# The Sacred Drama of Eleusis Act I: The pain of Demeter

*The stage represents the cave of Hecate. Large, dark rocks, barely illuminated by the pale light seeping in from the background.*

#### Scene 1

*Demeter, soon followed by Hecate. Demeter in a white peplos. A blue cloak studded with silver stars flows from her shoulders. She wears a diadem and a golden scepter. Her red-blonde hair is held back by sky-blue headbands. She enters hurriedly, holding a torch in each hand, and peeks into the background of the cave.*

DEMETER:  
Hecate, Hecate,  
Where are you?  
She too seems hidden.  
Will she refuse to answer me  
Like the others I asked?  
Appear, O Hecate!  
The anxious call of the mother of the gods  
Let it not be worthless to you.

HECATE *slowly steps out from the back of the cave. She wears a peplos trimmed with golden dragons and a red cloak. Her black hair falls in untangled rings onto her neck. She holds a caduceus in her hand, whose two intertwined and staring snakes seem to be formed of fire. She is beautiful, but her eyes shine with a frightening curiosity, and the enigmatic smile of the ancient statues wanders across her mouth:*  
It is the queen of the world,  
Who calls me plaintively.  
I hasten to follow the voice.  
For the first time,  
Demeter appears in my cave.  
What command does  
The high goddess give me?

DEMETER:  
Daughter of Twilight and Night,  
Until today I avoided your lurking gaze,  
Which through the wasteland alone can find the way  
To the Empyrean.  
But today, in desolation, I must  
Beg for the help of the one who always fled.  
I allowed Persephone, my daughter,  
To play with the nymphs,  
Persephone, my daughter,  
So that with Okeanos' children  
She might pick hyacinths and irises.  
Believing her to be happy, I ascended again to the Empyrean,  
Surrendering myself to joy  
In those floods of rays,  
Which are not subject to the changing of the seasons.  
But suddenly, through the spheres of ether,  
A cry of lamentation echoed  
In my maternal heart.  
It was Persephone's voice.  
As if she were suffering violence,  
So sounded the terrible cry.  
And three times it repeated  
The terrible cry of pain,  
Shaking me to my core,  
Then lost in the abyss.  
Seizing these two torches  
I hurried down to earth,  
Searching in all directions and,  
Filling with my cry  
The vast mountains.  
All the gods should hear  
The oath that escaped me!  
But all remained silent to me.  
Even Helios, to whom nothing is hidden,  
He too owed me an answer.  
Does such a horrible secret  
Hide itself from my knowledge, that no one  
Dares to answer the anxious question?  
So tell me, O Hecate, what has happened.  
You are familiar  
With the crooked paths that, lying in wait,  
You see as a cunning scout  
In Zeus' hidden intentions.  
From the enigmatic smile  
On your face  
I can see that  
You know the solution.

HECATE:  
I know it  
And you shall learn it too.  
But first swear to me:  
Not to curse the messenger  
Of the misfortune that has befallen you.

DEMETER:  
I will promise you  
The most beautiful gifts of light,  
I swear it faithfully by the Styx.  
And Demeter shall become a friend  
To the savior  
Of anxious, heavy doubt.  
For once I know where Persephone is,  
Finding her and bringing her back  
Is something a mother's heart surely understands.

HEKATE:  
Pluto has stolen your daughter,  
With the consent of Zeus,  
Lord of heaven and earth.  
Your husband himself has given her to him as his wife.  
her to him as his wife.

DEMETER *drops her two torches, which go out*:  
Kidnapped by Pluto,  
The king of Hell.  
The only place is the one  
That I must be denied  
Entry to.  
*She settles down on a rock; her head sinks onto her chest.*

HECATE:  
You should consider that  
Hades is not unworthy  
As your daughter's spouse,  
Zeus's exalted brother  
And king of countless riches!  
With a sure eye, I can  
Trust you that joyless  
The abyss is wrongly  
Called.  
To be the queen of the dead  
Is better than the servant of the gods.

DEMETER *without changing her posture:*  
In the realm of the dead, the immortal  
Damned, defiled  
The pure virgin  
In Pluto's consuming arms!  
In her eyes, erased  
The memory of heavenly joys;  
In her eyes, bright as  
The star-like narcissus,  
Which closed and opened again under my kisses,  
Reflecting the full starry sky.  
Separated from my daughter!  
O pain that never fades,  
O horror that never dims!  
To visit the lofty Olympus  
Is now forever denied me.  
The horror of the abyss fills me,  
From which that one feeds.  
I would break the mighty structure  
Of the universe,  
If I could direct  
My husband's lightning bolts  
With my hand,  
Thus forcing my daughter's return.  
I want to cast off  
This heavenly sign!  
To be a desperate mother  
Is also my fate.  
*She tears the sky-blue headband from her head and throws it to the ground.*

HECATE:  
Sublime Demeter,  
Where will you live on?

DEMETER:  
The miserable humans shall  
Be my companions.

HECATE:  
In which land?

DEMETER:  
Where freedom dwells.

HECATE:  
And which people  
Shall take you in?

DEMETER:  
Those who call boundless pride  
Their own.

HECATE:  
In which home?

DEMETER:  
Where it is most miserable.  
I want to weep immortal tears  
There and defy  
The lord of lightning,  
Who has become the cowardly helper  
Of the wicked brother.  
I want to learn from you,  
Where I must turn,  
To find the freest land,  
The proudest people and saddest house.

HECATE:  
In the land of Attica,  
Not far from the rock of Pallas,  
A suilles, hospitable shore,  
Protected by the mountains of Megara  
And by the white belt of Okeanos,  
There you will find what you seek.  
Eleusis is its name.  
The rough waves crash  
To the gentle murmur  
Of the sky-blue Nereids,  
To the cheerful breath  
Of Zephyr.  
A free people live there,  
Filled with a sense of justice,  
Diligently devoted to their work in the fields.  
They look up to you with reverence  
And call you the nourishing earth.  
The golden ears of corn and the bountiful harvests  
They chose as protection against  
The scorching gaze of Helios.  
A family lives there in mourning.  
King Keleos was their head,  
He has just entered the realm of death.  
Metanira weeps for him,  
The widow, with three daughters  
And Triptolem, the son,  
Who loves only his horses and the plow.  
Still too weak  
Is the heir of the great king,  
To protect the orphans.  
Grief, silence, and fear reign,  
As if the ruler's proud home  
Had been turned into a tomb.

DEMETER:  
At this gate, Demeter begs for entry;  
This hearth  
Shall grant refuge to the mourners.  
I only need your assistance,  
So that I may change my form  
And wear the mask of a wandering,  
Decayed old woman.

HEKATE *[smiling]:*  
That this, O venerable goddess,  
May succeed, Hecate's  
Skillful hands shall willingly serve.  
To weave varied masks,  
To change form into form,  
Has always been my calling.  
To weave a fine garment  
For the beings who descend from the moon  
To earth, and to take it  
From them again when  
They must find their way back  
To Uranus, all this is the responsibility  
Of the queen of transformation.  
The great goddess shall  
Not lack the fruits  
Of the art she has often practiced.  
Follow me into the depths of my cave,  
And through the power of the serpent staff  
Your godly glory shall vanish.  
This youthful, beautiful face of a god  
Ruinous with deep furrows  
Shall appear to the gods  
And humans, unrecognizable to all.

DEMETER:  
Thus, with shameful masks,  
The immortals must disfigure themselves,  
The goddesses must humiliate themselves.  
But only thus may the tears  
Flow from this broken heart.

*Hecate and Demeter disappear into the background.*

#### Act 2

*The scene depicts the interior of the palace of Keleos in Eleusis. To the right and left are Doric columns. In the background is a niche, similar to the cella of a temple, with the house altar, on which a fire that has almost gone out glows under the ashes. Metanira sits in mourning on a chair. Her three daughters, dressed in mourning robes, are grouped on the steps of the altar. On the right and left, Phaino and Kallirhoe have placed their libation urns on the ground; half-lying next to them, they embrace them with their arms and their loose hair. Rhodope, sitting in the middle, holds her urn on her knees and ponders.*

KALLIRHÖE:  
O father, King Keleos,  
Before dark death  
Stole you from this house,  
Festive joy shone  
Within its walls. Lively  
They moved beneath the sacred olive tree,  
In honor of Artemis and the Graces,  
The daughters.  
You have left us.  
And when we poured holy water  
On your grave  
And called your name,  
No answer came to us  
From the dark place.

PHAINO:  
O dearly beloved father,  
In the evening at the cheerful feast  
I was so often granted  
To bring you  
The cup wreath-bound with vines,  
Filled with pure wine.  
And then I was allowed to hear  
How you called me the light of your eyes,  
Which resembled the gentleness  
Of the mild dawn,  
From which the wonders of the day are born.  
Now we have laid the blanket  
Of grass and flowers  
On your grave,  
And prepared fruit and cake  
Prepared for the funeral feast.  
Your smile was missing,  
Which we usually enjoyed.  
The tears that now flow  
From my eyes, do they reach you?

RHODOPE:  
O father, what manner of existence  
Is yours now?  
We gave you to the fire  
With weapons and clothes,  
And your ashes are in the urn,  
Which rests in the depths of the grave.  
Your weary shadow, where is it?  
Whether it dwells in the grave,  
Whether it wanders around on earth?  
Only the eerie beings  
Of the shadow realm know that.  
But we do not want to neglect  
The sacred customs  
Which have been prescribed,  
To honor the dear dead.

METANIRA:  
There are tears in their eyes,  
But in my heart there is anger.  
They plead to vain shadows,  
But I am consumed by the desire  
To lend strength to the living.

#### Scene 3

*The same, Triptolemus, an eighteen-year-old ephebe; he holds a horse's bridle in one hand and a lance-shaped spike in the other. His demeanor is serious and modest.*

METANIRA:  
Where have you been?

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
At my father's grave.

METANIRA:  
How did you spend your time?

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
I tamed a horse  
And plowed my field.

METANIRA:  
So you don't know  
That today there is a public assembly in the Agora  
And that a new king  
Is to be elected in Eleusis?  
The father's successor must  
Be the son, by the will of the people.  
But no one will elect you  
If you do not appear before the people  
To speak and demonstrate  
The strength that belongs to your youth,  
Promising to bring them  
To the goal of their desires.

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
I will not beg  
For the favor and votes of the people.  
I have proven my strength  
And my justice in battle  
Through words and deeds.  
I am known to those  
Who are to choose their leader.  
If they find me suitable  
Without influence, then I will  
Hold my father's office.  
Otherwise, let another  
Take up the crown's adornment and burden.

METANIRA:  
They will choose their uncle,  
And when Dolikos is first elected  
King, he will  
Rob us of our possessions  
And chase us from the house  
Where our father's sacred service  
Has been performed for a long time.

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
He shall seize  
The city, the throne, he shall  
Deprive me of the place  
Where my father stood;  
He cannot wrest the plow from me  
And he must also  
Leave me the clod  
On which the plow works.  
Only if a god calls me  
Will I be king of Eleusis,  
I swear this twice.

METANIRA:  
O foolish man! You do not know  
What gratitude means.  
O woe, woe!

#### 4th scene

*The same. Demeter appears disguised as an old woman, bent over and wrapped in a gray cloak, a staff in her hand. She stops at the door and stretches out her hand imploringly toward the hearth. Triptolemus remains motionless, leaning on his spear. The three young girls rise.*

METANIRA *still seated end*:  
The stranger, who is she? Phaino:  
Bent with age, an old woman.

KALLIRHÖE:  
But of noble stature.

METANIRA:  
She seems to have come to beg. Praino:  
She lacks the strength to walk!  
Allow us to lead the poor woman into the house,  
O mother.

KALLIRHÖE:  
Exhausted by hunger and thirst,  
She is surely exhausted.

RHODOPE:  
And even harder to bear  
Than the pain in her limbs  
Seems the misery in her heart.

METANIRA:  
I cannot love  
The strangers who silently  
creep into our hearth,  
Hiding their dishonest intentions.  
One cannot know which enemy  
Sent them to harm us,  
And what misfortune lurks  
In the folds of their cloaks.  
I ask you, strange woman,  
Whether you have a message to bring  
Or a favor to ask.  
I will only allow you to stay  
If you will speak  
Of those who sent you.  
If you refuse, then  
Do not enter my house.

*Demeter stretches both hands toward the hearth, then brings them back to her face and seems to sob silently.*

PHAINO:  
She is asking for shelter.

*Metanira remains motionless and silent.*

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
In the name of the great Zeus,  
Who is hospitable to all exiles,  
You shall be welcomed, O stranger,  
Into this house, whether known,  
Or unknown your name may be.

*The three sisters try to support Demeter and lead her to the hearth to a chair, on which she slowly settles, with her head bowed, in a posture of hopeless grief. Triptolemus lays aside his bridle and spear, takes a cup of wine, and hands it to Demeter.*

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
I offer the cup to the stranger,  
Who is noble and venerable to me.  
Quench your thirst and be our guest.  
If you wish to speak afterwards,  
We will listen to your words.  
But even if you remain silent and  
your misfortune remains hidden,  
no less sacred shall  
your restrained pain be to us.

*Demeter takes the cup and drinks a sip under her veil; then she hands it to Triptolemus, folds her hands in gratitude, and sinks back into herself.*

METANIRA:  
Now that you have become our guest,  
And this roof protects you,  
It is only right and proper  
For you to tell us  
Where you come from and who you are,  
In which country you live  
And by what fate you were forced  
You fled to this shore.

DEMETER *raises her head slightly and speaks in a majestic voice that contrasts with her rags*:  
I come from Crete.  
There I lived in a house  
Built of marble and  
Adorned with precious gold.  
For I was entrusted with the care  
Of a king's children.  
Blessed by the grace of the gods,  
I myself was given a daughter,  
Who was as delicate as a deer  
And as gentle as a nymph  
In the forest.  
A robber stole my precious child.  
Wandering from shore to shore  
Has been my fate ever since,  
Searching in vain  
For a trace of the lost one.  
Many years have passed  
In this homeless life,  
And old and powerless is  
The heart that beats without comfort for me.  
Will you take me into your house,  
O Meuanira: I will faithfully care for your daughters,  
teaching them  
to weave beautiful fabrics  
on ivory looms,  
and other arts of value.  
The mysteries of the royal palaces  
Are all familiar to me.  
The balms are also known to me,  
Which heal black pains.  
The magical herbs on Mount Ida,  
To which Zeus descended,

*At the name of Zeus, a slight flame flares up*

Are not hidden from my knowledge.  
They can bring healing to all,  
Except to me, the healer.

PHAINO:  
How gentle is the voice  
Of the sufferer, how mysterious.

CALLIRHOE:  
It resembles the lyre,  
Which sounds plaintively in the temple.

RHODOPE:  
The words she speaks,  
Are like those from the mouth of a queen.

METANIRA:  
Like a message from a king's daughter  
Your words sounded, stranger,  
And therefore you shall be welcomed  
Into this noble house,  
Which we may not be able to call ours For much longer.  
For you must know that Dolikos  
Wants to snatch from his son  
The sacred office that for so many years  
Has been held by his worthy father.  
O woman, experienced through age,  
And wise, you artist  
Of speech, remain alone  
With my son for a while,  
To teach him caution,  
So that before all the people  
He may desire his father's crown.

DEMETER  
Yes, I will speak to him.

METANIRA *to her daughters*:  
A meal shall be prepared  
For the stranger, and Triptolemus  
Shall stay with her.  
Meanwhile, I myself will endeavor  
To find the ear  
of the old men of the council.  
She exits with her three daughters.

#### Scene 5

DEMETER:  
What dark sorrow weighs  
on your young brow,  
my Triptolemus?

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
My father has died.

DEMETER Consider that it is less painful  
For a son  
To lose his father  
Than for a mother to lose her daughter.  
And direct your lament  
your lament to the gods?

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
I accuse no one,  
For I suffer no other fate  
Than all others.  
Even more cruel is death  
To those who have passed away than to those  
Who must remain behind.

DEMETER How do you know this?

TRIPTOLEM *in a low voice*:  
One evening, as I was commemorating the rite  
that Pluto loves,  
I slaughtered a lamb  
on Keleos' grave,  
Invoking his soul.  
In the smoke of the black blood  
I saw the shadow rise,  
Pale and terrifying.  
Through the heavy mist  
I heard the words he spoke to me:  
"Only a shadow, driven about,  
Unfortunate and tormented  
By images of horror ...  
For Pluto's heart is relentless.  
He shrouds in deep darkness  
Those who in life  
Have devoted themselves  
To lust and senseless pleasure.  
If no immortal genius protects  
The dead, they can live  
Only by the love  
Sent to them by the living.  
We must scatter  
Like vain smoke down here,  
Abandoned by them.  
In night and terror I must  
Wander around, a shadow,  
Chased by other shadows,  
A terrifying image that  
Must be horrified  
By other images of terror ...  
Only you, Triptolem, my son,  
You could give me  
The peace of Elysium.“  
”I am ready to do so,“  
I said to him,  
”But how can I  
Reach you?" Pale  
The shadow then appeared,  
And sighed: “O forget me not,  
My son,  
For I must suffer, suffer.”  
Then the shadow image disappeared.

DEMETER *aside*:  
O terrible realm of Pluto.  
Persephone banished to it.

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
You seem agitated to me.  
Your hands tremble  
on your staff.  
Through your veil,  
I can see your tears.  
What is wrong with you,  
O woman in pain?

DEMETER *in a dull voice*:  
O tell me, what did you manage  
To do for your father's  
Damned shadow?

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
I crowned his grave with flowers  
And then turned  
Back to the plow.  
Calling upon the great Demeter,  
I tilled the field  
And scattered the seed.

DEMETER:  
Why did you call upon  
Demeter?

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
I do not know her,  
But she is called the greatest  
Of the goddesses  
And mother of the gods.  
Is she not the one who dwells  
In heaven and rules the earth?  
And grain and flowers,  
Do they not flourish through her powers?

DEMETER:  
But on what can you base  
The opinion that she can redeem  
The soul of your father?

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
It is she who spreads a blanket  
Over Mother Earth,  
Who has taken up these  
The seeds from the hands of men.  
But with the warm breath  
Of spring,  
The green tips appear,  
Which then ripen  
And become golden ears!  
But who can awaken  
The golden fruit into existence,  
Who can call to new life  
Even the souls that  
Have descended into the realm of the dead.  
This has been proclaimed by hope,  
Which sang above my head,  
Like the lark above the furrow.  


DEMETER *trembles and looks at Triptolemus with emotion.  
Aside*:  
How beautiful is  
The proud young man!  
In his bold hope  
He appears more glorious to me  
Than all the Olympian gods  
In their serene tranquility.  
It is the soul of a hero  
In his breast, and worthy  
He is without doubt  
To be a god.  
If Jupiter without my help  
Created Athena, the wise:  
I too must succeed  
In forming a god  
From a virgin  
Ephebe!  
*[She sits up abruptly.]*  
It is my will that he become immortal,  
For he can only repay  
Me with my daughter.

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
O strange exile, what has come over you,  
That in your thoughts  
Your age falls away,  
And sparks fly from your peplos  
And torches  
Ignite behind your veil?

DEMETER *sits down and resumes the posture of an old woman*:  
It is only the reflection of the hearth,  
Reflected in my dress,  
And fiery appear  
The tears you shed  
In the pain of a mother.  
But come closer to me.  
And hear what I have to say.  
I have learned much, and  
Secrets are known to me,  
And many a remedy  
Revealed by the age  
Of the good sorceress,  
Who now stands before you.  
You weep over your father's  
Damned soul, but I  
Mourn the lost daughter.  
I will vow to you  
that your father's soul  
shall be freed from  
the dark realm of the abyss,  
if your mighty strength  
will snatch the daughter  
from the robber who  
has chosen her as his prey.

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
I will not hesitate,  
Once I recognize  
The robber who has inflicted such  
Unjust suffering upon you.

DEMETER If you recognized him,  
The courage in your soul would not be enough.  


TRIPTOLEMUS:  
Who, like me, can tame wild horses  
And subdue  
The raging beasts  
Of the mountains with his spear,  
He will not shrink back  
From such a robber either.  


DEMETER:  
Know then that my daughter is dead  
And that Pluto is the robber.  
So you must take the risk  
Of descending  
Into the dark realm of Tartarus.

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
The appearance of shadows  
The appearance of shadows  
Is frightening for those  
Who love the realm of light.  
I will descend  
To hell, if you open  
The gates for me.

DEMETER:  
You dare to do so without  
Knowing whether a return  
will be granted?

TRIPTOLEMUS *solemnly and calmly*:  
What does it matter? I will call  
The great Demeter  
On my father's  
Consecrated field, where  
The grain sprouts.  
I know that my call will penetrate  
My call will reach her  
Even in the depths of Uranus.

DEMETER:  
O noble blood, you young lion,  
Nourished by a woman's milk!  
The piety of the child,  
It lives in your heart;  
From your lips flows  
The honey of the wise,  
From your eyes sparkles  
The flame of heroes.  
Like a mother, I must  
Love you. More than  
A human being, I want to  
Call you my son  
I want to recognize in you.  
And I want to reveal to you  
Secrets, hitherto strictly hidden  
From the minds of men.  
I want to tell you what  
Hides the heights and what  
The depths, I want to tear  
The blindfolds from your eyes.  
Small in power shall be  
Compared to you in power  
The kings and rulers of the earth.  
The divine Eumolpians  
I will teach you to sing.  
And you shall mark  
The paths that lead out  
Of these worlds.  
And despite Tartarus,  
Despite the treacherous humans  
And even the almighty Zeus,  
The day will come  
When you will bring my daughter  
Into the heavenly light  
On Hecate's fiery serpent chariot.  
May fate determine Triptolem  
To be the man  
Consecrated to agriculture and  
the most divine hero of the gods.

TRIPTOLEMUS:  
Who are you, mighty mother,  
demanding more reverence from me  
than my own mother?

DEMETER You will learn in time.  
But now my art shall  
Make you invulnerable  
For your terrible work,  
Which shall bring me immeasurable  
Salvation.  
With my hands  
I will forge for you  
The armor that, ethereal  
And unbreakable at the same time,  
Will enable you to pass through  
The gates of hell and heaven,  
And the wild demons that lurk  
Eagerly in that dark place  
Will not be able to harm you.

*She touches Triptolemus' arms and chest with her hands. A vivid light shines forth from Demeter's caresses, and Triptolemus appears radiant, gazing ecstatically into the goddess' eyes. Flames and lightning sparkle around them.*

#### 6. Entrance

*The same. Metanira, Phaino, Rhodope, Kallirhoe.*

METANIRA:  
Help! Fire is coming out of the palace!  
Cursed evil sorceress!  
This is how you thank me for letting you stay at my hearth!  
I let you stay at my hearth! May the triple Hecate destroy you  
And the fire you have kindled.  
You were sent by our enemies, by Dolikos,  
To strike our son with blindness  
And bring upon us The curses of the people.  
The son with blindness,  
And to bring upon our heads  
The curses of the people.  
Be gone, abominable witch!

*At Metanira's last word, the flames suddenly disappear, the hall darkens, and the hearth goes out. But Demeter, throwing back her veil and her old woman's cloak, suddenly appears radiant with her divine countenance. The staff she held in her hand turns into a burning torch.*

METANIRA:  
Who is it from the immortal realm  
who is playing games  
with us? Broken  
are my powers.

*She falls to the floor as if shattered, her head resting on the chair, her face hidden in her hands.*

THE THREE DAUGHTERS *sinking to their knees*:  
Have mercy on us, great Zeus!

TRIPTOLEMUS *still standing upright and lost in his ecstasy*:  
Who stands before me, O goddess?

DEMETER:  
I am Demeter, myself,  
The goddess.  
*Turning to Metanira, in a calm and majestic voice)!:*  
Not benevolent  
To the stranger and the exile  
You encountered. Unconsciously  
At that moment  
Was your mind, O woman,  
That in the form of misery  
And in the mask of rags  
The unknown gods appear,  
Hiding themselves thus beneath tears.  
But because, unlike yourself,  
Your daughters received me with kindness,  
And because  
You are the mother of this son,  
Demeter forgives you.  
But I cannot prevent  
The battle that will rage between  
The children of Eleusis and those  
Who are like yourself,  
Will flare up as the fruit  
Of the unloving greeting  
That has come to me through you.  
But you, O son of Keleos,  
I will love you,  
As I love my daughter,  
Whom you will snatch from me  
By the dark power of hell.  
And now go to the Agora,  
To tell the people: Demeter,  
The goddess, sends the command,  
To build a temple  
Where the hill of Kallikoros  
Rises to Eleusis.  
I will appoint you  
As my high priest  
And you shall surpass  
In glory the kings  
Who were your ancestors.  
There I will initiate you  
Into my mysteries,  
Teach you for the work,  
That heavenly springs shall  
Open up to mankind  
In the sanctuary at Eleusis.  
Consecrated shall be that temple  
To Demeter and Persephone,  
The sorely deprived.  
*She disappears.*

METANIRA *stands up angrily; to Triptolemus*:  
Through you I have lost  
The king's mantle  
And the honor of my age.  
I will therefore curse you.  
You shall be forbidden  
To call me mother.  
*The three kneeling sisters rise and approach their brother curiously. They place their hands on his shoulders and murmur in trembling voices*:  
Persephone, who is she?

TRIPTOLEMUS *has been standing pensively, his hands crossed over his chest, since Demeter's disappearance. When his sisters ask him the question, he solemnly raises his right hand and replies*:  
It is the goddess  
We must free,  
So that we may attain  
Our own freedom.