Chorus
Hail, rock that lights up a double-crested flash of fire above the frenzied heights of Dionysus; and the vine, that every day [230] lets fall the lush cluster of grapes; and the holy cavern of the serpent and the gods' watchtower on the hills, and the sacred snow-swept mountain! [235] Would I were free of fear and circling in the dance of the deathless god, having left Dirce for the valleys of Phoebus at the center of the world.