Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/402

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(Epode)
O trance of rapture, when, reeling aside
From the Bacchanal rout o'er the mountains flying,
One sinks to the earth, and the fawn's flecked hide
Covers him lying
With its sacred vesture, wherein he hath chased 140
The goat to the death for its blood—for the taste
Of the feast raw-reeking, when over the hill
Of Phrygia, of Lydia, the wild feet haste,
And the Clamour-king leads, and our hearts he thrills
"Evoë!" crying!

Flowing with milk is the ground, and with wine is it flowing, and flowing
Nectar of bees; and a smoke as of incense of Araby soars;
And the Bacchanal, lifting the flame of the brand of the pine ruddy-glowing,
Waveth it wide, and with shouts, from the point of the wand as it pours,
Challengeth revellers straying, on-racing, on-dancing, and throwing 150
Loose to the breezes his curls, while clear through the chorus that roars
Cleaveth his shout,—"On, Bacchanal-rout,
On, Bacchanal maidens, ye glory of Tmolus the hill gold-welling,
Blend the acclaim of your chant with the timbrels thunder-knelling,
Glad-pealing the glad God's praises out
With Phrygian cries and the voice of singing,
When upsoareth the sound of the melody-fountain,