Let us dance now for Bakkhios
Let us now cry aloud
The disaster that's befall'n
Pentheus the serpent's son
Who in a flowing lady's
Dress with a trusted fennel-rod
Skips flow’ry off to Hades . . .
Oh daughters of Kadmos,
You've built up your far-flung
Fame and turned it into
Grief, into tears
But blessed is the sport, to throw
A child’s hand dripping in blood.
But I see Pentheus' mother Agauve rushing
to the house, her eyes rolling wild.
Accept this revelband of the joyful crying god.
(hands her headband)
Bacchants of Asia!
Ch: Why do you call on me, woman?
ΑG: We come bearing in from the
mountains a newly-cut tendril
and a victorious hunt!
Ch: I see & welcome you, fellow Bacchant.
ΑG: I caught this young lion without any
meshes, as you can see.
Ch: Where, in the forest?
ΑG: On Kithairon
ΑG: And killed him.
Ch: Who hit him first?
ΑG: The honor was mine;
Ma-care Agauve, am I call'd in thiasoi.
Ch: Anyone else?
his daughters killed it with me! And it was a
have now your share of the feast.
Ch: What shall I take, suffering?
ΑG: Young, the bull's cheek has just
started to sprout a new growth
of hair along its chin. (strokes head-pike)
Ch: Yes, and its hair makes it look even more fearsome.
ΑG: Oh, Bacchios was the hunter, wise
one who wisely turned the tide
of Maenads on the beast.
Ch: The lord is a hunter?
ΑG: Do you praise him?
Ch: Yes I do.
ΑG: Soon the Kadmeians...
Ch: Even your son Pentheus?
ΑG: He's going to be so impressed, that his Mot-
her caught & kill'd this lion-hearted
prey. Ch: Amazing
Ch: Are you pleased?
ΑΓ: I'm ecstatic.
Χ & Α: Fantastical, shining a-
chievements have been
accomplished by this kill.