“And still her sign is seen in heaven,
And, ’midst the glittering symbols of the sky,
The starry crown of Ariadne glides.”
Apollonius Rhodius.
Bacchus’ lightheartedness had all vanished, and he no longer took any pleasure in music, dance, or revelry, until Jupiter, in pity for his bereavement, restored Ariadne to his longing arms, and, to prevent her being again claimed by Death, gave her immortal life.
Story of Pentheus.
When but a short distance from Thebes, Bacchus once sent a herald to Pentheus, the king, to announce his approach, and bespeak a suitable reception and sumptuous entertainment. Rumors of the noise and disorder, which seemed to have been the invariable accompaniment of the god’s presence, had already reached Pentheus, who therefore dismissed the herald with an insolent message, purporting that Bacchus had better remain outside of the city gates.
To avenge this insult, Bacchus inspired the Theban women with a species of dementia, which made them rush simultaneously out of the city and join his followers. Then they all clamored for permission to witness the religious rites in his honor, generally called Mysteries, which permission was graciously granted.
The king’s spies reported all that had occurred, and their accounts made Pentheus long to view the ceremonies in secret. He therefore disguised himself, and hid in a bush near the consecrated place, hoping to see all without being seen; but an inadvertent movement attracted the attention of the already excited Bacchantes, who, led by Agave, the king’s own mother, dragged him from his hiding place and tore him limb from limb.
Worship of Bacchus.
Bacchus, god of wine, was worshiped throughout the ancient world, and festivals without number were held in his honor. The most noted were the Greater and Lesser Dionysia, the Liberalia, and the Bacchanalia, where the wildest merrymaking and license were freely indulged in by all participants.
“Bacchus, on thee they call, in hymns divine,
And hang thy statues on the lofty pine:
Hence plenty every laughing vineyard fills,
Thro’ the deep valleys and the sloping hills;
Where’er the god inclines his lovely face,
More luscious fruits the rich plantations grace.
Then let us Bacchus’ praises duly sing,
And consecrated cakes, and chargers bring,
Dragg’d by their horns let victim goats expire,
And roast on hazel spits before the sacred fire.”
“Come, sacred sire, with luscious clusters crown’d,
Here all the riches of thy reign abound;
Each field replete with blushing autumn glows,
And in deep tides for thee the foaming vintage flows.”
Virgil (Warton’s tr.).