# Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson)/The Persians

The Persians is a Greek tragedy, providing an account of the Greek defeat of Xerxes' armies from the perspective of the Persians. This translation was done by G. M. Cookson, and published in 1922 along with the other three plays of Aeschylus that are not part of his Oresteia trilogy.
See Persians (Aeschylus) for general information, and for links to other translations.
Layout 2
The Persians
Scene: An open place before the Tomb of Darius.
Chorus.
We are the faithful ministers Of Persia's absent sons, That marched away to Hellas; Their golden mansions, Rich with all wealth and splendour, Are in our trust and care, For the great king, King Xerxes, Darius' son and heir, Chose us as wise men well in years The realm for him to hold; But for his homeward progress His host a-gleam with gold, The boding- heart is harried With auguries of ill: Asia is stripped of manhood; A young king hath his will: But to this metropolitan Proud siege of Persia's kings No runner comes, no rider Good news or bad news brings. To Susa and Ecbatana They bade a long farewell; ​They saw behind them sink from sight Old Kissia's citadel; And some rode out on horseback, And some in long ships sailed; Stout plodders closing up their ranks The footmen strode all-mailed. Amistres hasteth with them, And great Artaphrenes, Astaspes, Megabates, Lords of rich satrapies, Kings on whose throne a greater Its majesty uprears, Marshals of an uncounted host, Bowmen and cavaliers, They sweep forever onward; Their daunting looks dismay, And jubilant are their high hearts For joy of coming fray. Lord of the bow, Imaeus, Sosthenes, charioteer, Artembares, the rider bold Whom charging squadrons cheer, Masistres and Pharandaces; With many a doughty fere Whom Nile, great nourisher of men, Sent forth; Pegastogon, Egyptian born; Susiskanes, And Artames, whose wone Is sacred Memphis;—there he rules; And Ariomardus, lord Or Thebes, that ancient child of Time; Marsh-folk to pull aboard ​The galleys,—fearsome combatants Past count; and in their train The langour-loving Lydians, Lords of the Asian main. Two royal men command them, Arcteus of fair renown, And the great lord Metrogathes; And their all-golden town, Sardis, hath sent forth men that ride On cars of aspect dread, With double yoke of horses, And triple harnesséd: And Tharubis and Mardon, Of Tmolus' holy hill Near neighbours both, have ta'en an oath, (The which may heaven fulfil,) To cast the yoke on Hellas That holdeth freedom dear; They are the stuff of iron tough, Hard anvils to the spear. Then come the Mysian slingers; And golden Babylon Hath sent a mingled, motley host, Endlessly winding on; And some are sailors of the fleet, And others draw the bow; All Asia pours her falchion-men; The great king bids them go. Ay, they are gone! The bloom, the rose, The pride of Persian earth: And with a mighty longing The land that gave them birth, ​Asia, their nursing mother, mourns; And day succeeds to day, And wives and little ones lose heart, Sighing the time away.
I grant you that our royal host, The walléd city's scourge, Hath long since reached the neighbour coast That frowns across the surge; Hath roped with mooréd rafts the strait, Their path the heaving deck, At Athamantid Helle's Gate Upon the sea's proud neck Bolting a yoke from strand to strand: And Asia's hordes, I grant, Outnumber the uncounted sand: Our king is valiant: He shepherdeth a mighty flock, God's benison therewith, Till iron arms all Hellas lock, Port, isle and pass and frith. And at his word leap captains bold Ready to do or die, Being himself of the race of gold, Equal with God most high. The dragon-light of his black eyes Darts awe, as to express The lord of mighty argosies And minions numberless. So, seated in his Syrian car, He leads 'gainst spear and pike His sagittaries: death from far Their wounding arrows strike. ​Meseemeth none of mortal birth That tide of men dare brave, A sea that delugeth the earth, A vast resistless wave. No! Persia's matchless millions No human power can quell, Such native valour arms her sons, Such might incomparable! For Fate from immemorial age Chose out her sons for power: Bade them victorious war to wage And breach the bastioned tower: In chivalry to take delight Where clashing squadrons close: Kingdoms and polities the might Of their strong arm o'erthrows. They gaze on ocean lawns that leap With bickering billows gray Swept by fierce winds; their myriads sweep Ocean's immense highway, Where, leashed with cables fibre-fine, Their buoyant galleys bridge The rough waves of the sundering brine From ridge to crested ridge. And yet what man, of woman born, Outwits the guile of God? The pit He digs what foot may scorn, Though with all lightness shod? For ruin first with laughing face Lures man into the net, Whence never wight of mortal race Leapt free and scatheless yet. ​These are the thoughts that fret and fray The sable garment of my soul. Shall Persia's host sing, Wellaway, With universal shout of dole: Shall Susa hear, of manhood shorn? Shall this imperial city mourn?
Yea, and shall Kissia's castle-keep With answering note of grief reply? Shall huddled women wail and weep Bearing the burthen to that cry, While torn in rents their raiment falls And tattered hang their costly shawls?
Not one is left: all they that drive Or ride proud steeds, all footmen stout, Like swarming bees that quit the hive, With him that leads the dance, went out; Shackling two shores across the sea They thrust a floating promontory.
But beds are wet with many a tear Where late the longed-for love lay warm; New luxury of grief is dear To our fair Persians: some mailed form She kissed 'Goodbye,' her love, her own, Each misses, left in wedlock lone.
Men of Persia, here in council, seated round this ancient roof, Sounding deep, for sore the need is, let us put it to the proof, How it fareth with King Xerxes, great Darius' golden heir, ​Lord of lieges, mighty dynast, who made Persia rich and fair; Whether conquest wingeth onward with the drawing of the bow Or the ashen-hafted spear-head crowns with victory the foe. But, behold, a light that shineth with august and godlike rays, Royal Mother of King Xerxes, regnant Queen of my young days;— Rapidly her chariot rolleth; in the dust I lay me prone; Homage, love and loyal duty proffer we in unison.
[Enter the Queen.]
Queen-Dowager of Persian dames deep-veiled, Mother of Xerxes and Darius' wife, Spouse of a god, and not less justly hailed As to one godlike authoress of life,— Unless the power that prospered us of yore Now with our armies goeth out no more!
Queen.
Therefore am I come forth into the day From golden courts and that one chamber fair Where in my arms the great Darius lay. My heart too feels the canker-fret of care; Good friends, I have a story for your ears That wakes within a train of haunting fears.
What if great wealth should scatter in his stride The prosperous glory that Darius reared, God being with him? Doubts new-felt divide My mind. Possessions must not be revered ​Save as men use them; yet they that have none How poor! To them what lustre hath the sun?
For in themselves great riches are not wrong: That's not my fear: but when the master's eye Through absence fails, the thought in me is strong, A house is blind except its lord be by. Herein, grave sirs, interpret and advise; In your sage counsel all my wisdom lies.
Chorus.
Be sure of this, Queen of this land of ours, There never was nor ever can be need To ask us twice for help by word or deed, So far as ripe experience empowers Leal hearts to proffer guidance: in our breast There is no thought save how to serve thee best.
Queen.
I am much conversant with dreams at night Since with his army my dear son is gone To ravage and lay waste Ionia, But nothing yet so startlingly distinct As yesternight, as you shall forthwith hear. For there appeared to me in bright apparel Two women; one with Persian robes adorned, The other in the Dorian garb; and each Taller in stature than are women now, Faultlessly fair, both sisters of one house. The first in Hellas dwelt, by sortilege Assigned; the other lived in Barbary. ​And so it was, that in my dream methought There was some kind of quarrel 'twixt the twain, Which, when my dear son was apprised of it, He would compose and make them live as friends. And so he harnessed them to a chariot Lashing their necks to the yoke. And the tall form Clad in our raiment answered to the rein; But the other struggled; tore the tackle up And without bit or bridle breaking loose Snapped the strong yoke asunder. My son fell; And suddenly his father stood beside him, Even Darius, sorry for his fall. This is the vision I beheld last night. But when I rose and in fair-flowing stream Had washed my hands, so cleansed for sacrifice I stood before an altar, purposing To make my offering of the elements To the Divine Forfenders, whose indeed The office is. And, lo, an eagle fled To Phoebus' burning brazier! Good my friends, When I saw that I was struck dumb with fear. And presently a falcon flew at him, Beat him about the body with its wings, And with its claws his proud crest-feathers plucked, And strange—and passing strange—the eagle quailed Nor dared at all retaliate. What I saw Filled me with dread and will affright your ears. Well do ye know that if our son succeed He will become the wonder of the world; And even if he fail, there is no law Can call him to account; but unimpaired, Life granted him, his throne is o'er this land.
Chorus.
Mother, we would not by aught we might say Alarm unduly or raise hopes too high. Better approach the gods, better go pray, If shapes of ugly seeming haunt thine eye. Beseech them to deliver thee from ill, And for thyself, thy children and the State And all thou lovest good things to fulfil. This done, with drink-offerings propitiate Earth and the dead; and then entreat thy spouse, Darius, whom thou say'st that yesternight Thou did'st behold, for thee and for thy house Up from the underworld into the light To' send good luck, and adverse things blindfold Muffle in nether darkness. Not untaught By my prophetic soul have I made bold To speak, convinced so best may good be sought.
Queen.
Well, come what may, my dream hath found in thee A first expounder loyal to our son And all our house. May fair as fair can be Befall. I'll get me home. All shall be done In honour of the gods and the dear dead That dwell beneath the earth, as thou hast said. But, good my friends, tell me where Athens lies?
Chorus.
Far, far away, westwards—beyond these skies,— Where kingly Helios pales his golden fires.
Queen.
Is that the land that our dear son desires, Gone on so long a chase, to make his prey?
Chorus.
Assuredly: if Athens own his sway All Hellas must before his footstool bend.
Queen.
Is't a great people? Can this Athens send 'Gainst him a numerous armament?
Chorus.
We Medes Have cause to know their army by its deeds.
Queen.
Are they great archers then?
Chorus.
Princess, not so: 'Tis not the arrow's point, the sinewy bow, That makes them to be feared: stand they or charge They are close fighters with the spear and targe.
Queen.
What more of mark? Have they much wealth laid by?
Chorus.
A vein of silver is their treasury.
Queen.
Who is the ruler of this people? Who Lord of their levies and their revenue?
Chorus.
Subject they are not unto any man: They say 'slave' sorts not with 'Athenian.'
Queen.
Have they no master? The less likely they To stand their ground against invaders.
Chorus.
Nay, Darius' armament this kingless folk For all its splendour and its numbers broke And utterly destroyed.
Queen.
There's matter here For anxious questionings, not without fear, For all whose sons went up 'gainst Athens.
Chorus.
Thou, O Queen, if that I err not, shalt even now Hear the authentic story. Here is a man Able to tell us how the Persians ran In this momentous race; and, whether good Or ill his tidings, he brings certitude.
Enter a Messenger.
Messenger.
Ye habitations of broad Asia, And thou, O land of Persia, receipt Of affluent wealth, how much and how great glory Hath perished at a blow! Of Persian men The flower is fall'n and vaded! Woe is me! Ill is it to be the bearer of bad tidings, And yet, for hard necessity constrains, I am to cloak up nothing, Persians—tell The woeful tale to the end! All's lost; the power Of Barbary is utterly destroyed.
Chorus.
O unimagined ruin, dark and drear And fathomlessly deep! ​Weep, men of Persia, while ye hear And harken while ye weep!
Messenger.
Yea, we have fought it to a finish—I Thought not to see the day of my return.
Chorus.
O life! too tedious pilgrimage To the last span outdrawn! On fading eyes waxed dim with weary age Was this dark day to dawn?
Messenger.
Persians, the story that I have to tell Is not a thing caught up from others' lips; All ills prepared for our discomfiture Myself was witness of; yea, had my share.
Chorus.
Vain, vain the arrow-blast, The tumult of loud war! Vain all the missiles Asia idly cast On Hellas' fatal shore!
Messenger.
The bodies of men miserably slain Lie heaped upon the shore of Salamis And glut full many a creek and cove thereby.
Chorus.
The bodies of the men that died The breakers buffet, the billows beat! Tinct with the azure of the sea-salt tide, Rolled with the wreckage of a shattered fleet!
Messenger.
There was no help in arrow or in bow! Our whole fleet foundered when their warships rammed.
Chorus.
Howl! Cry aloud! Call down upon the foe Ages of anguish and inexorable woe! All evil that their hearts devised they wrought! Mourn for the mighty host that they have brought to nought!
Messenger.
Salamis! thou execrable name! Athens! My spirit mourns remembering thee!
Chorus.
Athens! for ever hateful to thy foes! Written in memory's book for thee the record glows, The long, long roll, past count, of them that mourn In every Persian home husbandless and forlorn!
Queen.
I have kept silence long; calamity Hath struck me dumb: for this surpassing grief May not be told and stops the mouth of question. But men must bear the troubles Heaven sends. Compose thyself then; and this dire disaster, Much as thou mournest it, fully unfold. Who hath not fallen? And whom must we lament Among the leaders of the people? Who Of titled and of sceptred rank hath left A gap among our noblest by his death?
Messenger.
Xerxes himself is among the living; he Beholds the light of day.
Queen.
A light indeed To me and all my house! A glad day-break After black mirk of night.
Messenger.
But Artembares Chief of ten thousand horse, is brayed and beat All up and down the sharp Silenian shore. And Dadakas, the Chiliarch, struck by a spear Dropped like an airy diver in the sea. And Tenagon, most noble Tenagon, True Bactrian to the core, is a wanderer now Round Ajax' wave-washed, ocean-echoing isle. Lilaeus, Arsames and Argétes Fell fighting, and are ground against the rocks That gird the steep holm where the ring-doves breed: And Arcteus, neighbour once of inland streams, Founts of Egyptian Nilus, and Adeues, Yea, and Pharnuchus, weighted with the load Of ponderous armour—three from out one ship— Plunged overboard. The Chrysian Matallus, Lord of ten thousand fighting men, went down. And he who marshalled thirty thousand horse, All black, his dark, flame-coloured, bushy beard Dyed gules in his own gore. The Arabian Magus, and Artames the Bactrian, Far from the rough, stern land he chose for home, Perished in those disastrous seas. There sank Amistris; and Amphistreus cast away His spear. And Ariomardus, good as brave, To the great grief of Sardis met his death. ​And Seisames the Mysian is slain: And Tharubis, of five times fifty ships Grand Admiral—he was Lernæan-born And beautiful withal—is lost. Alack! He gave his life in an unlucky cause. The bravest of the brave, Syennesis, Generalissimo of the Cilicians, A man whose splendid valour cost more blood To the enemy than any single foe, Died gloriously. Thus much have I told Touching the captains of the host. And now Some few disasters, where they came in crowds, I will relate.
Queen.
This is the very crown And summit of all sorrow. For proud Persia Direst humiliation: shriek on shriek Shall follow on thy news. But retrace thy steps; Tell me how many sail the Hellenes had That they dared close upon the Persian power And ram us ship for ship.
Messenger.
Ah, had it lain With numbers to decide, be well assured Victory had crowned the fleet of Barbary! The whole Hellenic navy was no more Than ten divisions of thirty sail apiece, And but a tithe of them in the fighting-line! Xerxes, it is a point within my knowledge, Went into action with a thousand sail: Two hundred ships and seven of high speed ​Is the reputed reckoning. Accuse us not That in this fight we failed to play the man: A God it was who broke our power, weighed down The judgment scale with no impartial hand. There are divinities that keep the realm Of divine Pallas safe.
Queen.
Is Athens safe? Is not the city sacked?
Messenger.
Ay, but her men! They live, and therefore her defence is sure.
Queen.
Tell me how first the fleets encountered; who Began the attack, the Hellenes or my son Exulting in the number of his ships?
Messenger.
Princess, the first beginner of all the woes That afterwards ensued, though whence he came None knoweth, was some genius of wrath, Some wicked spirit such as lures men on To their destruction. There came a man, A Hellene, from the Athenian host, and he On this wise spake unto Xerxes, thy son— 'If there shall come a dusk and darksome night The Hellenes will not tarry; leaping down Upon their rowers' benches they will pull For safety, hither, thither scattering In secret flight.' And when thy son heard that He instantly—perceiving not the guile Of the Hellene nor the spite of jealous Gods,— ​Made known to all the captains of his ships That when the burning sun should cease to beam Across the world, and glimmering twilight took The court and curtilage of serene air, The main armada must disperse and form Three squadrons line abreast, blocking the exits And narrow channels where the salt waves churn: The residue to compass Ajax' Isle. Then, if the Hellenes turned to flee from doom By privily withdrawing in the dark, Not one could get away, but their whole fleet Must fall into our hands. So spake the king In sanguine mood, with not the least surmise Of the divine purpose, presently fulfilled. And not at all in any disarray But with a disciplined obedience, They made their dinner ready, every seaman Lashing his oar-shank to the 'ell-turned thole; And when the sun waxed dim and night came on, Each master oarsman went aboard his ship And every captain of the fighting crews, And down the long lines of those ships of war Squadron to squadron spake right cheerily, Hailing each other; not a ship of them Lost her allotted station; and all night The captains kept them cruising to and fro. And night passed, and the Hellenic armament Made no attempt to steal away unseen. But when with her white horses day shone fair And overspread the broad and ample earth, There rose and rang from the Hellenic host A roar of voices musical with psalms, ​And loudly from the island precipices Echo gave back an answering cheer. Thereat Seeing their judgment grievously at fault, Fear fell on the barbarians. Not for flight Did the Hellenes then chant that inspiring hymn, But resolutely goings into battle, Whereto the trumpet set all hearts on fire. The word was given, and, instantaneously, Oars smote the roaring waves in unison And churned the foam up. Soon their whole fleet appeared; The port division thrown out like a horn In precise order; then the main of them Put out against us. We could plainly hear The thunder of their shouting as they came. 'Forth, sons of Hellas! free your land, and free Your children and your wives, the native seats Of Gods your fathers worshipped and their graves. This is a bout that hazards all ye have.' And verily from us in the Persian tongue There rose an answering roar; the long suspense Was ended. In an instant, ship smote ship, With thrust of armoured prow. The first to ram Was a Greek; that impact carried clean away A tall Phoenician's poop. Then all came on, Each steering forthright for a ship of ours. At first the encountering tide of Persians held; But caught in the narrows, crowded without sea-room, None could help other; nay, they fell aboard Their own ships, crashing in with beak of bronze, Till all their oars were smashed. But the Hellenes Rowed round and round, and with sure seamanship ​Struck where they chose. Many of ours capsized, Until the very sea was hid from sight Choked up with drifting wreckage and drowning men. The beaches and low rocks were stacked with corpses: The few barbarian vessels still afloat, Fouling each other fled in headlong rout. But they with broken oars and splintered spars Beat us like tunnies or a draught of fish, Yea, smote men's backs asunder; and all the while Shrieking and wailing hushed the ocean surge, Till night looked down and they were rapt away. But, truly, if I should discourse the length Of ten long days I could not sum our woes. There never yet 'twixt sunrise and sunset Perished so vast a multitude of men.
Queen.
Woe! woe! An ocean of calamity Hath broke on Persia and all Barbary.
Messenger.
But this is not the half. A grief ensued So heavy, its forerunner kicks the beam.
Queen.
Oh, can misfortune come in hatefuller shape? What spite of malice adverse to our host Sweeps through some more immeasurable arc The moving finger that metes out our woes?
Messenger.
The prime of Persian manhood, men who had True greatness in their souls, illustrious born, And ever among the first in the king's trust, Died miserably a most inglorious death.
Queen.
Good friends, was ever woman so accursed With evil fortune? Tell me how they died.
Messenger.
There is an island opposite the shores Of Salamis, a little, wretched isle, With never a safe cove where ships may ride, But Pan, who loves the choric dance, haunts there, Footing it lightly on the wave-washed strand. Thither the king despatched them, with intent That when the enemy, forced to abandon ship, Sought safety on that isle, they might with ease Put all the host of Hellas to the sword, And rescue their own comrades from the salt Sea-friths. But he judged ill the event. For when The Gods the glory of the sea-fight gave Unto the Hellenes, armed to the teeth they sprang Ashore and compassed the whole island round, So that they knew not where to turn. And many They battered to death with stones: some they shot dead With arrows: finally, to make an end, Rushed in and finished off their butcher's work Hacking their helpless victims limb from limb, Until not one of them was left alive. And Xerxes, when he saw that depth beyond All depths of sorrow, wailed aloud. For he sat Upon a throne conspicuous to the host, On a high hill beside the open sea. There with rent robes and a heart-piercing cry Straightway he gave the signal to his troops Drawn up upon the shore and let them go ​In wild, disordered flight. This further stroke Of fortune's malice fell for thee to mourn.
Queen.
O wicked spirit! How did'st thou beguile Our Persians' hearts! How bitter a revenge Upon illustrious Athens was vouchsafed To our dear son! Not all that Barbary lost Beforetime on the field of Marathon Sufficed! But, thinking to repay in kind All that we suffered there, he hath drawn on A deluge of immeasurable woe! But tell me of the ships that 'scaped destruction, Where didst thou leave these? Hast sure news of them?
Messenger.
The captains of the remnant hoisted sail And ran before the wind, a rabble rout. But the remainder of our army perished In the Boeotian country, some of thirst For lack of solace of refreshing springs. We that were left, taking no time to breathe, Crossed into Phocis and the Locrian land And the Maliac gulf where the Spercheius flows Watering a broad plain with his gracious stream. Achaia and the Thessalian cities then Opened to us their gates, but we were sore Straitened for lack of meat. And there the most Perished of thirst and hunger, for, God wot, We must contend with both. Anon we came To the Magnesian country and the coasts Of Macedonia by the Axian frith And Bolbe's reedy marshes and the range ​Pangaean—country of Edonia. And on that very night God caused a frost Out of due season: Strymon's holy stream Was frozen over. And many, that heretofore Denied the Gods, thanked heaven upon their knees, Yea, bowed themselves to earth and sky. And when They had made an end of calling on the Gods The host began to cross on the firm ice. And whoso crossed before the beams of God Were scattered wide, reached safety. But anon The round, bright sun with blazing rays of fire Made right across the stream a waterway, Thawing the midst thereof with glowing heat. And then they fell in heaps: he happiest Who soonest gasped away the breath of life. All that were left, all that had won to safety, Crossed Thrace and in the teeth of fearful hardships, That desperate retreat accomplished, came— But they were few indeed—to their own home. Behold these things are merest truth: but much I leave unsaid; many and grievous woes The wrath of God hurled down upon our host.
[Exit Messenger.
Chorus.
Spirit whose dispensation is too hard, Thou hast set a heavy foot upon our necks, Ground Persia in the dust!
Queen.
My heart is sick; I mourn a vanished host! Visions of the night How plainly ye portended woe! And you, ​How fondly ye interpreted my dream! Natheless, since here at least your oracle Fails not, I will go pray, first to the Gods; Then I will take the sacred elements,— Offerings to earth, oblations to the dead,— And come to you again. Things past I know; But I would fain inquire if what's to come Promises better fortune. Lend your aid: With men of trust true counsel take, I charge ye; And, if our son return in the meantime, Console him and escort him to our house, Lest that on woe there follow further woe.
[Exit Queen.
Chorus.
O Zeus, thou art king! There is none thee beside! Thou hast shattered our host and humbled our pride! Thou hast darkened with grief the light of thy day O'er Susa and Ecbatana! They have rent their thin veils, their kerchiefs thread-drawn, Our delicate mourners; their wimples of lawn They have drenched with salt tears; the young wife newly-wed Looks out for her lord, but he comes not; her bed, Laid soft with fair linen, where love had his bliss, Standeth vacant; cold sorrow their banqueter is; But they rise up an-hungered, though they sit long; And I too o'er the fallen would utter my song.
This earth, this Asia, wide as east from west, Mourns—empty,—of her manhood dispossessed. Xerxes the King led forth his war-array! Xerxes the King hath cast his host away! ​Xerxes the King (Oh King unwise!) Steered in the wake of doom his orient argosies! How fell it that Darius, lord of the bow, In Susa long ago, Fair fortune had? That then He who ruled Persia won the hearts of men?
The ships, the swarthy ships, with brow of gloom And wide wings woven on the weary loom, Landsmen and mariners haled to that far shore! The ships, the black ships whelmed them evermore! They struck, they split, they filled, They sank: and, oh, death's throes Ionian vengeance stilled. And now by plain and pass, rude, wild and bare, In the frore Thracian air, After long wandering, Scarce 'scaped with life, comes home our lord the King.
But they on that wild water, Firstlings of death and slaughter, Roam, where the long waves lash Kychrean sands; Roam, but no wave shall lift them, Nor ebb nor flood-tide drift them To this dear earth beloved above all lands. Wide as the sky, and deep As those dark waters sweep, Wail! let grief gnaw your heart, and wring your hands!
Combed with no tender combing, Where angry waves break foaming, Children of Ocean's unpolluted tide Flesh their dumb mouths, and tear The dead men once so fair: ​Old eyes are wet whose tears Time long since dried; The sire weeps his lost son, The home its goodman gone, And all the woeful tale is bruited far and wide.
They pay no more tribute; they bow them no more! The word of power is not spoken By the princes of Persia; their day is o'er, And the laws of the Medes are broken Through Asia's myriad-peopled land; For the staff is snapped in the King's right hand.
And a watch is not set on the free, frank tongue, Yea, liberty's voice speaks loud; And the yoke is loosed from the neck that was wrung And the back to dominion bowed: For the earth of Ajax isle is red With the blood of Persia's noble dead!
Enter the Queen.
Queen.
Good friends, the heart that hath found trouble knows That when calamity is at the flood We shake at shadows; but, if once the tide Flow fair, and fortune send a prospering wind, We cannot think that it will change. To me All prayers I offer now are full of dread, And voices loud, but not with victory, Sound in mine ears; so fell a stroke of fortune Dismays my soul. Therefore am I returned, Not as of late with chariots and with pomp; I bring libations due from son to sire, Meet for propitiation; gifts that please ​Dead bodies in their graves. Milk, white and pure, And crystal honey cropped from bee-searched flowers, And cool cups drawn from virgin founts; and here, Pressed from wild nature's bosom, is strong wine, The jocund youngling of an ancient stem; And I have oil of olive, amber-clear, Sweet esence of a never-fading tree, And wreathed blossoms,—children all of earth That yieldeth every fruit. Then, dear my friends, Accompany with song acceptable These luscious draughts that soothe the silent dead, And forth from his sepulchral monument Call up Darius' spirit. The cup earth drinks I will pour out to the Gods of the underworld.
Chorus.
Queen of Persia, chief in worth, 'Neath the chambers of the earth, Send thy rich libations streaming; We with prayers of holy seeming Will beseech the dead that there They may find acceptance fair. Gods infernal, pure and holy, Earth and Hermes, melancholy Lord of death and gloom and night, Send his soul up to the light. He will heal,—point undismayed Where grief's far horizons fade.
Peer of the Gods, whose kingly state Is evermore felicity! Shifting as the shocks of fate Sinks and soars our endless cry ​Uttered in an ancient tongue: Hearest thou the shades among?
All ye gods of souls earth-bound, Hearken! Earth, break up thy sod! Grant us sight from thy dark ground Of Susa's son and Persia's god! To such an ample spirit ne'er Persian earth gave sepulchre.
Dear was the man; dear is his burial-mound! A power sleeps here, whose influence shall not fade! Oh, where he sits sole King 'mong Kings discrowned, Aidoneus, dim Aidoneus, speed Darius' shade!
In wantonness of heart he ne'er made war, Nor lost a world wasting the lives of men; They hailed him their God-given counsellor;— God-given he was, and great was Persia's glory then.
Old majesty! Great Padishah! Come forth, and from thy barrow high, Show the white plume of thy tiar, Thy buskin dipped in crocus-dye! Unclouded spirit, morning-clear—, King—Sire—Darius! reappear!
Griefs thy glory never knew, Lord of our Lord, thy coming stay. A mist hath fallen of Stygian hue; Persia's youth is cast away! Unclouded spirit, morning-clear, King—Sire—Darius! reappear! ​Thou, whose passing nations wept, Wherefore hath ambition swept Worlds that thou didst hold in fee, Empire, awe and admiralty, In one headlong ruin borne? Ships perfidious, ships foresworn, Crewless, oarless, scallop-scaled, Ye your pride to Hellas vailed, Hidden from the sight of suns That gild her golden galleons!
[The Ghost of Darius ascends from his tomb.
Darius.
Trusty and well-beloved! Comrades of mine When we were young together; now most grave Signors of Persia, what afflicts the realm? Earth groans and jars and frets with fevered pulse; I see my consort standing by my tomb, And verily I am afraid. Withal, The cup of kind remembrance, poured in prayer, I have received. And ye make lamentation Beside my sepulchre in such shrill key As calls up spirits: yea, with piteous cries Summon me from my grave; and wayleave thence Is hard to come by; for the infernal Gods Love better to hold fast than to let go. Nevertheless, with them have I prevailed, And ye behold me! Haste! my time is short And I would not offend. What aileth Persia? What strange, what heavy stroke hath smitten her?
Chorus.
I dare not meet thy gaze: I fear To speak what must offend thine ear; With veiled eyes, I bow me prone, As at the footstool of thy throne!
Darius.
Know that by strong persuasion of thy grief I am ascended from the shades. Be brief; Put awe and forms of courtly speech away, And utter boldly all thou hast to say.
Chorus.
Thou askest speech of me, and I Fear to do that courtesy; At thy bidding to impart Tidings which must grieve thy heart.
Darius.
Since thine old awe is not to be enforced, Good Queen, dear partner death alone divorced From spousal joys, though thee the touch of age Hath changed to outward view, this grief assuage, These sobs and tears give o'er: take courage then To speak but one clear word to me; for men Cast in the mould of frail humanity Are heirs to all its ills: by land and sea Evils a-many are reserved for man, If that Time lengthen out his little span.
Queen.
O of mankind the happiest by far, While thou didst yet behold the day's bright star, How enviable in thy life wast thou! How like a god thy days were passed. And now ​I envy thee in death: yea, count it bliss Not to have lived to search the black abyss, The bottomless pit of sorrow. Dear my lord, Darius, to sum all in one brief word; Persia lies waste—a kingdom desolate!
Darius.
Speak'st thou of plague and famine! Or is the state By rancour of domestic faction rent?
Queen.
Nothing of this; her mighty armament Hath suffered ruin round the Athenian coast.
Darius.
Tell me; what son of mine led forth our host?
Queen.
Impetuous Xerxes: and to fill his train Emptied of manhood Asia's vasty plain.
Darius.
And on this rash attempt, of folly born, Went he by land or sea?
Queen.
With either horn, Broadening the thrust of his battle-front, he planned A double enterprise by sea and land.
Darius.
How found he means o'er all the realms that lie 'Twixt us and Persia, plains and mountains high, To launch on foot an armament so vast?
Queen.
A yoke on Helle's stormy frith he cast And made a causeway through the unruly sea.
Darius.
A giant's toil to shut with lock and key The wrathful Bosphorus!
Queen.
The thing was done! Methinks, an unseen power helped our son.
Darius.
A power of might indeed to send him mad!
Queen.
Ay, since the achievement evil issue had!
Darius.
What fate hath foiled our arms that ye make moan For fallen men?
Queen.
The fleet is overthrown And in its ruin whelmed the host on shore.
Darius.
Then hath my people perished? Hath grim war Ta'en toll of all?
Queen.
Yea, Susa lieth bare, And mourns her perished youth, her manhood fair.
Darius.
Oh, the lost levies! Oh, the bright array Of proud confederate peoples!
Queen.
Bactria Through all her clans and Egypt's commonalty For children lost lift up a bitter cry.
Darius.
Calamitous adventurer! thine emprise Hath drained the very sap of thine allies!
Queen.
Xerxes, a lonely man, that few attend, They say ——
Darius.
What say they? Draws he to an end Of his long march? And hath he haply found Some place of safety?
Queen.
Yea, the stormy sound And the long bridge that spans the sundering sea, Which when he hailed a happy man was he!
Darius.
So, he hath crossed the strait and touched the strand And journeys delicately through the land Of Asia—or thou hast heard things false and smooth?
Queen.
None challengeth these tidings; they are clear truth And beyond cavil.
Darius.
Ah, with how swift stride Hath come fulfilment of things prophesied! How on my son hath Zeus in anger sent The end foretold, which my fears did prevent! For long ago I knew the Gods would speed The final consummation of that rede, ​And when man, shod with haste and girt with pride, Beckons his own doom, God is on his side. And now, methinks, to all men of good will The fount lies bare whence flowed this broadening ill; But the event my son too rashly wrought In the blind arrogance of childish thought. He dreamed that he could chain, as men chain slaves, The holy haste of Hellespontine waves, God's flowing Bosphorus; another measure Presumed to teach its billows, at his pleasure Bound them in linkéd fetters hammered fast, Yea, made a high way, where his army passed. A mortal man on all the Gods that be He ventured war; the lordship of the sea, Poseidon's realm (he judged so much amiss), Challenged and thought to quell. And was not this The very madness of a mind diseased? Prosperity and power and wealth, which eased The lives of men, my long reign's rich reward, Is plunder now for some freebooter's sword!
Queen.
All this impetuous Xerxes, over-ruled By evil men, in their rash counsel schooled, Learned; for they taught him that thy valour won Great opulence and wide dominion For thy succeeding heirs; and 'twas a taunt Of theirs that he at home was valiant, But with new wealth no wise increased thy store: And so detraction oft-repeated bore Ill fruit: to doom the readiest way he went And against Hellas launched his armament.
Darius.
And in all truth the thing that he hath done Is great in consequence, in memory Never to be forgotten: such a fall From power and glory, such a grievous loss Ne'er yet made Susa empty, since the day When first King Zeus assigned her pride of place, Centreing in one man dominion Over all Asia rich in fleece and flock, The staff of Empire steady in his hand. It was a Mede that mastered first her hosts; His son completed that which he began, For wisdom laid her hand upon the helm And caution tempered daring. Third from him Reigned Cyrus, blest in all he undertook. He with all friendly powers established peace On firm foundations. His arm was stretched Over the land of Lydia, and he Made Phrygia vassal; all Ionia He drave before him with the reins of power; Neither provoked he God to jealous wrath, So amiable and gracious were his ways. And Cyrus' fourth son set the host in order; But the fifth, Mardus, reigning in his stead, Brought upon fatherland and monarchy Shame and reproach. And him by subtle craft Artaphrenes, an honourable man, Slew in the palace, powerfully helped By friends resolved upon the deed. And chance Placed on my head the crown I coveted. And with great armies I waged many wars, But ne'er in such calamity involved ​The realm: and now Xerxes, my son, because His thoughts are a young man's thoughts, remembers not My precepts: for I call ye all to witness, Friends and coevals, not a man of us Had ever by misuse of so much power Made it the instrument of so great a woe.
Chorus.
O King Darius, whither tends the scope Of thy discourse? What may we thence conclude? How may this land of Persia best emerge From these sore trials and yet see good days?
Darius.
Wage no more wars 'gainst Hellas, wage no more, Not though the Medic power were mightier yet; For verily her soil is her ally.
Chorus.
How sayst thou 'her ally'? How can her soil Take arms for her and fight upon her side?
Darius.
The power of numbers, be they ne'er so vast, She wears away by famine.
Chorus.
Few and choice Shall be the muster, with all manner store Plentifully provided.
Darius.
They that are left In Hellas even now shall not escape Nor see their homes again.
Chorus.
What hast thou said! Doth not the armament of Barbary March out of Europe over Helle's sound?
Darius.
Few out of many, if the oracles Of Heaven, by warrant of these late events, Gain credence: they are individable; They do not fail in part, nor yet in part Are they fulfilled. And even were they flawed With false predictions, Xerxes, in false hopes Confiding, hath abandoned to their fate A vast array, the chosen of his host. Where the Asopus watereth the plain And maketh fat the deep Boeotian earth They are cut off; and there is reserved for them The culmination of their sufferings, A just reward of pride and godless thoughts, Because in Hellas they thought it no shame To' strip the ancient statues of the Gods And burn their temples: yea, cast down the altars, And from their firm foundations overthrew, So that they lie in heaps, the builded fanes Of unseen powers. The evil that they did Is in like measure meted unto them, Yea, and more shall be meted; deeper still Lies the hid vein of suffering; yet a little And it shall gush forth. So great shall be the carnage; A veritable offering of blood, Congealed with slaughter, on Plataea's plain, ​The dark oblation of the Dorian spear. High as are heaped the sands their carcases Shall be hereafter, even to sons' sons, A silent witness for whoso hath eyes, That proud thoughts are not for the worm called man; For pride in blossom, like an ear of corn, Swells and grows ripe with ruin reaped in tears. Ye, when ye see these things and think thereon, Remember Athens and remember Hellas! Let none of you, that fortune, which is yours And which God gave, disdaining, set your hearts On what ye have not, neither in getting more Pour out like water vast prosperity. Zeus is a chastener of froward wills And he correcteth with a heavy hand. Wherefore be ye instructors of your lord, And with well-reasoned admonitions teach him To have a humbler heart and cast away The sin of pride, for it offendeth God. And, Xerxes' dear and venerable Mother, Return to the palace; bring forth fitting raiment And go therewith to meet thy son: for all About him, torn by grief, in tatters hangs The ravelment of his rich-embroidered robe. Moreover comfort him with gentle words; Thee only will he hearken. I go hence Descending through the darkness of the earth. Farewell, grave elders; in adversity Find out the soul's true solace day by day; Where dead men lie wealth nothing profiteth.
[The Shade of Darius descends into the tomb.
Chorus.
Griefs many, woes that Barbary now endures And shall endure hereafter wring my heart.
Queen.
O Fate, how endless is the train of sorrow That entereth my soul! But there's no pang That gnaws with keener tooth than picturing My son, his royal person clothed wtih shame And trappings of dishonour. I will hence And take me handsome robes and make essay To meet him. In the hour of evil fortune We'll not be false to all we hold! most dear.
[Exit Queen.
Chorus.
All of earth's fullness was ours, all the spacious Amplitude life yields or law can uphold, When the unvanquished, the grief less, all-gracious, Godlike Darius ruled Persia of old.
Glory of conquest and gift of good order His statutes bestowed and our armies achieved; Joyous and fresh they came back to our border, In strength unexhausted, with triumph received.
What commonwealths he captive took And never once his home forsook Nor Halys' river passed; Daughters of Acheloan race, Where thunder on the shores of Thrace Strymonian billows vast.
​Beyond the marshes stretched his power, The shadow of a fenced tower Flung wide o'er Helle's path; It fell on cities fair that line Propontis' inlet lacustrine And stormy Pontus' strath.
His were the surf-beaten islands hard by us, Where the thrust of the land lifts the wave-flung spray; Lesbos and Paros and Naxos and Chios And Samos, with oil of her olive-groves gray; Myconus's earth paid toll to Darius; Tenos-by-Andros acknowledged his sway.
Far from both shores, where the waters divide us, Clasped in the mid-sea's ambient kiss, Lemnos and Icarus' isle and Cnidus, Paphos, Rhodes, Soloe were minions of his; And thy namesake—thy parent—O thou, whose waves hide us, Mother of mourning, Salamis!
The portion of Javan a wise moderation Bound to his throne by her people's decrees; Weariless then was the might of our nation; Countless the swarm of her mercenaries; But now in the day of God's sore visitation We are tamed and chastised with the stripes of strong seas.
Enter Xerxes.
Xerxes.
My fate is upon me; My star hath declined; A grief hath undone me; A doom none divined Hath broken the sceptre of Persia as a reed that is snapped in the wind.
Age, thine eyes chide me; They bow down my head; My strength is denied me; My limbs are as lead. Would God I lay fallen in battle, covered up out of sight with the dead!
Chorus.
Lord of our splendour, Our goodly array; Despoiler and spender And caster-away Of thy host; God hath cut off thy lieges and darkened the light of thy day.
And Persia, their mother, Mourns them that fell: She, she, and none other, Acclaimeth thee well, King Xerxes, that gorged with her children the maw and the belly of Hell!
The pride and the power of her Thou hast brought low: Count the fallen flower of her, Lords of the bow, ​Reckon a myriad-muster, 'twere ten times ten thousand, I trow.
Sad lord of lost legions, Sorrow on thee! Through Asia's wide regions Thy welcome shall be Lamentation and mourning and weeping: she stoopeth; she boweth the knee.
Xerxes.
Wail loud! Be not dumb! On me be your moan! For I am become To kingdom and throne A plague and a curse; yea, a burden, a weariness unto my own.
Chorus.
O crowned desolation, Whose stripes thy land bears; A sore salutation She sounds in thy ears; Mariandyne's death-lament hails thee: the cup of thy feasting is tears.
Xerxes.
Pour forth thy sorrow! Long, long shall it flow! Nor to-day nor to-morrow Sufficeth thy woe. I have felt the fierce changes of fortune; the blast of God's vengeance I know.
Chorus.
Fraught with awe for thy fate My weeping shall be; Whelmed 'neath the weight Of the weltering sea I am fain to wail forth my lament for thy realm and thy house and for thee!
Xerxes.
Ionia's embattled might, Ionia's men-of-war, In Ares' fatal armour dight, Spurred by the foaming oar, Swept men, ships, honour, all, away: And there was left the wild waves' play Heard in the lone of loveless night On that disastrous shore.
Chorus.
Woe! Woe! thrice woe!
Xerxes.
Inquire of me and ask all ye are fain to know.
Chorus.
Where, where is that great multitude, Leal vassals of thy throne, Pharandaces, Agabatas, Susas and Pelagon? Oh, tell me where is Psammis? Where is Susiskanes, Who from Ecbatana rode forth,— And Dotamas?
Xerxes.
All these Aboard a ship of Tyre Perished. Where cold waves close Above the wreck of lost empire I left them with their foes: The beaded bubbles hush and hiss, The strong tide ebbs and flows, Bruised on the beach at Salamis, The waves that break on Salamis Scourge them with bitter blows.
Chorus.
Woe! Woe! thrice woe! But tell me, Pharnuchus, where is he? Ariomardus and Seualkes Whose fief was a king's fee? And hast thou lost Lilæus, Sprung from a noble strain? And Tharubis and Memphis, Are they among the slain? Artembares,—Hystaechmas,— For them my heart is fain.
Xerxes.
Woe! Woe! thrice woe! These many found one overthrow! Their eyes all dim with coming death They fixed on Athens, old, diluvial birth Of Hate; inland on her detested earth They gasped away their breath.
Chorus.
A Persian of the Persians, The very eye of thee, Who mustered men by thousands ten Alpistus, where is he? The son of Batanochus, The son of Sesamas, The son of Megabates;— Parthus and Oibaras, Art thou returned without them? And will they come no more? And lie they there forsaken On that disastrous shore? Alas! what need of language? The trouble of thy face Proclaims this woe beyond all woes To Persia's sceptred race!
Xerxes.
Wring not my heart! Rouse not again That insupportable refrain For friends cut off and comrades slain. Though sharp your pang and shrill your cry of dole There is a louder voice that wails within my soul.
Chorus.
But many, many more I miss! Xanthes of Mardian clans Chieftain; and Anchares, who led The valiant Arians; And Arsames and Diæxis, Lords of the lordly steed, And Dadacas and Lythimnas, ​And Tolmus good at need, A greedy fighter fell to fill With the red meat of war; I marvel that they follow not Thy crimson-curtained car.
Xerxes.
All, all have gone the darkling way With that great host they led!
Chorus.
All, all are gone the darkling way Down to the unmemoried dead!
Xerxes.
Forbear! This stabs me to the heart!
Chorus.
O unseen power, whoe'er thou art, Thou hast hurled down a gleaming woe, Bright ruin's ghastly meteor-glow!
Xerxes.
A stroke hath fallen resonant To the last beat of time.
Chorus.
A stroke hath fallen resonant To earth's remotest clime.
Xerxes.
O strange, new pang! Sharp agony!
Chorus.
Ionia, mistress of the sea We struck under an evil star; Yea, Persia hath ill-hap in war!
Xerxes.
So great a host, and all are gone! And I am left, a thing men look upon And weep and wail!
Chorus.
O royal Persian! What hast thou not lost?
Xerxes.
Nay, behold and see Of sumptuous superfluity The poor remains: the remnant left to me!
Chorus.
Yea, yea; thou hast lost ships, men, gear—
Xerxes.
But worse remains: all Persia's power is here, Clapped in the compass of an arrow-case!
Chorus.
Ye gods, into how little space Is crept thy treasure still unspent!
Xerxes.
Yet in this quiver there is room enough To hold the relics of my armament.
Chorus.
Of bag and baggage, store and stuff, Artillery and equipage, O King, Hast thou brought back safe home this despicable thing?
Xerxes.
All weapons else wherewith we went arrayed, All power, and every necessary aid That armies fight with, have been stripped away!
Chorus.
Alack! the sons of Javan fly not from a fray!
Xerxes.
They take too much delight in war! These eyes beheld a grief they looked not for.
Chorus.
Thy great armada, thy long battle-line Broken——
Xerxes.
When I saw that such grief was mine From hem to hem my robe I rent.
Chorus.
O God !
Xerxes.
Cry loud with all lament! Yea, the whole almonry of sorrow drain! No amplest 'O' can this large ill contain.
Chorus.
I feel a twofold, yea, a threefold chain, And every link a fiery pain, Constrict my heart.
Xerxes.
Yea, we must weep. And we must put on sackcloth; but the foe On this dark anniversary shall keep Pastime and sport, highday and holiday.
Chorus.
And all thy strength and all thy bright array—
Xerxes.
Lo! I fled naked: none escorts me home—
Chorus.
And all thy friends and comrades cast away! The waters of calamity flow deep; They break in death and ruin; and they sweep Wrecks of the wrath of God in their tumultuous foam.
Xerxes.
Weep blood! Yea, with sharp nail The lank and hollow cheek of dotage tear, Then each man to his house.
Chorus.
Weep! Wail!
Xerxes.
Anon with me the burthen bear!
Chorus.
Shriek for shriek and groan for groan, In miserable antiphone!
Xerxes.
Shrill forth your loud lament in unison.
Xerxes and Chorus.
Woe! Woe! Woe! Woe!
Chorus.
O grief the heaviest of all To hear my lord the King's voice wailing his downfall!
Xerxes.
Weep on, weep on for the King's sake; Thy woeful service neither stint nor spare!
Chorus.
Eyes must be wet or hearts will break.
Xerxes.
Anon with me the burthen bear.
Chorus.
Lord, I am ready to obey.
Xerxes.
Wail and weep with wellaway!
Chorus.
Wellaway! And wellaway!
Xerxes and Chorus.
Woe! Woe! Woe!
Chorus.
This mingled cup is mine and thine, Foamed with the ferment of a black and bitter wine.
Xerxes.
Beat thy breast and wail The Mysian wail!
Chorus.
Oh, wail!
Xerxes.
Spare not thy silvery hairs; Pluck out the reverend beard upon thy chin!
Chorus.
I spare them not whom no grief spares.
Xerxes.
Renew, renew thy cry! Begin With mine your voices blending, Let sorrow have no ending!
Chorus.
Sorrow, sorrow hath no ending.
Xerxes.
Rend thine ample train!
Chorus.
Behold! 'tis rent in twain!
Xerxes.
Touch the hair-strung lute And teach it sorrow for my power laid low!
Chorus.
All mournful music else be dumb and mute. That shrill lament shall ever flow!
Xerxes.
To-day and every morrow Let fall the rain of sorrow.
Chorus.
To-day shall have a rainy morrow.
Xerxes.
Now with me the burthen bear!
Chorus.
Woe! Woe! Woe!
Xerxes.
And whence ye came with footstep slow And cry of wail and weeping go.
Chorus.
Woe! Woe! Woe!
Xerxes.
Through all the city let your voice be sent!
Chorus.
Through all the city one lament.
Xerxes.
Groan, ye who did so delicately tread!
Chorus.
O Persian earth, I stumble on your dead!
Xerxes.
Yea, yea, yea! In the oared galleys they were cast away!
Chorus.
My groanings shall thine escort be! I'll play thee home with such sad minstrelsy!
[Exeunt