Greek-English interwoven text: Introduction Ἀσία_ς ἀπὸ γᾶς ἱερὸν Τμῶλον ἀμείψα_σα From the land of Asia, having departed sacred Tmolus, ……………θοάζω Βρομίῳ πόνον ἡδὺν κάματόν τ᾿ εὐκάματον, I rush to do my sweet labour for Bromius, a toil that is no toil; …… Βάκ- χιον εὐαζομένα_. honouring Bacchus with cries of “evoe, evoe!”. τίς ὁδῷ τίς ὁδῷ; τίς; μελάθροις ἔκτοπος ἔστω, Who is in the way? who is in the way? who? Let him get out of the way indoors, … στόμα τ᾿ εὔφη- μον ἅπα_ς ἐξοσιούσθω: and let everyone keep his mouth pure with a religious silence. τὰ νομισθέντα γὰρ αἰεὶ Διόνυ_σον ὑμνήσω. For what eternal custom has passed down, I will sing in praise of Dionysus. Strophe a ὦ μάκαρ, ὅστις εὐδαίμων τελετὰ_ς θεῶν εἰδὼς Oh blessed is the man, who in his happy fortune, knowing the rites of the gods, βιοτὰ_ν ἁγιστεύει καὶ θιασεύεται ψυ_χὰ_ν keeps his life holy, and initiates his soul: ἐν ὄρεσσι βακχεύων ὁσίοις καθαρμοῖσιν, worshipping Bacchus in the mountains with holy purifications; τά τε μα_τρὸς μεγάλα_ς ὄρ- για Κυβέλα_ς θεμιτεύων, lawfully keeping the orgies of great mother Cybele; ἀνὰ θύρσον τε τινάσσων, shaking his thyrsus up and down; κισσῷ τε στεφανωθεὶς Διόνυ_σον θεραπεύει. and who crowned with ivy, does service for Dionysus. ἴτε βάκχαι, ἴτε βάκχαι, Go Bacchae, go Bacchae! Βρόμιον παῖδα θεὸν θεοῦ Διόνυ_σον κατάγουσαι as the god Bromius, the child of a god, Dionysus, you bring down, Φρυγίων ἐξ ὀρέων Ἑλ- λάδος εἰς εὐρυχόρους ἀ- γυιά_ς, τὸν Βρόμιον: from the mountains of Phrygia, to the broad streets of Hellas; bring Bromius, I say! Antistrophe a ὅν ποτ᾿ ἔχουσ᾿ ἐν ὠδί_νων λοχίαις ἀνάγκαισι Bearing him in the painful compulsions of childbirth, πταμένα_ς Διὸς βροντᾶς νη- δύος ἔκβολον μά_τηρ ἔτεκεν, his mother, when Zeus’s thunder flew upon her, gave birth to the child as an outcast of her womb, …………….λιποῦσ᾿ αἰῶ- να κεραυνίῳ πλα_γᾷ: after leaving her life by the lightning’s stroke. λοχίαις δ᾿ αὐτίκα νιν δέ- ξατο θαλάμαις Κρονίδα_ς Ζεύς, But Zeus, son of Cronus, immediately welcomed the child into chambers fit for childbirth; κατὰ μηρῷ δὲ καλύψα_ς χρυ_σέαισιν συνερείδει περόναις κρυπτὸν ἀφ᾿ Ἥρα_ς. and covering him beneath his thigh, closed him up with golden pins, concealed from Hera. ἔτεκεν δ᾿, ἁ_νίκα Μοῖραι τέλεσαν, ταυρόκερων θεὸν And he gave birth to him when the Fates had perfected him, to the bull-horned god; στεφάνωσέν τε δρακόντων στεφάνοις, and he crowned him with crowns of serpents. ……………ἔνθεν ἄγρα_ν θη- ρότροφον μαινάδες ἀμφι- βάλλονται πλοκάμοις. Hence why the Maenads wear the prey that feeds on beasts about their hair. Strophe b ὦ Σεμέλα_ς τροφοὶ Θῆ- βαι, στεφανοῦσθε κισσῷ: O Thebes, nurse of Semele; crown yourself with ivy! βρύετε βρύετε χλοήρει μί_λακι καλλικάρπῳ Abound, abound, in the verdant bryony with its lovely fruit, καὶ καταβακχιοῦσθε δρυὸς ἢ ἐλάτα_ς κλάδοισι, and rage and rave with branches of oak and fir! στικτῶν τ᾿ ἐνδυτὰ νεβρίδων στέφετε λευκοτρίχων πλοκάμων μαλλοῖς: Your spotted-fawnskin garments, fringe with white-haired locks of wool; … ἀμφὶ δὲ νάρθηκας ὑβριστὰ_ς ὁσιοῦσθ᾿: and your insolent fennel-stalks, wrap around with holiness. … αὐτίκα γᾶ πᾶσα χορεύσει, Βρόμιος ὅστις ἄγῃ θιάσους, Very soon, all the land shall dance, and whoever leads the sacred bands is Bromius. εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος, To the mountain, to the mountain! ἔνθα μένει θηλυγενὴς ὄχλος where the female crowd awaits; ἀφ᾿ ἱστῶν παρὰ κερκίδων τ᾿ οἰστρηθεὶς Διονύ_σῳ. from their looms and shuttles, goaded by Dionysus. Antistrophe b ὦ θαλάμευμα Κουρή- των ζάθεοί τε Κρήτα_ς Διογενέτορες ἔναυλοι, O mystic den of the Curetes; and sacred Cretan haunts, that gave birth to Zeus! ἔνθα τρικόρυθες ἄντροις βυρσότονον κύκλωμα τόδε μοι Κορύβαντες ηὗρον: where in their caves, the triple-plumed Corybantes invented this skin-stretched circle for me. βακχείᾳ δ᾿ ἀνά συντόνῳ κέρασαν ἁ_δυβόᾳ Φρυγίων αὐλῶν πνεύματι In impetuous revelry, they mixed it with the sweet-voiced breath of Phrygian flutes; …………..μα_τρός τε Ῥέα_ς ἐς χέρα θῆκαν, κτύπον εὐάσμασι βακχᾶν: and placed it in the hand of mother Rhea, to beat time for the joyful cries of the Bacchae. παρὰ δὲ μαινόμενοι Σάτυροι μα_τέρος ἐξανύσαντο θεᾶς, And the raving Satyrs borrowed it from the mother goddess, ἐς δὲ χορεύματα συνῆψαν τριετηρίδων, αἷς χαίρει Διόνυ_σος. and joined it to the dances of the biennial festivals, in which Dionysus takes delight. Epode ἡδὺς ἐν ὄρεσιν, ὅταν ἐκ θιάσων δρομαί- ων πέσῃ πεδόσε, He is sweet in the mountains, when leaving the rushing bands of Bacchants, he falls to the ground: ……..νε- βρίδος ἔχων ἱερὸν ἐνδυτόν, wearing the sacred fawnskin garment; …… ἀγρεύων αἷμα τραγοκτόνον, ὠμοφάγον χάριν, hunting for the blood of the slain goat, a rawly-eaten delight; ……. ἱ_έμε- νος εἰς ὄρεα Φρύγια, Λύ_δι᾿, ὅ δ᾿ ἔξαρχος Βρόμιος, εὐοῖ. eagerly rushing to the Phrygian, to the Lydian mountains; and the leader of the dance is Bromius, evoe! ῥεῖ δὲ γάλακτι πέδον, ῥεῖ δ᾿ οἴνῳ, ῥεῖ δὲ μελισσᾶν νέκταρι. The plain flows with milk, flows with wine, flows with the nectar of bees. Συρία_ς δ᾿ ὡς λιβάνου κα- πνὸν ὁ Βακχεὺς ἀνέχων πυρσώδη φλόγα πεύκα_ς ἐκ νάρθηκος ἀίσσει And the Bacchic one, holding above his bright-burning pine-torch flame, sweet as the smoke of Syrian frankincense, streams the fire from his wand: δρόμῳ καὶ χοροῖσιν πλανά_τα_ς ἐρεθίζων rousing his wanderers with racing and dancing; ἰαχαῖς τ᾿ ἀναπάλλων, urging them on with shouts; τρυφερόν πλόκαμον εἰς αἰθέρα ῥίπτων. and tossing his delicate locks into the heavens. ἅμα δ᾿ εὐάσμασι τοιάδ᾿ἐπιβρέμει: And together with joyful shouts, he roars these things aloud: Ὦ ἴτε βάκχαι, [ὦ] ἴτε βάκχαι, Τμώλου χρυ_σορόου χλιδᾷ, “Go Bacchae, go Bacchae, with the luxury of Tmolus, that streams with gold. μέλπετε τὸν Διόνυ_σον βαρυβρόμων ὑπὸ τυμπάνων, Sing of Dionysus to the loud-roaring drums: εὔια τὸν εὔιον ἀγαλλόμεναι θεὸν ἐν Φρυγίαισι βοαῖς ἐνοπαῖσί τε, exalting with joy the god of joy, amidst Phrygian cries and shouts, λωτὸς ὅταν εὐκέλαδος ἱερὸς ἱερὰ παίγματα βρέμῃ, σύνοχα φοιτάσιν εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος: when the sweet, sacred pipe, sounds playful, sacred songs, suited to the sojourners; to the mountain, to the mountain!”. …….. ἡδομέ- να_ δ᾿ ἄρα, πῶλος ὅπως ἅμα μα_τέρι φορβάδι, κῶλον ἄγει ταχύπουν σκιρτήμασι βάκχα_. And so the Bacchante, rejoicing like a colt with its grazing mother, rouses her swift-footed limb in leaping dance.
Thank you very much for this! I read a novel recently, where Pentaeus's plea, just before he is killed, was quoted, and it was a very powerful passage. Soon, I hope, I will be able to read the original text, and I appreciate this first sample. I also commend you for using the classical attic pronunciation. For some reason, people are infatuated with all sorts of koine dialects that are completely culturally insignificant in comparison with the attic one.
English text: Introduction From the land of Asia, having departed sacred Tmolus, I rush to do my sweet labour for Bromius, a toil that is no toil; honouring Bacchus with cries of “evoe, evoe!”. Who is in the way? who is in the way? who? Let him get out of the way indoors, and let everyone keep his mouth pure with a religious silence. For what eternal custom has passed down, I will sing in praise of Dionysus. The Turn Oh blessed is the man, who in his happy fortune, knowing the rites of the gods, keeps his life holy, and initiates his soul: worshipping Bacchus in the mountains with holy purifications; lawfully keeping the orgies of great mother Cybele; shaking his thyrsus up and down; and who crowned with ivy, does service for Dionysus. Go Bacchae, go Bacchae! as the god Bromius, the child of a god, Dionysus, you bring down, from the mountains of Phrygia, to the broad streets of Hellas; bring Bromius, I say! The Counterturn Bearing him in the painful compulsions of childbirth, his mother, when Zeus’s thunder flew upon her, gave birth to the child as an outcast of her womb, after leaving her life by the lightning’s stroke. But Zeus, son of Cronus, immediately welcomed the child into chambers fit for childbirth; and covering him beneath his thigh, closed him up with golden pins, concealed from Hera. And he gave birth to him when the Fates had perfected him, to the bull-horned god; and he crowned him with crowns of serpents. Hence why the Maenads wear the prey that feeds on beasts about their hair. The Turn O Thebes, nurse of Semele; crown yourself with ivy! Abound, abound, in the verdant bryony with its lovely fruit, and rage and rave with branches of oak and fir! Your spotted-fawnskin garments, fringe with white-haired locks of wool; and your insolent fennel-stalks, wrap around with holiness. Very soon, all the land shall dance, and whoever leads the sacred bands is Bromius. To the mountain, to the mountain! where the female crowd awaits; from their looms and shuttles, goaded by Dionysus. The Counterturn O mystic den of the Curetes; and sacred Cretan haunts, that gave birth to Zeus! where in their caves, the triple-plumed Corybantes invented this skin-stretched circle for me. In impetuous revelry, they mixed it with the sweet-voiced breath of Phrygian flutes; and placed it in the hand of mother Rhea, to beat time for the joyful cries of the Bacchae. And the raving Satyrs borrowed it from the mother goddess, and joined it to the dances of the biennial festivals, in which Dionysus takes delight. The Stand He is sweet in the mountains, when leaving the rushing bands of Bacchants, he falls to the ground: wearing the sacred fawnskin garment; hunting for the blood of the slain goat, a rawly-eaten delight; eagerly rushing to the Phrygian, to the Lydian mountains; and the leader of the dance is Bromius, evoe! The plain flows with milk, flows with wine, flows with the nectar of bees. And the Bacchic one, holding above his bright-burning pine-torch flame, sweet as the smoke of Syrian frankincense, streams the fire from his wand: rousing his wanderers with racing and dancing; urging them on with shouts; and tossing his delicate locks into the heavens. And together with joyful shouts, he roars these things aloud: “Go Bacchae, go Bacchae, with the luxury of Tmolus, that streams with gold. Sing of Dionysus to the loud-roaring drums: exalting with joy the god of joy, amidst Phrygian cries and shouts, when the sweet, sacred pipe, sounds playful, sacred songs, suited to the sojourners; to the mountain, to the mountain!”. And so the Bacchante, rejoicing like a colt with its grazing mother, rouses her swift-footed limb in leaping dance.
Really nice my friend, greetings from Izmir Turkey.
Thank you so much for this beauty ❤
Beautiful
Greek-English interwoven text:
Introduction
Ἀσία_ς ἀπὸ γᾶς
ἱερὸν Τμῶλον ἀμείψα_σα
From the land of Asia, having departed sacred Tmolus,
……………θοάζω
Βρομίῳ πόνον ἡδὺν
κάματόν τ᾿ εὐκάματον,
I rush to do my sweet labour for Bromius, a toil that is no toil;
…… Βάκ-
χιον εὐαζομένα_.
honouring Bacchus with cries of “evoe, evoe!”.
τίς ὁδῷ τίς ὁδῷ; τίς;
μελάθροις ἔκτοπος ἔστω,
Who is in the way? who is in the way? who? Let him get out of the way indoors,
… στόμα τ᾿ εὔφη-
μον ἅπα_ς ἐξοσιούσθω:
and let everyone keep his mouth pure with a religious silence.
τὰ νομισθέντα γὰρ αἰεὶ
Διόνυ_σον ὑμνήσω.
For what eternal custom has passed down, I will sing in praise of Dionysus.
Strophe a
ὦ
μάκαρ, ὅστις εὐδαίμων
τελετὰ_ς θεῶν εἰδὼς
Oh blessed is the man, who in his happy fortune, knowing the rites of the gods,
βιοτὰ_ν ἁγιστεύει καὶ
θιασεύεται ψυ_χὰ_ν
keeps his life holy, and initiates his soul:
ἐν ὄρεσσι βακχεύων
ὁσίοις καθαρμοῖσιν,
worshipping Bacchus in the mountains with holy purifications;
τά τε μα_τρὸς μεγάλα_ς ὄρ-
για Κυβέλα_ς θεμιτεύων,
lawfully keeping the orgies of great mother Cybele;
ἀνὰ θύρσον τε τινάσσων,
shaking his thyrsus up and down;
κισσῷ τε στεφανωθεὶς
Διόνυ_σον θεραπεύει.
and who crowned with ivy, does service for Dionysus.
ἴτε βάκχαι, ἴτε βάκχαι,
Go Bacchae, go Bacchae!
Βρόμιον παῖδα θεὸν θεοῦ
Διόνυ_σον κατάγουσαι
as the god Bromius, the child of a god, Dionysus, you bring down,
Φρυγίων ἐξ ὀρέων Ἑλ-
λάδος εἰς εὐρυχόρους ἀ-
γυιά_ς, τὸν Βρόμιον:
from the mountains of Phrygia, to the broad streets of Hellas; bring Bromius, I say!
Antistrophe a
ὅν
ποτ᾿ ἔχουσ᾿ ἐν ὠδί_νων
λοχίαις ἀνάγκαισι
Bearing him in the painful compulsions of childbirth,
πταμένα_ς Διὸς βροντᾶς νη-
δύος ἔκβολον μά_τηρ
ἔτεκεν,
his mother, when Zeus’s thunder flew upon her, gave birth to the child as an outcast of her womb,
…………….λιποῦσ᾿ αἰῶ-
να κεραυνίῳ πλα_γᾷ:
after leaving her life by the lightning’s stroke.
λοχίαις δ᾿ αὐτίκα νιν δέ-
ξατο θαλάμαις Κρονίδα_ς Ζεύς,
But Zeus, son of Cronus, immediately welcomed the child into chambers fit for childbirth;
κατὰ μηρῷ δὲ καλύψα_ς
χρυ_σέαισιν συνερείδει
περόναις κρυπτὸν ἀφ᾿ Ἥρα_ς.
and covering him beneath his thigh, closed him up with golden pins, concealed from Hera.
ἔτεκεν δ᾿, ἁ_νίκα Μοῖραι
τέλεσαν, ταυρόκερων θεὸν
And he gave birth to him when the Fates had perfected him, to the bull-horned god;
στεφάνωσέν τε δρακόντων
στεφάνοις,
and he crowned him with crowns of serpents.
……………ἔνθεν ἄγρα_ν θη-
ρότροφον μαινάδες ἀμφι-
βάλλονται πλοκάμοις.
Hence why the Maenads wear the prey that feeds on beasts about their hair.
Strophe b
ὦ Σεμέλα_ς τροφοὶ Θῆ-
βαι, στεφανοῦσθε κισσῷ:
O Thebes, nurse of Semele; crown yourself with ivy!
βρύετε βρύετε χλοήρει
μί_λακι καλλικάρπῳ
Abound, abound, in the verdant bryony with its lovely fruit,
καὶ καταβακχιοῦσθε δρυὸς
ἢ ἐλάτα_ς κλάδοισι,
and rage and rave with branches of oak and fir!
στικτῶν τ᾿ ἐνδυτὰ νεβρίδων
στέφετε λευκοτρίχων πλοκάμων
μαλλοῖς:
Your spotted-fawnskin garments, fringe with white-haired locks of wool;
… ἀμφὶ δὲ νάρθηκας ὑβριστὰ_ς
ὁσιοῦσθ᾿:
and your insolent fennel-stalks, wrap around with holiness.
… αὐτίκα γᾶ πᾶσα χορεύσει,
Βρόμιος ὅστις ἄγῃ θιάσους,
Very soon, all the land shall dance, and whoever leads the sacred bands is Bromius.
εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος,
To the mountain, to the mountain!
ἔνθα μένει
θηλυγενὴς ὄχλος
where the female crowd awaits;
ἀφ᾿ ἱστῶν παρὰ κερκίδων τ᾿
οἰστρηθεὶς Διονύ_σῳ.
from their looms and shuttles, goaded by Dionysus.
Antistrophe b
ὦ θαλάμευμα Κουρή-
των ζάθεοί τε Κρήτα_ς
Διογενέτορες ἔναυλοι,
O mystic den of the Curetes; and sacred Cretan haunts, that gave birth to Zeus!
ἔνθα τρικόρυθες ἄντροις
βυρσότονον κύκλωμα τόδε
μοι Κορύβαντες ηὗρον:
where in their caves, the triple-plumed Corybantes invented this skin-stretched circle for me.
βακχείᾳ δ᾿ ἀνά συντόνῳ
κέρασαν ἁ_δυβόᾳ Φρυγίων
αὐλῶν πνεύματι
In impetuous revelry, they mixed it with the sweet-voiced breath of Phrygian flutes;
…………..μα_τρός τε Ῥέα_ς ἐς
χέρα θῆκαν, κτύπον εὐάσμασι βακχᾶν:
and placed it in the hand of mother Rhea, to beat time for the joyful cries of the Bacchae.
παρὰ δὲ μαινόμενοι Σάτυροι
μα_τέρος ἐξανύσαντο θεᾶς,
And the raving Satyrs borrowed it from the mother goddess,
ἐς δὲ χορεύματα
συνῆψαν τριετηρίδων,
αἷς χαίρει Διόνυ_σος.
and joined it to the dances of the biennial festivals, in which Dionysus takes delight.
Epode
ἡδὺς ἐν ὄρεσιν, ὅταν ἐκ θιάσων δρομαί-
ων πέσῃ πεδόσε,
He is sweet in the mountains, when leaving the rushing bands of Bacchants, he falls to the ground:
……..νε-
βρίδος ἔχων ἱερὸν ἐνδυτόν,
wearing the sacred fawnskin garment;
…… ἀγρεύων
αἷμα τραγοκτόνον, ὠμοφάγον χάριν,
hunting for the blood of the slain goat, a rawly-eaten delight;
……. ἱ_έμε-
νος εἰς ὄρεα Φρύγια, Λύ_δι᾿, ὅ δ᾿ ἔξαρχος Βρόμιος, εὐοῖ.
eagerly rushing to the Phrygian, to the Lydian mountains; and the leader of the dance is Bromius, evoe!
ῥεῖ δὲ γάλακτι πέδον, ῥεῖ δ᾿ οἴνῳ, ῥεῖ δὲ μελισσᾶν νέκταρι.
The plain flows with milk, flows with wine, flows with the nectar of bees.
Συρία_ς δ᾿ ὡς λιβάνου κα-
πνὸν ὁ Βακχεὺς ἀνέχων
πυρσώδη φλόγα πεύκα_ς
ἐκ νάρθηκος ἀίσσει
And the Bacchic one, holding above his bright-burning pine-torch flame, sweet as the smoke of Syrian frankincense, streams the fire from his wand:
δρόμῳ καὶ χοροῖσιν
πλανά_τα_ς ἐρεθίζων
rousing his wanderers with racing and dancing;
ἰαχαῖς τ᾿ ἀναπάλλων,
urging them on with shouts;
τρυφερόν πλόκαμον εἰς αἰθέρα ῥίπτων.
and tossing his delicate locks into the heavens.
ἅμα δ᾿ εὐάσμασι τοιάδ᾿ἐπιβρέμει:
And together with joyful shouts, he roars these things aloud:
Ὦ ἴτε βάκχαι,
[ὦ] ἴτε βάκχαι,
Τμώλου χρυ_σορόου χλιδᾷ,
“Go Bacchae, go Bacchae, with the luxury of Tmolus, that streams with gold.
μέλπετε τὸν Διόνυ_σον
βαρυβρόμων ὑπὸ τυμπάνων,
Sing of Dionysus to the loud-roaring drums:
εὔια τὸν εὔιον ἀγαλλόμεναι θεὸν
ἐν Φρυγίαισι βοαῖς ἐνοπαῖσί τε,
exalting with joy the god of joy, amidst Phrygian cries and shouts,
λωτὸς ὅταν εὐκέλαδος
ἱερὸς ἱερὰ παίγματα βρέμῃ, σύνοχα
φοιτάσιν εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος:
when the sweet, sacred pipe, sounds playful, sacred songs, suited to the sojourners; to the mountain, to the mountain!”.
…….. ἡδομέ-
να_ δ᾿ ἄρα, πῶλος ὅπως ἅμα μα_τέρι
φορβάδι, κῶλον ἄγει ταχύπουν σκιρτήμασι βάκχα_.
And so the Bacchante, rejoicing like a colt with its grazing mother, rouses her swift-footed limb in leaping dance.
Thank you very much for this! I read a novel recently, where Pentaeus's plea, just before he is killed, was quoted, and it was a very powerful passage. Soon, I hope, I will be able to read the original text, and I appreciate this first sample. I also commend you for using the classical attic pronunciation. For some reason, people are infatuated with all sorts of koine dialects that are completely culturally insignificant in comparison with the attic one.
Greek text (including macrons):
ΧΟΡΟΣ
Ἀσία_ς ἀπὸ γᾶς
ἱερὸν Τμῶλον ἀμείψα_σα θοάζω
Βρομίῳ πόνον ἡδὺν
κάματόν τ᾿ εὐκάματον, Βάκ-
χιον εὐαζομένα_.
τίς ὁδῷ τίς ὁδῷ; τίς;
μελάθροις ἔκτοπος ἔστω, στόμα τ᾿ εὔφη-
μον ἅπα_ς ἐξοσιούσθω:
τὰ νομισθέντα γὰρ αἰεὶ
Διόνυ_σον ὑμνήσω.
Στροφὴ α΄
ὦ
μάκαρ, ὅστις εὐδαίμων
τελετὰ_ς θεῶν εἰδὼς
βιοτὰ_ν ἁγιστεύει καὶ
θιασεύεται ψυ_χὰ_ν
ἐν ὄρεσσι βακχεύων
ὁσίοις καθαρμοῖσιν,
τά τε μα_τρὸς μεγάλα_ς ὄρ-
για Κυβέλα_ς θεμιτεύων,
ἀνὰ θύρσον τε τινάσσων,
κισσῷ τε στεφανωθεὶς
Διόνυ_σον θεραπεύει.
ἴτε βάκχαι, ἴτε βάκχαι,
Βρόμιον παῖδα θεὸν θεοῦ
Διόνυ_σον κατάγουσαι
Φρυγίων ἐξ ὀρέων Ἑλ-
λάδος εἰς εὐρυχόρους ἀ-
γυιά_ς, τὸν Βρόμιον:
Ἀντιστροφὴ α΄
ὅν
ποτ᾿ ἔχουσ᾿ ἐν ὠδί_νων
λοχίαις ἀνάγκαισι
πταμένα_ς Διὸς βροντᾶς νη-
δύος ἔκβολον μά_τηρ
ἔτεκεν, λιποῦσ᾿ αἰῶ-
να κεραυνίῳ πλα_γᾷ:
λοχίαις δ᾿ αὐτίκα νιν δέ-
ξατο θαλάμαις Κρονίδα_ς Ζεύς,
κατὰ μηρῷ δὲ καλύψα_ς
χρυ_σέαισιν συνερείδει
περόναις κρυπτὸν ἀφ᾿ Ἥρα_ς.
ἔτεκεν δ᾿, ἁ_νίκα Μοῖραι
τέλεσαν, ταυρόκερων θεὸν
στεφάνωσέν τε δρακόντων
στεφάνοις, ἔνθεν ἄγρα_ν θη-
ρότροφον μαινάδες ἀμφι-
βάλλονται πλοκάμοις.
Στροφὴ β΄
ὦ Σεμέλα_ς τροφοὶ Θῆ-
βαι, στεφανοῦσθε κισσῷ:
βρύετε βρύετε χλοήρει
μί_λακι καλλικάρπῳ
καὶ καταβακχιοῦσθε δρυὸς
ἢ ἐλάτα_ς κλάδοισι,
στικτῶν τ᾿ ἐνδυτὰ νεβρίδων
στέφετε λευκοτρίχων πλοκάμων
μαλλοῖς: ἀμφὶ δὲ νάρθηκας ὑβριστὰ_ς
ὁσιοῦσθ᾿: αὐτίκα γᾶ πᾶσα χορεύσει,
Βρόμιος ὅστις ἄγῃ θιάσους,
εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος, ἔνθα μένει
θηλυγενὴς ὄχλος
ἀφ᾿ ἱστῶν παρὰ κερκίδων τ᾿
οἰστρηθεὶς Διονύ_σῳ.
Ἀντιστροφὴ β΄
ὦ θαλάμευμα Κουρή-
των ζάθεοί τε Κρήτα_ς
Διογενέτορες ἔναυλοι,
ἔνθα τρικόρυθες ἄντροις
βυρσότονον κύκλωμα τόδε
μοι Κορύβαντες ηὗρον·
βακχείᾳ δ᾿ ἀνά συντόνῳ
κέρασαν ἁ_δυβόᾳ Φρυγίων
αὐλῶν πνεύματι μα_τρός τε Ῥέα_ς ἐς
χέρα θῆκαν, κτύπον εὐάσμασι βακχᾶν:
παρὰ δὲ μαινόμενοι Σάτυροι
μα_τέρος ἐξανύσαντο θεᾶς,
ἐς δὲ χορεύματα
συνῆψαν τριετηρίδων,
αἷς χαίρει Διόνυ_σος.
Ἐπῳδός
ἡδὺς ἐν ὄρεσιν, ὅταν ἐκ θιάσων δρομαί-
ων πέσῃ πεδόσε, νε-
βρίδος ἔχων ἱερὸν ἐνδυτόν, ἀγρεύων
αἷμα τραγοκτόνον, ὠμοφάγον χάριν, ἱ_έμε-
νος εἰς ὄρεα Φρύγια, Λύ_δι᾿, ὅ δ᾿ ἔξαρχος Βρόμιος, εὐοῖ.
ῥεῖ δὲ γάλακτι πέδον, ῥεῖ δ᾿ οἴνῳ, ῥεῖ δὲ μελισσᾶν νέκταρι.
Συρία_ς δ᾿ ὡς λιβάνου κα-
πνὸν ὁ Βακχεὺς ἀνέχων
πυρσώδη φλόγα πεύκα_ς
ἐκ νάρθηκος ἀίσσει
δρόμῳ καὶ χοροῖσιν
πλανά_τα_ς ἐρεθίζων
ἰαχαῖς τ᾿ ἀναπάλλων,
τρυφερόν πλόκαμον εἰς αἰθέρα ῥίπτων.
ἅμα δ᾿ εὐάσμασι τοιάδ᾿ἐπιβρέμει:
Ὦ ἴτε βάκχαι,
[ὦ] ἴτε βάκχαι,
Τμώλου χρυ_σορόου χλιδᾷ,
μέλπετε τὸν Διόνυ_σον
βαρυβρόμων ὑπὸ τυμπάνων,
εὔια τὸν εὔιον ἀγαλλόμεναι θεὸν
ἐν Φρυγίαισι βοαῖς ἐνοπαῖσί τε,
λωτὸς ὅταν εὐκέλαδος
ἱερὸς ἱερὰ παίγματα βρέμῃ, σύνοχα
φοιτάσιν εἰς ὄρος εἰς ὄρος: ἡδομέ-
να_ δ᾿ ἄρα, πῶλος ὅπως ἅμα μα_τέρι
φορβάδι, κῶλον ἄγει ταχύπουν σκιρτήμασι βάκχα_.
English text:
Introduction
From the land of Asia, having departed sacred Tmolus, I rush to do my sweet labour for Bromius, a toil that is no toil; honouring Bacchus with cries of “evoe, evoe!”. Who is in the way? who is in the way? who? Let him get out of the way indoors, and let everyone keep his mouth pure with a religious silence. For what eternal custom has passed down, I will sing in praise of Dionysus.
The Turn
Oh blessed is the man, who in his happy fortune, knowing the rites of the gods, keeps his life holy, and initiates his soul: worshipping Bacchus in the mountains with holy purifications; lawfully keeping the orgies of great mother Cybele; shaking his thyrsus up and down; and who crowned with ivy, does service for Dionysus. Go Bacchae, go Bacchae! as the god Bromius, the child of a god, Dionysus, you bring down, from the mountains of Phrygia, to the broad streets of Hellas; bring Bromius, I say!
The Counterturn
Bearing him in the painful compulsions of childbirth, his mother, when Zeus’s thunder flew upon her, gave birth to the child as an outcast of her womb, after leaving her life by the lightning’s stroke. But Zeus, son of Cronus, immediately welcomed the child into chambers fit for childbirth; and covering him beneath his thigh, closed him up with golden pins, concealed from Hera. And he gave birth to him when the Fates had perfected him, to the bull-horned god; and he crowned him with crowns of serpents. Hence why the Maenads wear the prey that feeds on beasts about their hair.
The Turn
O Thebes, nurse of Semele; crown yourself with ivy! Abound, abound, in the verdant bryony with its lovely fruit, and rage and rave with branches of oak and fir! Your spotted-fawnskin garments, fringe with white-haired locks of wool; and your insolent fennel-stalks, wrap around with holiness. Very soon, all the land shall dance, and whoever leads the sacred bands is Bromius. To the mountain, to the mountain! where the female crowd awaits; from their looms and shuttles, goaded by Dionysus.
The Counterturn
O mystic den of the Curetes; and sacred Cretan haunts, that gave birth to Zeus! where in their caves, the triple-plumed Corybantes invented this skin-stretched circle for me. In impetuous revelry, they mixed it with the sweet-voiced breath of Phrygian flutes; and placed it in the hand of mother Rhea, to beat time for the joyful cries of the Bacchae. And the raving Satyrs borrowed it from the mother goddess, and joined it to the dances of the biennial festivals, in which Dionysus takes delight.
The Stand
He is sweet in the mountains, when leaving the rushing bands of Bacchants, he falls to the ground: wearing the sacred fawnskin garment; hunting for the blood of the slain goat, a rawly-eaten delight; eagerly rushing to the Phrygian, to the Lydian mountains; and the leader of the dance is Bromius, evoe! The plain flows with milk, flows with wine, flows with the nectar of bees. And the Bacchic one, holding above his bright-burning pine-torch flame, sweet as the smoke of Syrian frankincense, streams the fire from his wand: rousing his wanderers with racing and dancing; urging them on with shouts; and tossing his delicate locks into the heavens. And together with joyful shouts, he roars these things aloud: “Go Bacchae, go Bacchae, with the luxury of Tmolus, that streams with gold. Sing of Dionysus to the loud-roaring drums: exalting with joy the god of joy, amidst Phrygian cries and shouts, when the sweet, sacred pipe, sounds playful, sacred songs, suited to the sojourners; to the mountain, to the mountain!”. And so the Bacchante, rejoicing like a colt with its grazing mother, rouses her swift-footed limb in leaping dance.