Choral Ode from Antigone (Sophocles)
God of the many names, Semele's golden child,
child of Olympian thunder, Italy's lord.
Lord of Eleusis, where all men come
to mother Demeter's plain.
Bacchus, who dwell in Thebes,
by Ismenus' running water,
where wild Bacchic women are at home,
on the soil of the dragon seed.
Seen in the glaring flame, high on the double mount,
with the nymphs of Parnassus at play on the hill,
seen by Kastalia's flowing stream.
You come from the ivied heights,
from green Euboea's shore.
In immortal words we cry
your name, lord, who watch the ways,
the many ways of Thebes.
This is your city, honored beyond the rest,
the town of your mother's miracle-death.
Now, as we wrestle our grim disease,
come with healing step from Parnassus' slope
or over the moaning sea.
Leader in the dance of the fire-pulsing stars
overseer of the voices of night,
child of Zeus, be manifest,
with due companionship of Maenad maids
whose cry is but your name.
--
The nightingale haunts the glades, the wine-dark ivy, dense and dark the untrodden, sacred wood of god rich with laurel and olives never touched by the sun, untouched by storms that blast from every quarter - where the reveler Dionysos strides the earth forever, where the wild nymphs are dancing round him, nymphs who nursed his life. (Oedipus at Colonnus)
I am raised up and I will not reject the flute,
O ruler of my mind. Look, he stirs me up,
Euhoi, the ivy now whirls me round in Bacchic contest. (Trachinian Women)
And I know how to lead off the sprightly
dance of the lord Dionysos, the dithyramb.
I do it thunderstruck with wine. (Archilochus)
Come, Lord Dionysos,
to the sacred temple of Elis' people
accompanied by the Graces,
to the temple
storming on your bovine foot,
worthy bull,
worthy bull. (Anonymous)
--
To Dionysos, Lord of Dance, Loosener of All Bonds, the Great Liberator.
We offer this to You.
