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A) Euripides, Bacchae 13-42: I have left the rich lands of the Lydians and Phrygians, the sunny plains of the Persians, and the walls of Bactria, passing over the harsh land of the Medes, and fertile Arabia, and all of Asia which lies along the coast of the sea, its beautifully-towered cities replete with a mixture of Hellenes and barbarians. In Hellenic territory I have come here to Thebes first, having already established my khoroi and mysteries in those other lands so that I might be a daimôn manifest among mortals, and have raised my cry here, fitting a fawn-skin to my body and taking a thyrsos in my hand, a dart of ivy. For my mother's sisters - the very ones for whom it was least becoming - claimed that I was not the child of Zeus, but that Semele had conceived a child from a mortal father and then blamed her sexual misconduct on Zeus, Kadmos' plot, for which reason they claim that Zeus killed her, because she had told a false tale about her marriage. Therefore have I driven them from the house with frenzy, and they dwell in the mountains, out of their phrenes; and I have given them the compulsion to wear the outfit of my mysteries. All the female offspring of the house of Kadmos, as many as are women, I have made to leave the house with madness, and they, mingled with the sons of Kadmos, sit on roofless rocks beneath green pines. It is necessary that this polis learn, even though it should not wish to, that it is not an initiate into my Bacchic rites, and that I plead the case of my mother, Semele, in making myself manifest to mortals as a daimôn, whom she bore to Zeus.B) Euripides, Bacchae 65-169: Having passed through sacred [hieros] Tmolos, coming from the land of Asia, I celebrate in honor of Bromius, a sweet labor [ponos] and an ordeal [kamatos] easily borne, crying "Evohe" for Bacchus. 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, being euphêmos. For now I will celebrate Dionysus with hymns, at all times according to proper custom.
Blessed is he who keeps his life pure, with a good daimôn and knowing the rites of the gods, and who has his psûkhê initiated into the Bacchic revelry, dancing in inspired frenzy over the mountains with holy purifications, and who, revering the mysteries of great mother Kybele, brandishing the thyrsos, garlanded with ivy, serves as attendant [therapôn] to Dionysus. Go, Bacchae, go, Bacchae, bringing home the god Bromius, himself child of a god, from the Phrygian mountains to the broad public spaces, suitable for khoroi, in Hellas; Bromius,
whom once his mother bore, casting him from her stomach as she was struck by Zeus' thunder while in the compulsions of birth pains, leaving life from the stroke of a thunderbolt. Immediately Zeus, Kronos' son, received him in a chamber fitted for birth, and having covered him in his thigh shut him up with golden clasps out of Hera's sight. He bore forth the bull-horned god when the Fates had brought him to telos, and he garlanded him with crowns of snakes, for which reason Maenads cloak their wild prey over their locks.
Oh Thebes, nurse of Semele, crown yourself with ivy, flourish with the verdant yew which bears beautiful fruit, and consecrate yourself with twigs of oak or fir. Adorn your garments of spotted fawn-skin with fleeces of white sheep, and consecrate the thyrsoi, marks of hubris. Immediately all the earth will join in the khoroi - he becomes Bromius whoever leads the sacred band of women - to the mountain, to the mountain, where the female crowd awaits, having been goaded away from their weaving by Dionysus.
Oh secret chamber of the Kouretes and you divine Cretan caves, parents of Zeus, where the Korybantes with their triple helmets invented this circle, covered with stretched hide, and mixing it in their excited Bacchic dances with the sweet-voiced breath of Phrygian pipes, they handed it over to Rhea, an instrument resounding with the revel songs of the Bacchae. Nearby, raving Satyrs went through the rites of the mother goddess. And they added the khoroi of the biennial festivals, in which Dionysus rejoices.
He is sweet in the mountains, whenever after running in the sacred band he falls on the ground, wearing the sacred [hieron] garment of fawn-skin, hunting the blood of the slain goat, the pleasure [kharis] of living flesh devoured, rushing to the Phrygian, the Lydian mountains, and the leader of the dance is Bromius. Evohe! The plain flows with milk, it flows with wine, it flows with the nectar of bees. Like the smoke of Syrian incense, the Bacchic one, raising high the fiery flame from the pine torch, like the smoke of Syrian incense, bursts forth from the narthêx, arousing the stragglers with his racing and khoroi, agitating them with his cries, tossing his luxuriant hair to the air. And among the Maenad cries his voice rings deep: "Onward, Bacchants, onward Bacchants, with the luxury of Tmolos that flows with gold, sing and dance of Dionysus, accompanied by the heavy beats of kettle-drums, glorifying the god of delight with Phrygian shouts and cries, when the sweet-sounding sacred [hieros] pipe sings out the sacred [hiera] tunes for those who wander to the mountain, to the mountain!" And the Bacchant, rejoicing like a foal with its mother, rouses her swift foot in a gamboling dance.
C) Euripides, Bacchae 266-313: (Teiresias) Whenever a sophos man takes a good occasion for his speech, it is not a great task to speak well. You have a fluent tongue as though you are sensible, but there is no sense in your words. A bold and powerful man, one capable of speaking well, becomes a kakos citizen if he lacks sense. Nor can I express how great this new god, whom you scorn, will be throughout Hellas. Two things, young man, have supremacy among humans: The goddess Demeter - she is the earth, but call her whatever name you wish - nourishes mortals with dry food. But he who came then, the offspring of Semele, invented a rival, the wet drink of the grape, and introduced it to mortals. It releases wretched mortals from their pains, whenever they are filled with the stream of the vine, and gives them sleep, a means of forgetting their daily woes. There is no other cure for pains [ponoi]. He, himself a god, is poured out in offerings to the gods, so that through him men have their good things.
And do you laugh at him, because he was sewn up in Zeus' thigh? ...But this daimôn is a prophet, for Bacchic revelry and madness have in them much prophetic skill. Whenever the god enters a body in full force, he makes the maddened tell the future. He also possesses some of the fate [moira] of Ares. For terror sometimes strikes an army under arms and in its ranks before it even touches a spear - this too is a frenzy from Dionysus. You will see him also on the rocks of Delphi, bounding with torches through the highland between the two peaks, leaping and shaking the Bacchic branch, mighty throughout Hellas. But believe me, Pentheus. Do not dare to claim that might has power [kratos] among humans, nor think that you have any phrenes at all, even if you believe so: your mind is sick. Receive the god into your land, pour libations to him, celebrate the Bacchic rites, and garland your head.
D) Euripides, Bacchae 550-604: Do you see this, Dionysus, son of Zeus? ... Come, lord, down from Olympus, brandishing your golden thyrsos, and check the hubris of this murderous man. Where on Nysa, which nourishes wild beast, or on Korykian height, do you lead with your thyrsos the bands of revelers? Perhaps in the thickly wooded chambers of Olympus, where Orpheus once led together trees by playing songs on his lyre. Blessed Pieria, the Joyful one reveres you and will come to set you singing and dancing in khoroi of revelry; having crossed the swiftly-flowing Axion he will bring the whirling Maenads, leaving father Lydia, giver of prosperity [olbos] and happiness [eudaimoniâ] to mortals, who they say fertilizes the land of beautiful horses with its fairest streams.
Dionysus enters.
Dionysus: Io! Hear my voice, hear it, Io Bacchae, Io Bacchae.
Chorus: Who is here, who? From what quarter did the voice of the Joyful one summon me?
Dionysus: Io! Io! I say again; it is I, the child of Zeus and Semele.
Chorus: Io! Io! My master, my master! Come then to our band, Bromius.
Dionysus: Shake this place, sovereign Spirit of Earthquake!
Chorus:
- Oh! Oh! Soon the palace of Pentheus will be shaken in ruin!
- Bacchus is in the halls! Revere him!
- We revere him!
- Did you see these stone lintels on the pillars falling apart? Bromius shouts in victory inside the palace!
... Oh! Oh! Do you not see the fire, do you not perceive, about the sacred [hieron] tomb of Semele, the flame that Zeus' thunderbolt left? Throw to the ground your trembling bodies, Maenads, cast them down, for our lord, Zeus' offspring, is approaching the palace, turning everything upside down.
Euripides' Bacchae On-line Resources by Steve Esposito contains several extremely useful essays and outlines.Roger Dunkle's Introduction to Greek Tragedy contains a great deal of information on Greek tragedy and its connection to Greek religion. See also Professor Dunkle's page on the Bacchae for help with this play in particular.
On the phrase "consecrate the thyrsoi, marks of hubris" (discussed in lecture), see the commentary of E. R. Dodds (Oxford, 1960). He writes:
Again a strange phrase. It seems to mean "Be reverent in your handling of the violent wands"... The startling conjunction of hosiotês with hubris expresses the dual aspect of Dionysiac ritual as an act of controlled violence in which dangerous natural forces are subdued to a religious purpose. The thyrus is the vehicle of these forces; its touch can work beneficent miracles (704ff.), but it can also inflict injury (762), and ... it can cause madness: hence Dionysos is thyrsô deinos "terrifying with his thyrsus."