They lead me hence, they lead me—nay,
Ye Theban princes!—Now away
They drag me to my doom, behold!
The only daughter of your old
And glorious house of kings, the last,
And in a dungeon to be cast,
Alone,—the only princess left
Of kindred and of aid bereft.
See, what I suffer at their hands
For doing what the law of holiness demands!
CHORUS.
FIRST STROPHE.
E’en thus did the beautiful Danaë
Endure to exchange the light of day
For a dwelling bound with brass,
And a prisoner in that grave-like room,
Though of noble birth, was she held, while as groom
To the bride did Zeus to her pass,
In a shower of golden rain his seed
Entrusted to her. Dread and mighty, indeed,
Is the baneful force of fate;
Neither wealth nor war nor towers strong
Nor wave-beaten ships by the winds swept along
Can deliver from powers so great.
FIRST ANTISTROPHE.
And immured in a prison of stone, and tamed,
The king of Edonians, Quick-temper named,
Son or Dryas, the god Dionysus
Made atone for the taunt he in madness flung.
There the wrath in his heart, for his rashness of tongue,
Doth simmer down slow whence it rises.
He found too late ’t was a god had appeared
That with mocking tongue he rashly had jeered,
When the Mænads all frenzied, possessed
With the fire Bacchanalian, he began to abuse,
And stirred to fierce anger the flute-loving Muse—
Thus dearly he paid for his jest.
