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We have forgotten "that agreement, age with age, we made to deck our wands, to dress in skins of fawn and crown our heads with ivy."
* * *
Oh Bacchae! Oh Bacchae!
Follow, glory of golden Tmolus
hymning Dionysus with a rumble of drums,
with the cry,
Euhoi! to the Euhoian God,
with the cries in Phrygian melodies,
when the holy pipe like honey plays
the sacred song for those who go
to the mountain!
to the mountain!
* * *
We do not trifle with divinity.
No, we are the heirs of customs and traditions hallowed by age and handed down to us by our fathers. No quibbling logic can topple them, whatever subtleties this clever age invents.
People may say "Aren't you ashamed? At your age, going dancing, wreathing your head with ivy?" Well, I am not ashamed. Did the gods declare that just the young or just the old should dance? No, he desires his honour from all mankind. He wants no one excluded from his worship.
* * *
Oh Bacchae! Oh Bacchae!
Follow, glory of golden Tmolus
hymning Dionysus with a rumble of drums,
with the cry,
Euhoi! to the Euhoian God,
with the cries in Phrygian melodies,
when the holy pipe like honey plays
the sacred song for those who go
to the mountain!
to the mountain!
* * *
We do not trifle with divinity.
No, we are the heirs of customs and traditions hallowed by age and handed down to us by our fathers. No quibbling logic can topple them, whatever subtleties this clever age invents.
People may say "Aren't you ashamed? At your age, going dancing, wreathing your head with ivy?" Well, I am not ashamed. Did the gods declare that just the young or just the old should dance? No, he desires his honour from all mankind. He wants no one excluded from his worship.