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Persians

CHORUS. Zeus, lord and king! to death and nought Our countless host by thee is brought. Deep in the gloom of death, to-day, Lie Susa and Ecbatana: How many a maid in sorrow stands And rends her tire with tender hands! How tears run down, in common pain And woeful mourning for the slain! O delicate in dole and grief, Ye Persian women! past relief Is now your sorrow! to the war Your loved ones went and come no more! Gone from you is your joy and pride— Severed the bridegroom from the bride— The wedded couch luxurious Is widowed now, and all the house Pines ever with insatiate sighs, And we stand here and bid arise, For those who forth in ardour went And come not back, the loud lament! Land of the East, thou mournest for the host, Bereft of all thy sons, alas the day! For them whom Xerxes led hath Xerxes lost— Xerxes who wrecked the fleet, and flung our hopes away! How came it that Darius once controlled, And without scathe, the army of the bow, Loved by the folk of Susa, wise and bold? Now is the land-force lost, the shipmen sunk below! Ah for the ships that bore them, woe is me! Bore them to death and doom! the crashing prows Of fierce Ionian oarsmen swept the sea, And death was in their wake, and shipwreck murderous! Late, late and hardly—if true tales they tell— Did Xerxes flee along the wintry way And snows of Thrace—but ah, the first who fell Lie by the rocks or float upon Cychrea’s bay! Mourn, each and all! waft heavenward your cry, Stung to the soul, bereaved, disconsolate! Wail out your anguish, till it pierce the sky, In shrieks of deep despair, ill-omened, desperate! The dead are drifting, yea, are gnawed upon By voiceless children of the stainless sea, Or battered by the surge! we mourn and groan For husbands gone to death, for childless agony! Alas the aged men, who mourn to-day The ruinous sorrows that the gods ordain! O’er the wide Asian land, the Persian sway Can force no tribute now, and can no rule sustain. Yea, men will crouch no more to fallen power And kingship overthrown! the whole land o’er, Men speak the thing they will, and from this hour The folk whom Xerxes ruled obey his word no more. The yoke of force is broken from the neck— The isle of Ajax and th’ encircling wave Reek with a bloody crop of death and wreck Of Persia’s fallen power, that none can lift nor save! Re-enter ATOSSA, in mourning robes. ATOSSA. Friends, whosoe’er is versed in human ills, Knoweth right well that when a wave of woe Comes on a man, he sees in all things fear; While, in flood-tide of fortune, ’tis his mood To take that fortune as unchangeable, Wafting him ever forward. Mark me now— The gods’ thwart purpose doth confront mine eyes, And all is terror to me; in mine ears There sounds a cry, but not of triumph now— So am I scared at heart by woe so great. Therefore I wend forth from the house anew, Borne in no car of state, nor robed in pride As heretofore, but bringing, for the sire Who did beget my son, libations meet For holy rites that shall appease the dead— The sweet white milk, drawn from a spotless cow, The oozing drop of golden honey, culled By the flower-haunting bee, and therewithal Pure draughts of water from a virgin spring; And lo! besides, the stainless effluence, Born of the wild vine’s bosom, shining store Treasured to age, this bright and luscious wine. And eke the fragrant fruit upon the bough Of the grey olive-tree, which lives its life In sprouting leafage, and the twining flowers, Bright children of the earth’s fertility. But you, O friends! above these offerings poured To reconcile the dead, ring out your dirge To summon up Darius from the shades, Himself a shade; and I will pour these draughts, Which earth shall drink, unto the gods of hell. CHORUS. Queen, by the Persian land adored, By thee be this libation poured, Passing to those who hold command Of dead men in the spirit-land! And we will sue, in solemn chant, That gods who do escort the dead In nether realms, our prayer may grant— Back to us be Darius led! O Earth, and Hermes, and the king Of Hades, our Darius bring! For if, beyond the prayers we prayed, He knoweth aught of help or aid, He, he alone, in realms below, Can speak the limit of our woe! Doth he hear me, the king we adored, who is god among gods of the dead? Doth he hear me send out in my sorrow the pitiful, manifold cry, The sobbing lament and appeal? is the voice of my suffering sped To the realm of the shades? doth he hear me and pity my sorrowful sigh? O Earth, and ye Lords of the dead! release ye that spirit of might, Who in Susa the palace was born! let him rise up once more to the light! There is none like him, none of all That e’er were laid in Persian sepulchres! Borne forth he was to honoured burial, A royal heart! and followed by our tears. God of the dead, O give him back to us, Darius, ruler glorious! He never wasted us with reckless war— God, counsellor, and king, beneath a happy star! Ancient of days and king, awake and come— Rise o’er the mounded tomb! Rise, plant thy foot, with saffron sandal shod Father to us, and god! Rise with thy diadem, O sire benign, Upon thy brow! List to the strange new sorrows of thy line, Sire of a woeful son! A mist of fate and hell is round us now, And all the city’s flower to death is done! Alas, we wept thee once, and weep again! O Lord of lords, by recklessness twofold The land is wasted of its men, And down to death are rolled Wreckage of sail and oar, Ships that are ships no more, And bodies of the slain! The GHOST OF DARIUS rises. GHOST OF DARIUS. Ye aged Persians, truest of the true, Coevals of the youth that once was mine, What troubleth now our city? harken, how It moans and beats the breast and rends the plain! And I, beholding how my consort stood Beside my tomb, was moved with awe, and took The gift of her libation graciously. But ye are weeping by my sepulchre, And, shrilling forth a sad, evoking cry, Summon me mournfully, Arise, arise. No light thing is it, to come back from death, For, in good sooth, the gods of nether gloom Are quick to seize but late and loth to free! Yet among them I dwell as one in power— And lo, I come! now speak, and speed your words, Lest I be blamed for tarrying overlong! What new disaster broods o’er Persia’s realm? CHORUS. With awe on thee I gaze, And, standing face to face, I tremble as I did in olden days! GHOST OF DARIUS. Nay, but as I rose to earth again, obedient to your call, Prithee, tarry not in parley! be one word enough for all— Speak and gaze on me unshrinking, neither let my face appal! CHORUS. I tremble to reveal, Yet tremble to conceal Things hard for friends to feel! GHOST OF DARIUS. Nay, but if the old-time terror on your spirit keeps its hold, Speak thou, O royal lady who didst couch with me of old! Stay thy weeping and lamenting and to me reveal the truth— Speak! for man is born to sorrow; yea, the proverb sayeth sooth! ’Tis the doom of mortal beings, if they live to see old age, To suffer bale, by land and sea, through war and tempest’s rage. ATOSSA. O thou whose blissful fate on earth all mortal weal excelled— Who, while the sunlight touched thine eyes, the lord of all wert held! A god to Persian men thou wert, in bliss and pride and fame— I hold thee blest too in thy death, or e’er the ruin came! Alas, Darius! one brief word must tell thee all the tale— The Persian power is in the dust, gone down in blood and bale! GHOST OF DARIUS. Speak—by what chance? did man rebel, or pestilence descend? ATOSSA. Neither! by Athens’ fatal shores our army met its end. GHOST OF DARIUS. Which of my children led our host to Athens? speak and say. ATOSSA. The froward Xerxes, leaving all our realm to disarray. GHOST OF DARIUS. Was it with army or with fleet on folly’s quest he went? ATOSSA. With both alike, a twofold front of double armament. GHOST OF DARIUS. And how then did so large a host on foot pass o’er the sea? ATOSSA. He bridged the ford of Helle’s strait by artful carpentry. GHOST OF DARIUS. How? could his craft avail to span the torrent of that tide? ATOSSA. ’Tis sooth I say—some unknown power did fatal help provide! GHOST OF DARIUS. Alas, that power in malice came, to his bewilderment! ATOSSA. Alas, we see the end of all, the ruin on us sent. GHOST OF DARIUS. Speak, tell me how they fared therein, that thus ye mourn and weep? ATOSSA. Disaster to the army came, through ruin on the deep! GHOST OF DARIUS. Is all undone? hath all the folk gone down before the foe? ATOSSA. Yea, hark to Susa’s mourning cry for warriors laid low! GHOST OF DARIUS. Alas for all our gallant aids, our Persia’s help and pride! ATOSSA. Ay! old with young, the Bactrian force hath perished at our side! GHOST OF DARIUS. Alas, my son! what gallant youths hath he sent down to death! ATOSSA. Alone, or with a scanty guard—for so the rumour saith— GHOST OF DARIUS. He came—but how, and to what end? doth aught of hope remain? ATOSSA. With joy he reached the bridge that spanned the Hellespontine main. GHOST OF DARIUS. How? is he safe, in Persian land? speak soothly, yea or nay! ATOSSA. Clear and more clear the rumour comes, for no man to gainsay. GHOST OF DARIUS. Woe for the oracle fulfilled, the presage of the war Launched on my son, by will of Zeus! I deemed our doom afar In lap of time; but, if a king push forward to his fate, The god himself allures to death that man infatuate! So now the very fount of woe streams out on those I loved, And mine own son, unwisely bold, the truth hereof hath proved! He sought to shackle and control the Hellespontine wave, That rushes from the Bosphorus, with fetters of a slave!— To curb and bridge, with welded links, the streaming water-way, And guide across the passage broad his manifold array! Ah, folly void of counsel! he deemed that mortal wight Could thwart the will of Heaven itself and curb Poseidon’s might! Was it not madness? much I fear lest all my wealth and store Pass from my treasure-house, to be the snatcher’s prize once more! ATOSSA. Such is the lesson, ah, too late! to eager Xerxes taught— Trusting random counsellors and hare-brained men of nought, Who said Darius mighty wealth and fame to us did bring, But thou art nought, a blunted spear, a palace-keeping king! Unto those sorry counsellors a ready ear he lent, And led away to Hellas’ shore his fated armament. GHOST OF DARIUS. Therefore through them hath come calamity Most huge and past forgetting; nor of old Did ever such extermination fall Upon the city Susa. Long ago Zeus in his power this privilege bestowed, That with a guiding sceptre one sole man Should rule this Asian land of flock and herd. Over the folk a Mede, Astyages, Did grasp the power: then Cyaxares ruled In his sire’s place, and held the sway aright, Steering his state with watchful wariness. Third in succession, Cyrus, blest of Heaven, Held rule and ’stablished peace for all his clan: Lydian and Phrygian won he to his sway, And wide Ionia to his yoke constrained, For the god favoured his discretion sage. Fourth in the dynasty was Cyrus’ son, And fifth was Mardus, scandal of his land And ancient lineage. Him Artaphrenes, Hardy of heart, within his palace slew, Aided by loyal plotters, set for this. And I too gained the lot for which I craved, And oftentimes led out a goodly host, Yet never brought disaster such as this Upon the city. But my son is young And reckless in his youth, and heedeth not The warnings of my mouth. Mark this, my friends, Born with my birth, coeval with mine age— Not all we kings who held successive rule Have wrought, combined, such ruin as my son! CHORUS. How then, O King Darius? whitherward Dost thou direct thy warning? from this plight How can we Persians fare towards hope again? GHOST OF DARIUS. By nevermore assailing Grecian lands, Even tho’ our Median force be double theirs— For the land’s self protects its denizens. CHORUS. How meanest thou? by what defensive power? GHOST OF DARIUS. She wastes by famine a too countless foe. CHORUS. But we will bring a host more skilled than huge. GHOST OF DARIUS. Why, e’en that army, camped in Hellas still, Shall never win again to home and weal! CHORUS. How say’st thou? will not all the Asian host Pass back from Europe over Helle’s ford? GHOST OF DARIUS. Nay—scarce a tithe of all those myriads, If man may trust the oracles of Heaven When he beholds the things already wrought, Not false with true, but true with no word false If what I trow be truth, my son has left A chosen rear-guard of our host, in whom He trusts, now, with a random confidence! They tarry where Asopus laves the ground With rills that softly bless Boeotia’s plain— There is it fated for them to endure The very crown of misery and doom, Requital for their god-forgetting pride! For why? they raided Hellas, had the heart To wrong the images of holy gods, And give the shrines and temples to the flame! Defaced and dashed from sight the altars fell, And each god’s image, from its pedestal Thrust and flung down, in dim confusion lies! Therefore, for outrage vile, a doom as dark They suffer, and yet more shall undergo— They touch no bottom in the swamp of doom, But round them rises, bubbling up, the ooze! So deep shall lie the gory clotted mass Of corpses by the Dorian spear transfixed Upon Plataea’s field! yea, piles of slain To the third generation shall attest By silent eloquence to those that see— Let not a mortal vaunt him overmuch. For pride grows rankly, and to ripeness brings The curse of fate, and reaps, for harvest, tears! Therefore when ye behold, for deeds like these, Such stern requital paid, remember then Athens and Hellas. Let no mortal wight, Holding too lightly of his present weal And passionate for more, cast down and spill The mighty cup of his prosperity! Doubt not that over-proud and haughty souls Zeus lours in wrath, exacting the account. Therefore, with wary warning, school my son, Though he be lessoned by the gods already, To curb the vaunting that affronts high Heaven! And thou, O venerable Mother-queen, Beloved of Xerxes, to the palace pass And take therefrom such raiment as befits Thy son, and go to meet him: for his garb In this extremity of grief hangs rent Around his body, woefully unstitched, Mere tattered fragments of once royal robes! Go thou to him, speak soft and soothing words— Thee, and none other, will he bear to hear, As well I know. But I must pass away From earth above, unto the nether gloom; Therefore, old men, take my farewell, and clasp, Even amid the ruin of this time, Unto your souls the pleasure of the day, For dead men have no profit of their gold! [The GHOST OF DARIUS sinks.] CHORUS. Alas, I thrill with pain for Persia’s woes— Many fulfilled, and others hard at hand! ATOSSA. O spirit of the race, what sorrows crowd Upon me! and this anguish stings me worst, That round my royal son’s dishonoured form Hang rags and tatters, degradation deep! I will away, and, bringing from within A seemly royal robe, will straightway strive To meet and greet my son: foul scorn it were To leave our dearest in his hour of shame. [Exit ATOSSA.] CHORUS. Ah glorious and goodly they were, the life and the lot that we gained, The cities we held in our hand when the monarch invincible reigned, The king that was good to his realm, sufficing, fulfilled of his sway, A lord that was peer of the gods, the pride of the bygone day! Then could we show to the skies great hosts and a glorious name, And laws that were stable in might; as towers they guarded our fame! There without woe or disaster we came from the foe and the fight, In triumph, enriched with the spoil, to the land and the city’s delight. What towns ere the Halys he passed! what towns ere he came to the West, To the main and the isles of the Strymon, and the Thracian region possess’d! And those that stand back from the main, enringed by their fortified wall, Gave o’er to Darius, the king, the sceptre and sway over all! Those too by the channel of Helle, where southward it broadens and glides, By the inlets, Propontis! of thee, and the strait of the Pontic tides, And the isles that lie fronting our sea-board, and the Eastland looks on each one, Lesbo and Chios and Paros, and Samos with olive-trees grown, And Naxos, and Myconos’ rock, and Tenos with Andros hard by, And isles that in midmost Aegean, aloof from the continent, lie— And Lemnos and Icaros’ hold—all these to his sceptre were bowed, And Cnidos and neighbouring Rhodes, and Soli, and Paphos the proud, And Cyprian Salamis, name-child of her who hath wrought us this wrong! Yea, and all the Ionian tract, where the Greek-born inhabitants throng, And the cities are teeming with gold—Darius was lord of them all, And, great by his wisdom, he ruled, and ever there came to his call, In stalwart array and unfailing, the warrior chiefs of our land, And mingled allies from the tribes who bowed to his conquering hand! But now there are none to gainsay that the gods are against us; we lie Subdued in the havoc of wreck, and whelmed by the wrath of the sky! Enter XERXES in disarray. XERXES. Alas the day, that I should fall Into this grimmest fate of all, This ruin doubly unforeseen! On Persia’s land what power of Fate Descends, what louring gloom of hate? How shall I bear my teen? My limbs are loosened where they stand, When I behold this aged band— Oh God! I would that I too, I, Among the men who went to die, Were whelmed in earth by Fate’s command! CHORUS. Ah welladay, my King! ah woe For all our heroes’ overthrow— For all the gallant host’s array, For Persia’s honour, pass’d away, For glory and heroic sway Mown down by Fortune’s hand to-day! Hark, how the kingdom makes its moan, For youthful valour lost and gone, By Xerxes shattered and undone! He, he hath crammed the maw of hell With bowmen brave, who nobly fell, Their country’s mighty armament, Ten thousand heroes deathward sent! Alas, for all the valiant band, O king and lord! thine Asian land Down, down upon its knee is bent! XERXES. Alas, a lamentable sound, A cry of ruth! for I am found A curse to land and lineage, With none my sorrow to assuage! CHORUS. Alas, a death-song desolate I send forth, for thy home-coming! A scream, a dirge for woe and fate, Such as the Asian mourners sing, A sorry and ill-omened tale Of tears and shrieks and Eastern wail! XERXES. Ay, launch the woeful sorrow’s cry, The harsh, discordant melody, For lo, the power, we held for sure, Hath turned to my discomfiture! CHORUS. Yea, dirges, dirges manifold Will I send forth, for warriors bold, For the sea-sorrow of our host! The city mourns, and I must wail With plashing tears our sorrow’s tale, Lamenting for the loved and lost! XERXES. Alas, the god of war, who sways The scales of fight in diverse ways, Gives glory to Ionia! Ionian ships, in fenced array, Have reaped their harvest in the bay, A darkling harvest-field of Fate, A sea, a shore, of doom and hate! CHORUS. Cry out, and learn the tale of woe! Where are thy comrades? where the band Who stood beside thee, hand in hand, A little while ago? Where now hath Pharandákes gone, Where Psammis, and where Pelagon? Where now is brave Agdabatas, And Susas too, and Datamas? Hath Susiscanes past away, The chieftain of Ecbatana? XERXES. I left them, mangled castaways, Flung from their Tyrian deck, and tossed On Salaminian water-ways, From surging tides to rocky coast! CHORUS. Alack, and is Pharnuchus slain, And Ariomardus, brave in vain? Where is Seualces’ heart of fire? Lilaeus, child of noble sire? Are Tharubis and Memphis sped? Hystaechmas, Artembáres dead? And where is brave Masistes, where? Sum up death’s count, that I may hear! XERXES. Alas, alas, they came, their eyes surveyed Ancestral Athens on that fatal day. Then with a rending struggle were they laid Upon the land, and gasped their life away! CHORUS. And Batanochus’ child, Alpistus great, Surnamed the Eye of State— Saw you and left you him who once of old Ten thousand thousand fighting-men enrolled? His sire was child of Sesamas, and he From Megabates sprang. Ah, woe is me, Thou king of evil fate! Hast thou lost Parthus, lost Oebares great? Alas, the sorrow! blow succeedeth blow On Persia’s pride; thou tellest woe on woe! XERXES. Bitter indeed the pang for comrades slain, The brave and bold! thou strikest to my soul Pain, pain beyond forgetting, hateful pain. My inner spirit sobs and sighs with dole! CHORUS. Another yet we yearn to see, And see not! ah, thy chivalry, Xanthis, thou chief of Mardian men Countless! and thou, Anchares bright, And ye, whose cars controlled the fight, Arsaces and Diaixis wight, Kegdadatas, Lythimnas dear, And Tolmus, greedy of the spear! I stand bereft! not in thy train Come they, as erst! ah, ne’er again Shall they return unto our eyes, Car-borne, ’neath silken canopies! XERXES. Yea, gone are they who mustered once the host! CHORUS. Yea, yea, forgotten, lost! XERXES. Alas, the woe and cost! CHORUS. Alas, ye heavenly powers! Ye wrought a sorrow past belief, A woe, of woes the chief! With aspect stern, upon us Ate looms! XERXES. Smitten are we—time tells no heavier blow! CHORUS. Smitten! the doom is plain! XERXES. Curse upon curse and pang on pang we know! CHORUS. With the Ionian power We clashed, in evil hour! Woe falls on Persia’s race, yea, woe again, again! XERXES. Yea, smitten am I, and my host is all to ruin hurled! CHORUS. Yea verily—in mighty wreck hath sunk the Persian world! XERXES (holding up a torn robe and a quiver) See you this tattered rag of pride? CHORUS. I see it, welladay! XERXES. See you this quiver? CHORUS. Say, hath aught survived and ’scaped the fray? XERXES. A store for darts it was, erewhile! CHORUS. Remain but two or three! XERXES. No aid is left! CHORUS. Ionian folk such darts, unfearing, see! XERXES. Right resolute they are! I saw disaster unforeseen. CHORUS. Ah, speakest thou of wreck, of flight, of carnage that hath been? XERXES. Yea, and my royal robe I rent, in terror at their fall! CHORUS. Alas, alas! XERXES. Yea, thrice alas! CHORUS. For all have perished, all! XERXES. Ah woe to us, ah joy to them who stood against our pride! CHORUS. And all our strength is minished and sundered from our side! XERXES. No escort have I! CHORUS. Nay, thy friends are whelmed beneath the tide! XERXES. Wail, wail the miserable doom, and to the palace hie! CHORUS. Alas, alas, and woe again! XERXES. Shriek, smite the breast, as I! CHORUS. An evil gift, a sad exchange, of tears poured out in vain! XERXES. Shrill out your simultaneous wail! CHORUS. Alas the woe and pain! XERXES. O, bitter is this adverse fate! CHORUS. I voice the moan with thee! XERXES. Smite, smite thy bosom, groan aloud for my calamity! CHORUS. I mourn and am dissolved in tears! XERXES. Cry, beat thy breast amain! CHORUS. O king, my heart is in thy woe! XERXES. Shriek, wail, and shriek again! CHORUS. O agony! XERXES. A blackening blow— CHORUS. A grievous stripe shall fall! XERXES. Yea, beat anew thy breast, ring out the doleful Mysian call! CHORUS. An agony, an agony! XERXES. Pluck out thy whitening beard! CHORUS. By handfuls, ay, by handfuls, with dismal tear-drops smeared! XERXES. Sob out thine aching sorrow! CHORUS. I will thine best obey. XERXES. With thine hands rend thy mantle’s fold— CHORUS. Alas, woe worth the day! XERXES. With thine own fingers tear thy locks, bewail the army’s weird! CHORUS. By handfuls, yea, by handfuls, with tears of dole besmeared! XERXES. Now let thine eyes find overflow— CHORUS. I wend in wail and pain! XERXES. Cry out for me an answering moan— CHORUS. Alas, alas again! XERXES. Shriek with a cry of agony, and lead the doleful train! CHORUS. Alas, alas, the Persian land is woeful now to tread! XERXES. Cry out and mourn! the city now doth wail above the dead! CHORUS. I sob and moan! XERXES. I bid ye now be delicate in grief! CHORUS. Alas, the Persian land is sad and knoweth not relief! XERXES. Alas, the triple banks of oars and those who died thereby! CHORUS. Pass! I will lead you, bring you home, with many a broken sigh! [Exeunt.] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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