See also the forty-sixth, where you will find the head of Pentheus and Agaue murdering her son.
As soon as Pentheus, that audacious king, understood that the fetters of iron had dropt of themselves from the prisoners’ hands, and the Mainads were rushing abroad to the mountain forest, as soon as he knew the crafty plan of unseen Dionysos, restless at once he swelled with violent wrath. Then he saw him returned there, with wreaths of the usual ivy about his head, and the long locks of hair flowing in unkempt trails over his shoulders, and blustered out these wild words from his frenzied throat — I like you for sending that swindler Teiresias to me ! Your seer cannot deceive my mind. Tell all that to someone else. How could goddess Rheia refuse her breast to Zeus her own son, and yet nurse the son of Thyone? Ask the cave in the rock of Dicte with its flashing helmets, ask the Corybants too, where little Zeus used to play, when he sucked the nourishing pap of goat Amaltheia and grew strong in spirit, but never drank Rheia’s milk. You also have a touch of your deceitful mother. Semele was a liar, and Cronides burnt her with his thunders : take care that Cronides does not crush you like your mother. I too have no share of barbaric race in me. I am sprung from primeval Ismenos, not from watery Hydaspes; I know nothing of Deriades, my name is not Lycurgos. Now leave the streams of Dirce and take your Satyrs and mad Bacchants with you ; use your thyrsus, if you like, to kill another and a younger Orontes among the Assyrians. You are no Olympian offspring of Cronion : for the lightnings cry aloud the shame of your perishing mother, the thunders are witnesses of her illicit bed. Zeus of the Rains burnt not Danae after the bed ; he carried Europa, the sister of my Cadmos, and kept her unshaken — he did not drown her in the sea. I know that fire from heaven consumed the babe unborn along with the burning mother, and released the bastard fruit of this scorching delivery half-formed : if it did not destroy the babe, because you are innocent of your mother’s furtive love of an earthly bedfellow, I believe it as you declare, and unwillingly I will call you son of heavenly Zeus and one not burnt up by the thunder. Now tell me in your turn, and bear true witness : when did their father Zeus ever produce Ares or Apollo from his thigh ? If you have in you the blood of Zeus, migrate to the vault of Olympos and Live in heaven, leave to Pentheus his native Thebes. You should find another tale to fit the case, something plausible, and mix with your cunning imposture persuasion to enchant the mind — that Cronides brought you forth from his prolific brow as usual. Perhaps it would not be quite so incredible a story that he produced Bacchos too like Pallas from that unwedded brow. I would wish if you had been of the Olympian breed, yes if only Cronion Lord on High had got you, that I might hunt the offspring of Zeus and conquer Dionysos, I, called the son of Echion !
At these words the god was indignant, and replied, concealing the weight of a fatal threat deep in his heart :
“I admire the Celtic land with its barbarous law, where the Rhine tests the pure birth of a young baby : he is judge of a doubtful birth, and knows how to detect the bastard offspring of unknown blood. But my appeal is not to the insignificant stream of that river called Rhine, but I have heralds more trustworthy than rivers, in the thunderbolts. Seek no better testimony than the lightning, Pentheus. The Gaul believes the water, do you believe the testifying fire. I need not the earthly palace of Pentheus ; the home of Dionysos is his father’s heaven. If there were a choice between earth and starry Olympos, tell me I ask, which could you call better yourself, sevenzone heaven or the land of sevengate Thebes ? I need not the earthly palace of Pentheus !
“Only respect the honey dripping bloom of my fruit, do not despise the drink of Dionysos and his vine. War not against Bromios the slayer of Indians, but only one woman, fight if you can only with one manbreaking Bacchant ! Perhaps the prophetic Fates named you well, to foreshow your death. No wonder that Pentheus having the earthborn breed of his ancestor sprung from the soil, should suffer the direful fate of the Giants. No wonder that Bacchos too, having the Olympian breed of his race, should play the part of Zeus his giantslaying father. Ask Teiresias who it is you are defying ; ask Pytho who it is that slept with Semele, who it is begat Thyone’s child.
“And if you are willing to learn the mysteries of dancedelighting Bacchos, put off your royal robes, Pentheus, condescend to wear the garments of a woman and become the woman Agaue, and let not the women escape you when you hunt them. Or if your hand draws the bow to slay wild beasts, Cadmos will praise you when you join your mother in the hunt. Alone, rival Bacchos, and if it be lawful, the Archeress, that I may call you a new Actaion honslayer. Put off these arms. My women slay steel-armed warriors with their bare hands ; if they conquer with unarmed female onset you clad in armour, which of your people would praise a man outworn in a battle with women ? The Bassarid fears no feathered shaft, she flees no spear. No — be crafty and secret, disguise your aspect that none may know, and you shall see all the mysteries of danceweaving Dionysos.”
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