Æschylos Tragedies and Fragments. Aeschylus

      Torn by the whirling flood, ah me!

      Their carcases are gnawed, alas!

      By the dumb brood of stainless sea, woe! woe!

      And each house mourneth for its vanished lord;

      And childless sires, woe! woe!

      Mourning in age o'er griefs the Gods have sent,

      Now hear their utter loss.

      And throughout all Asia's borders

      None now own the sway of Persia,

      Nor bring any more their tribute,

      Owning sway of sovereign master.

      Low upon the Earth, laid prostrate,

      Is the strength of our great monarch

      No more need men keep in silence

      Tongues fast bound: for now the people

      May with freedom speak at pleasure;

      For the yoke of power is broken;

      And blood-stained in all its meadows

      Holds the sea-washed isle of Aias

      What was once the host of Persia.

      Atoss. Whoe'er, my friends, is vexed in troublous times,

      Knows that when once a tide of woe sets in,

      A man is wont to fear in everything;

      But when Fate flows on smoothly, then to trust

      That the same Fate will ever send fair gales.

      So now all these disasters from the Gods

      Seem in mine eyes filled full of fear and dread,

      And in mine ears rings cry unpæanlike,

      So great a dread of all has seized my soul:

      And therefore now, without or chariot's state

      Or wonted pomp, have I thus issued forth

      From out my palace, to my son's sire bringing

      Libations loving, gifts propitiatory,

      Meet for the dead; milk pure and white from cow

      Unblemished, and bright honey that distils

      From the flower-working bee, and water drawn

      From virgin fountain, and the draught unmarred

      From mother wild, bright child of ancient vine;

      And here too of the tree that evermore

      Keeps its fresh life in foliage, the pale olive,

      Is the sweet-smelling fruit, and twinèd wreaths

      Of flowers, the children of all-bearing earth.47

      But ye, my friends, o'er these libations poured

      In honour of the dead, chant forth your hymns,

      And call upon Dareios as a God:

      While I will send unto the Gods below

      These votive offerings which the earth shall drink.

      Chor. O royal lady, honoured of the Persians,

      Do thou libations pour

      To the dark chambers of the dead below;

      And we with hymns will pray

      The Powers that act as escorts of the dead

      To give us kindly help beneath the earth.

      But oh, ye holy Ones in darkness dwelling,

      Hermes and Earth, and thou, the Lord of Hell,

      Send from beneath a soul

      Up to the light of earth;

      For should he know a cure for these our ills,

      He, he alone of men, their end may tell.

      Doth he, the blest one hear,

      The king, like Gods in power,

      Hear me, as I send forth

      My cries in barbarous speech,

      Yet very clear to him, —

      Sad, varied, broken cries

      So as to tell aloud

      Our troubles terrible?

      Ah, doth he hear below?

      But thou, O Earth, and ye,

      The other Lords of those

      Beneath the grave that dwell;

      Grant that the godlike one

      May come from out your home,

      The Persians' mighty God,

      In Susa's palace born;

      Send him, I pray you, up,

      The like of whom the soil

      Of Persia never hid.

      Dear was our chief, and dear to us his tomb,

      For dear the life it hides;

      Aidoneus, O Aidoneus, send him forth,

      Thou who dost lead the dead to Earth again,

      Yea, send Dareios… What a king was he!

      For never did he in war's bloody woe

      Lose all his warrior-host,

      But Heaven-taught Counsellor the Persians called him,

      And Heaven-taught Counsellor in truth he proved,

      Since he still ruled his hosts of subjects well.

      Monarch, O ancient monarch, come, oh, come,

      Come to the summit of sepulchral mound,

      Lifting thy foot encased

      In slipper saffron-dyed,

      And giving to our view

      Thy royal tiara's crest:48

      Speak, O Dareios, faultless father, speak.

      Yea, come, that thou, O Lord, may'st hear the woes,

      Woes new and strange, our lord has now endured;

      For on us now has fallen

      A dark and Stygian mist,

      Since all the armed youth

      Has perished utterly;

      Speak, O Dareios, faultless father, speak.

      O thou, whose death thy friends

      Bewail with many tears,

      Why thus, O Lord of lords,

      In double error of wild frenzy born,

      Have all our triremes good

      Been lost to this our land,

      Ships that are ships no more, yea, ships no more?

      Dar. O faithful of the Faithful, ye who were

      Companions of my youth, ye Persian elders,

      What troubles

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