Æschylos Tragedies and Fragments
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PUBLISHER'S NOTE
The reception accorded to the pocket edition of Dean Plumptre's “Dante” has encouraged the publishers to issue in the same format the Dean's masterly translation of the Tragedies of Æschylos.
In preparing the present issue they have followed the carefully revised text of the second edition, and have included the scholarly and suggestive annotations with which the Dean invariably delighted to enrich his work as a translator.
The seven Plays, which are all that remain of the seventy or eighty with which Æschylos is credited, are presented in their chronological order. Passages in which the reading or the rendering is more or less conjectural, and in which, accordingly, the aid of the commentator is advisable, are marked by an asterisk; and passages which are regarded as spurious by editors of authority have been placed in brackets.
In translating the Choral Odes the Dean used such unrhymed metres – observing the strophic and antistrophic arrangement – as seemed to him most analogous in their general rhythmical effect to those of the original. He added in an appendix, however, for the sake of those who preferred the rhymed form with which they were familiar, a rhymed version of the chief Odes of the Oresteian trilogy. Those in the other dramas did not appear to him to be of equal interest, or to lend themselves with equal facility to a like attempt. The Greek text on which the translation is based is, for the most part, that of Mr. Paley's edition of 1861.
A translation was also given of the Fragments which have survived the wreck of the lost plays, so that the work contains all that has been left to us associated with the name of Æschylos.
In the present edition a chronological outline has been substituted for the biographical sketch of the poet, who from his daring enlargement of the scope of the drama, the magnificence of his spectacular effects and the splendour of his genius, was rightly honoured as “the Father of Tragedy.”
CHRONOLOGICAL OUTLINE OF THE LIFE OF ÆSCHYLOS
Примечание 11
THE PERSIANS 2
DRAMATIS PERSONÆAtossa
Ghost of Dareios
Messenger
Xerxes
Chorus of Persian Elders
ARGUMENT. – When Xerxes came to the throne of Persia, remembering how his father Dareios had sought to subdue the land of the Hellenes, and seeking to avenge the defeat of Datis and Artaphernes on the field of Marathon, he gathered together a mighty host of all nations under his dominion, and led them against Hellas. And at first he prospered and prevailed, crossed the Hellespont, and defeated the Spartans at Thermopylæ, and took the city of Athens, from which the greater part of its citizens had fled. But at last he and his armament met with utter overthrow at Salamis. Meanwhile Atossa, the mother of Xerxes, with her handmaids and the elders of the Persians, waited anxiously at Susa, where was the palace of the great king, for tidings of her son.
THE PERSIANSScene. – Susa, in front of the palace of Xerxes, the tomb of Dareios occupying the position of the thymele Enter Chorus of Persian EldersWe the title bear of Faithful,3Friends of Persians gone to Hellas,Watchers left of treasure city,4Gold-abounding, whom, as oldest,Xerxes hath himself appointed,He, the offspring of Dareios,As the warders of his country.And about our king's returning,And our army's, gold-abounding,Over-much, and boding evil,Does my mind within me shudder(For our whole force, Asia's offspring,Now is gone), and for our young chiefSorely frets: nor courier cometh,Nor any horseman, bringing tidingsTo the city of the Persians.From Ecbatana departing,Susa, or the Kissian fortress,5Forth they sped upon their journey,Some in ships, and some on horses,Some on foot, still onward marching,In their close array presentingSquadrons duly armed for battle:Then Armistres, Artaphernes,Megabazes, and Astaspes,Mighty leaders of the Persians,Kings, and of the great King servants,6March, the chiefs of mighty army.Archers they and mounted horsemen.Dread to look on, fierce in battle,Artembares proud, on horseback,And Masistres, and Imæos,Archer famed, and Pharandakes,And the charioteer Sosthanes.Neilos mighty and prolificSent forth others, Susikanes,Pegastagon, Egypt's offspring,And the chief of sacred Memphis;Great Arsames, Ariomardos,Ruler of primeval Thebæ,And the marsh-men,7 and the rowers,Dread, and in their number countless.And there follow crowds of Lydians,Very delicate and stately,8Who the people of the mainlandRule throughout – whom MitragathesAnd brave Arkteus, kingly chieftains,Led, from Sardis, gold-abounding,Riding on their many chariots,Three or four a-breast their horses,Sight to look upon all dreadful.And the men of sacred Tmôlos9Rush to place the yoke of bondageOn the neck of conquered Hellas.Mardon, Tharabis, spear-anvils,10And the Mysians, javelin-darting;11Babylôn too, gold-abounding,Sends a mingled cloud, swept onward,Both the troops who man the vessels,And the skilled and trustful bowmen;And the race the sword that beareth,Follows from each clime of Asia,At the great King's dread commandment.These, the bloom of Persia's greatness,Now are gone forth to the battle;And for these, their mother country,Asia, mourns with mighty yearning;Wives and mothers faint with tremblingThrough the hours that slowly linger,Counting each day as it passes.Strophe IThe king's great host, destroying cities mighty,Hath to the land beyond the sea passed over,Crossing the straits of Athamantid Helle,12On raft by ropes secured,And thrown his path, compact of many a vessel,As yoke upon the neck of mighty ocean.Antistrophe IOf populous Asia thus the mighty ruler'Gainst all the land his God-sent host directethIn two divisions, both by land and water,Trusting the chieftains stern,The men who drive the host to fight, relentless —He, sprung from gold-born race, a hero godlike.13Strophe IIGlancing with darkling look, and eyes as of ravening dragon,With many a hand, and many a ship, and Syrian chariot driving,14He upon spearmen renowned brings battle of conquering arrows.15Antistrophe IIYea, there is none so tried as, withstanding the flood of the mighty,To keep within steadfast bounds that wave of ocean resistless;Hard to fight is the host of the Persians, the people stout-hearted.MesodeYet ah! what mortal can ward the craft of the God all-deceiving?Who, with a nimble foot, of one leap is easily sovereign?For Atè, fawning and kind, at first a mortal betraying,Then in snares and meshes decoys him,Whence one who is but man in vain doth struggle to 'scape from.Strophe IIIFor Fate of old, by the high Gods' decree,Prevailed, and on the Persians laid this task,Wars with the crash of towers,And set the surge of horsemen in array,And the fierce sack that lays a city low.Antistrophe IIIBut now they learnt to look on ocean plains,16The wide sea hoary with the violent blast,Waxing o'er confidentIn cables formed of many a slender strand,And rare device of transport for the host.Strophe IVSo now my soul is torn,As clad in mourning, in its sore affright,Ah me! ah me! for all the Persian host!Lest soon our country learnThat Susa's mighty fort is void of men.Antistrophe IVAnd through the Kissians' townShall echo heavy thud of hands on breast.Woe! woe! when all the crowd of women speakThis utterance of great grief,And byssine robes are rent in agony.Strophe VFor all the horses strong,And host that march on foot,Like swarm of bees, have gone with him who ledThe vanguard of the host.Crossing the sea-washed, bridge-built promontoryThat joins the shores of either continent.17Antistrophe VAnd beds with tears are wetIn grief for husbands gone,And Persian wives are delicate in grief,Each yearning for her lord;And each who sent her warrior-spouse to battleNow mourns at home in dreary solitude.But come, ye Persians now,And sitting in this ancient hall of ours,Let us take thought deep-counselling and wise,(Sore need is there of that,)How fareth now the great king Xerxes, heWho calls Dareios sire,Bearing the name our father bore of old?Is it the archers' bow that wins the day?Or does the strength prevailOf iron point that heads the spear's strong shaft?But lo! in glory like the face of gods,The mother of my king, my queen, appears:Let us do reverent homage at her feet;Yea, it is meet that allShould speak to her with words of greeting kind. Enter Atossa in a chariot of stateChor. O sovereign queen of Persian wives deep-zoned,Mother of Xerxes, reverend in thine age,Wife of Dareios! hail!'Twas thine to join in wedlock with a spouseWhom Persians owned as God,18And of a God thou art the mother too,Unless its ancient Fortune fails our host.Atoss. Yes, thus I come, our gold-decked palace leaving,The bridal bower Dareios with me slept in.Care gnaws my heart, but now I tell you plainlyA tale, my friends, which may not leave me fearless,Lest boastful wealth should stumble at the threshold,And with his foot o'erturn the prosperous fortuneThat great Dareios raised with Heaven's high blessing.And twofold care untold my bosom haunteth:We may not honour wealth that has no warriors,Nor on the poor shines light to strength proportioned;Wealth without stint we have, yet for our eye we tremble;For as the eye of home I deem a master's presence.Wherefore, ye Persians, aid me now in counsel;Trusty and old, in you lies hope of wisdom.Chor. Queen of our land! be sure thou need'st not utterOr thing or word twice o'er, which power may point to;Thou bid'st us counsel give who fain would serve thee.Atoss. Ever with many visions of the night19Am I encompassed, since my son went forth,Leading a mighty host, with aim to sackThe land of the Ionians. But ne'er yetHave I beheld a dream so manifestAs in the night just past. And this I'll tell thee:There stood by me two women in fair robes;And this in Persian garments was arrayed,And that in Dorian came before mine eyes;In stature both of tallest, comeliest size;And both of faultless beauty, sisters twainOf the same stock.20 And they twain had their homes,One in the Hellenic, one in alien land.And these two, as I dreamt I saw, were setAt variance with each other. And my sonLearnt it, and checked and mollified their wrath,And yokes them to his chariot, and his collarHe places on their necks. And one was proudOf that equipment,21 and in harness gaveHer mouth obedient; but the other kicked,And tears the chariot's trappings with her hands,And rushes off uncurbed, and breaks its yokeAsunder. And my son falls low, and thenHis father comes, Dareios, pitying him.And lo! when Xerxes sees him, he his clothesRends round his limbs. These things I say I sawIn visions of the night; and when I rose,And dipped my hands in fountain flowing clear,22I at the altar stood with hand that boreSweet incense, wishing holy chrism to pourTo the averting Gods whom thus men worship.And I beheld an eagle in full flightTo Phœbos' altar-hearth; and then, my friends,I stood, struck dumb with fear; and next I sawA kite pursuing, in her wingèd course,And with his claws tearing the eagle's head,Which did nought else but crouch and yield itself.Such terrors it has been my lot to see,And yours to hear: For be ye sure, my son,If he succeed, will wonder-worthy prove;But if he fail, still irresponsibleHe to the people, and in either case,He, should he but return, is sovereign still.23Chor. We neither wish, O Lady, thee to frightenO'ermuch with what we say, nor yet encourage:But thou, the Gods adoring with entreaties,If thou hast seen aught ill, bid them avert it,And that all good things may receive fulfilmentFor thee, thy children, and thy friends and country.And next 'tis meet libations due to offerTo Earth and to the dead. And ask thy husband,Dareios, whom thou say'st by night thou sawest,With kindly mood from 'neath the Earth to send theeGood things to light for thee and for thine offspring,While adverse things shall fade away in darkness.Such things do I, a self-taught seer, advise theeIn kindly mood, and any way we reckonThat good will come to thee from out these omens.Atoss. Well, with kind heart, hast thou, as first expounder,Out of my dreams brought out a welcome meaningFor me, and for my sons; and thy good wishes,May they receive fulfilment! And this also,As thou dost bid, we to the Gods will offerAnd to our friends below, when we go homeward.But first, my friends, I wish to hear of Athens,Where in the world do men report it standeth?24Chor. Far to the West, where sets our king the Sun-God.Atoss. Was it this city my son wished to capture?Chor. Aye, then would Hellas to our king be subject.Atoss. And have they any multitude of soldiers?Chor. A mighty host, that wrought the Medes much mischief.Atoss. And what besides? Have they too wealth sufficing?Chor. A fount of silver have they, their land's treasure.25Atoss. Have they a host in archers' skill excelling?Chor. Not so, they wield the spear and shield and bucklers.26Atoss. What shepherd rules and lords it o'er their people?Chor. Of no man are they called the slaves or subjects.Atoss. How then can they sustain a foe invading?Chor. So that they spoiled Dareios' goodly army.Atoss. Dread news is thine for sires of those who're marching.Chor. Nay, but I think thou soon wilt know the whole truth;This running one may know is that of Persian:27For good or evil some clear news he bringeth. Enter MessengerMess. O cities of the whole wide land of Asia!O soil of Persia, haven of great wealth!How at one stroke is brought to nothingnessOur great prosperity, and all the flowerOf Persia's strength is fallen! Woe is me!'Tis ill to be the first to bring ill news;Yet needs must I the whole woe tell, ye Persians:All our barbaric mighty host is lost.28Strophe IChor. O piteous, piteous woe!O strange and dread event!Weep, O ye Persians, hearing this great grief!Mess. Yea, all things there are ruined utterly;And I myself beyond all hopes beholdThe light of day at home.Antistrophe IChor. O'er-long doth life appearTo me, bowed down with years,On hearing this unlooked-for misery.Mess. And I, indeed, being present and not hearingThe tales of others, can report, ye Persians,What ills were brought to pass.Strophe IIChor. Alas, alas! in vainThe many-weaponed and commingled hostWent from the land of Asia to invadeThe soil divine of Hellas.Mess. Full of the dead, slain foully, are the coastsOf Salamis, and all the neighbouring shore.Antistrophe IIChor. Alas, alas! sea-tossedThe bodies of our friends, and much disstained:Thou say'st that they are drifted to and froIn far out-floating garments.29Mess. E'en so; our bows availed not, but the hostHas perished, conquered by the clash of ships.Strophe IIIChor. Wail, raise a bitter cryAnd full of woe, for those who died in fight.How every way the Gods have wrought out ill,Ah me! ah me, our army all destroyed.Mess. O name of Salamis that most I loathe!Ah, how I groan, remembering Athens too!Antistrophe IIIChor. Yea, to her enemiesAthens may well be hateful, and our mindsRemember how full many a Persian wifeShe, for no cause, made widows and bereaved.Atoss. Long time I have been silent in my woe,Crushed down with grief; for this calamityExceeds all power to tell the woe, or ask.Yet still we mortals needs must bear the griefsThe Gods send on us. Clearly tell thy tale,Unfolding the whole mischief, even thoughThou groan'st at evils, who there is not dead,And which of our chief captains we must mourn,And who, being set in office o'er the host,Left by their death their office desolate.Mess. Xerxes still lives and sees the light of day.Atoss. To my house, then, great light thy words have brought,Bright dawn of morning after murky night.Mess. Artembares, the lord of myriad horse,On the hard flinty coasts of the SileniIs now being dashed; and valiant Dadakes,Captain of thousands, smitten with the spear,Leapt wildly from his ship. And Tenagon,Best of the true old Bactrians, haunts the soilOf Aias' isle; Lilaios, Arsames,And with them too Argestes, there defeated,Hard by the island where the doves abound,30Beat here and there upon the rocky shore.[And from the springs of Neilos, Ægypt's stream,Arkteus, Adeues, Pheresseues too,These with Pharnuchos in one ship were lost;]Matallos, Chrysa-born, the captain boldOf myriads, leader he of swarthy horseSome thrice ten thousand strong, has fallen low,His red beard, hanging all its shaggy length,Deep dyed with blood, and purpled all his skin.Arabian Magos, Bactrian Artames,They perished, settlers in a land full rough.[Amistris and Amphistreus, guiding wellThe spear of many a conflict, and the nobleAriomardos, leaving bitter griefFor Sardis; and the Mysian Seisames.]With twelve score ships and ten came Tharybis;Lyrnæan he in birth, once fair in form,He lies, poor wretch, a death inglorious dying:And, first in valour proved, Syennesis,Kilikian satrap, who, for one man, gaveMost trouble to his foes, and nobly died.Of leaders such as these I mention make,And out of many evils tell but few.Atoss. Woe, woe! I hear the very worst of ills,Shame to the Persians, cause of bitter wail;But tell me, going o'er the ground again,How great the number of the Hellenes' navy,That they presumed with Persia's armamentTo wage their warfare in the clash of ships.Mess. As far as numbers went, be sure the shipsOf Persia had the better, for the HellenesHad, as their total, ships but fifteen score,And other ten selected as reserve.31And Xerxes (well I know it) had a thousandWhich he commanded – those that most excelled32In speed were twice five score and seven in number;So stands the account. Deem'st thou our forces lessIn that encounter? Nay, some Power aboveDestroyed our host, and pressed the balance downWith most unequal fortune, and the GodsPreserve the city of the Goddess Pallas.Atoss. Is the Athenians' city then unsacked?Mess. Their men are left, and that is bulwark strong.33Atoss. Next tell me how the fight of ships began.Who led the attack? Were those Hellenes the first,Or was't my son, exulting in his strength?Mess. The author of the mischief, O my mistress,Was some foul fiend or Power on evil bent;For lo! a Hellene from the Athenian host34Came to thy son, to Xerxes, and spake thus,That should the shadow of the dark night come,The Hellenes would not wait him, but would leapInto their rowers' benches, here and there,And save their lives in secret, hasty flight.And he forthwith, this hearing, knowing notThe Hellene's guile, nor yet the Gods' great wrath,Gives this command to all his admirals,Soon as the sun should cease to burn the earthWith his bright rays, and darkness thick invadeThe firmament of heaven, to set their shipsIn threefold lines, to hinder all escape,And guard the billowy straits, and others placeIn circuit round about the isle of Aias:For if the Hellenes 'scaped an evil doom,And found a way of secret, hasty flight,It was ordained that all should lose their heads.35Such things he spake from soul o'erwrought with pride,For he knew not what fate the Gods would send;And they, not mutinous, but prompt to serve,Then made their supper ready, and each sailorFastened his oar around true-fitting thole;And when the sunlight vanished, and the nightHad come, then each man, master of an oar,Went to his ship, and all men bearing arms,And through the long ships rank cheered loud to rank;And so they sail, as 'twas appointed each,And all night long the captains of the fleetKept their men working, rowing to and fro;Night then came on, and the Hellenic hostIn no wise sought to take to secret flight.And when day, bright to look on with white steeds,O'erspread the earth, then rose from the HellenesLoud chant of cry of battle, and forthwithEcho gave answer from each island rock;And terror then on all the Persians fell,Of fond hopes disappointed. Not in flightThe Hellenes then their solemn pæans sang:But with brave spirit hasting on to battle.With martial sound the trumpet fired those ranks;And straight with sweep of oars that flew through foam,They smote the loud waves at the boatswain's call;And swiftly all were manifest to sight.Then first their right wing moved in order meet;36Next the whole line its forward course began,And all at once we heard a mighty shout, —“O sons of Hellenes, forward, free your country;Free too your wives, your children, and the shrinesBuilt to your fathers' Gods, and holy tombsYour ancestors now rest in. Now the fightIs for our all.” And on our side indeedArose in answer din of Persian speech,And time to wait was over; ship on shipDashed its bronze-pointed beak, and first a barqueOf Hellas did the encounter fierce begin,37And from Phœnikian vessel crashes offHer carved prow. And each against his neighbourSteers his own ship: and first the mighty floodOf Persian host held out. But when the shipsWere crowded in the straits,38 nor could they giveHelp to each other, they with mutual shocks,With beaks of bronze went crushing each the other,Shivering their rowers' benches. And the shipsOf Hellas, with manœuvring not unskilful,Charged circling round them. And the hulls of shipsFloated capsized, nor could the sea be seen,Strown, as it was, with wrecks and carcases;And all the shores and rocks were full of corpses.And every ship was wildly rowed in fight,All that composed the Persian armament.And they, as men spear tunnies,39 or a haulOf other fishes, with the shafts of oars,Or spars of wrecks went smiting, cleaving down;And bitter groans and wailings overspreadThe wide sea-waves, till eye of swarthy nightBade it all cease: and for the mass of ills,Not, though my tale should run for ten full days,Could I in full recount them. Be assuredThat never yet so great a multitudeDied in a single day as died in this.Atoss. Ah, me! Great then the sea of ills that breaksOn Persia and the whole barbaric host.Mess. Be sure our evil fate is but half o'er:On this has supervened such bulk of woe,As more than twice to outweigh what I've told.Atoss. And yet what fortune could be worse than this?Say, what is this disaster which thou tell'st,That turns the scale to greater evils still?Mess. Those Persians that were in the bloom of life,Bravest in heart and noblest in their blood,And by the king himself deemed worthiest trust,Basely and by most shameful death have died.Atoss. Ah! woe is me, my friends, for our ill fate!What was the death by which thou say'st they perished?Mess. There is an isle that lies off Salamis,40Small, with bad anchorage for ships, where Pan,Pan the dance-loving, haunts the sea-washed coast.There Xerxes sends these men, that when their foes,Being wrecked, should to the islands safely swim,They might with ease destroy th' Hellenic host,And save their friends from out the deep sea's paths;But ill the future guessing: for when GodGave the Hellenes the glory of the battle,In that same hour, with arms well wrought in bronzeShielding their bodies, from their ships they leapt,And the whole isle encircled, so that weWere sore distressed,41 and knew not where to turn;For here men's hands hurled many a stone at them;And there the arrows from the archer's bowSmote and destroyed them; and with one great rush,At last advancing, they upon them dashAnd smite, and hew the limbs of these poor wretches,Till they each foe had utterly destroyed.[And Xerxes when he saw how deep the ill,42Groaned out aloud, for he had ta'en his seat,With clear, wide view of all the army round,On a high cliff hard by the open sea;And tearing then his robes with bitter cry,And giving orders to his troops on shore,He sends them off in foul retreat. This grief'Tis thine to mourn besides the former ills.]Atoss. O hateful Power, how thou of all their hopesHast robbed the Persians! Bitter doom my sonDevised for glorious Athens, nor did they,The invading host who fell at Marathon,Suffice; but my son, counting it his taskTo exact requital for it, brought on himSo great a crowd of sorrows. But I pray,As to those ships that have this fate escaped,Where did'st thou leave them? Can'st thou clearly tell?Mess. The captains of the vessels that were left,With a fair wind, but not in meet array,Took flight: and all the remnant of the armyFell in Bœotia – some for stress of thirstAbout the fountain clear, and some of us,Panting for breath, cross to the Phokians' land,The soil of Doris, and the Melian gulf,Where fair Spercheios waters all the plainsWith kindly flood, and then the Achæan fieldsAnd city of the Thessali received us,Famished for lack of food;43 and many diedOf thirst and hunger, for both ills we bore;And then to the Magnetian land we came,And that of Macedonians, to the streamOf Axios, and Bolbe's reed-grown marsh,And Mount Pangaios and the Edonian land.And on that night God sent a mighty frost,Unwonted at that season, sealing upThe whole course of the Strymon's pure, clear flood;44And they who erst had deemed the Gods as nought,Then prayed with hot entreaties, worshippingBoth earth and heaven. And after that the hostCeased from its instant calling on the Gods,It crosses o'er the glassy, frozen stream;And whosoe'er set forth before the raysOf the bright God were shed abroad, was saved;For soon the glorious sun with burning blazeReached the mid-stream and warmed it with its flame,And they, confused, each on the other fell.Blest then was he whose soul most speedilyBreathed out its life. And those who yet survivedAnd gained deliverance, crossing with great toilAnd many a pang through Thrakè, now are come,Escaped from perils, no great number they,To this our sacred land, and so it groans,This city of the Persians, missing muchOur country's dear-loved youth. Too true my tale,And many things I from my speech omit,Ills which the Persians suffer at God's hand.Chor. O Power resistless, with what weight of woeOn all the Persian race have thy feet leapt!Atoss. Ah! woe is me for that our army lost!O vision of the night that cam'st in dreams,Too clearly did'st thou show me of these ills!But ye (to Chorus) did judge them far too carelessly;Yet since your counsel pointed to that course,I to the Gods will first my prayer address.And then with gifts to Earth and to the Dead,Bringing the chrism from my store, I'll come.For our past ills, I know, 'tis all too late,But for the future, I may hope, will dawnA better fortune! But 'tis now your partIn these our present ills, in counsel faithfulTo commune with the Faithful; and my son,Should he come here before me, comfort him,And home escort him, lest he add fresh illTo all these evils that we suffer now. [ExitChor. Zeus our king, who now to nothingBring'st the army of the Persians,Multitudinous, much boasting;And with gloomy woe hast shroudedBoth Ecbatana and Susa;Many maidens now are tearingWith their tender hands their mantles,And with tear-floods wet their bosoms,In the common grief partaking;And the brides of Persian warriors,Dainty even in their wailing,Longing for their new-wed husbands,Reft of bridal couch luxurious,With its coverlet so dainty,Losing joy of wanton youth-time,Mourn in never-sated wailings.And I too in fullest measureRaise again meet cry of sorrow,Weeping for the loved and lost ones.Strophe IFor now the land of Asia mourneth sore,Left desolate of men,'Twas Xerxes led them forth, woe! woe!'Twas Xerxes lost them all, woe! woe!'Twas Xerxes who with evil counsels spedTheir course in sea-borne barques.Why was Dareios erst so free from harm,First bowman of the state,The leader whom the men of Susa loved,Antistrophe IWhile those who fought as soldiers or at sea,These ships, dark-hulled, well-rowed,Their own ships bore them on, woe! woe!Their own ships lost them all, woe! woe!Their own ships, in the crash of ruin urged,And by Ionian hands?45The king himself, we hear, but hardly 'scapes,Through Thrakè's widespread steppes,And paths o'er which the tempests wildly sweep.Strophe IIAnd they who perished first, ah me!Perforce unburied left, alas!Are scattered round Kychreia's shore,46 woe! woe!Lament, mourn sore, and raise a bitter cry,Grievous, the sky to pierce, woe! woe!And let thy mourning voice uplift its strainOf loud and full lament.Antistrophe IITorn by the whirling flood, ah me!Their carcases are gnawed, alas!By the dumb brood of stainless sea, woe! woe!And each house mourneth for its vanished lord;And childless sires, woe! woe!Mourning in age o'er griefs the Gods have sent,Now hear their utter loss.Strophe IIIAnd throughout all Asia's bordersNone now own the sway of Persia,Nor bring any more their tribute,Owning sway of sovereign master.Low upon the Earth, laid prostrate,Is the strength of our great monarchAntistrophe IIINo more need men keep in silenceTongues fast bound: for now the peopleMay with freedom speak at pleasure;For the yoke of power is broken;And blood-stained in all its meadowsHolds the sea-washed isle of AiasWhat was once the host of Persia. Re-enter AtossaAtoss. Whoe'er, my friends, is vexed in troublous times,Knows that when once a tide of woe sets in,A man is wont to fear in everything;But when Fate flows on smoothly, then to trustThat the same Fate will ever send fair gales.So now all these disasters from the GodsSeem in mine eyes filled full of fear and dread,And in mine ears rings cry unpæanlike,So great a dread of all has seized my soul:And therefore now, without or chariot's stateOr wonted pomp, have I thus issued forthFrom out my palace, to my son's sire bringingLibations loving, gifts propitiatory,Meet for the dead; milk pure and white from cowUnblemished, and bright honey that distilsFrom the flower-working bee, and water drawnFrom virgin fountain, and the draught unmarredFrom mother wild, bright child of ancient vine;And here too of the tree that evermoreKeeps its fresh life in foliage, the pale olive,Is the sweet-smelling fruit, and twinèd wreathsOf flowers, the children of all-bearing earth.47But ye, my friends, o'er these libations pouredIn honour of the dead, chant forth your hymns,And call upon Dareios as a God:While I will send unto the Gods belowThese votive offerings which the earth shall drink.[Goes to the tomb of Dareios in the centreof the stageChor. O royal lady, honoured of the Persians,Do thou libations pourTo the dark chambers of the dead below;And we with hymns will prayThe Powers that act as escorts of the deadTo give us kindly help beneath the earth.But oh, ye holy Ones in darkness dwelling,Hermes and Earth, and thou, the Lord of Hell,Send from beneath a soulUp to the light of earth;For should he know a cure for these our ills,He, he alone of men, their end may tell.Strophe IDoth he, the blest one hear,The king, like Gods in power,Hear me, as I send forthMy cries in barbarous speech,Yet very clear to him, —Sad, varied, broken criesSo as to tell aloudOur troubles terrible?Ah, doth he hear below?Antistrophe IBut thou, O Earth, and ye,The other Lords of thoseBeneath the grave that dwell;Grant that the godlike oneMay come from out your home,The Persians' mighty God,In Susa's palace born;Send him, I pray you, up,The like of whom the soilOf Persia never hid.Strophe IIDear was our chief, and dear to us his tomb,For dear the life it hides;Aidoneus, O Aidoneus, send him forth,Thou who dost lead the dead to Earth again,Yea, send Dareios… What a king was he!Antistrophe IIFor never did he in war's bloody woeLose all his warrior-host,But Heaven-taught Counsellor the Persians called him,And Heaven-taught Counsellor in truth he proved,Since he still ruled his hosts of subjects well.Strophe IIIMonarch, O ancient monarch, come, oh, come,Come to the summit of sepulchral mound,Lifting thy foot encasedIn slipper saffron-dyed,And giving to our viewThy royal tiara's crest:48Speak, O Dareios, faultless father, speak.Antistrophe IIIYea, come, that thou, O Lord, may'st hear the woes,Woes new and strange, our lord has now endured;For on us now has fallenA dark and Stygian mist,Since all the armed youthHas perished utterly;Speak, O Dareios, faultless father, speak.EpodeO thou, whose death thy friendsBewail with many tears,Why thus, O Lord of lords,In double error of wild frenzy born,Have all our triremes goodBeen lost to this our land,Ships that are ships no more, yea, ships no more? The Ghost of Dareios appears on the summit of themoundDar. O faithful of the Faithful, ye who wereCompanions of my youth, ye Persian elders,What troubles is't my country toils beneath?The whole plain groans, cut up and furrowed o'er,49And I, beholding now my queen belovedStanding hard by my sepulchre, feared much,And her libations graciously received;But ye wail loud near this my sepulchre,And shouting shrill with cries that raise the dead,Ye call me with your plaints. No easy taskIs it to come, for this cause above all,That the great Gods who reign below are apterTo seize men than release: yet natheless I,Being great in power among them, now am come.Be quick then, that none blame me as too late;50What new dire evils on the Persians weigh?Chor. I fear to look on thee,Fear before thee to speak,With all the awe of thee I felt of old.Dar. But since I came by thy complaints persuaded,From below rising, spin no lengthened tale;But shortly, clearly speak, and tell thy story,And leave awhile thine awe and fear of me.Chor. I dread thy wish to grant,I dread to say thee nay,51Saying things that it is hard for friends to speak.Dar. Nay, then, since that old dread of thine prevents thee,Do thou [to Atossa], the ancient partner of my bed,My noble queen, from these thy plaints and moaningsCease, and say something clearly. Human sorrowsMay well on mortals fall; for many evils,Some on the sea, and some on dry land also,Happen to men if life be far prolongèd.Atoss. O thou, who in the fate of fair good fortuneExcelled'st all men, who, while yet thou sawestThe sun's bright rays, did'st lead a life all blessed,Admired, yea, worshipped as a God by Persians,Now, too, I count thee blest in that thou died'stBefore thou saw'st the depth of these our evils.For now, Dareios, thou shalt hear a storyFull, yet in briefest moment. Utter ruin,To sum up all, is come upon the Persians.Dar. How so? Hath plague or discord seized my country?Atoss. Not so, but all the host is lost near Athens.Dar. What son of mine led that host hither, tell me?52Atoss. Xerxes o'er-hasty, emptying all the mainland.Dar. Made he this mad attempt by land or water?Atoss. By both; two lines there were of two great armies.Dar. How did so great a host effect its passage?Atoss. He bridged the straits of Helle, and found transit.Dar. Did he prevail to close the mighty Bosporos?Atoss. So was it; yet some God, it may be, helped him.Dar. Alas! some great God came and stole his wisdom.Atoss. Yea, the end shows what evil he accomplished.Dar. And how have they fared, that ye thus bewail them?Atoss. The naval host, o'ercome, wrecked all the land-force.Dar. What! Is the whole host by the spear laid prostrate?Atoss. For this doth Susa's city mourn her losses.Dar. Alas, for that brave force and mighty army!Atoss. The Bactrians all are lost, not old men merely.Dar. Poor fool! how he hath lost his host's fresh vigour!Atoss. Xerxes, they say, alone, with but few others…Dar. What is his end, and where? Is there no safety?Atoss. Was glad to gain the bridge that joins two mainlands.Dar. And has he reached this mainland? Is that certain?Atoss. Yea, the report holds good. Here is no discord.53Dar. Ah me! Full swift the oracles' fulfilment!And on my son hath Zeus their end directed.I hoped the Gods would work them out more slowly;But when man hastens, God too with him worketh.And now for all my friends a fount of evilsSeems to be found. And this my son, not knowing,In youth's rash mood, hath wrought; for he did purposeTo curb the sacred Hellespont with fetters,As though it were his slave, and sought to alterThe stream of God, the Bosporos, full-flowing,And his well-hammered chains around it casting,Prevailed to make his mighty host a highway;And though a mortal, thought, with no good counsel,To master all the Gods, yea, e'en Poseidon.Nay, was not my poor son oppressed with madness?And much I fear lest all my heaped-up treasureBecome the spoil and prey of the first comer.Atoss. Such things the o'er-hasty Xerxes learns from others,By intercourse with men of evil counsel;54Who say that thou great wealth for thy son gained'stBy thy spear's might, while he with coward spiritDoes his spear-work indoors, and nothing addethUnto his father's glory. Such reproachesHearing full oft from men of evil counsel,He planned this expedition against Hellas.Dar. Thus then a deed portentous hath been wrought,Ever to be remembered, such as ne'erFalling on Susa made it desolate,Since Zeus our king ordained this dignity,That one man should be lord of Asia's plains.Where feed her thousand flocks, and hold the rodOf sovran guidance: for the Median first55Ruled o'er the host, and then his son in turnFinished the work, for reason steered his soul;And Kyros came as third, full richly blest,And ruled, and gained great peace for all his friends;And he won o'er the Lydians and the Phrygians,And conquered all the wide Ionian land;56For such his wisdom, he provoked not God.And Kyros' son came fourth, and ruled the host;And Mardos fifth held sway, his country's shame,57Shame to the ancient throne; and him with guileArtaphrenes58 the brave smote down, close leaguedWith men, his friends, to whom the work was given.[Sixth, Maraphis and seventh Artaphrenes,]And I obtained this post that I desired,And with a mighty host great victories won.Yet no such evil brought I on the state;But my son Xerxes, young, thinks like a youth,And all my solemn charge remembers not;For know this well, my old companions true,That none of us who swayed the realm of old,Did e'er appear as working ills like these.Chor. What then, O King Dareios? To what endLead'st thou thy speech? And how, in this our plight,Could we, the Persian people, prosper best?Dar. If ye no more attack the Hellenes' land,E'en though the Median host outnumbers theirs.To them the very land is true ally.Chor. What meanest thou? How fights the land for them?Dar. *It slays with famine those vast multitudes.Chor. We then a host, select, compact, will raise.Dar. Nay, e'en the host which now in Hellas stays59Will ne'er return in peace and safety home.Chor. How say'st thou? Does not all the barbarous hostCross from Europa o'er the straits of Hellè?Dar. But few of many; if 'tis meet for oneWho looks upon the things already doneTo trust the oracles of Gods; for they,Not these or those, but all, are brought to pass:If this be so, then, resting on vain hopes,60He leaves a chosen portion of his host:And they abide where, watering all the plain,Asôpos pours his fertilising streamDear to Bœotian land; and there of illsThe topmost crown awaits them, penaltyOf wanton outrage and of godless thoughts;For they to Hellas coming, held not backIn awe from plundering sculptured forms of Gods61And burning down their temples; and laid lowAre altars, and the shrines of Gods o'erthrown,E'en from their base. They therefore having wroughtDeeds evil, now are suffering, and will sufferEvil not less, and not as yet is seenE'en the bare groundwork of the ills, but stillThey grow up to completeness. Such a streamOf blood and slaughter soon shall flow from themBy Dorian spear upon Platæan ground,62And heaps of corpses shall to children's children,Though speechless, witness to the eyes of menThat mortal man should not wax overproud;For wanton pride from blossom grows to fruit,The full corn in the ear, of utter woe,And reaps a tear-fraught harvest. Seeing then,Such recompense of these things, cherish wellThe memory of Athens and of Hellas;Let no man in his scorn of present fortune,And thirst for other, mar his good estate;Zeus is the avenger of o'er-lofty thoughts,A terrible controller. Therefore now,Since voice of God bids him be wise of heart,Admonish him with counsel true and goodTo cease his daring sacrilegious pride;And thou, O Xerxes' mother, old and dear,Go to thy home, and taking what apparelIs fitting, go to meet thy son; for allThe costly robes around his limbs are tornTo rags and shreds in grief's wild agony.But do thou gently soothe his soul with words;For he to thee alone will deign to hearken;But I must leave the earth for darkness deep:And ye, old men, farewell, although in woe,And give your soul its daily bread of joy;For to the dead no profit bringeth wealth.[Exit, disappearing in the earth.Chor. I shudder as I hear the many woesBoth past and present that on Persians fall.Atoss. [O God, how many evils fall on me!63And yet this one woe biteth more than all,Hearing my son's shame in the rags of robesThat clothe his limbs. But I will go and takeA fit adornment from my house, and tryTo meet my son. We will not in his troublesBasely abandon him whom most we love.]Strophe IChor. Ah me! a glorious and a blessed lifeHad we as subjects once,When our old king, Dareios, ruled the land,Meeting all wants, dispassionate, supreme,A monarch like a God.Antistrophe IFor first we showed the world our noble hosts;And laws of tower-like strengthDirected all things; and our backward marchAfter our wars unhurt, unsuffering ledOur prospering armies home.Strophe IIHow many towns he took,Not crossing Halys' stream64Nor issuing from his home,There where in Strymon's sea,The Acheloian Isles65Lie near the coasts of Thrakian colonies.Antistrophe IIAnd those that lie outside the Ægæan main,The cities girt with towers,They hearkened to our king;And those who boast their siteBy Hellè's full, wide stream,Propontis with its bays, and mouth of Pontos broad.Strophe IIIAnd all the isles that lieFacing the headland jutting in the sea,66Close bound to this our coast;Lesbos, and Samos with its olive groves;Chios and Paros too;Naxos and Myconos, and Andros tooOn Tenos bordering.Antistrophe IIIAnd so he ruled the islesThat lie midway between the continents,Lemnos, and Icaros,Rhodes and Cnidos and the Kyprian towns,Paphos and Soli famed,And with them Salamis,Whose parent city now our groans doth cause;67EpodeAnd many a wealthy town and populous,Of Hellenes in the Ionian region dwelling,He by his counsel ruled;His was the unconquered strength of warrior host,Allies of mingled race.And now, beyond all doubt,In strife of war defeated utterly,We find this high estateThrough wrath of God o'erturned,And we are smitten low,By bitter loss at sea. Enter Xerxes in kingly apparel, but with his robes rent, with AttendantsXer. Oh, miserable me!Who this dark hateful doomThat I expected leastHave met with as my lot,With what stern mood and fierceTowards the Persian raceIs God's hand laid on us!What woe will come on me?Gone is my strength of limb,As I these elders see.Ah, would to Heaven, O Zeus,That with the men who fellDeath's doom had covered me!Chor. Ah, woe, O King, woe! woe!For the army brave in fight,And our goodly Persian name,And the fair array of men,Whom God hath now cut off!And the land bewails its youthWho for our Xerxes fell,For him whose deeds have filledHades with Persian souls;For many heroes nowAre Hades-travellers,Our country's chosen flower,Mighty with darts and bow;For lo! the myriad massOf men has perished quite.Woe, woe for our fair fame!And Asia's land, O King,Is terribly, most terribly, o'erthrown.Xer. I then, oh misery!Have to my curse been provedSore evil to my country and my race.Chor. Yea, and on thy returnI will lift up my voice in wailing loud,Cry of sore-troubled thought,As of a mourner bornIn Mariandynian land,68Lament of many tears.Antistrophe IXer. Yea, utter ye a wailDreary and full of grief;For lo! the face of FateAgainst me now is turned.Chor. Yea, I will raise a cryDreary and full of grief,Giving this tribute dueTo all the people's woes,And all our loss at sea,Troubles of this our StateThat mourneth for her sons;Yea, I will wail full sore,With flood of bitter tears.Strophe IIXer. For Ares, he whose mightWas in our ships' array,Giving victory to our foes,Has in Ionians, yea,Ionians, found his match,And from the dark sea's plain,And that ill-omened shore,Has a fell harvest reaped.Chor. Yea, wail, search out the whole;Where are our other friends?Where thy companions true,Such as Pharandakes,Susas, Pelagon, Psammis, Dotamas,Agdabatas, Susiskanes,From Ecbatana who started?Antistrophe IIXer. I left them low in death,Falling from Tyrian ship,On Salaminian shores,Beating now here, now there,On the hard rock-girt coast.Chor. Ah, where Pharnuchos then,And Ariomardos brave?And where Sevalkes king,Lilæos proud of race,Memphis and Tharybis,Masistras, and Artembares,Hystæchmas? This I ask.Strophe IIIXer. Woe! woe is me!They have looked on at Athens' ancient towers,Her hated towers, ah me!All, as by one fell stroke,Unhappy in their fateLie gasping on the shore.Chor. And he, thy faithful Eye,69Who told the Persian host,Myriads on myriads o'er,70Alpistos, son and heirOf Batanôchos old· · · · ·And the son of brave Sesames,Son himself of Megabates?Parthos, and the great Œbares,Did'st thou leave them, did'st thou leave them?Ah, woe! ah, woe is me,For those unhappy ones!Thou to the Persians braveTellest of ills on ills.Antistrophe IIIXer. Ah, thou dost wake in meThe memory of the spell of yearning loveFor comrades brave and true,Telling of cursed ills,Yea, cursed, hateful doom;And lo, within my frameMy heart cries out, cries out.Chor. Yea, another too we long for,Xanthes, captain of ten thousandMardian warriors, and AncharesArian born, and great ArsakesAnd Diæxis, lords of horsemen,Kigdagatas and Lythimnas,Tolmos, longing for the battle:Much I marvel, much I marvel,71For they come not, as the rear-guardOf thy tent on chariot mounted.72Strophe IVXer. Gone those rulers of the army.Chor. Gone are they in death inglorious.Xer. Ah woe! ah woe! Alas! alas!Chor. Ah! the Gods have sent upon usIll we never thought to look on,Eminent above all others;Ne'er hath Atè seen its equal.Antistrophe IVSmitten we by many sorrows,Such as come on men but seldom.Chor. Smitten we, 'tis all too certain…Xer. Fresh woes! fresh woes! ah me!Chor. Now with adverse turn of fortune,With Ionian seamen meeting,Fails in war the race of Persians.Strophe VXer. Too true. Yea I and that vast host of mineAre smitten down.Chor. Too true – the Persians' majesty and mightHave perished utterly.Xer. See'st thou this remnant of my armament?Chor. I see it, yea, I see.Xer. (pointing to his quiver.) Dost see thou thatwhich arrows wont to hold?..Chor. What speak'st thou of as saved?Xer. This treasure-store for darts.Chor. Few, few of many left!Xer. Thus we all helpers lack.Chor. Ionian soldiers flee not from the spear.Antistrophe VXer. Yea, very brave are they, and I have seenUnlooked-for woe.Chor. Wilt tell of squadron of our sea-borne shipsDefeated utterly?Xer. I tore my robes at this calamity.Chor. Ah me, ah me, ah me.Xer. Ay, more than all 'ah me's'!Chor. Twofold and threefold ills!Xer. Grievous to us – but joy,Great joy, to all our foes!Chor. Lopped off is all our strength.Xer. Stripped bare of escort I!Chor. Yea, by sore loss at seaDisastrous to thy friends.Strophe VIXer. Weep for our sorrow, weep,Yea, go ye to the house.Chor. Woe for our griefs, woe, woe!Xer. Cry out an echoing cry.Chor. Ill gift of ills on ills.Xer. Weep on in wailing chant.Chor. Oh! ah! Oh! ah!Xer. Grievous our bitter woes.Chor. Ah me, I mourn them sore.Antistrophe VIXer. Ply, ply your hands and groan;Yea, for my sake bewail.Chor. I weep in bitter grief.Xer. Cry out an echoing cry.Chor. Yea, we may raise our voice,O Lord and King, in wail.Xer. Raise now shrill cry of woe.Chor. Ah me! Ah! Woe is me!Xer. Yea, with it mingle dark…Chor. And bitter, grievous blows.Strophe VIIXer. Yea, beat thy breast, and cryAfter the Mysian type.Chor. Oh, misery! oh, misery!Xer. Yea, tear the white hair off thy flowing beard.Chor. Yea; with clenched hands, with clenchèd hands, I say,In very piteous guise.Xer. Cry out, cry out aloud.Chor. That also will I do.Antistrophe VIIXer. And with thy fingers tearThy bosom's folded robe.Chor. Oh, misery! oh, misery!Xer. Yea, tear thy hair in wailing for our host.Chor. Yea, with clenched hands, I say, with clenchèd hands,In very piteous guise.Xer. Be thine eyes wet with tears.Chor. Behold the tears stream down.EpodeXer. Raise a re-echoing cry.Chor. Ah woe! ah woe!Xer. Go to thy home with wailing loud and long.Chor. O land of Persia, full of lamentations!Xer. Through the town raise your cries.Chor. We raise them, yea, we raise.Xer. Wail, wail, ye men that walked so daintily.Chor. O land of Persia, full of lamentations!Woe; woe!Xer. Alas for those who in the triremes perished!Chor. With broken cries of woe will I escort thee.[Exeunt in procession, wailing, andrending their robes.