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Persians

<h2>THE PERSIANS</h2> <h4>DRAMATIS PERSONAE</h4> CHORUS OF PERSIAN ELDERS. ATOSSA, WIDOW OF DARIUS AND MOTHER OF XERXES. A MESSENGER. THE GHOST OF DARIUS. XERXES. The Scene is laid at the Palace of Susa. CHORUS. Away unto the Grecian land Hath passed the Persian armament: We, by the monarch’s high command, We are the warders true who stand, Chosen, for honour and descent, To watch the wealth of him who went— Guards of the gold, and faithful styled By Xerxes, great Darius’ child! But the king went nor comes again— And for that host, we saw depart Arrayed in gold, my boding heart Aches with a pulse of anxious pain, Presageful for its youthful king! No scout, no steed, no battle-car Comes speeding hitherward, to bring News to our city from afar! Erewhile they went, away, away, From Susa, from Ecbatana, From Kissa’s timeworn fortress grey, Passing to ravage and to war— Some upon steeds, on galleys some, Some in close files, they passed from home, All upon warlike errand bent— Amistres, Artaphernes went, Astaspes, Megabazes high, Lords of the Persian chivalry, Marshals who serve the great king’s word Chieftains of all the mighty horde! Horsemen and bowmen streamed away, Grim in their aspect, fixed to slay, And resolute to face the fray! With troops of horse, careering fast, Masistes, Artembáres passed: Imaeus too, the bowman brave, Sosthánes, Pharandákes, drave— And others the all-nursing wave Of Nilus to the battle gave; Came Susiskánes, warrior wild, And Pegastágon, Egypt’s child: Thee, brave Arsámes! from afar Did holy Memphis launch to war; And Ariomardus, high in fame, From Thebes the immemorial came, And oarsmen skilled from Nilus’ fen, A countless crowd of warlike men: And next, the dainty Lydians went— Soft rulers of a continent— Mitragathes and Arcteus bold In twin command their ranks controlled, And Sardis town, that teems with gold, Sent forth its squadrons to the war— Horse upon horse, and car on car, Double and triple teams, they rolled, In onset awful to behold. From Tmolus’ sacred hill there came The native hordes to join the fray, And upon Hellas’ neck to lay The yoke of slavery and shame; Mardon and Tharubis were there, Bright anvils for the foemen’s spear! The Mysian dart-men sped to war, And the long crowd that onward rolled From Babylon enriched with gold— Captains of ships and archers skilled To speed the shaft, and those who wield The scimitar;—the eastern band Who, by the great king’s high command, Swept to subdue the western land! Gone are they, gone—ah, welladay! The flower and pride of our array; And all the Eastland, from whose breast Came forth her bravest and her best, Craves longingly with boding dread— Parents for sons, and brides new-wed For absent lords, and, day by day, Shudder with dread at their delay! Ere now they have passed o’er the sea, the manifold host of the king— They have gone forth to sack and to burn; ashore on the Westland they spring! With cordage and rope they have bridged the sea-way of Helle, to pass O’er the strait that is named by thy name, O daughter of Athamas! They have anchored their ships in the current, they have bridled the neck of the sea— The Shepherd and Lord of the East hath bidden a roadway to be! From the land to the land they pass over, a herd at the high king’s best; Some by the way of the waves, and some o’er the planking have pressed. For the king is a lord and a god: he was born of the golden seed That erst upon Danae fell—his captains are strong at the need! And dark is the glare of his eyes, as eyes of a serpent blood-fed, And with manifold troops in his train and with manifold ships hath he sped— Yea, sped with his Syrian cars: he leads on the lords of the bow To meet with the men of the West, the spear-armed force of the foe! Can any make head and resist him, when he comes with the roll of a wave? No barrier nor phalanx of might, no chief, be he ever so brave! For stern is the onset of Persia, and gallant her children in fight. But the guile of the god is deceitful, and who shall elude him by flight? And who is the lord of the leap, that can spring and alight and evade? For Até deludes and allures, till round him the meshes are laid, And no man his doom can escape! it was writ in the rule of high Heaven, That in tramp of the steeds and in crash of the charge the war-cry of Persia be given: They have learned to behold the forbidden, the sacred enclosure of sea, Where the waters are wide and in stress of the wind the billows roll hoary to lee! And their trust is in cable and cordage, too weak in the power of the blast, And frail are the links of the bridge whereby unto Hellas they passed. Therefore my gloom-wrapped heart is rent with sorrow For what may hap to-morrow! Alack, for all the Persian armament— Alack, lest there be sent Dread news of desolation, Susa’s land Bereft, forlorn, unmanned— Lest the grey Kissian fortress echo back The wail, Alack, Alack! The sound of women’s shriek, who wail and mourn, With fine-spun raiment torn! The charioteers went forth nor come again, And all the marching men Even as a swarm of bees have flown afar, Drawn by the king to war— Crossing the sea-bridge, linked from side to side, That doth the waves divide: And the soft bridal couch of bygone years Is now bedewed with tears, Each princess, clad in garments delicate, Wails for her widowed fate— Alas my gallant bridegroom, lost and gone, And I am left alone! But now, ye warders of the state, Here, in this hall of old renown, Behoves that we deliberate In counsel deep and wise debate, For need is surely shown! How fareth he, Darius’ child, The Persian king, from Perseus styled? Comes triumph to the eastern bow, Or hath the lance-point conquered now? Enter ATOSSA. See, yonder comes the mother-queen, Light of our eyes, in godlike sheen, The royal mother of the king!— Fall we before her! well it were That, all as one, we sue to her, And round her footsteps cling! Queen, among deep-girded Persian dames thou highest and most royal, Hoary mother, thou, of Xerxes, and Darius’ wife of old! To godlike sire, and godlike son, we bow us and are loyal— Unless, on us, an adverse tide of destiny has rolled! ATOSSA. Therefore come I forth to you, from chambers decked and golden, Where long ago Darius laid his head, with me beside, And my heart is torn with anguish, and with terror am I holden, And I plead unto your friendship and I bid you to my side. Darius, in the old time, by aid of some Immortal, Raised up the stately fabric, our wealth of long-ago: But I tremble lest it totter down, and ruin porch and portal, And the whirling dust of downfall rise above its overthrow! Therefore a dread unspeakable within me never slumbers, Saying, Honour not the gauds of wealth if men have ceased to grow, Nor deem that men, apart from wealth, can find their strength in numbers— We shudder for our light and king, though we have gold enow! No light there is, in any house, save presence of the master— So runs the saw, ye aged men! and truth it says indeed— On you I call, the wise and true, to ward us from disaster, For all my hope is fixed on you, to prop us in our need! CHORUS. Queen-Mother of the Persian land, to thy commandment bowing, Whate’er thou wilt, in word or deed, we follow to fulfil— Not twice we need thine high behest, our faith and duty knowing, In council and in act alike, thy loyal servants still! ATOSSA. Long while by various visions of the night Am I beset, since to Ionian lands With marshalled host my son went forth to war. Yet never saw I presage so distinct As in the night now passed.—Attend my tale!— A dream I had: two women nobly clad Came to my sight, one robed in Persian dress, The other vested in the Dorian garb, And both right stately and more tall by far Than women of to-day, and beautiful Beyond disparagement, and sisters sprung Both of one race, but, by their natal lot, One born in Hellas, one in Eastern land. These, as it seemed unto my watching eyes, Roused each the other to a mutual feud: The which my son perceiving set himself To check and soothe their struggle, and anon Yoked them and set the collars on their necks; And one, the Ionian, proud in this array, Paced in high quietude, and lent her mouth, Obedient, to the guidance of the rein. But restively the other strove, and broke The fittings of the car, and plunged away With mouth un-bitted: o’er the broken yoke My son was hurled, and lo! Darius stood In lamentation o’er his fallen child. Him Xerxes saw, and rent his robe in grief. Such was my vision of the night now past; But when, arising, I had dipped my hand In the fair lustral stream, I drew towards The altar, in the act of sacrifice, Having in mind to offer, as their due, The sacred meal-cake to the averting powers, Lords of the rite that banisheth ill dreams. When lo! I saw an eagle fleeing fast To Phoebus’ shrine—O friends, I stayed my steps, Too scared to speak! for, close upon his flight, A little falcon dashed in winged pursuit, Plucking with claws the eagle’s head, while he Could only crouch and cower and yield himself. Scared was I by that sight, and eke to you No less a terror must it be to hear! For mark this well—if Xerxes have prevailed, He shall come back the wonder of the world: If not, still none can call him to account— So he but live, he liveth Persia’s King! CHORUS. Queen, it stands not with my purpose to abet these fears of thine, Nor to speak with glazing comfort! nay, betake thee to the shrine! If thy dream foretold disaster, sue to gods to bar its way, And, for thyself, son, state, and friends, to bring fair fate to-day. Next, unto Earth and to the Dead be due libation poured, And by thee let Darius’ soul be wistfully implored— I saw thee, lord, in last night’s dream, a phantom from the grave, I pray thee, lord, from earth beneath come forth to help and save! To me and to thy son send up the bliss of triumph now, And hold the gloomy fates of ill, dim in the dark below! Such be thy words! my inner heart good tidings doth foretell, And that fair fate will spring thereof, if wisdom guide us well. ATOSSA. Loyal thou that first hast read this dream, this vision of the night, With loyalty to me, the queen—be then thy presage right! And therefore, as thy bidding is, what time I pass within To dedicate these offerings, new prayers I will begin, Alike to gods and the great dead who loved our lineage well. Yet one more word—say, in what realm do the Athenians dwell? CHORUS. Far hence, even where, in evening land, goes down our Lord the Sun. ATOSSA. Say, had my son so keen desire, that region to o’errun? CHORUS. Yea—if she fell, the rest of Greece were subject to our sway! ATOSSA. Hath she so great predominance, such legions in array? CHORUS. Ay—such a host as smote us sore upon an earlier day. ATOSSA. And what hath she, besides her men? enow of wealth in store? CHORUS. A mine of treasure in the earth, a fount of silver ore! ATOSSA. Is it in skill of bow and shaft that Athens’ men excel? CHORUS. Nay, they bear bucklers in the fight, and thrust the spear-point well. ATOSSA. And who is shepherd of their host and holds them in command? CHORUS. To no man do they bow as slaves, nor own a master’s hand. ATOSSA. How should they bide our brunt of war, the East upon the West? CHORUS. That could Darius’ valiant horde in days of yore attest! ATOSSA. A boding word, to us who bore the men now far away! CHORUS. Nay—as I deem, the very truth will dawn on us to-day. A Persian by his garb and speed, a courier draws anear— He bringeth news, of good or ill, for Persia’s land to hear. Enter a MESSENGER. MESSENGER. O walls and towers of all the Asian realm, O Persian land, O treasure-house of gold! How, by one stroke, down to destruction, down, Hath sunk our pride, and all the flower of war That once was Persia’s, lieth in the dust! Woe on the man who first announceth woe— Yet must I all the tale of death unroll! Hark to me, Persians! Persia’s host lies low. CHORUS. O ruin manifold, and woe, and fear! Let the wild tears run down, for the great doom is here! MESSENGER. This blow hath fallen, to the utterance, And I, past hope, behold my safe return! CHORUS. Too long, alack, too long this life of mine, That in mine age I see this sudden woe condign! MESSENGER. As one who saw, by no loose rumour led, Lords, I would tell what doom was dealt to us. CHORUS. Alack, how vainly have they striven! Our myriad hordes with shaft and bow Went from the Eastland, to lay low Hellas, beloved of Heaven! MESSENGER. Piled with men dead, yea, miserably slain, Is every beach, each reef of Salamis! CHORUS. Thou sayest sooth—ah well-a-day! Battered amid the waves, and torn, On surges hither, thither, borne, Dead bodies, bloodstained and forlorn, In their long cloaks they toss and stray! MESSENGER. Their bows availed not! all have perished, all, By charging galleys crushed and whelmed in death. CHORUS. Shriek out your sorrow’s wistful wail! To their untimely doom they went; Ill strove they, and to no avail, And minished is their armament! MESSENGER. Out on thee, hateful name of Salamis, Out upon Athens, mournful memory! CHORUS. Woe upon this day’s evil fame! Thou, Athens, art our murderess; Alack, full many a Persian dame Is left forlorn and husbandless! ATOSSA. Mute have I been awhile, and overwrought At this great sorrow, for it passeth speech, And passeth all desire to ask of it. Yet if the gods send evils, men must bear. (To the MESSENGER) Unroll the record! stand composed and tell, Although thy heart be groaning inwardly, Who hath escaped, and, of our leaders, whom Have we to weep? what chieftains in the van Stood, sank, and died and left us leaderless? MESSENGER. Xerxes himself survives and sees the day. ATOSSA. Then to my line thy word renews the dawn And golden dayspring after gloom of night! MESSENGER. But the brave marshal of ten thousand horse, Artembares, is tossed and flung in death Along the rugged rocks Silenian. And Dadaces no longer leads his troop, But, smitten by the spear, from off the prow Hath lightly leaped to death; and Tenagon, In true descent a Bactrian nobly born, Drifts by the sea-lashed reefs of Salamis, The isle of Ajax. Gone Lilaeus too, Gone are Arsames and Argestes! all, Around the islet where the sea-doves breed, Dashed their defeated heads on iron rocks; Arcteus, who dwelt beside the founts of Nile, Adeues, Pheresseues, and with them Pharnuchus, from one galley’s deck went down. Matallus, too, of Chrysa, lord and king Of myriad hordes, who led unto the fight Three times ten thousand swarthy cavaliers, Fell, with his swarthy and abundant beard Incarnadined to red, a crimson stain Outrivalling the purple of the sea! There Magian Arabus and Artames Of Bactra perished—taking up, alike, In yonder stony land their long sojourn. Amistris too, and he whose strenuous spear Was foremost in the fight, Amphistreus fell, And gallant Ariomardus, by whose death Broods sorrow upon Sardis: Mysia mourns For Seisames, and Tharubis lies low— Commander, he, of five times fifty ships, Born in Lyrnessus: his heroic form Is low in death, ungraced with sepulchre. Dead too is he, the lord of courage high, Cilicia’s marshal, brave Syennesis, Than whom none dealt more carnage on the foe, Nor perished by a more heroic end. So fell the brave: so speak I of their doom, Summing in brief the fate of myriads! ATOSSA. Ah well-a-day! these crowning woes I hear, The shame of Persia and her shrieks of dole! But yet renew the tale, repeat thy words, Tell o’er the count of those Hellenic ships, And how they ventured with their beakèd prows To charge upon the Persian armament. MESSENGER. Know, if mere count of ships could win the day, The Persians had prevailed. The Greeks, in sooth, Had but three hundred galleys at the most, And other ten, select and separate. But—I am witness—Xerxes held command Of full a thousand keels, and, those apart, Two hundred more, and seven, for speed renowned!— So stands the reckoning, and who shall dare To say we Persians had the lesser host? ATOSSA. Nay, we were worsted by an unseen power Who swayed the balance downward to our doom! MESSENGER. In ward of heaven doth Pallas’ city stand. ATOSSA. How then? is Athens yet inviolate? MESSENGER. While her men live, her bulwark standeth firm! ATOSSA. Say, how began the struggle of the ships? Who first joined issue? did the Greeks attack, Or Xerxes, in his numbers confident? MESSENGER. O queen, our whole disaster thus befell, Through intervention of some fiend or fate— I know not what—that had ill will to us. From the Athenian host some Greek came o’er, To thy son Xerxes whispering this tale— Once let the gloom of night have gathered in, The Greeks will tarry not, but swiftly spring Each to his galley-bench, in furtive flight, Softly contriving safety for their life. Thy son believed the word and missed the craft Of that Greek foeman, and the spite of Heaven, And straight to all his captains gave this charge— As soon as sunlight warms the ground no more, And gloom enwraps the sanctuary of sky, Range we our fleet in triple serried lines To bar the passage from the seething strait, This way and that: let other ships surround The isle of Ajax, with this warning word— That if the Greeks their jeopardy should scape By wary craft, and win their ships a road. Each Persian captain shall his failure pay By forfeit of his head. So spake the king, Inspired at heart with over-confidence, Unwitting of the gods’ predestined will. Thereon our crews, with no disordered haste, Did service to his bidding and purveyed The meal of afternoon: each rower then Over the fitted rowlock looped his oar. Then, when the splendour of the sun had set, And night drew on, each master of the oar And each armed warrior straightway went aboard. Forward the long ships moved, rank cheering rank, Each forward set upon its ordered course. And all night long the captains of the fleet Kept their crews moving up and down the strait. So the night waned, and not one Grecian ship Made effort to elude and slip away. But as dawn came and with her coursers white Shone in fair radiance over all the earth, First from the Grecian fleet rang out a cry, A song of onset! and the island crags Re-echoed to the shrill exulting sound. Then on us Eastern men amazement fell And fear in place of hope; for what we heard Was not a call to flight! the Greeks rang out Their holy, resolute, exulting chant, Like men come forth to dare and do and die Their trumpets pealed, and fire was in that sound, And with the dash of simultaneous oars Replying to the war-chant, on they came, Smiting the swirling brine, and in a trice They flashed upon the vision of the foe! The right wing first in orderly advance Came on, a steady column; following then, The rest of their array moved out and on, And to our ears there came a burst of sound, A clamour manifold.—On, sons of Greece! On, for your country’s freedom! strike to save Wives, children, temples of ancestral gods, Graves of your fathers! now is all at stake. Then from our side swelled up the mingled din Of Persian tongues, and time brooked no delay— Ship into ship drave hard its brazen beak With speed of thought, a shattering blow! and first One Grecian bark plunged straight, and sheared away Bowsprit and stem of a Phoenician ship. And then each galley on some other’s prow Came crashing in. Awhile our stream of ships Held onward, till within the narrowing creek Our jostling vessels were together driven, And none could aid another: each on each Drave hard their brazen beaks, or brake away The oar-banks of each other, stem to stern, While the Greek galleys, with no lack of skill, Hemmed them and battered in their sides, and soon The hulls rolled over, and the sea was hid, Crowded with wrecks and butchery of men. No beach nor reef but was with corpses strewn, And every keel of our barbarian host Hurried to flee, in utter disarray. Thereon the foe closed in upon the wrecks And hacked and hewed, with oars and splintered planks, As fishermen hack tunnies or a cast Of netted dolphins, and the briny sea Rang with the screams and shrieks of dying men, Until the night’s dark aspect hid the scene. Had I a ten days’ time to sum that count Of carnage, ’twere too little! know this well— One day ne’er saw such myriad forms of death! 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.] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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