Æschylos Tragedies and Fragments. Aeschylus

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      The king's great host, destroying cities mighty,

      Hath to the land beyond the sea passed over,

      Crossing the straits of Athamantid Helle,12

      On raft by ropes secured,

      And thrown his path, compact of many a vessel,

      As yoke upon the neck of mighty ocean.

      Of populous Asia thus the mighty ruler

      'Gainst all the land his God-sent host directeth

      In 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.13

      Glancing with darkling look, and eyes as of ravening dragon,

      With many a hand, and many a ship, and Syrian chariot driving,14

      He upon spearmen renowned brings battle of conquering arrows.15

      Yea, 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.

      Yet 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.

      For 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.

      But now they learnt to look on ocean plains,16

      The wide sea hoary with the violent blast,

      Waxing o'er confident

      In cables formed of many a slender strand,

      And rare device of transport for the host.

      So 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 learn

      That Susa's mighty fort is void of men.

      And through the Kissians' town

      Shall echo heavy thud of hands on breast.

      Woe! woe! when all the crowd of women speak

      This utterance of great grief,

      And byssine robes are rent in agony.

      For all the horses strong,

      And host that march on foot,

      Like swarm of bees, have gone with him who led

      The vanguard of the host.

      Crossing the sea-washed, bridge-built promontory

      That joins the shores of either continent.17

      And beds with tears are wet

      In grief for husbands gone,

      And Persian wives are delicate in grief,

      Each yearning for her lord;

      And each who sent her warrior-spouse to battle

      Now 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, he

      Who calls Dareios sire,

      Bearing the name our father bore of old?

      Is it the archers' bow that wins the day?

      Or does the strength prevail

      Of 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 all

      Should speak to her with words of greeting kind.

      Chor. 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 spouse

      Whom Persians owned as God,18

      And 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 plainly

      A 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 fortune

      That 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 utter

      Or 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 night19

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