Persians (version 2) — Part III
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 minishèd 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.
