vine from Lycurgos. She soothed her brother, Seabluehair Earthshaker, and Zeus her husband and Rheia her mother, to save Lycurgos that he might be numbered with the immortals. For the Arabs on heavy-steaming altars propitiated Dryas’ son as a god with offerings, pouring to Lycurgos, who cared nought for Bacchos, libations of blood, instead of the honeydripping vintage of Dionysos.
All this Old Time was to accomplish in later days ; but now, in order that no other mortal man should be proud like spearbold Lycurgos, and ridicule Dionysos whom none may ridicule, Father Zeus made mad Lycurgos a blind wanderer; to tramp round and round in the city which he no longer knew, to seek some guide for the path where he must tread, or often on lonely travels with stumbling feet.
That is what was done on the mountains. But in the Erythraian sea, the daughters of Nereus cherished Dionysos at their table, in their halls deep down under the waves. Mermaid Ino threw off her jealousy of Semele’s bed divine, and struck up a brave hymn for winepouring Lyaios. Ino the nurse of Dionysos made music; and Melicertes his foster-brother ladled out nectar from the bowl, and poured the sweet cups for his agemate.
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