University of Virginia Library

CHORUS
(Entering the Orchestra in procession. March time).
We are the Persian watchmen old,
The guardians true of the palace of gold,
Left to defend the Asian land,
When the army marched to Hellas' strand;
Elders chosen by Xerxes the king,
The son of Darius, to hold the reins,
Till he the conquering host shall bring
Back to Susa's sunny plains.
But the spirit within me is troubled and tossed,
When I think of the King and the Persian host;
And my soul, dark-stirred with the prophet's mood,
Bodes nothing good.
For the strength of the Asian land went forth,
And my heart cries out for the young king's worth
That marshalled them on to the war:
Nor herald, nor horseman, nor wandering fame,
Since then to the towers of the Persian came.
From Susa and from Ecbatana far,
And from the Cissian fortress old,
Strong in the ordered ranks of war
Forth they went, the warriors bold;
Horseman and footman and seaman went,
A vast and various armament.
A mistres, Artaphrenes, led the van,
Megabátes, Astaspes, obeyed the ban;
Persian leaders, kings from afar
Followed the great King's call to the war.
Forth they went with arrow and bow,
And in clattering turms with chivalrous show;
To the eye of the dastard a terrible sight,
And with constancy mailed for the fight.
Artembáres in steeds delighting,
Imaeus the foe with the sure arrow smiting,
Pharandáces, Masistres, Sosthánes in war
Who lashes the steed, and drives the car.
The mighty and many-nurturing Nile
Sent forth many a swarthy file;
Susiscánes and Egypt's son
Pegastágon lead them on.
Arsámes the mighty, whose word commands
The strength of the sacred Memphian bands,
And Ariomardus brave, whose sway
The sons of Ogygian Thebes obey.
And the countless host with sturdy oar
That plough the lagoons of the slimy shore.
And the Lydians march in luxurious pride,
And the tribes of the continent far and wide
Whom Arcteus and valiant Metragathes lead,
Kings that serve the great King's need;
And the men who fight from the sharp-scythed car,
Whom golden Sardes sends to the war;
Some with two yoke, some with three,
A terrible sight to see.
And the sons of sacred Tmolus appear
On free-necked Hellas to lay the yoke,
Mardon and Tharybis, stiff to the spear
As the anvil is stiff to the hammer's stroke.
And the men of Mysia skilful to throw
The well-poised dart, and they who ride
On wide Ocean's swelling tide,
A mingled people with motley show
From golden Babylon, men who know
To point the arrow and bend the bow.
The Asian tribes that wear the sword
From far and near
The summons hear,
And follow the hest of their mighty Lord.
All the flower of the Persian youth hath gone,
And the land that nursed them is left alone
To pine with love's delay;
And wives and mothers from day to day,
Fearing what birth
The time shall bring forth,
Fret the long-drawn hours away.


CHORAL HYMN.
STROPHE I.
ANTISTROPHE I.
STROPHE II.
ANTISTROPHE II.
MESODE.
STROPHE III.
ANTISTROPHE III.
STROPHE IV.
ANTISTROPHE IV.
STROPHE V.
ANTISTROPHE V.
(To ATOSSA entering.

(Enter ATOSSA, drawn with royal pomp in a chariot.)
ATOSSA.
Even this hath moved me, leaving these proud golden-garnished halls,
And the common sleeping chamber of Darius and myself,
Here to come. Sharp fear within me pricks my heart; I will declare
All the thoughts that deep perplex me to my friends; the secret fear
Lest our pride of ramping riches kick our sober weal in the dust,
Scattering wide what wealth Darius gathered, not without a god.
Twofold apprehension moves me, when I ponder this old truth;
Without men much riches profit little; without wealth the state,
Though in numbers much abounding, may not look on joyous light.
Riches are a thing not evil; but I tremble for the eye,
And the eye I call the presence of the master in the house.
Ye have heard my sorrows; make me sharer of your counsel now,
In what matter I shall tell you, ancient, trusty Persian men;
For with you my whole of wisdom, all my healthy counsels dwell.

CHORUS.
Mistress of this land, believe it, never shalt thou ask a kindness,
Be it word from us or action, twice, while power shall aid the will;
We are willing to advise thee in this matter, what we may.

ATOSSA.
Since when my son departed with the army,
To bring destruction on Ionia, scarcely
One night hath been that did not bring me dreams;
But yesternight, with figurement most clear,
I dreamt; hear thou the theme. Methought I saw
Two women richly dight, in Persian robes
The one, the other in a Dorian dress,
Both tall above the vulgar stature, both
Of beauty blameless, and descended both
From the same race. The one on Hellas dwelt,
The other on fair Asia's continent.
Between these twain some strife there seemed to rise;
Which when my son beheld, forthwith he seized them,
And joined them to his car, and made their necks
Submissive to the yoke. The one uptowered
In pride of harness, as rejoiced to follow
The kingly rein. The other kicked and plunged,
And tossed the gear away, and broke the traces,
The yoke in sunder snapt, and from the car
Ran reinless. On the ground my son was thrown,
And to his aid Darius pitying came,
Whom when he saw, my Xerxes rent his robes.
Such was my vision of the night; the morn
Brought a new portent with it. When I rose,
And dipped my hands in the fair-flowing fount,
And to the altar of the averting gods,
To whom such rite pertains, with sacred cake
In sacrificial ministry advanced,
I saw an eagle flying to the altar
Of Phœbus; there all mute with fear I stood;
And after it in swiftest flight I saw
A hawk that darted on the eagle's head,
And tore it with its claws, the royal bird
Yielding his glory meekly to be plucked.
These things I saw in fear, as ye in fear
Must hear them. Ye know well, my son commands
Supreme in Persia: Should success attend him,
'Tis well; but should mischance o'ertake him, he
Will rule in Susa as he ruled before;
No power is here to whom he owes account.

CHORUS.
We advise thee, mother, neither with the feeble words of fear,
Nor with boastful courage. Turn thee to the gods in supplication:
Theirs it is to ward fulfilment of all evil-omened sights,
Bringing good to full fruition for thyself and for thy children,
For the city and all that love thee. Then a pure libation pour
To the Earth and to the Manes; with especial honor pray
The dread Shade of thy Darius whom thou sawest in the night,
To send blessings on thy Xerxes in the gladness of the day,
Keeping back unblissful sorrows in the sightless gloom of death.
Thus my soul its own diviner with a friendly kind concern
Counsels. Doubtless time will perfect happy fates for thee and thine.

ATOSSA.
Truly, with a friendly reading thou hastread my midnight dreams,
Words of strengthening solace speaking to my son and to my house.
May the gods all blessing perfect. I to them, as thou hast said,
And the Shades, the well-beloved, will perform befitting rites,
In the palace; meanwhile tell me this, for I would gladly know
Where, O friends, is famous Athens on the broad face of the Earth?

CHORUS.
Far in the west: beside the setting of the lord of light the Sun.

ATOSSA.
This same Athens, my son Xerxes longed with much desire to take.

CHORUS.
Wisely: for all Greece submissive, when this city falls, will fall.

ATOSSA.
Are they many? do they number men enough to meet my son?

CHORUS.
What they number was sufficient once to work the Medes much harm.

ATOSSA.
Other strength than numbers have they? wealth enough within themselves?

CHORUS.
They can boast a fount of silver, native treasure to the land?

ATOSSA.
Are they bowmen good? sure-feathered do their pointed arrows fly?

CHORUS.
Not so. Stable spears they carry, massy armature of shields.

ATOSSA.
Who is shepherd of this people? lord of the Athenian host?

CHORUS.
Slaves are they to no man living, subject to no earthly name.

ATOSSA.
How can such repel the onset of a strong united host?

CHORUS.
How Darius knew in Hellas, when he lost vast armies there.

ATOSSA.
Things of deep concern thou speakest to all mothers in this land.

CHORUS.
Thou shalt know anon exactly more than I can guess, for lo!
Here comes one—a hasty runner—he should be a Persian man.
News, I wis, this herald bringeth of deep import, good or bad.

Enter MESSENGER.
O towns and cities of wide Asia,
O Persian land, wide harbour of much wealth,
How hath one stroke laid all thy grandeur low,
One frost nipt all thy bloom! Woes me that I
Should be first bearer of bad news! but strong
Necessity commands to speak the truth.
Persians, the whole barbaric host hath perished.

CHORUS.
Strophe i.
—O misery! misery, dark and deep!
Dole and sorrow and woe!
Weep, ye Persians! wail and weep,
For wounds that freshly flow!

MESSENGER.
All, all, is ruined: not a remnant left.
Myself, against all hope, see Persia's sun.

CHORUS.
Antistrophe i.
—O long, too long, through creeping years
Hath the life of the old man lasted,
To see—and nurse his griefs with tears—
The hopes of Persia blasted!

MESSENGER.
I speak no hearsay: what these eyes beheld
Of blackest evil, Persians, I declare.

CHORUS.
Strophe ii.
—Ah me! all in vain against Hellas divine
Were the twanging bow and whizzing reed,
All vainly mustered the thickly clustered
Armies of the Mede!

MESSENGER.
The shores of Salamis, and all around
With the thick bodies of our dead are peopled.

CHORUS.
Antistrophe ii.
—Alas! the wreck of the countless host!
The sundered planks, and the drifted dead,
Rocked to and fro, with the ebb and the flow
On a wavy-wandering bed!

MESSENGER.
Vain were our shafts; our mighty multitude
Vanished before their brazen-beaked attack.

CHORUS.
Strophe iii.
—Sing ye, sing ye a sorrowful song,
Lift ye, lift ye a piercing cry!
Our harnessed throng and armies strong
Lost and ruined utterly!

MESSENGER.
O hated name to hear, sad Salamis!
O Athens, I remember thee with groans.

CHORUS.
Antistrophe iii.
—O Athens, Athens, thou hast reft us
Of our all we did possess!
Sonless mothers thou hast left us,
Weeping wives and husbandless!

ATOSSA.
Thou see'st I have kept silence: this sad stroke
Hath struck me dumb, as powerless to give voice
To my own sorrows, as to ask another's.
Yet when the gods send trouble, mortal men
Must learn to bear it. Therefore be thou calm;
Unfold the perfect volume of our woes,
And, though the memory grieve thee, let us hear
Thy tale to the end; what loss demands our tears,
Which of the baton-bearing chiefs hath left
An army to march home without a head.

MESSENGER.
Xerxes yet lives, and looks on the light.

ATOSSA.
Much light
In this to me, and to my house thou speakest,
A shining day from out a pitchy night.

MESSENGER.
Artembares, captain of ten thousand horse,
Upon the rough Silenian shores lies dead,
And Dadaces, the chiliarch, spear-struck fell
Precipitate from his ship—an easy leap;
And noble Tenagon, a pure Bactrian born,
Around the sea-lashed isle of Ajax floats.
Lilaeus, Arsames, Argestes, these
The waves have made their battering ram, to beat
The hard rocks of the turtle-nurturing isle.
Pharnuchus, Pheresseues, and Adeues,
And Arcteus from their native Nile-spring far
Fell from one ship into one grave. Matallus,
The Chrysian myriontarch, who led to Hellas
Full thrice ten thousand sable cavalry,
His thick and bushy beard's long tawny pride
Hath dyed in purple gore. The Magian Arabus
The Bactrian Artames on the self-same shore
Have found no cushioned lodgment. There Amestris,
And there Amphistreus, wielder of the spear,
And there Metragathes lies, for whom the Sardians
Weep well-earned tears; and Sersames, the Mysian.
With them, of five times fifty ships commander,
Lyrnaean Tharybis, a goodly man,
Lies hopeless stretched on the unfriendly strand.
Syennesis, the brave Cilician chief
Who singly wrought more trouble to the foe
Than thousands, died with a brave man's report.
These names I tell thee of the chiefs that fell.
A few selecting out of many losses.

ATOSSA.
Alas! alas! more than enough I hear;
Shame to the Persians and shrill wails. But say,
Retracing thy discourse, what was the number
Of the Greek ships that dared with Persia's fleet
To engage, and grapple beak to beak.

MESSENGER.
If number
Of ships might gain the fight, believe me, queen,
The victory had been ours. The Greeks could tell
But ten times thirty ships, with other ten,
Of most select equipment. Xerxes numbered
A thousand ships, two hundred sail and seven
Of rapid wing beside. Of this be assured
What might of man could do was done to save us;
Some god hath ruined us, not weighing justly
An equal measure. Pallas saves her city.

ATOSSA.
The city? is it safe? does Athens stand?

MESSENGER.
It stands without the fence of walls. Men wall it.

ATOSSA.
But say, who first commenced the fight—the Greeks
Or, in his numbers strong, my kingly son.

MESSENGER.
Some evil god, or an avenging spirit,
Began the fray. From the Athenian fleet
There came a Greek, and thus thy son bespoke.
“Soon as the gloom of night shall fall, the Greeks
No more will wait, but, rushing to their oars,
Each man will seek his safety where he may,
By secret flight.” This Xerxes heard, but knew not
The guile of Greece, nor yet the jealous gods,
And to his captains straightway gave command
That, when the sun withdrew his burning beams,
And darkness filled the temple of the sky,
In triple lines their ships they should dispose,
Each wave-plashed outlet guarding, fencing round
The isle of Ajax surely. Should the Greeks
Deceive this guard, or with their ships escape
In secret flight, each captain with his head
Should pay for his remissness. These commands
With lofty heart, thy son gave forth, nor thought
What harm the gods were weaving. They obeyed.
Each man prepared his supper, and the sailors
Bound the lithe oar to its familiar block.
Then, when the sun his shining glory paled,
And night swooped down, each master of the oar,
Each marshaller of arms, embarked; and then
Line called on line to take its ordered place.
All night they cruised, and, with a moving belt,
Prisoned the frith, till day 'gan peep, and still
No stealthy Greek the expected flight essayed.
But when at length the snowy-steeded Day
Burst o'er the main, all beautiful to see,
First from the Greeks a tuneful shout uprose,
Well-omened, and, with replication loud,
Leapt the blithe echo from the rocky shore.
Fear seized the Persian host, no longer tricked
By vain opinion; not like wavering flight
Billowed the solemn pæan of the Greeks,
But like the shout of men to battle urging,
With lusty cheer. Then the fierce trumpet's voice
Blazed o'er the main; and on the salt sea flood
Forthwith the oars, with measured plash, descended,
And all their lines, with dexterous speed displayed,
Stood with opposing front. The right wing first,
Then the whole fleet bore down, and straight uprose
A mighty shout. “Sons of the Greeks, advance!
Your country free, your children free, your wives!
The altars of your native gods deliver,
And your ancestral tombs—all's now at stake!”
A like salute from our whole line back-rolled
In Persian speech. Nor more delay, but straight
Trireme on trireme, brazen beak on beak
Dashed furious. A Greek ship led on the attack,
And from the prow of a Phœnician struck
The figure-head; and now the grapple closed
Of each ship with his adverse desperate.
At first the main line of the Persian fleet
Stood the harsh shock; but soon their multitude
Became their ruin; in the narrow frith
They might not use their strength, and, jammed together,
Their ships with brazen beaks did bite each other,
And shattered their own oars. Meanwhile the Greeks
Stroke after stroke dealt dexterous all around,
Till our ships showed their keels, and the blue sea
Was seen no more, with multitude of ships
And corpses covered. All the shores were strewn,
And the rough rocks, with dead; till, in the end,
Each ship in the barbaric host, that yet
Had oars, in most disordered flight rowed off.
As men that fish for tunnies, so the Greeks,
With broken booms, and fragments of the wreck,
Struck our snared men, and hacked them, that the sea,
With wail and moaning, was possessed around,
Till black-eyed Night shot darkness o'er the fray.
These ills thou hearest: to rehearse the whole,
Ten days were few; but this, my queen, believe,
No day yet shone on Earth whose brightness looked
On such a tale of death.

ATOSSA.
A sea of woes
On Persia bursts, and all the Persian name!

MESSENGER.
Thou hast not heard the half: another woe
Remains, that twice outweighs what I have told.

ATOSSA.
What worse than this? Say what mischance so strong
To hurt us more, being already ruined?

MESSENGER.
The bloom of all the Persian youth, in spirit
The bravest, and in birth the noblest, princes
In whom thy son placed his especial trust,
All by a most inglorious doom have perished.

ATOSSA.
O wretched me, that I should live to hear it!
But by what death did Persia's princes die?

MESSENGER.
There is an islet, fronting Salamis,
To ships unfriendly, of dance-loving Pan
The chosen haunt, and near the Attic coast.
Here Xerxes placed his chiefest men, that when
The routed Greeks should seek this strand, our troops
Might both aid friends, where friends their aid required,
And kill the scattered Greeks, an easy prey;
Ill-auguring what should hap! for when the gods
Gave to the Greeks the glory of the day,
Straightway well-cased in mail from their triremes
They leapt, rushed on the isle, and hedged it round,
That neither right nor left our men might turn,
But fell in heaps, some struck by rattling stones,
Some pierced by arrows from the twanging bow.
Then, in one onslaught fiercely massed, the Greeks
Our fenceless chiefs in slashing butchery
Mowed down, till not one breath remained to groan.
But Xerxes groaned: for from a height that rose
From the sea-shore conspicuous, with clear view
He mustered the black fortune of the fight.
His stole he rent, and lifting a shrill wail
Gave the poor remnant of his host command
To flee; and fled with them. Lament with me,
This second sorrow heaped upon the first.

ATOSSA.
O dismal god! how has thy hate deceived
The mind of the Mede! A bitter vengeance truly
Hath famous Athens wreaked on my poor son,
To all the dead that fell at Marathon
Adding this slaughter!—O my son! my son!
Thyself hast paid the penalty that thou
Went to inflict on others!—But let me hear
Where hast thou left the few ships that escaped?

MESSENGER.
The remnant of the fleet with full sail sped
Swift in disordered flight from Salamis.
The wreck of the army through Bœotia trailed
Its sickly line: there some of thirst fell dead
Even in the water's view; some with fatigue
Panting toiled on through Phocian land, and Doris,
And passed the Melian gulf, where through the plain
Spercheius rolls his fructifying flood.
Then faint and famished the Achaean land
Received us, and fair Thessaly's city; there
The most of hunger died and thirst; for with
This double plague we struggled. Next Magnesia
And Macedonian ground we traversed; then
The stream of Axius, reedy Bolbe's mere,
The Edonian fields, and the Pangaean hills.
But here some god stirred winter premature,
And in the night froze Strymon's holy stream.
Then men who never worshipped gods before
Called on the heavens and on the Earth to save them,
With many prayers, in vain. A few escaped,
What few had crossed the ice-compacted flood
Ere the strong god of light shot forth his rays.
For soon the lustrous orb of day shone out
With blazing beams, unbound the stream, and oped
Inevitable fate beneath them: then
Man upon man in crowded ruin fell,
And he was happiest who the soonest died.
We who survived, a miserable wreck,
Struggled through Thrace slowly with much hard toil,
And stand again on Persian ground, and see
Our native hearths. Much cause the city has
To weep the loss of her selectest youth.
These words are true: much I omit to tell
Of all the woes a god hath smote withal
Our Persian land.

CHORUS.
O sorely-vexing god,
How hast thou trampled 'neath no gentle foot
The Persian race!

ATOSSA.
Woe's me! the army's lost.
O dreamy shapes night-wandering, too clearly
Your prophecy spoke truth! But you, good Seniors,
Sorry expounders though ye be, in one thing
I will obey. I will go pray the gods,
As ye advised; then gifts I will present
To Earth and to the Manes. I will offer,
The sacred cake to appease them. For the past,
'Tis past beyond all change; but hope may be
To make the gods propitious for the future.
Meanwhile your counsel in this need I crave;
A faithful man is mighty in mischance.
My son, if he shall come ere I return,
Cheer him with friendly words, and see him safe,
Lest to this ill some worser woe be added.

CHORUS.
O Jove, king Jove destroyed hast thou
Our high-vaunting countless hosts!
Our high-vaunting countless hosts
Where be they now?
Susa's glory, Ecbatana's pride,
In murky sorrow thou didst hide,
And with delicate hands the virgins fair
Their white veils tear,
And salt streams flow from bright fountains of woe,
And rain on the bosoms of snow.
They whose love was fresh and young,
Where are now their husbands strong?
The soft delights of the nuptial bed
With purple spread,
Where, where be they?
They have lost the joy of their jocund years,
And they weep with insatiate tears:
And I will reply with my heart's strong cry,
And lift the doleful lay.


CHORAL HYMN.
STROPHE I.
ANTISTROPHE I.
STROPHE II.
ANTISTROPHE II.
STROPHE III.
ANTISTROPHE III.

Enter ATOSSA.
Good friends, whoso hath knowledge of mishap,
Knows this, that men, when swelling ills surge o'er them,
Brood o'er the harm till all things catch the hue
Of apprehension; but, when Fortune's stream
Runs smooth, the same, with confidence elate,
Hope the boon god will blow fair breezes ever.
Thus to my soul all things are full of fear,
The adverse gods from all sides strike my eye,
And in my ear, with ominous-ringing peal,
Fate prophesies. Such terror scares my wits.
No royal car to day, no queenly pomp
Is mine; the broidered stole would ill become
My present mission, bringing, as thou see'st,
These simple offerings to appease the Shades;
From the chaste cow, this white and healthful milk,
This clearest juice, by the flower-working bee
Distilled, this pure wave from the virgin spring,
This draught of joyaunce from the unmingled grape,
Of a wild mother born; this fragrant fruit
Of the pale green olive, ever leafy-fair,
And these wreathed flowers, of all-producing Earth
Fair children. But, my dear lov'd friends, I pray you,
With pious supplication, now invoke,
The god Darius while on the earth I pour
These pure libations to the honour'd dead.

CHORUS.
O queen, much-revered of the Persian nation,
To the chambers below pour thou the libation,
While we shall uplift the holy hymn,
That the gods who reign in the regions dim,
May graciously hear when we pray.
O holy powers that darkly sway
In the subterranean night,
O Earth, and Hermes, and thou who art king
Of the Shades that float on bodiless wing,
Send, O send him back to the light!
For, if remedy be to our burden of woes,
He surely knows.


CHORAL HYMN.
STROPHE I.
ANTISTROPHE I.
STROPHE II.
ANTISTROPHE II.
STROPHE III.
ANTISTROPHE III.
EPODE.

(The Shade of Darius rises from the Tomb.)
DARIUS.
O faithfullest of my faithful friends, compeers
Of my fair youth, elders of Persia, say
With what sore labour labours now the state?
Pierced is the Earth, and rent with sounds of woe;
And I my spouse beholding near the tomb
Am troubled, and her offerings I receive
Propitious. Ye with her this cry have raised
Of shrill lament to bring the dead from Hades,
No easy climb; the gods beneath the ground
Are readier to receive than to dismiss;
But I was lord above them. I am come
To meet your questioning. Ask, while yet the time
Chides not my stay. What ill weighs Persia down?

CHORUS.
Strophe.
—I cannot speak before thee;
I tremble to behold thee;
The ancient awe subdues me.

DARIUS.
Not to hold a long discourse, but swift to grant a short reply,
I have left the homes of Hades, by your wailings deeply moved.
What thou hast to ask me, therefore ask, and throw all fear aside.

CHORUS.
Antistrophe.
—I tremble to obey thee.
Such sorrows to unfold thee,
My powerless lips refuse me.

DARIUS.
Since the ancient reverence holds thee, and enchains thy mind, to thee
I will speak, the aged partner of my bed, my high-born spouse.
Cease thy weepings and thy wailings; tell me what mischance hath hapt.
'Tis most human that mischances come to mortal man, not few
Woes by seas, not few by land, if the Fates prolong his span.

ATOSSA.
O all men in bliss surpassing while thine eyes beheld the day,
Of all Persians envied, living like a god on earth, no less
Happy wert thou in thy dying, ere thou didst behold the depth
Of this present woe, Darius. Thou, in short phrase shalt hear all.
Persia's strength is gone: the army lost: all ruined. I have said.

DARIUS.
How? Did pestilence smite the city, or did foul sedition rise?

ATOSSA.
Neither. Near far Athens routed was the Persian host.

DARIUS.
Who marched?
Which of my children marched the host to Athens?

ATOSSA.
Thy impetuous son
Xerxes. Xerxes of her children drained wide Asia's plains.

DARIUS.
On foot,
Or with triremes did he risk this foolish venture?

ATOSSA.
With two fronts,
One by sea, by land the other.

DARIUS.
But so vast an army how?

ATOSSA.
With rare bonds of wood and iron, Helle's streaming frith they crossed.

DARIUS.
Wood and iron! Could these fetter billowy Bosphorus in his flow?

ATOSSA.
So it was. Some god had lent him wit to plan his own perdition.

DARIUS.
Alas! a mighty god full surely robbed him of his sober mind.

ATOSSA.
And the fruit of his great folly we behold in matchless woes.

DARIUS.
I have heard your wailings: tell me more exact the dismal chance.

ATOSSA.
First the whole sea host being ruined brought like ruin on the foot.

DARIUS.
By the hostile spear of Hellas they have perished one and all?

ATOSSA.
Ay. The citadel of Susa, emptied of her children moans.

DARIUS.
Alas! the faithful army!

ATOSSA.
All the flower of Bactria's youth are slain.

DARIUS.
Woe, my hapless son! What myriads of our faithful friends he ruined!

ATOSSA.
Xerxes, stript of all his glory, with a straggling few they say—

DARIUS.
What of him? Speak! Speak! I pray thee; is there safety, is there hope?

ATOSSA.
Fainly comes, with life scarce rescued, to the bridge that links the lands.

DARIUS.
And has crossed to Asia?

ATOSSA.
Even so, most surely, ran the news.

DARIUS.
Ah! on wings how swift the issue of the ancient doom hath sped!
Thee, my son, great Jove hath smitten. Long-drawn years I hoped would roll,
Ere fulfilment of the dread prophetic burden should be known.
But when man to run is eager, swift is the god to add a spur.
Opened flows a fount of sorrow to ourselves and to our friends.
This my son knew not: he acted with green youth's presumptuous daring,
Weening Helle's sacred current, Bosphorus' flood divine to bind
Like a slave with hammered fetters, damming its unconquered tide,
Forcing passage against Nature for a host unwisely great.
Being mortal with immortals, with Poseidon's power he dared
To contend fool-hardy. Did not strong distemper hold the soul
Of my hapless son? The riches stored by me with mickle care
Now, I fear, will be the booty of the swiftest-seizing hand.

ATOSSA.
Converse with the sons of folly taught thy eager son to err,
Thou wert great they said, and mighty, winning riches with thy spear,
He, unmanly, chamber-fighting, adding nothing to thy store.
With these taunts the ears assailing of thy warlike son, bad men
Planned at length the march to Hellas—planned his ruin and our woe.

DARIUS.
And, doing this, my son hath done a deed
Whose heavy memory shall not die. For never
Fell such mischance on Susa's halls, since when
Jove gave this honor that one sceptre sways
Sheep-pasturing Asia. First the Mede was King
Of the vast host of people. Him his son
Succeeded, ending well things well begun;
For wisdom still was rudder to his valour.
Cyrus, the third from him, a prosperous man,
Brought peace to all his friends. The Lydian people,
The Phrygians, the Ionians, he subdued:
With him no god was wroth; for he was wise.
The fourth was Cyrus' son: he was a leader
Of mighty hosts. Him, the fifth, Mardus followed,
A blot to Persia, and the ancestral throne;
Whom in the palace slew Artaphrenes,
Sworn, with a chosen band of faithful friends,
To give him secret riddance. Maraphis next,
And seventh Artaphrenes: myself
Then won the lot I coveted. I marched
My hosts to many wars, but never brought
Mishap like this on Susa. My son, Xerxes,
Being young hath young conceits; and takes no note
Of my advisement. Ye, who were my friends,
And fellows in the government, can witness,
We suffered loss, but we preserved the state.

CHORUS.
Liege lord Darius, to what issue tend
Thy words? With greedy ears we wait to hear
How Persia henceforth may her strength repair.

DARIUS.
Learn from your loss, and never march your armies
Again to Hellas, were they twice as strong.
Not man alone, the land fights for the foe.

CHORUS.
How mean'st thou this? how fights the land for them?

DARIUS.
Our mighty multitudes their barren coast
Kills by sheer famine.

CHORUS.
But with a moderate host?

DARIUS.
A moderate host remains; but, of that few,
Few shall see Persian land.

CHORUS.
How? Shall the army
Not all from Europe cross by Helle's frith?

DARIUS.
Few out of many; if the prophecies,
That are in part fulfilled by what we see,
(And the gods lie not) speak the future true.
It is an empty hope that bids him leave
A select force behind him: they remain,
Where with fat streams Asopus feeds the plain,
Themselves to feed it fatter: in Bœotia
Much woe awaits them justly, the fair price
Of their own godless pride, that did not fear
When first they entered Greece, to rob the altars
Of the eternal gods, to fire their temples,
Uproot the old foundations of their shrines,
And from their basements in commingled wreck
Dash down the images. Much harm they worked,
And much shall suffer. From no shallow bed
Their woes shall flow, but like a spring gush forth,
Still fresh enforced. With such gore-streaming death
The Dorian spear shall daub Plataea's soil;
And the piled dead to generations three
Speak this mute wisdom to the thoughtful eye—
Proud thoughts were never made for mortal man;
A haughty spirit blossoming bears a crop
Of woe, and reaps a harvest of despair.
Look on these things, pride's just avengment; think
On Athens and on Hellas; fear to slight
The present bounty of the gods, lest they
Rob you of much, while greed still gapes for more.
Jove is chastiser of high-vaunting thoughts,
And heavily falls his judgment on the proud;
Therefore, my foolish son, when he shall come,
With friendly warnings teach, that he may cease
From rash imaginings that offend the gods.
And thou, his aged mother, go within,
And bring a seemly robe with thee, to meet
Thy son withal: for thou shalt see him soon,
His broidered vestments torn in many a shred,
Grief's blazonry. Thou only with kind words
Canst soothe his sorrow, deaf to all beside.
But now I go hence to the gloom below.
Ye aged friends, farewell. Though ills surround,
Yet give your souls to joyaunce, while ye may,
For riches profit nothing to the dead.

[The Shade of Darius descends.
CHORUS.
O many woes, both present and to come,
On the barbaric race I weep to hear!

ATOSSA.
O god, how many sorrows hast thou sent
To weigh me down: but this doth gnaw my heart,
That I should live to see my kingly son
Come in grief's tattered weeds to Susa's halls;
But I will go and bring a seemly robe
To meet him, if I may. I will not leave
My dear-loved son unsolaced in his woe.

[Exit into the palace.

CHORAL HYMN.
STROPHE I.
ANTISTROPHE I.
STROPHE II.
ANTISTROPHE II.
STROPHE III.
ANTISTROPHE III.
EPODE.

Enter XERXES.
Ah wretched me! even so, even so;
Suddenly, suddenly came the blow,
And strong was the rod of the merciless god
That struck the Persian low!
Ah me! Ah me!
My knees beneath me shake, to see
These seniors reverend and grey,
Gathered to meet me on such a day.
O would that I had been fated to die
With the brave where destiny found them,
When they stained with gore the stranger's shore,
And the darkness of death came round them!

CHORUS.
O king of the goodly army, for thee
We weep, and the princes that went with thee,
Of Persian nobles the glory and crown,
Whom a god with his scythe mowed down!
For the halls of Hades, dark and wide,
Xerxes hath plenished with Persia's pride,
And the land laments her sons.
Hundreds have trodden the path of gloom,
Thousands of Asia's choicest bloom;
Tens of thousands, that wielded the bow,
Are gone to the chambers of death below.
Ah me! ah me! these strong-limbed men,
Where be they now that were lusty then?
All Asia mourns, O King, with thee,
And bends the feeble knee.

(Here commences, with mournful Oriental music, and with violent gesticulations, a great National Wail over the misfortunes of the Persian people.)
XERXES.
Strophe I.
—I am the man! I am the man!
The father of shame! the fount of disgrace!
Weep me! weep me! once a king,
Now to my country an evil thing,
A curse to my race!

CHORUS.
To meet thy returning,
A voice of deep mourning,
A tune evil-boding,
A cry spirit-goading,
Of a Maryandine wailer,
Thou shalt hear, thou shalt hear,
O King, with many a tear!

XERXES.
Antistrophe I.
—Lift ye, lift ye, the piercing cry!
Tune ye, tune ye, the doleful lay!
For the ancient god of the Persian race,
That bless'd our fathers, hath turned his face
From Xerxes away!

CHORUS.
A cry spirit-piercing,
The dark tale rehearsing,
Of ocean red-heaving,
The slaughtered receiving,
The cry of a city that wails for her children,
Thou shalt hear, thou shalt hear,
O King, with many a tear!

XERXES.
Strophe II.
—Ares was strong on the side of the foe,
The Ionian foe!
Bristling with ships he worked our woe.
His scythe did mow,
The sea, the land,
And laid us low
On the dismal strand.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS.
Lift, O lift, the earnest cry!
Ask, and he will make reply.

CHORUS.
Where is all thy troop of friends,
That marched with thee away, away?
Where is the might of Pharandaces,
Susas and Pelagon, where be they?
Where is Datamas, where Agdabatus,
Psammis, and Susiscánes, say?
All that marched from Ecbatana's halls,
Where be they? where be they?

XERXES.
Antistrophe II.
—From a Tyrian ship they leapt on shore.
To leap no more.
On the shore of Salamis drenched in gore,
The stony shore,
They made their bed,
To rise no more,
The dead, the dead!

LEAD OF THE CHORUS.
Lift, O lift the earnest cry,
Ask, and he will make reply!

CHORUS.
Ah! say, where is Pharnúchus, where?
Cariomardus, where is he?
Where the chief Seualces, where
Aelæus of noble degree?
Memphis, Tharybis, and Masistris,
Hystæchmas, and Artembares, say?
All the brave that journeyed to Hellas,
Where be they? where be they?

XERXES.
Strophe III.
—Ah me! ah me!
They looked on Ogygian Athens, and straight
With one fell swoop down came the Fate,
And we left them there with gasp and groan,
On the shore of the stranger strewn.

CHORUS.
Didst thou leave him there to lie,
Batanóchus' son, thy faithful eye?
Him didst thou leave on Salamis' shores
Who counted thy thousands by tens and by scores?
The strong Oebáres and Parthus, were they
Left to be lashed by the hostile spray?
The Persian princes—woe! woe! woe!
Hast thou left to the flood and the foe?

XERXES.
Antistrophe III.
—Ah me! ah me!
Balefully, balefully with sharp sorrow,
Thou dost pierce my inmost marrow;
My heart, my heart cries out to hear thee
Name the lost friends I loved so dearly!

CHORUS.
One other name compels my grief,
Xanthus, of Mardian men the chief;
Ancháres the warlike, and lords of the steed
Diaexis, Arsáces that ride with speed?
Lythimnas, Kygdabatas, where be they,
And Tolmos eager for the fray?
Not, I wis, where they wont to be,
Behind the tented car with thee.

XERXES.
Strophe IV.
—They are gone, the generals, gone for ever!

CHORUS.
Lost, and to be heard of never!

XERXES.
Woe worth the day!

CHORUS.
Ye gods! on a public place of woe
Ye set us high;
And Até on the sorrowful show
Doth feast her eye.

XERXES.
Antistrophe IV.
—We are stricken, beyond redemption stricken!

CHORUS.
Stricken of Heaven! with vengeance stricken!

XERXES.
And sore dismay!

CHORUS.
On an evil day we joined the fray,
With the brave Greek name;
From Ionian ships a sheer eclipse
On Persia came.

XERXES.
Strophe V.
—With such an army, struck so dire a blow!

CHORUS.
So great a power, the Persian power, laid low!

XERXES.
These rags, the rest of all my state, behold!

CHORUS.
Ay! we behold.

XERXES.
This arrow-case thou see'st, this quiver alone—

CHORUS,
What sayst thou? this alone?

XERXES.
This arrow-case my all.

CHORUS.
From store how great, remnant how small!

XERXES.
With no friends near, abandoned sheer.

CHORUS.
The Ionian people shrinks not from the spear.

XERXES.
Antistrophe V.
—They face it well. I saw the deadly fight.

CHORUS.
The sea-encounter saw'st thou, and the flight?

XERXES.
Ay! and beholding it I tore my stole.

CHORUS.
O dole! O dole!

XERXES.
More dolorous than dole! and worse than worst!

CHORUS.
O doubly, trebly curst!

XERXES.
To us annoy, to Athens joy!

CHORUS.
Our sinews lamed, our vigor maimed!

XERXES.
Unministered and unattended!

CHORUS.
Alas! thy friends on Salamis were stranded!

XERXES.
Strophe VI.
—Weep, and while the salt tears flow,
To the palace let us go!

CHORUS.
We weep, and, while the salt tears flow,
To the palace with thee go.

XERXES.
Ring the peal both loud and shrill!

CHORUS.
An ill addition is ill to ill.

XERXES.
Swell the echo!—high and higher
Lift the wail to my desire!

CHORUS.
With echoing sorrow, high and higher,
We lift the wail to thy desire.

XERXES.
Heavy came the blow, and stunning.

CHORUS.
From my eyes the tears are running.

XERXES.
Antistrophe VI.
—Lift thine arms and sink them low,
Oaring with the oars of woe!

CHORUS.
Our arms we lift, dark woes deploring,
With the oars of sorrow oaring.

XERXES.
Ring the peal both loud and shrill!

CHORUS.
Grief to grief, and ill to ill.

XERXES.
With shrill melody, high and higher,
Lift the wail to my desire!

CHORUS.
With thrilling melody, high and higher,
We lift the wail to thy desire.

XERXES.
Mingle, mingle sigh with sigh!

CHORUS.
Wail for wail, and cry for cry.

XERXES.
Strophe VII.
—Beat your breast; let sorrow surge,
Like a Mysian wailer's dirge!

CHORUS.
Even as a dirge; a Mysian dirge.

XERXES.
From thy chin the honour tear,
Pluck thy beard of snowy hair!

CHORUS.
We tear, we tear, the snowy hair.

XERXES.
Lift again the thrilling strain!

CHORUS.
Again, again, ascends the strain.

XERXES.
Antistrophe VII.
—From thy breast the white robe tear,
Make thy wounded bosom bare!

CHORUS.
The purfled linen, lo! I tear.

XERXES.
Pluck the honour from thy head,
Weep in baldness for the dead!

CHORUS.
I pluck my locks, and weep the dead.

XERXES.
Weep, weep! till thine eyes be dim!

CHORUS.
With streaming woe, they swim, they swim.

XERXES.
Epode.
—Ring the peal both loud and shrill!

CHORUS.
Grief to grief, and ill to ill!

XERXES.
Go to the palace: go in sadness!

CHORUS.
I tread the ground sure not with gladness.

XERXES.
Let sorrow echo through the city!

CHORUS.
From street to street the wailing ditty.

XERXES.
Sons of Susa, with delicate feet,
Gently, gently tread the street!

CHORUS.
Gently we tread the grief-sown soil.

XERXES.
The ships, the ships by Ajax isle,
The triremes worked our ruin sheer.

CHORUS.
Go. Thy convoy be a tear.

[Exeunt.