THE PERSIANS
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
Atossa
Ghost of Dareios
Messenger
Xerxes
Chorus of Persian Elders
THE PERSIANS
Scene.—Susa, in front of the palace of Xerxes, the tomb of Dareios occupying the position of the thymele
Enter Chorus of Persian Elders.
We the title bear of Faithful, Friends of Persians gone to Hellas, Watchers left of treasure city, Gold-abounding, whom, as oldest, Xerxes hath himself appointed, He, the offspring of Dareios, As the warders of his country. And about our king's returning, And our army's, gold-abounding, Over-much, and boding evil, Does my mind within me shudder (For our whole force, Asia's offspring, Now is gone), and for our young chief Sorely frets: nor courier cometh, Nor any horseman, bringing tidings To the city of the Persians. From Ecbatana departing, Susa, or the Kissian fortress, Forth they sped upon their journey, Some in ships, and some on horses, Some on foot, still onward marching, In their close array presenting Squadrons duly armed for battle: Then Armistres, Artaphernes, Megabazes, and Astaspes, Mighty leaders of the Persians, Kings, and of the great King servants, March, the chiefs of mighty army. Archers they and mounted horsemen. Dread to look on, fierce in battle, Artembares proud, on horseback, And Masistres, and Imæos, Archer famed, and Pharandakes, And the charioteer Sosthanes. Neilos mighty and prolific Sent forth others, Susikanes, Pegastagon, Egypt's offspring, And the chief of sacred Memphis; Great Arsames, Ariomardos, Ruler of primeval Thebæ, And the marsh-men, and the rowers, Dread, and in their number countless. And there follow crowds of Lydians, Very delicate and stately, Who the people of the mainland Rule throughout—whom Mitragathes And brave Arkteus, kingly chieftains, Led, from Sardis, gold-abounding, Riding on their many chariots, Three or four a-breast their horses, Sight to look upon all dreadful. And the men of sacred Tmôlos Rush to place the yoke of bondage On the neck of conquered Hellas. Mardon, Tharabis, spear-anvils, And the Mysians, javelin-darting; Babylôn too, gold-abounding, Sends a mingled cloud, swept onward, Both the troops who man the vessels, And the skilled and trustful bowmen; And the race the sword that beareth, Follows from each clime of Asia, At the great King's dread commandment. These, the bloom of Persia's greatness, Now are gone forth to the battle; And for these, their mother country, Asia, mourns with mighty yearning; Wives and mothers faint with trembling Through the hours that slowly linger, Counting each day as it passes.
Strophe I
The king's great host, destroying cities mighty, Hath to the land beyond the sea passed over, Crossing the straits of Athamantid Helle, On raft by ropes secured, And thrown his path, compact of many a vessel, As yoke upon the neck of mighty ocean.
Antistrophe I
Of populous Asia thus the mighty ruler 'Gainst all the land his God-sent host directeth In two divisions, both by land and water, Trusting the chieftains stern, The men who drive the host to fight, relentless— He, sprung from gold-born race, a hero godlike.
Strophe II
Glancing with darkling look, and eyes as of ravening dragon, With many a hand, and many a ship, and Syrian chariot driving, He upon spearmen renowned brings battle of conquering arrows.
Antistrophe II
Yea, there is none so tried as, withstanding the flood of the mighty, To keep within steadfast bounds that wave of ocean resistless; Hard to fight is the host of the Persians, the people stout-hearted.
Mesode
Yet ah! what mortal can ward the craft of the God all-deceiving? *Who, with a nimble foot, of one leap is easily sovereign? For Atè, fawning and kind, at first a mortal betraying, Then in snares and meshes decoys him, Whence one who is but man in vain doth struggle to 'scape from.
Strophe III
For Fate of old, by the high Gods' decree, Prevailed, and on the Persians laid this task, Wars with the crash of towers, And set the surge of horsemen in array, And the fierce sack that lays a city low.
Antistrophe III
But now they learnt to look on ocean plains, The wide sea hoary with the violent blast, Waxing o'er confident In cables formed of many a slender strand, And rare device of transport for the host.
Strophe IV
So now my soul is torn, As clad in mourning, in its sore affright, Ah me! ah me! for all the Persian host! Lest soon our country learn That Susa's mighty fort is void of men.
Antistrophe IV
And through the Kissians' town Shall echo heavy thud of hands on breast. Woe! woe! when all the crowd of women speak This utterance of great grief, And byssine robes are rent in agony.
Strophe V
For all the horses strong, And host that march on foot, Like swarm of bees, have gone with him who led The vanguard of the host. Crossing the sea-washed, bridge-built promontory That joins the shores of either continent.
Antistrophe V
And beds with tears are wet In grief for husbands gone, And Persian wives are delicate in grief, Each yearning for her lord; And each who sent her warrior-spouse to battle Now mourns at home in dreary solitude. But come, ye Persians now, And sitting in this ancient hall of ours, Let us take thought deep-counselling and wise, (Sore need is there of that,) How fareth now the great king Xerxes, he Who calls Dareios sire, Bearing the name our father bore of old? Is it the archers' bow that wins the day? Or does the strength prevail Of iron point that heads the spear's strong shaft? But lo! in glory like the face of gods, The mother of my king, my queen, appears: Let us do reverent homage at her feet; Yea, it is meet that all Should speak to her with words of greeting kind.
Enter Atossa in a chariot of state
Chor. O sovereign queen of Persian wives deep-zoned, Mother of Xerxes, reverend in thine age, Wife of Dareios! hail! 'Twas thine to join in wedlock with a spouse Whom Persians owned as God, And of a God thou art the mother too, Unless its ancient Fortune fails our host.
Atoss. Yes, thus I come, our gold-decked palace leaving, The bridal bower Dareios with me slept in. Care gnaws my heart, but now I tell you plainly A tale, my friends, which may not leave me fearless, Lest boastful wealth should stumble at the threshold, And with his foot o'erturn the prosperous fortune That great Dareios raised with Heaven's high blessing. And twofold care untold my bosom haunteth: We may not honour wealth that has no warriors, Nor on the poor shines light to strength proportioned; Wealth without stint we have, yet for our eye we tremble; For as the eye of home I deem a master's presence. Wherefore, ye Persians, aid me now in counsel; Trusty and old, in you lies hope of wisdom.
Chor. Queen of our land! be sure thou need'st not utter Or thing or word twice o'er, which power may point to; Thou bid'st us counsel give who fain would serve thee.
Atoss. Ever with many visions of the night Am I encompassed, since my son went forth, Leading a mighty host, with aim to sack The land of the Ionians. But ne'er yet Have I beheld a dream so manifest As in the night just past. And this I'll tell thee: There stood by me two women in fair robes; And this in Persian garments was arrayed, And that in Dorian came before mine eyes; In stature both of tallest, comeliest size; And both of faultless beauty, sisters twain Of the same stock. And they twain had their homes, One in the Hellenic, one in alien land. And these two, as I dreamt I saw, were set At variance with each other. And my son Learnt it, and checked and mollified their wrath, And yokes them to his chariot, and his collar He places on their necks. And one was proud Of that equipment, and in harness gave Her mouth obedient; but the other kicked, And tears the chariot's trappings with her hands, And rushes off uncurbed, and breaks its yoke Asunder. And my son falls low, and then His father comes, Dareios, pitying him. And lo! when Xerxes sees him, he his clothes Rends round his limbs. These things I say I saw In visions of the night; and when I rose, And dipped my hands in fountain flowing clear, I at the altar stood with hand that bore Sweet incense, wishing holy chrism to pour To the averting Gods whom thus men worship. And I beheld an eagle in full flight To Phœbos' altar-hearth; and then, my friends, I stood, struck dumb with fear; and next I saw A kite pursuing, in her wingèd course, And with his claws tearing the eagle's head, Which did nought else but crouch and yield itself. Such terrors it has been my lot to see, And yours to hear: For be ye sure, my son, If he succeed, will wonder-worthy prove; But if he fail, still irresponsible He to the people, and in either case, He, should he but return, is sovereign still.
Chor. We neither wish, O Lady, thee to frighten O'ermuch with what we say, nor yet encourage: But thou, the Gods adoring with entreaties, If thou hast seen aught ill, bid them avert it, And that all good things may receive fulfilment For thee, thy children, and thy friends and country. And next 'tis meet libations due to offer To Earth and to the dead. And ask thy husband, Dareios, whom thou say'st by night thou sawest, With kindly mood from 'neath the Earth to send thee Good things to light for thee and for thine offspring, While adverse things shall fade away in darkness. Such things do I, a self-taught seer, advise thee In kindly mood, and any way we reckon That good will come to thee from out these omens.
Atoss. Well, with kind heart, hast thou, as first expounder, Out of my dreams brought out a welcome meaning For me, and for my sons; and thy good wishes, May they receive fulfilment! And this also, As thou dost bid, we to the Gods will offer And to our friends below, when we go homeward. But first, my friends, I wish to hear of Athens, Where in the world do men report it standeth?
Chor. Far to the West, where sets our king the Sun-God.
Atoss. Was it this city my son wished to capture?
Chor. Aye, then would Hellas to our king be subject.
Atoss. And have they any multitude of soldiers?
Chor. A mighty host, that wrought the Medes much mischief.
Atoss. And what besides? Have they too wealth sufficing?
Chor. A fount of silver have they, their land's treasure.
Atoss. Have they a host in archers' skill excelling?
Chor. Not so, they wield the spear and shield and bucklers.
Atoss. What shepherd rules and lords it o'er their people?
Chor. Of no man are they called the slaves or subjects.
Atoss. How then can they sustain a foe invading?
Chor. So that they spoiled Dareios' goodly army.
Atoss. Dread news is thine for sires of those who're marching.
Chor. Nay, but I think thou soon wilt know the whole truth; This running one may know is that of Persian: For good or evil some clear news he bringeth.
Enter Messenger
Mess. O cities of the whole wide land of Asia! O soil of Persia, haven of great wealth! How at one stroke is brought to nothingness Our great prosperity, and all the flower Of Persia's strength is fallen! Woe is me! 'Tis ill to be the first to bring ill news; Yet needs must I the whole woe tell, ye Persians: All our barbaric mighty host is lost.
Strophe I
Chor. O piteous, piteous woe! O strange and dread event! Weep, O ye Persians, hearing this great grief!
Mess. Yea, all things there are ruined utterly; And I myself beyond all hopes behold The light of day at home.
Antistrophe I
Chor. O'er-long doth life appear To me, bowed down with years, On hearing this unlooked-for misery.
Mess. And I, indeed, being present and not hearing The tales of others, can report, ye Persians, What ills were brought to pass.
Strophe II
Chor. Alas, alas! in vain The many-weaponed and commingled host Went from the land of Asia to invade The soil divine of Hellas.
Mess. Full of the dead, slain foully, are the coasts Of Salamis, and all the neighbouring shore.
Antistrophe II
Chor. Alas, alas! sea-tossed The bodies of our friends, and much disstained: Thou say'st that they are drifted to and fro *In far out-floating garments.
Mess. E'en so; our bows availed not, but the host Has perished, conquered by the clash of ships.
Strophe III
Chor. Wail, raise a bitter cry And full of woe, for those who died in fight. How every way the Gods have wrought out ill, Ah me! ah me, our army all destroyed.
Mess. O name of Salamis that most I loathe! Ah, how I groan, remembering Athens too!
Antistrophe III
Chor. Yea, to her enemies Athens may well be hateful, and our minds Remember how full many a Persian wife She, for no cause, made widows and bereaved.
Atoss. Long time I have been silent in my woe, Crushed down with grief; for this calamity Exceeds all power to tell the woe, or ask. Yet still we mortals needs must bear the griefs The Gods send on us. Clearly tell thy tale, Unfolding the whole mischief, even though Thou groan'st at evils, who there is not dead, And which of our chief captains we must mourn, And who, being set in office o'er the host, Left by their death their office desolate.
Mess. Xerxes still lives and sees the light of day.
Atoss. To my house, then, great light thy words have brought, Bright dawn of morning after murky night.
Mess. Artembares, the lord of myriad horse, On the hard flinty coasts of the Sileni Is now being dashed; and valiant Dadakes, Captain of thousands, smitten with the spear, Leapt wildly from his ship. And Tenagon, Best of the true old Bactrians, haunts the soil Of Aias' isle; Lilaios, Arsames, And with them too Argestes, there defeated, Hard by the island where the doves abound, Beat here and there upon the rocky shore. [And from the springs of Neilos, Ægypt's stream, Arkteus, Adeues, Pheresseues too, These with Pharnuchos in one ship were lost;] Matallos, Chrysa-born, the captain bold Of myriads, leader he of swarthy horse Some thrice ten thousand strong, has fallen low, His red beard, hanging all its shaggy length, Deep dyed with blood, and purpled all his skin. Arabian Magos, Bactrian Artames, They perished, settlers in a land full rough. [Amistris and Amphistreus, guiding well The spear of many a conflict, and the noble Ariomardos, leaving bitter grief For Sardis; and the Mysian Seisames.] With twelve score ships and ten came Tharybis; Lyrnæan he in birth, once fair in form, He lies, poor wretch, a death inglorious dying: And, first in valour proved, Syennesis, Kilikian satrap, who, for one man, gave Most trouble to his foes, and nobly died. Of leaders such as these I mention make, And out of many evils tell but few.
Atoss. Woe, woe! I hear the very worst of ills, Shame to the Persians, cause of bitter wail; But tell me, going o'er the ground again, How great the number of the Hellenes' navy, That they presumed with Persia's armament To wage their warfare in the clash of ships.
Mess. As far as numbers went, be sure the ships Of Persia had the better, for the Hellenes Had, as their total, ships but fifteen score, And other ten selected as reserve. And Xerxes (well I know it) had a thousand Which he commanded—those that most excelled In speed were twice five score and seven in number; So stands the account. Deem'st thou our forces less In that encounter? Nay, some Power above Destroyed our host, and pressed the balance down With most unequal fortune, and the Gods Preserve the city of the Goddess Pallas.
Atoss. Is the Athenians' city then unsacked?
Mess. Their men are left, and that is bulwark strong.
Atoss. Next tell me how the fight of ships began. Who led the attack? Were those Hellenes the first, Or was't my son, exulting in his strength?
Mess. The author of the mischief, O my mistress, Was some foul fiend or Power on evil bent; For lo! a Hellene from the Athenian host Came to thy son, to Xerxes, and spake thus, That should the shadow of the dark night come, The Hellenes would not wait him, but would leap Into their rowers' benches, here and there, And save their lives in secret, hasty flight. And he forthwith, this hearing, knowing not The Hellene's guile, nor yet the Gods' great wrath, Gives this command to all his admirals, Soon as the sun should cease to burn the earth With his bright rays, and darkness thick invade The firmament of heaven, to set their ships In threefold lines, to hinder all escape, And guard the billowy straits, and others place In circuit round about the isle of Aias: For if the Hellenes 'scaped an evil doom, And found a way of secret, hasty flight, It was ordained that all should lose their heads. Such things he spake from soul o'erwrought with pride, For he knew not what fate the Gods would send; And they, not mutinous, but prompt to serve, Then made their supper ready, and each sailor Fastened his oar around true-fitting thole; And when the sunlight vanished, and the night Had come, then each man, master of an oar, Went to his ship, and all men bearing arms, And through the long ships rank cheered loud to rank; And so they sail, as 'twas appointed each, And all night long the captains of the fleet Kept their men working, rowing to and fro; Night then came on, and the Hellenic host In no wise sought to take to secret flight. And when day, bright to look on with white steeds, O'erspread the earth, then rose from the Hellenes Loud chant of cry of battle, and forthwith Echo gave answer from each island rock; And terror then on all the Persians fell, Of fond hopes disappointed. Not in flight The Hellenes then their solemn pæans sang: But with brave spirit hasting on to battle. With martial sound the trumpet fired those ranks; And straight with sweep of oars that flew through foam, They smote the loud waves at the boatswain's call; And swiftly all were manifest to sight. Then first their right wing moved in order meet; Next the whole line its forward course began, And all at once we heard a mighty shout,— “O sons of Hellenes, forward, free your country; Free too your wives, your children, and the shrines Built to your fathers' Gods, and holy tombs Your ancestors now rest in. Now the fight Is for our all.” And on our side indeed Arose in answer din of Persian speech, And time to wait was over; ship on ship Dashed its bronze-pointed beak, and first a barque Of Hellas did the encounter fierce begin, And from Phœnikian vessel crashes off Her carved prow. And each against his neighbour Steers his own ship: and first the mighty flood Of Persian host held out. But when the ships Were crowded in the straits, nor could they give Help to each other, they with mutual shocks, With beaks of bronze went crushing each the other, Shivering their rowers' benches. And the ships Of Hellas, with manœuvring not unskilful, Charged circling round them. And the hulls of ships Floated capsized, nor could the sea be seen, Strown, as it was, with wrecks and carcases; And all the shores and rocks were full of corpses. And every ship was wildly rowed in fight, All that composed the Persian armament. And they, as men spear tunnies, or a haul Of other fishes, with the shafts of oars, Or spars of wrecks went smiting, cleaving down; And bitter groans and wailings overspread The wide sea-waves, till eye of swarthy night Bade it all cease: and for the mass of ills, Not, though my tale should run for ten full days, Could I in full recount them. Be assured That never yet so great a multitude Died in a single day as died in this.
Atoss. Ah, me! Great then the sea of ills that breaks On Persia and the whole barbaric host.
Mess. Be sure our evil fate is but half o'er: On this has supervened such bulk of woe, As more than twice to outweigh what I've told.
Atoss. And yet what fortune could be worse than this? Say, what is this disaster which thou tell'st, That turns the scale to greater evils still?
Mess. Those Persians that were in the bloom of life, Bravest in heart and noblest in their blood, And by the king himself deemed worthiest trust, Basely and by most shameful death have died.
Atoss. Ah! woe is me, my friends, for our ill fate! What was the death by which thou say'st they perished?
Mess. There is an isle that lies off Salamis, Small, with bad anchorage for ships, where Pan, Pan the dance-loving, haunts the sea-washed coast. There Xerxes sends these men, that when their foes, Being wrecked, should to the islands safely swim, They might with ease destroy th' Hellenic host, And save their friends from out the deep sea's paths; But ill the future guessing: for when God Gave the Hellenes the glory of the battle, In that same hour, with arms well wrought in bronze Shielding their bodies, from their ships they leapt, And the whole isle encircled, so that we Were sore distressed, and knew not where to turn; For here men's hands hurled many a stone at them; And there the arrows from the archer's bow Smote and destroyed them; and with one great rush, At last advancing, they upon them dash And smite, and hew the limbs of these poor wretches, Till they each foe had utterly destroyed. [And Xerxes when he saw how deep the ill, Groaned out aloud, for he had ta'en his seat, With clear, wide view of all the army round, On a high cliff hard by the open sea; And tearing then his robes with bitter cry, And giving orders to his troops on shore, He sends them off in foul retreat. This grief 'Tis thine to mourn besides the former ills.]
Atoss. O hateful Power, how thou of all their hopes Hast robbed the Persians! Bitter doom my son Devised for glorious Athens, nor did they, The invading host who fell at Marathon, Suffice; but my son, counting it his task To exact requital for it, brought on him So great a crowd of sorrows. But I pray, As to those ships that have this fate escaped, Where did'st thou leave them? Can'st thou clearly tell?
Mess. The captains of the vessels that were left, With a fair wind, but not in meet array, Took flight: and all the remnant of the army Fell in Bœotia—some for stress of thirst About the fountain clear, and some of us, Panting for breath, cross to the Phokians' land, The soil of Doris, and the Melian gulf, Where fair Spercheios waters all the plains With kindly flood, and then the Achæan fields And city of the Thessali received us, Famished for lack of food; and many died Of thirst and hunger, for both ills we bore; And then to the Magnetian land we came, And that of Macedonians, to the stream Of Axios, and Bolbe's reed-grown marsh, And Mount Pangaios and the Edonian land. And on that night God sent a mighty frost, Unwonted at that season, sealing up The whole course of the Strymon's pure, clear flood; And they who erst had deemed the Gods as nought, Then prayed with hot entreaties, worshipping Both earth and heaven. And after that the host Ceased from its instant calling on the Gods, It crosses o'er the glassy, frozen stream; And whosoe'er set forth before the rays Of the bright God were shed abroad, was saved; For soon the glorious sun with burning blaze Reached the mid-stream and warmed it with its flame, And they, confused, each on the other fell. Blest then was he whose soul most speedily Breathed out its life. And those who yet survived And gained deliverance, crossing with great toil And many a pang through Thrakè, now are come, Escaped from perils, no great number they, To this our sacred land, and so it groans, This city of the Persians, missing much Our country's dear-loved youth. Too true my tale, And many things I from my speech omit, Ills which the Persians suffer at God's hand.
Chor. O Power resistless, with what weight of woe On all the Persian race have thy feet leapt!
Atoss. Ah! woe is me for that our army lost! O vision of the night that cam'st in dreams, Too clearly did'st thou show me of these ills! But ye (to Chorus) did judge them far too carelessly; Yet since your counsel pointed to that course, I to the Gods will first my prayer address. And then with gifts to Earth and to the Dead, Bringing the chrism from my store, I'll come. For our past ills, I know, 'tis all too late, But for the future, I may hope, will dawn A better fortune! But 'tis now your part In these our present ills, in counsel faithful To commune with the Faithful; and my son, Should he come here before me, comfort him, And home escort him, lest he add fresh ill To all these evils that we suffer now. [Exit
Chor. Zeus our king, who now to nothing Bring'st the army of the Persians, Multitudinous, much boasting; And with gloomy woe hast shrouded Both Ecbatana and Susa; Many maidens now are tearing With their tender hands their mantles, And with tear-floods wet their bosoms, In the common grief partaking; And the brides of Persian warriors, Dainty even in their wailing, Longing for their new-wed husbands, Reft of bridal couch luxurious, With its coverlet so dainty, Losing joy of wanton youth-time, Mourn in never-sated wailings. And I too in fullest measure Raise again meet cry of sorrow, Weeping for the loved and lost ones.
Strophe I
For now the land of Asia mourneth sore, Left desolate of men, 'Twas Xerxes led them forth, woe! woe! 'Twas Xerxes lost them all, woe! woe! 'Twas Xerxes who with evil counsels sped Their course in sea-borne barques. Why was Dareios erst so free from harm, First bowman of the state, The leader whom the men of Susa loved,
Antistrophe I
While those who fought as soldiers or at sea, These ships, dark-hulled, well-rowed, Their own ships bore them on, woe! woe! Their own ships lost them all, woe! woe! Their own ships, in the crash of ruin urged, And by Ionian hands? The king himself, we hear, but hardly 'scapes, Through Thrakè's widespread steppes, And paths o'er which the tempests wildly sweep.
Strophe II
And they who perished first, ah me! Perforce unburied left, alas! Are scattered round Kychreia's shore, woe! woe! Lament, mourn sore, and raise a bitter cry, Grievous, the sky to pierce, woe! woe! And let thy mourning voice uplift its strain Of loud and full lament.
Antistrophe II
Torn by the whirling flood, ah me! Their carcases are gnawed, alas! By the dumb brood of stainless sea, woe! woe! And each house mourneth for its vanished lord; And childless sires, woe! woe! Mourning in age o'er griefs the Gods have sent, Now hear their utter loss.
Strophe III
And throughout all Asia's borders None now own the sway of Persia, Nor bring any more their tribute, Owning sway of sovereign master. Low upon the Earth, laid prostrate, Is the strength of our great monarch
Antistrophe III
No more need men keep in silence Tongues fast bound: for now the people May with freedom speak at pleasure; For the yoke of power is broken; And blood-stained in all its meadows Holds the sea-washed isle of Aias What was once the host of Persia.
Re-enter Atossa
Atoss. Whoe'er, my friends, is vexed in troublous times, Knows that when once a tide of woe sets in, A man is wont to fear in everything; But when Fate flows on smoothly, then to trust That the same Fate will ever send fair gales. So now all these disasters from the Gods Seem in mine eyes filled full of fear and dread, And in mine ears rings cry unpæanlike, So great a dread of all has seized my soul: And therefore now, without or chariot's state Or wonted pomp, have I thus issued forth From out my palace, to my son's sire bringing Libations loving, gifts propitiatory, Meet for the dead; milk pure and white from cow Unblemished, and bright honey that distils From the flower-working bee, and water drawn From virgin fountain, and the draught unmarred From mother wild, bright child of ancient vine; And here too of the tree that evermore Keeps its fresh life in foliage, the pale olive, Is the sweet-smelling fruit, and twinèd wreaths Of flowers, the children of all-bearing earth. But ye, my friends, o'er these libations poured In honour of the dead, chant forth your hymns, And call upon Dareios as a God: While I will send unto the Gods below These votive offerings which the earth shall drink. [Goes to the tomb of Dareios in the centre of the stage Chor. O royal lady, honoured of the Persians, Do thou libations pour To the dark chambers of the dead below; And we with hymns will pray The Powers that act as escorts of the dead To give us kindly help beneath the earth. But oh, ye holy Ones in darkness dwelling, Hermes and Earth, and thou, the Lord of Hell, Send from beneath a soul Up to the light of earth; For should he know a cure for these our ills, He, he alone of men, their end may tell.
Strophe I
Doth he, the blest one hear, The king, like Gods in power, Hear me, as I send forth My cries in barbarous speech, Yet very clear to him,— Sad, varied, broken cries So as to tell aloud Our troubles terrible? Ah, doth he hear below?
Antistrophe I
But thou, O Earth, and ye, The other Lords of those Beneath the grave that dwell; Grant that the godlike one May come from out your home, The Persians' mighty God, In Susa's palace born; Send him, I pray you, up, The like of whom the soil Of Persia never hid.
Strophe II
Dear was our chief, and dear to us his tomb, For dear the life it hides; Aidoneus, O Aidoneus, send him forth, Thou who dost lead the dead to Earth again, *Yea, send Dareios.... What a king was he!
Antistrophe II
For never did he in war's bloody woe Lose all his warrior-host, But Heaven-taught Counsellor the Persians called him, And Heaven-taught Counsellor in truth he proved, Since he still ruled his hosts of subjects well.
Strophe III
Monarch, O ancient monarch, come, oh, come, Come to the summit of sepulchral mound, Lifting thy foot encased In slipper saffron-dyed, And giving to our view Thy royal tiara's crest: Speak, O Dareios, faultless father, speak.
Antistrophe III
Yea, come, that thou, O Lord, may'st hear the woes, Woes new and strange, our lord has now endured; For on us now has fallen A dark and Stygian mist, Since all the armed youth Has perished utterly; Speak, O Dareios, faultless father, speak.
Epode
O thou, whose death thy friends Bewail with many tears, *Why thus, O Lord of lords, *In double error of wild frenzy born, Have all our triremes good Been lost to this our land, Ships that are ships no more, yea, ships no more?
The Ghost of Dareios appears on the summit of the mound
Dar. O faithful of the Faithful, ye who were Companions of my youth, ye Persian elders,
What troubles is't my country toils beneath? The whole plain groans, cut up and furrowed o'er, And I, beholding now my queen beloved Standing hard by my sepulchre, feared much, And her libations graciously received; But ye wail loud near this my sepulchre, And shouting shrill with cries that raise the dead, Ye call me with your plaints. No easy task Is it to come, for this cause above all, That the great Gods who reign below are apter To seize men than release: yet natheless I, Being great in power among them, now am come. Be quick then, that none blame me as too late; What new dire evils on the Persians weigh?
Chor. I fear to look on thee, Fear before thee to speak, With all the awe of thee I felt of old.
Dar. But since I came by thy complaints persuaded, From below rising, spin no lengthened tale; But shortly, clearly speak, and tell thy story, And leave awhile thine awe and fear of me.
Chor. I dread thy wish to grant, *I dread to say thee nay, Saying things that it is hard for friends to speak.
Dar. Nay, then, since that old dread of thine prevents thee, Do thou [to Atossa], the ancient partner of my bed, My noble queen, from these thy plaints and moanings Cease, and say something clearly. Human sorrows May well on mortals fall; for many evils, Some on the sea, and some on dry land also, Happen to men if life be far prolongèd.
Atoss. O thou, who in the fate of fair good fortune Excelled'st all men, who, while yet thou sawest The sun's bright rays, did'st lead a life all blessed, Admired, yea, worshipped as a God by Persians, Now, too, I count thee blest in that thou died'st Before thou saw'st the depth of these our evils. For now, Dareios, thou shalt hear a story Full, yet in briefest moment. Utter ruin, To sum up all, is come upon the Persians.
Dar. How so? Hath plague or discord seized my country?
Atoss. Not so, but all the host is lost near Athens.
Dar. What son of mine led that host hither, tell me?
Atoss. Xerxes o'er-hasty, emptying all the mainland.
Dar. Made he this mad attempt by land or water?
Atoss. By both; two lines there were of two great armies.
Dar. How did so great a host effect its passage?
Atoss. He bridged the straits of Helle, and found transit.
Dar. Did he prevail to close the mighty Bosporos?
Atoss. So was it; yet some God, it may be, helped him.
Dar. Alas! some great God came and stole his wisdom.
Atoss. Yea, the end shows what evil he accomplished.
Dar. And how have they fared, that ye thus bewail them?
Atoss. The naval host, o'ercome, wrecked all the land-force.
Dar. What! Is the whole host by the spear laid prostrate?
Atoss. For this doth Susa's city mourn her losses.
Dar. Alas, for that brave force and mighty army!
Atoss. The Bactrians all are lost, not old men merely.
Dar. Poor fool! how he hath lost his host's fresh vigour!
Atoss. Xerxes, they say, alone, with but few others....
Dar. What is his end, and where? Is there no safety?
Atoss. Was glad to gain the bridge that joins two mainlands.
Dar. And has he reached this mainland? Is that certain?
Atoss. Yea, the report holds good. Here is no discord.
Dar. Ah me! Full swift the oracles' fulfilment! And on my son hath Zeus their end directed. I hoped the Gods would work them out more slowly; But when man hastens, God too with him worketh. And now for all my friends a fount of evils Seems to be found. And this my son, not knowing, In youth's rash mood, hath wrought; for he did purpose To curb the sacred Hellespont with fetters, As though it were his slave, and sought to alter The stream of God, the Bosporos, full-flowing, And his well-hammered chains around it casting, Prevailed to make his mighty host a highway; And though a mortal, thought, with no good counsel, To master all the Gods, yea, e'en Poseidon. Nay, was not my poor son oppressed with madness? And much I fear lest all my heaped-up treasure Become the spoil and prey of the first comer.
Atoss. Such things the o'er-hasty Xerxes learns from others, By intercourse with men of evil counsel; Who say that thou great wealth for thy son gained'st By thy spear's might, while he with coward spirit Does his spear-work indoors, and nothing addeth Unto his father's glory. Such reproaches Hearing full oft from men of evil counsel, He planned this expedition against Hellas.
Dar. Thus then a deed portentous hath been wrought, Ever to be remembered, such as ne'er Falling on Susa made it desolate, Since Zeus our king ordained this dignity, That one man should be lord of Asia's plains. Where feed her thousand flocks, and hold the rod Of sovran guidance: for the Median first Ruled o'er the host, and then his son in turn Finished the work, for reason steered his soul; And Kyros came as third, full richly blest, And ruled, and gained great peace for all his friends; And he won o'er the Lydians and the Phrygians, And conquered all the wide Ionian land; For such his wisdom, he provoked not God. And Kyros' son came fourth, and ruled the host; And Mardos fifth held sway, his country's shame, Shame to the ancient throne; and him with guile Artaphrenes the brave smote down, close leagued With men, his friends, to whom the work was given. [Sixth, Maraphis and seventh Artaphrenes,] And I obtained this post that I desired, And with a mighty host great victories won. Yet no such evil brought I on the state; But my son Xerxes, young, thinks like a youth, And all my solemn charge remembers not; For know this well, my old companions true, That none of us who swayed the realm of old, Did e'er appear as working ills like these.
Chor. What then, O King Dareios? To what end Lead'st thou thy speech? And how, in this our plight, Could we, the Persian people, prosper best?
Dar. If ye no more attack the Hellenes' land, E'en though the Median host outnumbers theirs. To them the very land is true ally.
Chor. What meanest thou? How fights the land for them?
Dar. *It slays with famine those vast multitudes.
Chor. We then a host, select, compact, will raise.
Dar. Nay, e'en the host which now in Hellas stays Will ne'er return in peace and safety home.
Chor. How say'st thou? Does not all the barbarous host Cross from Europa o'er the straits of Hellè?
Dar. But few of many; if 'tis meet for one Who looks upon the things already done To trust the oracles of Gods; for they, Not these or those, but all, are brought to pass: If this be so, then, resting on vain hopes, He leaves a chosen portion of his host: And they abide where, watering all the plain, Asôpos pours his fertilising stream Dear to Bœotian land; and there of ills The topmost crown awaits them, penalty Of wanton outrage and of godless thoughts; For they to Hellas coming, held not back In awe from plundering sculptured forms of Gods And burning down their temples; and laid low Are altars, and the shrines of Gods o'erthrown, E'en from their base. They therefore having wrought Deeds evil, now are suffering, and will suffer Evil not less, and not as yet is seen *E'en the bare groundwork of the ills, but still They grow up to completeness. Such a stream Of blood and slaughter soon shall flow from them By Dorian spear upon Platæan ground, And heaps of corpses shall to children's children, Though speechless, witness to the eyes of men That mortal man should not wax overproud; For wanton pride from blossom grows to fruit, The full corn in the ear, of utter woe, And reaps a tear-fraught harvest. Seeing then, Such recompense of these things, cherish well The memory of Athens and of Hellas; Let no man in his scorn of present fortune, And thirst for other, mar his good estate; Zeus is the avenger of o'er-lofty thoughts, A terrible controller. Therefore now, Since voice of God bids him be wise of heart, Admonish him with counsel true and good To cease his daring sacrilegious pride; And thou, O Xerxes' mother, old and dear, Go to thy home, and taking what apparel Is fitting, go to meet thy son; for all The costly robes around his limbs are torn To rags and shreds in grief's wild agony. But do thou gently soothe his soul with words; For he to thee alone will deign to hearken; But I must leave the earth for darkness deep: And ye, old men, farewell, although in woe, And give your soul its daily bread of joy; For to the dead no profit bringeth wealth. [Exit, disappearing in the earth.
Chor. I shudder as I hear the many woes Both past and present that on Persians fall.
Atoss. [O God, how many evils fall on me! And yet this one woe biteth more than all, Hearing my son's shame in the rags of robes That clothe his limbs. But I will go and take A fit adornment from my house, and try To meet my son. We will not in his troubles Basely abandon him whom most we love.]
Strophe I
Chor. Ah me! a glorious and a blessed life Had we as subjects once, When our old king, Dareios, ruled the land, Meeting all wants, dispassionate, supreme, A monarch like a God.
Antistrophe I
For first we showed the world our noble hosts; And laws of tower-like strength Directed all things; and our backward march After our wars unhurt, unsuffering led Our prospering armies home.
Strophe II
How many towns he took, Not crossing Halys' stream Nor issuing from his home, There where in Strymon's sea, The Acheloian Isles Lie near the coasts of Thrakian colonies.
Antistrophe II
And those that lie outside the Ægæan main, The cities girt with towers, They hearkened to our king; And those who boast their site By Hellè's full, wide stream, Propontis with its bays, and mouth of Pontos broad.
Strophe III
And all the isles that lie Facing the headland jutting in the sea, Close bound to this our coast; Lesbos, and Samos with its olive groves; Chios and Paros too; Naxos and Myconos, and Andros too On Tenos bordering.
Antistrophe III
And so he ruled the isles That lie midway between the continents, Lemnos, and Icaros, Rhodes and Cnidos and the Kyprian towns, Paphos and Soli famed, And with them Salamis, Whose parent city now our groans doth cause;
Epode
And many a wealthy town and populous, Of Hellenes in the Ionian region dwelling, He by his counsel ruled; His was the unconquered strength of warrior host, Allies of mingled race. And now, beyond all doubt, In strife of war defeated utterly, We find this high estate Through wrath of God o'erturned, And we are smitten low, By bitter loss at sea.
Enter Xerxes in kingly apparel, but with his robes rent, with Attendants.
Xer. Oh, miserable me! Who this dark hateful doom That I expected least Have met with as my lot, With what stern mood and fierce Towards the Persian race Is God's hand laid on us! What woe will come on me? Gone is my strength of limb, As I these elders see. Ah, would to Heaven, O Zeus, That with the men who fell Death's doom had covered me!
Chor. Ah, woe, O King, woe! woe! For the army brave in fight, And our goodly Persian name, And the fair array of men, Whom God hath now cut off! And the land bewails its youth Who for our Xerxes fell, For him whose deeds have filled *Hades with Persian souls; For many heroes now *Are Hades-travellers, Our country's chosen flower, Mighty with darts and bow; *For lo! the myriad mass Of men has perished quite. Woe, woe for our fair fame! And Asia's land, O King, Is terribly, most terribly, o'erthrown.
Xer. I then, oh misery! Have to my curse been proved Sore evil to my country and my race.
Chor. Yea, and on thy return I will lift up my voice in wailing loud, Cry of sore-troubled thought, As of a mourner born In Mariandynian land, Lament of many tears.
Antistrophe I
Xer. Yea, utter ye a wail Dreary and full of grief; For lo! the face of Fate Against me now is turned.
Chor. Yea, I will raise a cry Dreary and full of grief, Giving this tribute due To all the people's woes, And all our loss at sea, Troubles of this our State That mourneth for her sons; Yea, I will wail full sore, With flood of bitter tears.
Strophe II
Xer. For Ares, he whose might Was in our ships' array, Giving victory to our foes, Has in Ionians, yea, Ionians, found his match, And from the dark sea's plain, And that ill-omened shore, Has a fell harvest reaped.
Chor. Yea, wail, search out the whole; Where are our other friends? Where thy companions true, Such as Pharandakes, Susas, Pelagon, Psammis, Dotamas, Agdabatas, Susiskanes, From Ecbatana who started?
Antistrophe II
Xer. I left them low in death, Falling from Tyrian ship, On Salaminian shores, Beating now here, now there, On the hard rock-girt coast.
Chor. Ah, where Pharnuchos then, And Ariomardos brave? And where Sevalkes king, Lilæos proud of race, Memphis and Tharybis, Masistras, and Artembares, Hystæchmas? This I ask.
Strophe III
Xer. Woe! woe is me! They have looked on at Athens' ancient towers, Her hated towers, ah me! All, as by one fell stroke, Unhappy in their fate Lie gasping on the shore.
Chor. And he, thy faithful Eye, Who told the Persian host, Myriads on myriads o'er, Alpistos, son and heir Of Batanôchos old · · · · · And the son of brave Sesames, Son himself of Megabates? Parthos, and the great Œbares, Did'st thou leave them, did'st thou leave them? Ah, woe! ah, woe is me, For those unhappy ones! Thou to the Persians brave Tellest of ills on ills.
Antistrophe III
Xer. Ah, thou dost wake in me The memory of the spell of yearning love For comrades brave and true, Telling of cursed ills, Yea, cursed, hateful doom; And lo, within my frame My heart cries out, cries out.
Chor. Yea, another too we long for, Xanthes, captain of ten thousand Mardian warriors, and Anchares Arian born, and great Arsakes And Diæxis, lords of horsemen, Kigdagatas and Lythimnas, Tolmos, longing for the battle: *Much I marvel, much I marvel, For they come not, as the rear-guard Of thy tent on chariot mounted.
Strophe IV
Xer. Gone those rulers of the army.
Chor. Gone are they in death inglorious.
Xer. Ah woe! ah woe! Alas! alas!
Chor. Ah! the Gods have sent upon us Ill we never thought to look on, Eminent above all others; Ne'er hath Atè seen its equal.
Antistrophe IV
Smitten we by many sorrows, Such as come on men but seldom.
Chor. Smitten we, 'tis all too certain....
Xer. Fresh woes! fresh woes! ah me!
Chor. Now with adverse turn of fortune, With Ionian seamen meeting, Fails in war the race of Persians.
Strophe V
Xer. Too true. Yea I and that vast host of mine Are smitten down.
Chor. Too true—the Persians' majesty and might Have perished utterly.
Xer. See'st thou this remnant of my armament?
Chor. I see it, yea, I see.
Xer. (pointing to his quiver.) Dost see thou that which arrows wont to hold?...
Chor. What speak'st thou of as saved?
Xer. This treasure-store for darts.
Chor. Few, few of many left!
Xer. Thus we all helpers lack.
Chor. Ionian soldiers flee not from the spear.
Antistrophe V
Xer. Yea, very brave are they, and I have seen Unlooked-for woe.
Chor. Wilt tell of squadron of our sea-borne ships Defeated utterly?
Xer. I tore my robes at this calamity.
Chor. Ah me, ah me, ah me.
Xer. Ay, more than all 'ah me's'!
Chor. Twofold and threefold ills!
Xer. Grievous to us—but joy, Great joy, to all our foes!
Chor. Lopped off is all our strength.
Xer. Stripped bare of escort I!
Chor. Yea, by sore loss at sea Disastrous to thy friends.
Strophe VI
Xer. Weep for our sorrow, weep, Yea, go ye to the house.
Chor. Woe for our griefs, woe, woe!
Xer. Cry out an echoing cry.
Chor. Ill gift of ills on ills.
Xer. Weep on in wailing chant.
Chor. Oh! ah! Oh! ah!
Xer. Grievous our bitter woes.
Chor. Ah me, I mourn them sore.
Antistrophe VI
Xer. Ply, ply your hands and groan; Yea, for my sake bewail.
Chor. I weep in bitter grief.
Xer. Cry out an echoing cry.
Chor. Yea, we may raise our voice, O Lord and King, in wail.
Xer. Raise now shrill cry of woe.
Chor. Ah me! Ah! Woe is me!
Xer. Yea, with it mingle dark....
Chor. And bitter, grievous blows.
Strophe VII
Xer. Yea, beat thy breast, and cry After the Mysian type.
Chor. Oh, misery! oh, misery!
Xer. Yea, tear the white hair off thy flowing beard.
Chor. Yea; with clenched hands, with clenchèd hands, I say, In very piteous guise.
Xer. Cry out, cry out aloud.
Chor. That also will I do.
Antistrophe VII
Xer. And with thy fingers tear Thy bosom's folded robe.
Chor. Oh, misery! oh, misery!
Xer. Yea, tear thy hair in wailing for our host.
Chor. Yea, with clenched hands, I say, with clenchèd hands, In very piteous guise.
Xer. Be thine eyes wet with tears.
Chor. Behold the tears stream down.
Epode
Xer. Raise a re-echoing cry.
Chor. Ah woe! ah woe!
Xer. Go to thy home with wailing loud and long.
Chor. O land of Persia, full of lamentations!
Xer. Through the town raise your cries.
Chor. We raise them, yea, we raise.
Xer. Wail, wail, ye men that walked so daintily.
Chor. O land of Persia, full of lamentations! Woe; woe!
Xer. Alas for those who in the triremes perished!
Chor. With broken cries of woe will I escort thee. [Exeunt in procession, wailing, and rending their robes.