Then says the messenger,—
"A wonder then I saw that stranger do."
"He bent the stem of a tall ash-tree, and dragged it to earth till it was bent like a bow. He seated Penthens on a bough, and then let it rise up again, steadily and gently, so that my master should not fall as it mounted. Raised to this giddy height, 'tis true, he saw the women, but they too saw him, and speedily brought him down to the ground on which they were standing. But before they did so, the stranger had vanished, and a voice was heard from the heavens proclaiming in clear ringing tones:—
"Behold! I bring,
O maidens, him that you and me, our rites,
Our orgies laughed to scorn. Deal now with him
E'en as you list, and take a full revenge."
The presence of the god, though unseen, was announced by a column of bright flame reddening the sky, and an awful stillness fell on Cithæron and its dark pine-groves. A second shout proclaimed the deity, and the daughters of Cadmus sprang to their feet and rushed forth with the speed of doves on the wing. Down the torrent's bed, down from crag to crag they leaped—"mad with the god." Agavè led on her kin, and at first assailed the seat of Pentheus with idle weapons:—
"First heavy stones they hurled at him,
Climbing a rock in front: the branches of the ash
Darted at some: and some, like javelins,
