Precursors to Greek Tragedy
Greek Poetry precursors to Greek drama
Homeric Hymn to Dionysus
[1] I will tell of Dionysus, the son of glorious Semele, how he appeared on a jutting headland by the shore of the fruitless sea, seeming like a stripling in the first flush of manhood: his rich, dark hair was waving about him, [5] and on his strong shoulders he wore a purple robe. Presently there came swiftly over the sparkling sea Tyrsenian1 pirates on a well-decked ship —a miserable doom led them on. When they saw him they made signs to one another and sprang out quickly, and seizing him straightway [10] put him on board their ship exultingly; for they thought him the son of heaven-nurtured kings. They sought to bind him with rude bonds, but the bonds would not hold him, and the withes fell far away from his hands and feet: and he sat with a smile [15] in his dark eyes. Then the helmsman understood all and cried out at once to his fellows and said:
“Madmen! what god is this whom you have taken and bind, strong that he is? Not even the well-built ship can carry him. Surely this is either Zeus or Apollo who has the silver bow, [20] or Poseidon, for he looks not like mortal men but like the gods who dwell on Olympus. Come, then, let us set him free upon the dark shore at once: do not lay hands on him, lest he grow angry and stir up dangerous winds and heavy squalls.”
[25] So said he: but the master chid him with taunting words: “Madman, mark the wind and help hoist sail on the ship: catch all the sheets. As for this fellow we men will see to him: I reckon he is bound for Egypt or for Cyprus or to the Hyperboreans or further still. But in the end [30] he will speak out and tell us his friends and all his wealth and his brothers, now that providence has thrown him in our way.”
When he had said this, he had mast and sail hoisted on the ship, and the wind filled the sail and the crew hauled taut the sheets on either side. But soon strange things were seen among them. [35] First of all sweet, fragrant wine ran streaming throughout all the black ship and a heavenly smell arose, so that all the seamen were seized with amazement when they saw it. And all at once a vine spread out both ways along the top of the sail with many clusters hanging down from it, [40] and a dark ivy-plant twined about the mast, blossoming with flowers, and with rich berries growing on it; and all the thole-pins were covered with garlands. When the pirates saw all this, then at last they bade the helmsman to put the ship to land. But the god changed into a dreadful lion there on the ship, [45] in the bows, and roared loudly: amidships also he showed his wonders and created a shaggy bear which stood up ravening, while on the forepeak was the lion glaring fiercely with scowling brows. And so the sailors fled into the stern and crowded bemused about the right-minded helmsman, until suddenly the lion sprang upon the master [50] and seized him; and when the sailors saw it they leapt out overboard one and all into the bright sea, escaping from a miserable fate, and were changed into dolphins. But on the helmsman Dionysus had mercy and held him back and made him altogether happy, saying to him:
[55] “Take courage, good...; you have found favour with my heart. I am loud-crying Dionysus whom Cadmus' daughter Semele bare of union with Zeus.”
Hail, child of fair-faced Semele! He who forgets you can in no wise order sweet song.
1 Probably not Etruscans, but the non-Hellenic peoples of Thrace and （according to Thucydides） of Lemnos and Athens. Cp. Herodotus i. 57; Thucydides iv. 109.
A Dithyramb of Bacchylides
In this dithyramb Aegeus, referred to only as "King," confronts a frenzied chorus who has heard of Theseus' exploits and imminent arrival.
CHORUS
O King of holy Athens,
Lord of rich-living Ionians,
Why now does the bronze bell ring,
The trumpet sound the song of war?
Has someone evil overleaped
The boundaries of our land,
A general, a man?
Or bandits planning harm
Against our shepherds' will to steal
Their herds of cattle forcibly?
Why then do you tear your heart?
Tell us! For I think that if to any mortal
The aid of able men there was,
Of young men, it is to you,
O son of Pandion and Creusa!
KING
Just now there came the windy way
A messenger on foot, up the path from Corinth.
Unutterable deeds he tells of a mighty
Man: he slew that arch-criminal
Sinis who was greatest of mortals
In strength, offspring of Kronos
And son of the Lytaean earthshaker.
And that sow, the man-eater, in the meadows
Of Cremmyon and that reckless man
Sciron he slaughtered.
The wrestling-school of Cercyon
He closed, and Polypemus' mighty
Hammer Procoptes now has
Dropped, meeting a better
Man. It is this I fear, how it will end!
CHORUS
Who is this man? From where? What does
He say? What company does he keep?
Is he with hostile forces,
Leading an army immense?
Or alone with his servants
He comes, like a merchant, a wanderer
To other people's land,
Strong and mighty as well,
And so bold that he has a strength
Greater than men like
These? Or perhaps a god rouses him,
To bring suit on unsuitable men?
You know, it's not easy always to
Act and not to run into injustice.
Everything in the long run will end.
KING
To him two men alone accompany,
He says, and about his gleaming shoulders
Hangs a sword . . . <the end of the line is missing>,
And in his hands two polished spears,
A well-made dog-skin cap from
Sparta on his head and tawny mane,
A shirt of purple
Around his chest, and a sheep-skin
Thessalian jacket. His eyes
Reflect volcanic Etna,
Blood-red flame. He's said a boy
Of tender years; the toys of Ares
Own his thoughts, and War and
Crashing brass and battle.
He's said to seek the love of splendor, Athens!
Epilogue: Consider the comments of A.P. Burnett, a modern commentator on Bacchylides' poetry (note):
How did the performance end? When singers were allowed to make their farewells to patron and audience, and so to get their feet back on the ground of actuality, they simply march out of the dancing space. These performers, however, were different from those of every other song that survives from . . . Bacchylides, because when their song finished they were still caught in their fictional situation, still on the razor's edge. If they simply turned and took themselves off, the effect must have been curiously anticlimactic, and it may be that their exit was covered by another more urgent trumpet call, or a warning roll of drums. Some have even supposed that just as the music stopped a group of actual ephebes (i.e. young men from Athens) burst in, ready to perform the exercises of their annual review. . . .
The Bacchylidean scene . . . shows neither motion nor decision. Its dialogue suggests a play, but the stunning effect of this piece comes from the fact that in a situation that calls for action, no one makes a move. What is more, though the nameless messenger who would naturally bring this news has been replaced by a particular king, there is no characterization here. . . . The king repeats his information as if he were telling a nightmare that still has hold of him; he makes no gesture, he only says, "I am afraid" . . . . The song does not imitate action, and so it is not tragic in the Aristotelian sense, but it does imitate mortal blindness and the innate ambiguity of all worldly events, and to this extent it treats the stuff that tragic action is made of.