No More Learning

ATOSSA

Woe on us, woe! disaster's mighty sea
Hath burst on us and all the Persian realm!

MESSENGER

Be well assured, the tale is but begun--
The further agony that on us fell
Doth twice outweigh the sufferings I have told!

ATOSSA

Nay, what disaster could be worse than this?
Say on! what woe upon the army came,
Swaying the scale to a yet further fall?

MESSENGER

The very flower and crown of Persia's race,
Gallant of soul and glorious in descent,
And highest held in trust before the king,
Lies shamefully and miserably slain.

ATOSSA

Alas for me and for this ruin, friends!
Dead, sayest thou? by what fate overthrown?

MESSENGER

An islet is there, fronting Salamis--
Strait, and with evil anchorage: thereon
Pan treads the measure of the dance he loves
Along the sea-beach. Thither the king sent
His noblest, that, whene'er the Grecian foe
Should 'scape, with shattered ships, unto the isle,
We might make easy prey of fugitives
And slay them there, and from the washing tides
Rescue our friends. It fell out otherwise
Than he divined, for when, by aid of Heaven,
The Hellenes held the victory on the sea,
Their sailors then and there begirt themselves
With brazen mail and bounded from their ships,
And then enringed the islet, point by point,
So that our Persians in bewilderment
Knew not which way to turn. On every side,
Battered with stones, they fell, while arrows flew
From many a string, and smote them to the death.
Then, at the last, with simultaneous rush
The foe came bursting on us, hacked and hewed
To fragments all that miserable band,
Till not a soul of them was left alive.
Then Xerxes saw disaster's depth, and shrieked,
From where he sat on high, surveying all--
A lofty eminence, beside the brine,
Whence all his armament lay clear in view.
His robe he rent, with loud and bitter wail,
And to his land-force swiftly gave command
And fled, with shame beside him! Now, lament
That second woe, upon the first imposed!

ATOSSA

Out on thee, Fortune! thou hast foiled the hope
And power of Persia: to this bitter end
My son went forth to wreak his great revenge
On famous Athens! all too few they seemed,
Our men who died upon the Fennel-field!
Vengeance for them my son had mind to take,
And drew on his own head these whelming woes.
But thou, say on! the ships that 'scaped from wreck--
Where didst thou leave them? make thy story clear.

MESSENGER

The captains of the ships that still survived
Fled in disorder, scudding down the wind,
The while our land-force on Boeotian soil
Fell into ruin, some beside the springs
Dropping before they drank, and some outworn,
Pursued, and panting all their life away.
The rest of us our way to Phocis won,
And thence to Doris and the Melian gulf,
Where with soft stream Spercheus laves the soil.
Thence to the northward did Phthiotis' plain,
And some Thessalian fortress, lend us aid,
For famine-pinched we were, and many died
Of drought and hunger's twofold present scourge.
Thence to Magnesia came we, and the land
Where Macedonians dwell, and crossed the ford
Of Axius, and Bolbe's reedy fen,
And mount Pangaeus, in Edonian land.
There, in the very night we came, the god
Brought winter ere its time, from bank to bank
Freezing the holy Strymon's tide. Each man
Who heretofore held lightly of the gods,
Now crouched and proffered prayer to Earth and Heaven!
Then, after many orisons performed,
The army ventured on the frozen ford:
Yet only those who crossed before the sun
Shed its warm rays, won to the farther side.
For soon the fervour of the glowing orb
Did with its keen rays pierce the ice-bound stream,
And men sank through and thrust each other down--
Best was his lot whose breath was stifled first!
But all who struggled through and gained the bank,
Toilfully wending through the land of Thrace
Have made their way, a sorry, scanted few,
Unto this homeland. Let the city now
Lament and yearn for all the loved and lost.
My tale is truth, yet much untold remains
Of ills that Heaven hath hurled upon our land.

CHORUS

Spirit of Fate, too heavy were thy feet,
Those ill to match! that sprang on Persia's realm.

ATOSSA

Woe for the host, to wrack and ruin hurled!
O warning of the night, prophetic dream!
Thou didst foreshadow clearly all the doom,
While ye, old men, made light of woman's fears!
Ah well--yet, as your divination ruled
The meaning of the sign, I hold it good,
First, that I put up prayer unto the gods,
And, after that, forth from my palace bring
The sacrificial cake, the offering due
To Earth and to the spirits of the dead.
Too well I know it is a timeless rite
Over a finished thing that cannot change!
But yet--I know not--there may come of it
Alleviation for the after time.
You it beseems, in view of what hath happed,
T' advise with loyal hearts our loyal guards:
And to my son--if, ere my coming forth,
He should draw hitherward--give comfort meet,
Escort him to the palace in all state,
Lest to these woes he add another woe!
[_Exit_ ATOSSA.

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 Pharandakes 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, Artembares 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_




THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES




DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ETEOCLES.
A SPY.
CHORUS OF CADMEAN MAIDENS.
ANTIGONE.
ISMENE.
A HERALD.


ETEOCLES

Clansmen of Cadmus, at the signal given
By time and season must the ruler speak
Who sets the course and steers the ship of State
With hand upon the tiller, and with eye
Watchful against the treachery of sleep.
For if all go aright, _thank Heaven_, men say,
But if adversely--which may God forefend! --
One name on many lips, from street to street,
Would bear the bruit and rumour of the time,
_Down with Eteocles_! --a clamorous curse,
A dirge of ruin. May averting Zeus
Make good his title here, in Cadmus' hold!
You it beseems now boys unripened yet
To lusty manhood, men gone past the prime
And increase of the full begetting seed,
And those whom youth and manhood well combined
Array for action--all to rise in aid
Of city, shrines, and altars of all powers
Who guard our land; that ne'er, to end of time,
Be blotted out the sacred service due
To our sweet mother-land and to her brood.
For she it was who to their guest-right called
Your waxing youth, was patient of the toil,
And cherished you on the land's gracious lap,
Alike to plant the hearth and bear the shield
In loyal service, for an hour like this.
Mark now! until to-day, luck rules our scale;
For we, though long beleaguered, in the main
Have with our sallies struck the foemen hard.
But now the seer, the feeder of the birds,
(Whose art unerring and prophetic skill
Of ear and mind divines their utterance
Without the lore of fire interpreted)
Foretelleth, by the mastery of his art,
That now an onset of Achaea's host
Is by a council of the night designed
To fall in double strength upon our walls.
Up and away, then, to the battlements,
The gates, the bulwarks! don your panoplies,
Array you at the breast-work, take your stand
On floorings of the towers, and with good heart
Stand firm for sudden sallies at the gates,
Nor hold too heinous a respect for hordes
Sent on you from afar: some god will guard!
I too, for shrewd espial of their camp,
Have sent forth scouts, and confidence is mine
They will not fail nor tremble at their task,
And, with their news, I fear no foeman's guile.
[_Enter_ A SPY.

THE SPY

Eteocles, high king of Cadmus' folk,
I stand here with news certified and sure
From Argos' camp, things by myself descried.
Seven warriors yonder, doughty chiefs of might,
Into the crimsoned concave of a shield
Have shed a bull's blood, and, with hands immersed
Into the gore of sacrifice, have sworn
By Ares, lord of fight, and by thy name,
Blood-lapping Terror, _Let our oath be heard--
Either to raze the walls, make void the hold
Of Cadmus--strive his children as they may--
Or, dying here, to make the foemen's land
With blood impasted_. Then, as memory's gift
Unto their parents at the far-off home,
Chaplets they hung upon Adrastus' car,
With eyes tear-dropping, but no word of moan.
For their steeled spirit glowed with high resolve,
As lions pant, with battle in their eyes.
For them, no weak alarm delays the clear
Issues of death or life! I parted thence
Even as they cast the lots, how each should lead,
Against which gate, his serried company.
Rank then thy bravest, with what speed thou may'st,
Hard by the gates, to dash on them, for now,
Full-armed, the onward ranks of Argos come!
The dust whirls up, and from their panting steeds
White foamy flakes like snow bedew the plain.
Thou therefore, chieftain! like a steersman skilled,
Enshield the city's bulwarks, ere the blast
Of war comes darting on them! hark, the roar
Of the great landstorm with its waves of men!
Take Fortune by the forelock! for the rest,
By yonder dawn-light will I scan the field
Clear and aright, and surety of my word
Shall keep thee scatheless of the coming storm.

ETEOCLES

O Zeus and Earth and city-guarding gods,
And thou, my father's Curse, of baneful might,
Spare ye at least this town, nor root it up,
By violence of the foemen, stock and stem!
For here, from home and hearth, rings Hellas' tongue.
Forbid that e'er the yoke of slavery
Should bow this land of freedom, Cadmus' hold!
Be ye her help! your cause I plead with mine--
A city saved doth honour to her gods!
[_Exit_ ETEOCLES, _etc. Enter the_ CHORUS OF MAIDENS.

CHORUS

I wail in the stress of my terror,
and shrill is my cry of despair.
The foemen roll forth from their camp
as a billow, and onward they bear!
Their horsemen are swift in the forefront,
the dust rises up to the sky,
A signal, though speechless, of doom,
a herald more clear than a cry!
Hoof-trampled, the land of my love
bears onward the din to mine ears.
As a torrent descending a mountain,
it thunders and echoes and nears!
The doom is unloosened and cometh!
O kings and O queens of high Heaven,
Prevail that it fall not upon us:
the sign for their onset is given--
They stream to the walls from without,
white-shielded and keen for the fray.
They storm to the citadel gates--
what god or what goddess can stay
The rush of their feet? to what shrine
shall I bow me in terror and pray?
O gods high-throned in bliss,
we must crouch at the shrines in your home!
Not here must we tarry and wail:
shield clashes on shield as they come--
And now, even now is the hour
for the robes and the chaplets of prayer!
Mine eyes feel the flash of the sword,
the clang is instinct with the spear!
Is thy hand set against us, O Ares,
in ruin and wrath to o'erwhelm
Thine own immemorial land,
O god of the golden helm?
Look down upon us, we beseech thee,
on the land that thou lovest of old,
And ye, O protecting gods,
in pity your people behold!
Yea, save us, the maidenly troop,
from the doom and despair of the slave,
For the crests of the foemen come onward,
their rush is the rush of a wave
Rolled on by the war-god's breath!
almighty one, hear us and save
From the grasp of the Argives' might!
to the ramparts of Cadmus they crowd,
And, clenched in the teeth of the steeds,
the bits clink horror aloud!
And seven high chieftains of war,
with spear and with panoply bold,
Are set, by the law of the lot,
to storm the seven gates of our hold!
Be near and befriend us, O Pallas,
the Zeus-born maiden of might!