Hark to me,
Persians!
Aeschylus
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!
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!
