The Persians

QUEEN: Thus in the night these visions
I dreamed: but when, arisen, I touched the springs’
fair-flowing waters, approached the altar, wishing
to offer sacrifice religiously
to guardian deities, whose rites these are,
then to Phoebus’ hearth I saw an eagle fleeing.
Dumb in dread I stood: a falcon swooped
upon him, its wings in flight, its claws plucked
At his head: he did no more than cower, hare-like.
Those were my terrors to see, and yours to hear.

CHORUS LEADER: Queen mother, excessive fear
or confidence we do not wish to give you.
If your dreams were ominous, approach
the gods with supplications; pray that these
be unfulfilled, and blessings be fulfilled
for you, your son, your city, and your friends.
Next you must pour libations to the Earth
and the dead: and beg Darius, of whom you dreamed,
to send those blessings from the nether world
to light, for you and your son; and to hide
in darkness evils contrary, retained
within the earth. Propitious be your prayers.

QUEEN: So rich in numbers are they?

CHORUS LEADER: So great a host
as dealt to Persians many woes.

QUEEN: Are bow-plucked shafts their armament?

CHORUS LEADER: Pikes wielded-close and shielded panoplies.

QUEEN: What else besides? Have they sufficing wealth?

CHORUS LEADER: Their earth is veined with silver treasuries.

QUEEN: Who commands them? Who is shepherd of their host?

CHORUS LEADER: They are slaves to none, nor are they subject.

QUEEN: But how could they withstand a foreign foe?

CHORUS LEADER: Enough to vanquish Darius’ noble host.

QUEEN: We mothers dread to calculate.

CHORUS, STROPHE C: Raise a mournful, doleful cry
for Persians wretched:
all they made, all woe.
Alas! the host destroyed.

MESSENGER: O most hateful name of Salamis!
O woe! how I groan recalling Athens.

CHORUS, ANTISTROPHE C: Athens hateful to her foes.
Recall how many
Persian women are widowed,
and mothers have lost their sons.

QUEEN: Long am I silent, alas! struck down
by disasters exceeding speech and question.
Yet humans must perforce endure misfortunes
that are sent by the gods.

MESSENGER: Had numbers counted,
the barbarian warships surely would have won;
the Greeks but numbered thirty tens, and ten
apart from these a chosen squadron formed.
But Xerxes—and this I know full well—
a thousand, of which seven and two hundred
ranked supreme in swiftness. The count stood so.
Seemed we unequal? Some deity destroyed
our host, who weighing down the balance swung
the beam of fortune. The gods saved the city
of the goddess Pallas.

MESSENGER: Either an avenger or a wicked
god, my lady (whence it came I know not),
began the whole disaster. From Athenian
ranks a Greek approached, addressing Xerxes
thud: “When the gloom of blackest night
will fall, the Greeks will not remain, but leap
to their rowing benches, and each by secret course
will save his life.” And he your son, upon
his hearing this, in ignorance of Greek
guile and the jealousy of gods,
harangued his captains publicly: “As soon
as sunlit rays no longer burn the earth,
[…] rank the swarm of ships in three flotillas:
have them guard the entrances, the straits sea-pound;
and girdle others round Ajax’ island.
But if the Greeks escape their evil doom,
contriving secret flight, all your heads
will roll. I warrant it.” So he spoke
in confident pride: of the god-given future
he knew nothing.

QUEEN: Ah! woe is me, the army all destroyed.
O bright night’s spectacle of dreams,
how clearly you foresaw my woe,
and you, my counselors, how poorly you have judged.
But yet, as you counseled thus,
first to the gods I’ll offer prayer; and then
to Earth and the dead I’ll come to offer gifts
from the house, a rich libation. I know I pray
for what is done and gone, but a brighter
fortune, in time to come, may there yet be.

CHORUS (chanting): O! Zeus, king, you destroyed
the multitudinous, proud
host of the Persian men;
and the cities of Sousa
and of Agbatana
concealed in the darkness of grief.
[…] The ladies of Persia
softly are weeping,
desiring each
him to behold
wedded but lately;
forsaking their couches,
soft with their coverlets,
the joy of their youth,
now they lament their sorrows,
insatiate, full of woe.
And I recite the mourning song,
doom of the gone,
woe upon woe.

QUEEN: My friends, if one’s experienced in troubles,
One knows that, when a flood of evil comes,
we tend to fear for everything; but when
a god provides an easy voyage, we think
that fortune’s never-ending wind will blow
forever. So now, to me all things are full of the fear
and visions from the gods assail my eyes,
and my ears already ring with cureless songs:
thus consternation terrifies my sense.
Therefore I departed from the palace,
returning here, unaccompanied
by chariots, by pomp and ceremony:
to the father of my son I bring
libations, propitious offerings for the dead.

DARIUS: All human beings suffer human troubles;
and many woes arise, some from the sea,
and others from the land, to those who live
a longer span of life.

QUEEN: Everything, Darius, you will hear
succinctly: all of Persia is destroyed.

DARIUS: How? A lightning bolt of hunger? Civil
strife within the city?

QUEEN: No, but all
the host’s destroyed at Athens.

DARIUS: Whom among
my sons was the leader of the troops? Tell me.

QUEEN: Furious Xerxes, who drained the country manless.

DARIUS: So now a fountain of troubles has been found
for all those that I care for; and my son
is the one who discovered it, in ignorance.
He hoped, in youthful confidence, to check
he sacred waters of the Hellespont
by chains, as if it were a slave. […] Mortal though he was,
in folly he thought to master all the gods,
including Poseidon. Wasn’t his mind diseased?
So now I fear the wealth I labored so
to acquire will fall prey to the conquerors.

[…] So his deed is done, great and unforgettable!
Never had anyone before made this city
Sousa so empty and so desolate,
since Zeus, our lord, bestowed that honor:
one man to wield the scepter of authority
over all of Asia, rich in flocks.

DARIUS: And corpses, piled up like sand, shall witness
mute, even to generations to come,
before the eyes of men, that never, being
mortal, ought we to cast our thoughts too high.
Insolence, once blossoming, will bear
its fruit, a tasseled field of doom, from which
a deadly harvest must be reaped, all tears.
Behold the punishment of these! Remember
Greece and Athens! Lest anyone disdain
his present fortune, lusting after more,
and end up squandering great prosperity.
Zeus is the chastener of overboastful
minds, a grievous corrector. Therefore advise
my son, admonished by reason, to be wise
and cease his overboastful temper from
sinning against the gods. And you, aged
mother of Xerxes, go to the palace;
gather up rich and brilliant clothes, and go
to meet your son; for he, in grief, has rent
his embroidered robes to shreds.

QUEEN: O god! How many sorrows move against me!
But one torment bites me deepest of all,
to hear how such dishonor holds my son’s
body and its robes. So I shall go
to gather proper clothing, and try to meet
him as he comes. When evils fall on those
we dearly love, never shall we betray them.

XERXES (singing): Go wailing to your homes.

CHORUS (singing): O woe, ah!

XERXES: Cries of woe throughout the city.

CHORUS: Yes, cries of woe indeed.

XERXES: Softly stepping, moan in grief.

CHORUS: O Persian land in hardness stepped.

XERXES: Oh, oh, by triple banks of oars…

CHORUS: Oh, oh…our ships were destroyed by theirs.
We shall escort you
with mournful lament.