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  [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 s
till,

  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;