XERXES
Alas, the triple banks of oars and those who died thereby!
Alas, the triple banks of oars and those who died thereby!
Aeschylus
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.
