# Tragedies of Aeschylus (Potter)/Persians

The Persians is a tragedy by the ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus. Written in 5th Century B.C., it is the oldest surviving play in the history of theater. It is also notable for being the only extant Greek tragedy based on contemporary events. The Persians was the second part of a trilogy first produced in 472 BC, however the first and third parts of the trilogy, Phineus and Glaucus, respectively, have not survived.
Receiving critical acclaim in its ancient time, The Persians' popularity has endured in modern Greece.
    Warning: template has been deprecated.
As with all ancient Greek dramas, the correct interpretation of The Persians may vary, given the original work's condition and the current study of ancient Greek language. Therefore, varying English translations exist. This English translation was published by Robert Potter in 1777.

## Dramatis Personae

* ATOSSA, widow of Darius and mother of XERXES
* MESSENGER
* GHOST OF DARIUS
* XERXES
* CHORUS OF PERSIAN ELDERS, who compose the Persian Council of State

## Scene

Before the Council-Hall of the Persian Kings at Susa. The tomb of Darius the Great is visible. The time is 480 B.C., shortly after the battle of Salamis. The play opens with the CHORUS OF PERSIAN ELDERS singing its first choral lyric.
CHORUS
 While o'er the fields of Greece the embattled troops  Of Persia march with delegated sway,  We o'er their rich and gold-abounding seats  Hold faithful our firm guard; to this high charge  Xerxes, our royal lord, the imperial son  Of great Darius, chose our honour'd age.  But for the king's return, and his arm'd host  Blazing with gold, my soul presaging ill  Swells in my tortured breast: for all her force  Hath Asia sent, and for her youth I sigh.  Nor messenger arrives, nor horseman spurs  With tidings to this seat of Persia's kings.  The gates of Susa and Ecbatana  Pour'd forth their martial trains; and Cissia sees  Her ancient towers forsaken, while her youth,  Some on the bounding steed, the tall bark some  Ascending, some with painful march on foot,  Haste on, to arrange the deep'ning files of war.  Amistres, Artaphernes, and the might  Of great Astaspes, Megabazes bold,  Chieftains of Persia, kings, that, to the power  Of the great king obedient, march with these  Leading their martial thousands; their proud steeds  Prance under them; steel bows and shafts their arms,  Dreadful to see, and terrible in fight,  Deliberate valour breathing in their souls.  Artembares, that in his fiery horse  Delights; Masistress; and Imaeus bold,  Bending with manly strength his stubborn bow;  Pharandaces, and Sosthanes, that drives  With military pomp his rapid steeds.  Others the vast prolific Nile hath sent;  Pegastagon, that from Aegyptus draws  His high birth; Susiscanes; and the chief  That reigns o'er sacred Memphis, great Arsames;  And Ariomardus, that o'er ancient Thebes  Bears the supreme dominion; and with these,  Drawn from their watery marshes, numbers train'd  To the stout oar. Next these the Lycian troops,  Soft sons of luxury; and those that dwell  Amid the inland forests, from the sea  Far distant; these Metragathes commands,  And virtuous Arceus, royal chiefs, that shine  In burnish'd gold, and many a whirling car  Drawn by six generous steeds from Sardis lead,  A glorious and a dreadful spectacle.  And from the foot of Tmolus, sacred mount,  Eager to bind on Greece the servile yoke,  Mardon and Tharybis the massy spear  Grasp with unwearied vigour; the light lance  The Mysians shake. A mingled multitude  Swept from her wide dominions skill'd to draw  The unerring bow, in ships Euphrates sends  From golden Babylon. With falchions arm'd  From all the extent of Asia move the hosts  Obedient to their monarch's stern command.  Thus march'd the flower of Persia, whose loved youth  The world of Asia nourish'd, and with sighs  Laments their absence; many an anxious look  Their wives, their parents send, count the slow days,  And tremble at the long-protracted time.
 strophe 1
 Already o'er the adverse strand  In arms the monarch's martial squadrons spread;  The threat'ning ruin shakes the land,  And each tall city bows its tower'd head.  Bark bound to bark, their wondrous way  They bridge across the indignant sea;  The narrow Hellespont's vex'd waves disdain,  His proud neck taught to wear the chain.  Now has the peopled Asia's warlike lord,  By land, by sea, with foot, with horse,  Resistless in his rapid course,  O'er all their realms his warring thousands pour'd;  Now his intrepid chiefs surveys,  And glitt'ring like a god his radiant state displays.
 antistrophe 1
 Fierce as the dragon scaled in gold  Through the deep files he darts his glowing eye;  And pleased their order to behold,  His gorgeous standard blazing to the sky,  Rolls onward his Assyrian car,  Directs the thunder of the war,  Bids the wing'd arrows' iron storm advance  Against the slow and cumbrous lance.  What shall withstand the torrent of his sway  When dreadful o'er the yielding shores  The impetuous tide of battle roars,  And sweeps the weak opposing mounds away?  So Persia, with resistless might,  Rolls her unnumber'd hosts of heroes to the fight.
 strophe 2
 For when misfortune's fraudful hand  Prepares to pour the vengeance of the sky,  What mortal shall her force withstand?  What rapid speed the impending fury fly?  Gentle at first with flatt'ring smiles  She spreads her soft enchanting wiles,  So to her toils allures her destined prey,  Whence man ne'er breaks unhurt away.  For thus from ancient times the Fates ordain  That Persia's sons should greatly dare,  Unequall'd in the works of war;  Shake with their thund'ring steeds the ensanguined plain,  Dreadful the hostile walls surround,  And lay their rampired towers in ruins on the ground.
 antistrophe 2
 Taught to behold with fearless eyes  The whitening billows foam beneath the gale,  They bid the naval forests rise,  Mount the slight bark, unfurl the flying sail,  And o'er the angry ocean bear  To distant realms the storm of war.  For this with many a sad and gloomy thought  My tortured breast is fraught:  Ah me! for Persia's absent sons I sigh;  For while in foreign fields they fight,  Our towns exposed to wild affright  An easy prey to the invader lie:  Where, mighty Susa, where thy powers,  To wield the warrior's arms, and guard thy regal towers?
 epode
 Crush'd beneath the assailing foe  Her golden head must Cissia bend;  While her pale virgins, frantic with despair,  Through all her streets awake the voice of wo;  And flying with their bosoms bare,  Their purfled stoles in anguish rend:  For all her youth in martial pride,  Like bees that, clust'ring round their king,  Their dark imbodied squadrons bring,  Attend their sceptred monarch's side,  And stretch across the watery way  From shore to shore their long array.  The Persian dames, with many a tender fear,  In grief's sad vigils keep the midnight hour;  Shed on the widow'd couch the streaming tear,  And the long absence of their loves deplore.  Each lonely matron feels her pensive breast  Throb with desire, with aching fondness glow,  Since in bright arms her daring warrior dress'd  Left her to languish in her love-lorn wo.
 Now, ye grave Persians, that your honour'd seats  Hold in this ancient house, with prudent care  And deep deliberation, so the state  Requires, consult we, pond'ring the event  Of this great war, which our imperial lord,  The mighty Xerxes from Darius sprung,  The stream of whose rich blood flows in our veins,  Leads against Greece; whether his arrowy shower  Shot from the strong-braced bow, or the huge spear  High brandish'd, in the deathful field prevails.  But see, the monarch's mother: like the gods  Her lustre blazes on our eyes: my queen,  Prostrate I fall before her: all advance  With reverence, and in duteous phrase address her,
ATOSSA enters with her retinue. The Elders do their obeisance to her.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
 Hail, queen, of Persia's high-zoned dames supreme,  Age-honour'd mother of the potent Xerxes,  Imperial consort of Darius, hail!  The wife, the mother of the Persians' god,  If yet our former glories fade not from us.
ATOSSA
 And therefore am I come, leaving my house  That shines with gorgeous ornaments and gold,  Where in past days Darius held with me  His royal residence. With anxious care  My heart is tortured: I will tell you, friends,  My thoughts, not otherwise devoid of fear,  Lest mighty wealth with haughty foot o'erturn  And trample in the dust that happiness,  Which, not unbless'd by Heaven, Darius raised.  For this with double force unquiet thoughts  Past utterance fill my soul; that neither wealth  With all its golden stores, where men are wanting,  Claims reverence; nor the light, that beams from power,  Shines on the man whom wealth disdains to grace.  The golden stores of wealth indeed are ours;  But for the light (such in the house I deem  The presence of its lord) there I have fears.  Advise me then, you whose experienced age  Supports the state of Persia: prudence guides  Your councils, always kind and faithful to me.
LEADER
 Speak, royal lady, what thy will, assured  We want no second bidding, where our power  In word or deed waits on our zeal: our hearts  In this with honest duty shall obey thee.
ATOSSA
 Oft, since my son hath march'd his mighty host  Against the lonians, warring to subdue  Their country, have my slumbers been disturb'd  With dreams of dread portent; but most last night,  With marks of plainest proof. I'll tell thee then:  Alethought two women stood before my eyes  Gorgeously vested, one in Persian robes  Adorn'd, the other in the Doric garb.  With more than mortal majesty they moved,  Of peerless beauty; sisters too they seem'd,  Though distant each from each they chanced to dwell,  In Greece the one, on the barbaric coast  The other. 'Twixt them soon dissension rose:  My son then hasted to compose their strife,  Soothed them to fair accord, beneath his car  Yokes them, and reins their harness'd necks. The one,  Exulting in her rich array, with pride  Arching her stately neck, obey'd the reins;  The other with indignant fury spurn'd  The car, and dash'd it piecemeal, rent the reins,  And tore the yoke asunder; down my son  Fell from the seat, and instant at his side  His father stands, Darius, at his fall  Impress'd with pity: him when Xerxes saw,  Glowing with grief and shame he rends his robes.  This was the dreadful vision of the night.  When I arose, in the sweet-flowing stream  I bathed my hands, and on the incensed altars  Presenting my oblations to the gods  To avert these ills, an eagle I behold  Fly to the altar of the sun; aghast  I stood, my friends, and speechless; when a hawk  With eager speed runs thither, furious cuffs  The eagle with his wings, and with his talons  Unplumes his head; meantime the imperial bird  Cowers to the blows defenceless. Dreadful this  To me that saw it, and to you that hear.  My son, let conquest crown his arms, would shine  With dazzling glory; but should Fortune frown,  The state indeed presumes not to arraign  His sovereignty; yet how, his honour lost,  How shall he sway the sceptre of this land?
LEADER
 We would not, royal lady, sink thy soul  With fear in the excess, nor raise it high  With confidence. Go then, address the gods;  If thou hast seen aught ill, entreat their power  To avert that ill, and perfect ev'ry good  To thee, thy sons, the state, and all thy friends.  Then to the earth, and to the mighty dead  Behooves thee pour libations; gently cal  Him that was once thy husband, whom thou saw'st  In visions of the night; entreat his shade  From the deep realms beneath to send to light  Triumph to thee and to thy son; whate'er  Bears other import, to inwrap, to hide it  Close in the covering earth's profoundest gloom.  This, in the presage of my thoughts that flow  Benevolent to thee, have I proposed;  And all, we trust, shall be successful to thee.
ATOSSA
 Thy friendly judgment first hath placed these dreams  In a fair light, confirming the event  Benevolent to my son and to my house.  May all the good be ratified! These rites  Shall, at thy bidding, to the powers of heaven,  And to the manes of our friends, be paid  In order meet, when I return; meanwhile  Indulge me, friends, who wish to be inform'd  Where, in what clime, the towers of Athens rise.
LEADER
 Far in the west, where sets the imperial sun.
ATOSSA
 Yet my son will'd the conquest of this town.
LEADER
 May Greece through all her states bend to his power!
ATOSSA
 Send they embattled numbers to the field?
LEADER
 A force that to the Medes hath wrought much wo.
ATOSSA
 Have they sufficient treasures in their houses?
LEADER
 Their rich earth yields a copious fount of silver.
ATOSSA
 From the strong bow wing they the barbed shaft?
LEADER
 They grasp the stout spear, and the massy shield.
ATOSSA
 What monarch reigns, whose power commands their ranks?
LEADER
 Slaves to no lord, they own no kingly power.
ATOSSA
 How can they then resist the invading foe?
LEADER
 As to spread havoc through the numerous host,  That round Darius form'd their glitt'ring files.
ATOSSA
 Thy words strike deep, and wound the parent's breast  Whose sons are march'd to such a dangerous field.
LEADER
 But, if I judge aright, thou soon shalt hear  Each circumstance; for this way, mark him, speeds  A Persian messenger; he bears, be sure,  Tidings of high import, or good or ill.
A MESSENGER enters.
MESSENGER
 Wo to the towns through Asia's peopled realms!  Wo to the land of Persia, once the port  Of boundless wealth, how is thy glorious state  Vanish'd at once, and all thy spreading honours  Fall'n, lost! Ah me! unhappy is his task  That bears unhappy tidings: but constraint  Compels me to relate this tale of wo.  Persians, the whole barbaric host is fall'n.
CHORUS chanting
 O horror, horror! What a baleful train  Of recent ills! Ah, Persians, as he speaks  Of ruin, let your tears stream to the earth.
MESSENGER
 It is ev'n so, all ruin; and myself,  Beyond all hope returning, view this light.
CHORUS chanting
 How tedious and oppressive is the weight  Of age, reserved to hear these hopeless ills!
MESSENGER
 I speak not from report; but these mine eyes  Beheld the ruin which my tongue would utter.
CHORUS chanting
 Wo, wo is me! Then has the iron storm,  That darken'd from the realms of Asia, pour'd  In vain its arrowy shower on sacred Greece.
MESSENGER
 In heaps the unhappy dead lie on the strand  Of Salamis, and all the neighbouring shores.
CHORUS chanting
 Unhappy friends, sunk, perish'd in the sea;  Their bodies, mid the wreck of shatter'd ships,  Mangled, and rolling on the encumber'd waves!
MESSENGER
 Naught did their bows avail, but all the troops  In the first conflict of the ships were lost.
CHORUS chanting
 Raise the funereal cry, with dismal notes  Wailing the wretched Persians. Oh, how ill  They plann'd their measures, all their army perish'd!
MESSENGER
 O Salamis, how hateful is thy name!  And groans burst from me when I think of Athens.
CHORUS chanting
 How dreadful to her foes! Call to remembrance  How many Persian dames, wedded in vain,  Hath Athens of their noble husbands widow'd?
ATOSSA
 Astonied with these ills, my voice thus long  Hath wanted utterance: griefs like these exceed  The power of speech or question: yet ev'n such,  Inflicted by the gods, must mortal man  Constrain'd by hard necessity endure.  But tell me all, without distraction tell me,  All this calamity, though many a groan  Burst from thy labouring heart. Who is not fallen?  What leader must we wail? What sceptred chief  Dying hath left his troops without a lord?
MESSENGER
 Xerxes himself lives, and beholds the light.
ATOSSA
 That word beams comfort on my house, a ray  That brightens through the melancholy gloom.
MESSENGER
 Artembares, the potent chief that led  Ten thousand horse, lies slaughtered on the rocks  Of rough Sileniae. The great Dadaces,  Beneath whose standard march'd a thousand horse,  Pierced by a spear, fell headlong from the ship.  Tenagon, bravest of the Bactrians, lies  Roll'd on the wave-worn beach of Ajax' isle.  Lilaeus, Arsames, Argestes, dash  With violence in death against the rocks  Where nest the silver doves. Arcteus, that dwelt  Near to the fountains of the Egyptian Nile,  Adeues, and Pheresba, and Pharnuchus  Fell from one ship. Matallus, Chrysa's chief,  That led his dark'ning squadrons, thrice ten thousand,  On jet-black steeds, with purple gore distain'd  The yellow of his thick and shaggy beard.  The Magian Arabus, and Artames  From Bactra, mould'ring on the dreary shore  Lie low. Amistris, and Amphistreus there  Grasps his war-wear spear; there prostrate lies  The illustrious Ariomardus; long his los  Shall Sardis weep: thy Mysian Sisames,  And Tharybis, that o'er the burden'd deep  Led five times fifty vessels; Lerna gave  The hero birth, and manly race adorn'd  His pleasing form, but low in death he lies  Unhappy in his fate. Syennesis,  Cilicia's warlike chief, who dared to front  The foremost dangers, singly to the foes  A terror, there too found a glorious death.  These chieftains to my sad remembrance rise,  Relating but a few of many ills.
ATOSSA
 This is the height of ill, ah me! and shame  To Persia, grief, and lamentation loud.  But tell me this, afresh renew thy tale:  What was the number of the Grecian fleet,  That in fierce conflict their bold barks should dare  Rush to encounter with the Persian hosts.
MESSENGER
 Know then, in numbers the barbaric fleet  Was far superior: in ten squadrons, each  Of thirty ships, Greece plough'd the deep; of these  One held a distant station. Xerxes led  A thousand ships; their number well I know;  Two hundred more, and seven, that swept the seas  With speediest sail: this was their full amount.  And in the engagement seem'd we not secure  Of victory? But unequal fortune sunk  Our scale in fight, discomfiting our host.
ATOSSA
 The gods preserve the city of Minerva.
MESSENGER
 The walls of Athens are impregnable,  Their firmest bulwarks her heroic sons.
ATOSSA
 Which navy first advanced to the attack?  Who led to the onset, tell me; the bold Greeks,  Or, glorying in his numerous fleet, my son?
MESSENGER
 Our evil genius, lady, or some god  Hostile to Persia, led to ev'ry ill.  Forth from the troops of Athens came a Greek,  And thus address'd thy son, the imperial Xerxes:-  "Soon as the shades of night descend, the Grecians  Shall quit their station; rushing to their oars  They mean to separate, and in secret flight  Seek safety." At these words, the royal chief,  Little conceiving of the wiles of Greece  And gods averse, to all the naval leaders  Gave his high charge:-"Soon as yon sun shall cease  To dart his radiant beams, and dark'ning night  Ascends the temple of the sky, arrange  In three divisions your well-ordered ships,  And guard each pass, each outlet of the seas:  Others enring around this rocky isle  Of Salamis. Should Greece escape her fate,  And work her way by secret flight, your heads  Shall answer the neglect." This harsh command  He gave, exulting in his mind, nor knew  What Fate design'd. With martial discipline  And prompt obedience, snatching a repast,  Each mariner fix'd well his ready oar.  Soon as the golden sun was set, and night  Advanced, each train'd to ply the dashing oar,  Assumed his seat; in arms each warrior stood,  Troop cheering troop through all the ships of war.  Each to the appointed station steers his course;  And through the night his naval force each chief  Fix'd to secure the passes. Night advanced,  But not by secret flight did Greece attempt  To escape. The morn, all beauteous to behold,  Drawn by white steeds bounds o'er the enlighten'd earth;  At once from ev'ry Greek with glad acclaim  Burst forth the song of war, whose lofty notes  The echo of the island rocks return'd,  Spreading dismay through Persia's hosts, thus fallen  From their high hopes; no flight this solemn strain  Portended, but deliberate valour bent  On daring battle; while the trumpet's sound  Kindled the flames of war. But when their oars  The paean ended, with impetuous force  Dash'd the resounding surges, instant all  Rush'd on in view: in orderly array  The squadron on the right first led, behind  Rode their whole fleet; and now distinct we heard  From ev'ry part this voice of exhortation:-  "Advance, ye sons of Greece, from thraldom save  Your country, save your wives, your children save,  The temples of your gods, the sacred tomb  Where rest your honour'd ancestors; this day  The common cause of all demands your valour."  Meantime from Persia's hosts the deep'ning shout  Answer'd their shout; no time for cold delay;  But ship 'gainst ship its brazen beak impell'd.  First to the charge a Grecian galley rush'd;  Ill the Phoenician bore the rough attack,  Its sculptured prow all shatter'd. Each advanced  Daring an opposite. The deep array  Of Persia at the first sustain'd the encounter;  But their throng'd numbers, in the narrow seas  Confined, want room for action; and, deprived  Of mutual aid, beaks clash with beaks, and each  Breaks all the other's oars: with skill disposed  The Grecian navy circled them around  With fierce assault; and rushing from its height  The inverted vessel sinks: the sea no more  Wears its accustomed aspect, with foul wrecks  And blood disfigured; floating carcasses  Roll on the rocky shores: the poor remains  Of the barbaric armament to flight  Ply every oar inglorious: onward rush  The Greeks amid the ruins of the fleet,  As through a shoal of fish caught in the net,  Spreading destruction: the wide ocean o'er  Wailings are heard, and loud laments, till night  With darkness on her brow brought grateful truce.  Should I recount each circumstance of wo,  Ten times on my unfinished tale the sun  Would set; for be assured that not one day  Could close the ruin of so vast a host.
ATOSSA
 Ah, what a boundless sea of wo hath burst  On Persia, and the whole barbaric race!
MESSENGER
 These are not half, not half our ills; on these  Came an assemblage of calamities,  That sunk us with a double weight of wo.
ATOSSA
 What fortune can be more unfriendly to us  Than this? Say on, what dread calamity  Sunk Persia's host with greater weight of wo.
MESSENGER
 Whoe'er of Persia's warriors glow'd in prime  Of vig'rous youth, or felt their generous souls  Expand with courage, or for noble birth  Shone with distinguish'd lustre, or excell'd  In firm and duteous loyalty, all these  Are fall'n, ignobly, miserably fall'n.
ATOSSA
 Alas, their ruthless fate, unhappy friends!  But in what manner, tell me, did they perish?
MESSENGER
 Full against Salamis an isle arises,  Of small circumference, to the anchor'd bark  Unfaithful; on the promontory's brow,  That overlooks the sea, Pan loves to lead  The dance: to this the monarch sends these chiefs,  That when the Grecians from their shatter'd ships  Should here seek shelter, these might hew them down  An easy conquest, and secure the strand  To their sea-wearied friends; ill judging what  The event: but when the fav'ring god to Greece  Gave the proud glory of this naval fight,  Instant in all their glitt'ring arms they leap'd  From their light ships, and all the island round  Encompass'd, that our bravest stood dismay'd;  While broken rocks, whirl'd with tempestuous force,  And storms of arrows crush'd them; then the Greeks  Rush to the attack at once, and furious spread  The carnage, till each mangled Persian fell.  Deep were the groans of Xerxes when he saw  This havoc; for his seat, a lofty mound  Commanding the wide sea, o'erlook'd his hosts.  With rueful cries he rent his royal robes,  And through his troops embattled on the shore  Gave signal of retreat; then started wild,  And fled disorder'd. To the former ills  These are fresh miseries to awake thy sighs.
ATOSSA
 Invidious Fortune, how thy baleful power  Hath sunk the hopes of Persia! Bitter fruit  My son hath tasted from his purposed vengeance  On Athens, famed for arms; the fatal field  Of Marathon, red with barbaric blood,  Sufficed not; that defeat he thought to avenge,  And pull'd this hideous ruin on his head.  But tell me, if thou canst, where didst thou leave  The ships that happily escaped the wreck?
MESSENGER
 The poor remains of Persia's scatter'd fleet  Spread ev'ry sail for flight, as the wind drives,  In wild disorder; and on land no less  The ruin'd army; in Boeotia some,  With thirst oppress'd, at Crene's cheerful rills  Were lost; forespent with breathless speed some pass  The fields of Phocis, some the Doric plain,  And near the gulf of Melia, the rich vale  Through which Sperchius rolls his friendly stream.  Achaea thence and the Thessalian state  Received our famish'd train; the greater part  Through thirst and hunger perish'd there, oppress'd  At once by both: but we our painful steps  Held onwards to Magnesia, and the land  Of Macedonia, o'er the ford of Axius,  And Bolbe's sedgy marshes, and the heights  Of steep Pangaeos, to the realms of Thrace.  That night, ere yet the season, breathing frore,  Rush'd winter, and with ice incrusted o'er  The flood of sacred Strymon: such as own'd  No god till now, awe-struck, with many a prayer  Adored the earth and sky. When now the troops  Had ceased their invocations to the gods,  O'er the stream's solid crystal they began  Their march; and we, who took our early way,  Ere the sun darted his warm beams, pass'd safe:  But when this burning orb with fiery rays  Unbound the middle current, down they sunk  Each over other; happiest he who found  The speediest death: the poor remains, that 'scaped,  With pain through Thrace dragg'd on their toilsome march,  A feeble few, and reach'd their native soil;  That Persia sighs through all her states, and mourns  Her dearest youth. This is no feigned tale:  But many of the ills, that burst upon us  In dreadful vengeance, I refrain to utter.
The MESSENGER withdraws.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
 O Fortune, heavy with affliction's load,  How bath thy foot crush'd all the Persian race!
ATOSSA
 Ah me, what sorrows for our ruin'd host  Oppress my soul! Ye visions of the night  Haunting my dreams, how plainly did you show  These ills!-You set them in too fair a light.  Yet, since your bidding hath in this prevail'd,  First to the gods wish I to pour my prayers,  Then to the mighty dead present my off 'rings,  Bringing libations from my house: too late,  I know, to change the past; yet for the future,  If haply better fortune may await it,  Behooves you, on this sad event, to guide  Your friends with faithful counsels. Should my son  Return ere I have finish'd, let your voice  Speak comfort to him; friendly to his house  Attend him, nor let sorrow rise on sorrows.
ATOSSA and her retinue go out.
CHORUS singing
 strophe
 Awful sovereign of the skies,  When now o'er Persia's numerous host  Thou badest the storm with ruin rise,  All her proud vaunts of glory lost,  Ecbatana's imperial head  By thee was wrapp'd in sorrow's dark'ning shade;  Through Susa's palaces with loud lament,  By their soft hands their veils all rent,  The copious tear the virgins pour,  That trickles their bare bosoms o'er.  From her sweet couch up starts the widow'd bride,  Her lord's loved image rushing on her soul,  Throws the rich ornaments of youth aside,  And gives her griefs to flow without control:  Her griefs not causeless; for the mighty slain  Our melting tears demand, and sorrow-soften'd strain.
 antistrophe
 Now her wailings wide despair  Pours these exhausted regions o'er:  Xerxes, ill-fated, led the war;  Xerxes, ill-fated, leads no more;  Xerxes sent forth the unwise command,  The crowded ships unpeopled all the land;  That land, o'er which Darius held his reign,  Courting the arts of peace, in vain,  O'er all his grateful realms adored,  The stately Susa's gentle lord.  Black o'er the waves his burden'd vessels sweep,  For Greece elate the warlike squadrons fly;  Now crush'd, and whelm'd beneath the indignant deep  The shatter'd wrecks and lifeless heroes lie:  While, from the arms of Greece escaped, with toil  The unshelter'd monarch roams o'er Thracia's dreary soil.
 epode
 The first in battle slain  By Cychrea's craggy shore  Through sad constraint, ah me! forsaken lie,  All pale and smear'd with gore:-  Raise high the mournful strain,  And let the voice of anguish pierce the sky:-  Or roll beneath the roaring tide,  By monsters rent of touch abhorr'd;  While through the widow'd mansion echoing wide  Sounds the deep groan, and wails its slaughter'd lord:  Pale with his fears the helpless orphan there  Gives the full stream of plaintive grief to flow;  While age its hoary head in deep despair  Bends; list'ning to the shrieks of wo.  With sacred awe  The Persian law  No more shall Asia's realms revere;  To their lord's hand  At his command,  No more the exacted tribute bear.  Who now falls prostrate at the monarch's throne?  His regal greatness is no more.  Now no restraint the wanton tongue shall own,  Free from the golden curb of power;  For on the rocks, wash'd by the beating flood,  His awe commanding nobles lie in blood.
ATOSSA returns, clad in the garb of mourning; she carries offerings for the tomb of Darius.
ATOSSA
 Whoe'er, my friends, in the rough stream of life  Hath struggled with affliction, thence is taught  That, when the flood begins to swell, the heart  Fondly fears all things; when the fav'ring gale  Of Fortune smooths the current, it expands  With unsuspecting confidence, and deems  That gale shall always breathe. So to my eyes  All things now wear a formidable shape,  And threaten from the gods: my ears are pierced  With sounds far other than of song. Such ills  Dismay my sick'ning soul: hence from my house  Nor glitt'ring car attends me, nor the train  Of wonted state, while I return, and bear  Libations soothing to the father's shade  In the son's cause; delicious milk, that foams  White from the sacred heifer; liquid honey,  Extract of flowers; and from its virgin fount  The running crystal; this pure draught, that flow'd  From the ancient vine, of power to bathe the spirits  In joy; the yellow olive's fragrant fruit,  That glories in its leaves' unfading verdure;  With flowers of various hues, earth's fairest offspring  Inwreathed. But you, my friends, amid these rites  Raise high your solemn warblings, and invoke  Your lord, divine Darius; I meanwhile  Will pour these off'rings to the infernal gods.
CHORUS chanting
 Yes, royal lady, Persia's honour'd grace,  To earth's dark chambers pour thy off'rings: we  With choral hymns will supplicate the powers  That guide the dead, to be propitious to us.  And you, that o'er the realms of night extend  Your sacred sway, thee mighty earth, and the  Hermes; thee chief, tremendous king, whose throne  Awes with supreme dominion, I adjure:  Send, from your gloomy regions, send his shade  Once more to visit this ethereal light;  That he alone, if aught of dread event  He sees yet threat'ning Persia, may disclose  To us poor mortals Fate's extreme decree.
 Hears the honour'd godlike king?  These barbaric notes of wo,  Taught in descant sad to ring,  Hears he in the shades below?  Thou, O Earth, and you, that lead  Through your sable realms the dead,  Guide him as he takes his way,  And give him to the ethereal light of day!
 Let the illustrious shade arise  Glorious in his radiant state,  More than blazed before our eyes,  Ere sad Susa mourn'd his fate.  Dear he lived, his tomb is dear,  Shrining virtues we revere:  Send then, monarch of the dead,  Such as Darius was, Darius' shade.
 He in realm-unpeopling war  Wasted not his subjects' blood,  Godlike in his will to spare,  In his councils wise and good.  Rise then, sovereign lord, to light;  On this mound's sepulchral height  Lift thy sock in saffron died,  And rear thy rich tiara's regal pride!
 Great and good, Darius, rise:
Lord of Persia's lord, appear:
 Thus involved with thrilling cries  Come, our tale of sorrow hear!  War her Stygian pennons spreads,  Brooding darkness o'er our heads;  For stretch'd along the dreary shore  The flow'r of Asia lies distain'd with gore.
 Rise, Darius, awful power;  Long for thee our tears shall flow.  Why thy ruin'd empire o'er  Swells this double flood of wo?  Sweeping o'er the azure tide  Rode thy navy's gallant pride:  Navy now no more, for all  Beneath the whelming wave-
While the CHORUS Sings, ATOSSA performs her ritual by the tomb. As the song concludes the GHOST OF DARIUS appears from the tomb.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Ye faithful Persians, honour'd now in age,  Once the companions of my youth, what ills  Afflict the state? The firm earth groans, it opes,  Disclosing its vast deeps; and near my tomb  I see my wife: this shakes my troubled soul  With fearful apprehensions; yet her off'rings  Pleased I receive. And you around my tomb  Chanting the lofty strain, whose solemn air  Draws forth the dead, with grief-attemper'd notes  Mournfully call me: not with ease the way  Leads to this upper air; and the stern gods,  Prompt to admit, yield not a passage back  But with reluctance: much with them my power  Availing, with no tardy step I come.  Say then, with what new ill doth Persia groan?
CHORUS chanting
 My wonted awe o'ercomes me; in thy presence  I dare not raise my eyes, I dare not speak.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Since from the realms below, by thy sad strains  Adjured, I come, speak; let thy words be brief;  Say whence thy grief, tell me unawed by fear.  I dread to forge a flattering tale, I dread  To grieve thee with a harsh offensive truth.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Since fear hath chained his tongue, high-honour'd dame,  Once my imperial consort, check thy tears,  Thy griefs, and speak distinctly. Mortal man  Must bear his lot of wo; afflictions rise  Many from sea, many from land, if life  Be haply measured through a lengthen'd course.
ATOSSA
 O thou that graced with Fortune's choicest gifts  Surpassing mortals, while thine eye beheld  Yon sun's ethereal rays, lived'st like a god  Bless'd amid thy Persians; bless'd I deem thee now  In death, ere sunk in this abyss of ills,  Darius, hear at once our sum of wo;  Ruin through all her states hath crush'd thy Persia.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 By pestilence, or faction's furious storms?
ATOSSA
 Not so: near Athens perish'd all our troops.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Say, of my sons, which led the forces thither?
ATOSSA
 The impetuous Xerxes, thinning all the land.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 By sea or land dared he this rash attempt?
ATOSSA
 By both: a double front the war presented.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 A host so vast what march conducted o'er?
ATOSSA
 From shore to shore he bridged the Hellespont.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 What! could he chain the mighty Bosphorus?
ATOSSA
 Ev'n so, some god assisting his design.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Some god of power to cloud his better sense.
ATOSSA
 The event now shows what mischiefs he achieved.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 What suffer'd they, for whom your sorrows flow?
ATOSSA
 His navy sunk spreads ruin through the camp.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Fell all his host beneath the slaught'ring spear?
ATOSSA
 Susa, through all her streets, mourns her lost sons.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 How vain the succour, the defence of arms?
ATOSSA
 In Bactra age and grief are only left.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Ah, what a train of warlike youth is lost!
ATOSSA
 Xerxes, astonished, desolate, alone-
GHOST OF DARIUS
 How will this end? Nay, pause not. Is he safe?
ATOSSA
 Fled o'er the bridge, that join'd the adverse strands.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 And reach'd this shore in safety? Is this true?
ATOSSA
 True are thy words, and not to be gainsay'd.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 With what a winged course the oracles  Haste their completion! With the lightning's speed  Jove on my son hath hurled his threaten'd vengeance:  Yet I implored the gods that it might fall  In time's late process: but when rashness drives  Impetuous on, the scourge of Heaven upraised  Lashes the Fury forward; hence these ills  Pour headlong on my friends. Not weighing this,  My son, with all the fiery pride of youth,  Hath quickened their arrival, while he hoped  To bind the sacred Hellespont, to hold  The raging Bosphorus, like a slave, in chains,  And dared the advent'rous passage, bridging firm  With links of solid iron his wondrous way,  To lead his numerous host; and swell'd with thoughts  Presumptuous, deem'd, vain mortal! that his power  Should rise above the gods, and Neptune's might.  And was riot this the phrensy of the soul?  But much I fear lest all my treasured wealth  Fall to some daring hand an easy prey.
ATOSSA
 This from too frequent converse with bad men  The impetuous Xerxes learn'd; these caught his ear  With thy great deeds, as winning for thy sons  Vast riches with thy conquering spear, while he  Tim'rous and slothful, never, save in sport,  Lifted his lance, nor added to the wealth  Won by his noble fathers. This reproach  Oft by bad men repeated, urged his soul  To attempt this war, and lead his troops to Greece.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Great deeds have they achieved, and memorable  For ages: never hath this wasted state  Suffer'd such ruin, since heaven's awful king  Gave to one lord Asia's extended plains  White with innumerous flocks, and to his hands  Consign'd the imperial sceptre. Her brave hosts  A Mede first led; the virtues of his son  Fix'd firm the empire, for his temperate soul  Breathed prudence. Cyrus next, by fortune graced,  Adorn'd the throne, and bless'd his grateful friends  With peace: he to his mighty monarchy  Join'd Lydia, and the Phrygians; to his power  Ionia bent reluctant; but the gods  His son then wore the regal diadem.  With victory his gentle virtues crown'd  His son then wore the regal diadem.  Next to disgrace his country, and to stain  The splendid glories of this ancient throne,  Rose Mardus: him, with righteous vengeance fired  Artaphernes, and his confederate chiefs  Crush'd in his palace: Maraphis assumed  The sceptre: after him Artaphernes.  Me next to this exalted eminence,  Crowning my great ambition, Fortune raised.  In many a glorious field my glittering spear  Flamed in the van of Persia's numerous hosts;  But never wrought such ruin to the state.  Xerxes, my son, in all the pride of youth  Listens to youthful counsels, my commands  No more remember'd; hence, my hoary friends,  Not the whole line of Persia's sceptred lords,  You know it well, so wasted her brave sons.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
 Why this? To what fair end are these thy words  Directed? Sovereign lord, instruct thy Persians  How, mid this ruin, best to guide their state.
GHOST OF DARIUS
 No more 'gainst Greece lead your embattled hosts;  Not though your deep'ning phalanx spreads the field  Outnumb'ring theirs: their very earth fights for them.
LEADER
 What may thy words import? How fight for them?
GHOST OF DARIUS
 With famine it destroys your cumbrous train.
LEADER
 Choice levies, prompt for action, will we send,
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Those, in the fields of Greece that now remain,  Shall not revisit safe the Persian shore.
LEADER
 What! shall not all the host of Persia pass  Again from Europe o'er the Hellespont?
GHOST OF DARIUS
 Of all their numbers few, if aught avails  The faith of heaven-sent oracles to him  That weighs the past, in their accomplishment  Not partial: hence he left, in faithless hope  Confiding, his selected train of heroes.  These have their station where Asopus flows  Wat'ring the plain, whose grateful currents roll  Diffusing plenty through Boeotia's fields.  There misery waits to crush them with the load  Of heaviest ills, in vengeance for their proud  And impious daring; for where'er they held  Through Greece their march, they fear'd not to profane  The statues of the gods; their hallow'd shrines  Emblazed, o'erturn'd their altars, and in ruins,  Rent from their firm foundations, to the ground  Levell'd their temples; such their frantic deeds,  Nor less their suff'rings; greater still await them;  For Vengeance hath not wasted all her stores;  The heap yet swells; for in Plataea's plains  Beneath the Doric spear the clotted mas  Of carnage shall arise, that the high mounds,  Piled o'er the dead, to late posterity  Shall give this silent record to men's eyes,  That proud aspiring thoughts but ill beseem  Weak mortals: for oppression, when it springs,  Puts forth the blade of vengeance, and its fruit  Yields a ripe harvest of repentant wo.  Behold this vengeance, and remember Greece,  Remember Athens: henceforth let not pride,  Her present state disdaining, strive to grasp  Another's, and her treasured happiness  Shed on the ground: such insolent attempts  Awake the vengeance of offended Jove.  But you, whose age demands more temperate thoughts,  With words of well-placed counsel teach his youth  To curb that pride, which from the gods calls down  Destruction on his head.
To ATOSSA
 And thou, whose age  The miseries of thy Xerxes sink with sorrow,  Go to thy house, thence choose the richest robe,  And meet thy son; for through the rage of grief  His gorgeous vestments from his royal limbs  Are foully rent. With gentlest courtesy  Soothe his affliction; for is duteous ear,  I know, will listen to thy voice alone.  Now to the realms of darkness I descend.  My ancient friends, farewell, and mid these ills  Each day in pleasures battle your drooping spirits,  For treasured riches naught avail the dead.
The GHOST OF DARIUS vanishes into the tomb.
LEADER
 These many present, many future ills  Denounced on Persia, sink my soul with grief.
ATOSSA
 Unhappy fortune, what a tide of ills  Bursts o'er me! Chief this foul disgrace, which shows  My son divested of his rich attire,  His royal robes all rent, distracts my thoughts.  But I will go, choose the most gorgeous vest,  And liaste to meet my son. Ne'er in his woes  Will I forsake whom my soul holds most dear.
ATOSSA departs as the CHORUS begins its song.
CHORUS
 strophe 1
 Ye powers that rule the skies,  Memory recalls our great, our happy fate,  Our well-appointed state,  The scenes of glory opening to our eyes,  When this vast empire o'er  The good Darius, with each virtue bless'd  That forms a monarch's breast,  Shielding his subjects with a father's care  Invincible in war,  Extended like a god his awful power,  Then spread our arms their glory wide,  Guarding to peace her golden reign:  Each tower'd city saw with pride  Safe from the toils of war her homeward-marching train.
 antistrophe 1
 Nor Haly's shallow strand  He pass'd, nor from his palace moved his state;  He spoke; his word was Fate.  What strong-based cities could his might withstand?  Not those that lift their heads  Where to the sea the floods of Strymon pass,  Leaving the huts of Thrace;  Nor those, that far the extended ocean o'er  Stand girt with many a tower;  Nor where the Hellespont his broad wave spreads;  Nor the firm bastions' rampired might,  Whose foot the deep Propontis laves;  Nor those, that glorying in their height  Frown o'er the Pontic sea, and shade his darken'd waves.
 strophe 2
 Each sea-girt isle around  Bow'd to this monarch: humbled Lesbos bow'd;  Paros, of its marble proud;  Naxos with vines, with olives Samos crown'd:  Him Myconos adored;  Chios, the seat of beauty; Andros steep,  That stretches o'er the deep  To meet the wat'ry Tenos; him each bay  Bound by the Icarian sea,  Him Melos, Gnidus, Rhodes confess'd their lord;  O'er Cyprus stretch'd his sceptred hand:  Paphos and Solos own'd his power,  And Salamis, whose hostile strand,  The cause of all our wo, is red with Persian gore.
 antistrophe 2
 Ev'n the proud towns, that rear'd  Sublime along the lonian coast their towers,  Where wealth her treasures pours,  Peopled from Greece, his prudent reign revered.  With such unconquer'd might  His hardy warriors shook the embattled fields,  Heroes that Persia yields,  And those from distant realms that took their way,  And wedged in close array  Beneath his glitt'ring banners claim'd the fight.  But now these glories are no more:  Farewell the big war's plumed pride:  The gods have crush'd this trophied power;  Sunk are our vanquish'd arms beneath the indignant tide.
XERXES enters, with a few followers. His royal raiment is torn, The entire closing scene is sung or chanted.
XERXES
 Ah me, how sudden have the storms of Fate,  Beyond all thought, all apprehension, burst  On my devoted head! O Fortune, Fortune!  With what relentless fury hath thy hand  Hurl'd desolation on the Persian race!  Wo unsupportable! The torturing thought  Of our lost youth comes rushing on my mind,  And sinks me to the ground. O Jove, that  Had died with those brave men that died in fight I
CHORUS
 O thou afflicted monarch, once the lord  Of marshall'd armies, of the lustre beam'd  From glory's ray o'er Persia, of her sons  The pride, the grace, whom ruin now hath sunk  In blood! The unpeopled land laments her youth  By Xerxes led to slaughter, till the realms  Of death are gorged with Persians; for the flower  Of all the realm, thousands, whose dreadful bows  With arrowy shower annoy'd the foe, are fall'n.
XERXES
 Your fall, heroic youths, distracts my soul.
CHORUS
 And Asia sinking on her knee, O king,  Oppress'd, with griefs oppress'd, bends to the earth.
XERXES
 And I, O wretched fortune, I was born  To crush, to desolate my ruin'd country!
CHORUS
 I have no voice, no swelling harmony,  No descant, save these notes of wo,  Harsh, and responsive to the sullen sigh,  Rude strains, that unmelodious flow,  To welcome thy return.
XERXES
 Then bid them flow, bid the wild measures flow  Hollow, unmusical, the notes of grief;  They suit my fortune, and dejected state.
CHORUS
 Yes, at thy royal bidding shall the strain  Pour the deep sorrows of my soul;  The suff'rings of my bleeding country plain,  And bid the mournful measures roll.  Again the voice of wild despair  With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air;  For high the god of war his flaming crest  Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded,  The haughty arms of Greece with conquest bless'd,  And Persia's wither'd force confounded,  Dash'd on the dreary beach her heroes slain,  Or whelm'd them in the darken'd main.
XERXES
 To swell thy griefs ask ev'ry circumstance.
CHORUS
 Where are thy valiant friends, thy chieftains where?  Pharnaces, Susas, and the might  Of Pelagon, and Dotamas? The spear  Of Agabates bold in fight?  Psammis in mailed cuirass dress'd,  And Susiscanes' glitt'ring crest?
XERXES
 Dash'd from the Tyrian vessel on the rocks  Of Salamis they sunk, and smear'd with gore  The heroes on the dreary strand are stretch'd.
CHORUS
 Where is Pharnuchus? Ariomardus where,  With ev'ry gentle virtue graced?  Lilaeus, that from chiefs renown'd in war  His high-descended lineage traced?  Where rears Sebalces his crown-circled head:  Where Tharybis to battles bred,  Artembares, Hystaechmes bold,  Memphis, Masistress sheath'd in gold?
XERXES
 Wretch that I am! These on the abhorred town  Ogygian Athens, roll'd their glowing eyes  Indignant; but at once in the fierce shock  Of battle fell, dash'd breathless on the ground.
CHORUS
 There does the son of Batanochus lie,  Through whose rich veins the unsullied blood  Of Susamus, down from the lineage high  Of noble Mygabatas flow'd:  Alpistus, who with faithful care  Number'd the deep'ning files of war,  The monarch's eye; on the ensanguined plain  Low is the mighty warrior laid?  Is great Aebares 'mong the heroes slain,  And Partheus number'd with the dead?-  Ah me! those bursting groans, deep-charged with wo,  The fate of Persia's princes show.
XERXES
 To my grieved memory thy mournful voice,  Tuned to the saddest notes of wo, recalls  My brave friends lost; and my rent heart returns  In dreadful symphony the sorrowing strain.
CHORUS
 Yet once more shall I ask thee, yet once more,  Where is the Mardian Xanthes' might,  The daring chief, that from the Pontic shore  Led his strong phalanx to the fight?  Anchares where, whose high-raised shield  Flamed foremost in the embattled field?  Where the high leaders of thy mail-clad horse,  Daixis and Arsaces where?  Where Cigdadatas and Lythimnas' force,  Waving untired his purple spear?
XERXES
 Entomb'd, I saw them in the earth entomb'd;  Nor did the rolling car with solemn state  Attend their rites: I follow'd: low they lie  (Ah me, the once great leaders of my host!  Low in the earth, without their honours lie.)
CHORUS
 O wo, wo, wo! Unutterable wo  The demons of revenge have spread;  And Ate from her drear abode below  Rises to view the horrid deed.
XERXES
 Dismay, and rout, and ruin, ills that wait  On man's afflicted fortune, sink us down.
CHORUS
 Dismay, and rout, and ruin on us wait,  And all the vengeful storms of Fate:  Ill flows on ill, on sorrows sorrows rise;  Misfortune leads her baleful train;  Before the Ionian squadrons Persia flies,  Or sinks ingulf'd beneath the main.  Fall'n, fall'n is her imperial power,  And conquest on her banners waits no more.
XERXES
 At such a fall, such troops of heroes lost,  How can my soul but sink in deep despair!  Cease thy sad strain.
CHORUS
 Is all thy glory lost?
XERXES
 Seest thou these poor remains of my rent robes?
CHORUS
 I see, I see.
XERXES
 And this ill-furnish'd quiver?
CHORUS
 Wherefore preserved?
XERXES
 To store my treasured arrows.
CHORUS
 Few, very few.
XERXES
 And few my friendly aids.
CHORUS
 I thought these Grecians shrunk appall'd at arms.
XERXES
 No: they are bold and daring: these sad eyes  Beheld their violent and deathful deeds.
CHORUS
 The ruin, sayst thou, of thy shattered fleet?
XERXES
 And in the anguish of my soul I rent  My royal robes.
CHORUS
 Wo, wo!
XERXES
 And more than wo.
CHORUS
 Redoubled, threefold wo!
XERXES
 Disgrace to me,  But triumph to the foe.
CHORUS
 Are all thy powers  In ruin crush'd?
XERXES
 No satrap guards me now.
CHORUS
 Thy faithful friends sunk in the roaring main.
XERXES
 Weep, weep their loss, and lead me to my house;  Answer my grief with grief, an ill return  Of ills for ills. Yet once more raise that strain  Lamenting my misfortunes; beat thy breast,  Strike, heave the groan; awake the Mysian strain  To notes of loudest wo; rend thy rich robes,  Pluck up thy beard, tear off thy hoary locks,  And battle thine eyes in tears: thus through the streets  Solemn and slow with sorrow lead my steps;  Lead to my house, and wail the fate of Persia.
CHORUS
 Yes, once more at thy bidding shall the strain  Pour the deep sorrows of my soul;  The suff'rings of my bleeding untry plain,  And bid the Mysian measures roll.  Again the voice of wild despair  With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air;  For high the god of war his flaming crest  Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded,  The haughty arms of Greece with conquest bless'd,  And Persia's withered force confounded,  Dash'd on the dreary beach her heroes slain.,  Or whelm'd them in the darken'd main.
THE END
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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