DIONYSUS
Damsels, the lion walketh to the net!
He finds his Bacchae now, and sees and dies,
And pays for all his sin!--O Dionyse,
This is thine hour and thou not far away.
Grant us our vengeance!--First, O Master, stay
The course of reason in him, and instil
A foam of madness. Let his seeing will,
Which ne'er had stooped to put thy vesture on,
Be darkened, till the deed is lightly done.
Grant likewise that he find through all his streets
Loud scorn, this man of wrath and bitter threats
That made Thebes tremble, led in woman's guise.
I go to fold that robe of sacrifice
On Pentheus, that shall deck him to the dark.
His mother's gift!--So shall he learn and mark
God's true Son, Dionyse, in fulness God,
Most fearful, yet to man most soft of mood.
[_Exit_ DIONYSUS, _following PENTHEUS into Castle._]

CHORUS

_Some Maidens_

Will they ever come to me, ever again,
The long long dances,
On through the dark till the dim stars wane?
Shall I feel the dew on my throat, and the stream
Of wind in my hair? Shall our white feet gleam