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“Oh, Thebes, nurse of Semele, crown your hair with ivy! Grow green with bryony! Redden with berries! O city, with boughs of oak and fir, come dance the dance of god! Fringe your skins of dappled fawn with tufts of twisted wool! Handle with holy care the violent wand of god ! And let the dance begin! He is Bromius who runs to the mountain! To the mountain! Where throng of women waits, driven from shuttle and loom, possessed by Dionysos!”

– Euripides

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