Yet I implored the gods that it might fallIn time's late process: but when rashness drivesImpetuous on, the scourge of Heaven upraisedLashes the Fury forward; hence these illsPour headlong on my friends. Not weighing this,My son, with all the fiery pride of youth,Hath quickened their arrival, while he hopedTo bind the sacred Hellespont, to hold
The raging Bosphorus, like a slave, in chains,And dared the advent'rous passage, bridging firmWith links of solid iron his wondrous way,To lead his numerous host; and swell'd with thoughtsPresumptuous, deem'd, vain mortal! that his powerShould rise above the gods, and Neptune's might.
And was riot this the phrensy of the soul?
But much I fear lest all my treasured wealthFall to some daring hand an easy prey.
ATOSSA
This from too frequent converse with bad menThe impetuous Xerxes learn'd; these caught his earWith thy great deeds, as winning for thy sonsVast riches with thy conquering spear, while heTim'rous and slothful, never, save in sport,Lifted his lance, nor added to the wealthWon by his noble fathers. This reproach
Oft by bad men repeated, urged his soul
To attempt this war, and lead his troops to Greece.
GHOST OF DARIUS
Great deeds have they achieved, and memorableFor ages: never hath this wasted stateSuffer'd such ruin, since heaven's awful kingGave to one lord Asia's extended plainsWhite with innumerous flocks, and to his handsConsign'd the imperial sceptre. Her brave hostsA Mede first led; the virtues of his sonFix'd firm the empire, for his temperate soulBreathed prudence. Cyrus next, by fortune graced,Adorn'd the throne, and bless'd his grateful friendsWith peace: he to his mighty monarchyJoin'd Lydia, and the Phrygians; to his powerIonia bent reluctant; but the godsHis son then wore the regal diadem.
With victory his gentle virtues crown'd
His son then wore the regal diadem.
Next to disgrace his country, and to stainThe splendid glories of this ancient throne,Rose Mardus: him, with righteous vengeance firedArtaphernes, and his confederate chiefsCrush'd in his palace: Maraphis assumed
The sceptre: after him Artaphernes.
Me next to this exalted eminence,
Crowning my great ambition, Fortune raised.
In many a glorious field my glittering spearFlamed in the van of Persia's numerous hosts;But never wrought such ruin to the state.
Xerxes, my son, in all the pride of youthListens to youthful counsels, my commandsNo more remember'd; hence, my hoary friends,Not the whole line of Persia's sceptred lords,You know it well, so wasted her brave sons.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Why this? To what fair end are these thy wordsDirected? Sovereign lord, instruct thy PersiansHow, mid this ruin, best to guide their state.
GHOST OF DARIUS
No more 'gainst Greece lead your embattled hosts;Not though your deep'ning phalanx spreads the fieldOutnumb'ring theirs: their very earth fights for them.
LEADER
What may thy words import? How fight for them?
GHOST OF DARIUS
With famine it destroys your cumbrous train.
LEADER
Choice levies, prompt for action, will we send,GHOST OF DARIUSThose, in the fields of Greece that now remain,Shall not revisit safe the Persian shore.
LEADER
What! shall not all the host of Persia passAgain from Europe o'er the Hellespont?
GHOST OF DARIUS
Of all their numbers few, if aught availsThe faith of heaven-sent oracles to him
That weighs the past, in their accomplishmentNot partial: hence he left, in faithless hopeConfiding, his selected train of heroes.
These have their station where Asopus flowsWat'ring the plain, whose grateful currents rollDiffusing plenty through Boeotia's fields.
There misery waits to crush them with the loadOf heaviest ills, in vengeance for their proudAnd impious daring; for where'er they heldThrough Greece their march, they fear'd not to profaneThe statues of the gods; their hallow'd shrinesEmblazed, o'erturn'd their altars, and in ruins,Rent from their firm foundations, to the groundLevell'd their temples; such their frantic deeds,Nor less their suff'rings; greater still await them;For Vengeance hath not wasted all her stores;The heap yet swells; for in Plataea's plainsBeneath the Doric spear the clotted mas
Of carnage shall arise, that the high mounds,Piled o'er the dead, to late posterityShall give this silent record to men's eyes,That proud aspiring thoughts but ill beseemWeak mortals: for oppression, when it springs,Puts forth the blade of vengeance, and its fruitYields a ripe harvest of repentant wo.
Behold this vengeance, and remember Greece,Remember Athens: henceforth let not pride,Her present state disdaining, strive to graspAnother's, and her treasured happinessShed on the ground: such insolent attemptsAwake the vengeance of offended Jove.
But you, whose age demands more temperate thoughts,With words of well-placed counsel teach his youthTo curb that pride, which from the gods calls downDestruction on his head. (To ATOSSA) And thou, whose ageThe miseries of thy Xerxes sink with sorrow,Go to thy house, thence choose the richest robe,And meet thy son; for through the rage of griefHis gorgeous vestments from his royal limbsAre foully rent. With gentlest courtesy
Soothe his affliction; for is duteous ear,I know, will listen to thy voice alone.
Now to the realms of darkness I descend.
My ancient friends, farewell, and mid these illsEach day in pleasures battle your drooping spirits,For treasured riches naught avail the dead.
(The GHOST OF DARIUS vanishes into the tomb.)LEADERThese many present, many future ills
Denounced on Persia, sink my soul with grief.
ATOSSA
Unhappy fortune, what a tide of ills
Bursts o'er me! Chief this foul disgrace, which showsMy son divested of his rich attire,His royal robes all rent, distracts my thoughts.
But I will go, choose the most gorgeous vest,And liaste to meet my son. Ne'er in his woesWill I forsake whom my soul holds most dear.
(ATOSSA departs as the CHORUS begins its song.)CHORUSstrophe 1