{613} _Dio._ O, ye Barbarian women. Thus prostrate in dismay; Upon the earth ye've fallen! See ye not as ye may, How Bacchus Pentheus' palace In wrath hath shaken down? Rise up! rise up! take courage--Shake off that trembling swoon. _Chor._ O light that goodliest shinest Over our mystic rite, In state forlorn we saw thee--Saw with what deep affright! _Dio._ How to despair ye yielded As I boldly entered in To Pentheus, as if captured, into that fatal gin. _Chor._ How could I less? Who guards us If thou shouldst come to woe? But how wast thou delivered From thy ungodly foe? _Dio._ Myself myself delivered With ease and effort slight. _Chor._ Thy hands had he not bound them In halters strong and tight? _Dio._ 'Twas even then I mocked him: He thought me in his chain; He touched me not nor reached me; His idle thoughts were vain! In the stable stood a heifer Where he thought he had me bound; Round the beast's knees his cords And cloven hoofs he wound, Wrath-breathing, from his body The sweat fell like a flood, He bit his lips in fury, While I beside who stood Looked on in unmoved quiet.