The Persians E-Book

Aeschylus

• Herausgeber: E-BOOKARAMA
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

“The Persians” (Gr:  “Persai”; Lat:  “Persae”) is a tragedy by the ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus. First produced in 472 BCE, it is considered the oldest surviving play in the history of theatre, and also the only extant Greek tragedy that is based on contemporary events. It recounts the Persian response to news of their military defeat under Xerxes at the Battle of Salamis in 480 BCE, one of the decisive episodes in the ongoing Greco-Persian Wars.

Leseprobe

Table of contents

THE PERSIANS

Characters in the Play

The Persians

THE PERSIANS

Aeschylus

Characters in the Play

ATOSSA, widow of Darius and mother of XERXES

MESSENGER

GHOST OF DARIUS

XERXES

CHORUS OF PERSIAN ELDERS, who compose the Persian Council of State

The Persians

The Persians

(SCENE:— Before the Council-Hall of the Persian Kings at Susa. The tomb of Darius the Great is visible. The time is 480 B.C., shortly after the battle of Salamis. The play opens with the CHORUS OF PERSIAN ELDERS singing its first choral lyric.)

CHORUS

While o’er the fields of Greece the embattled troops Of Persia march with delegated sway, We o’er their rich and gold-abounding seats Hold faithful our firm guard; to this high charge Xerxes, our royal lord, the imperial son Of great Darius, chose our honour’d age. But for the king’s return, and his arm’d host Blazing with gold, my soul presaging ill Swells in my tortured breast: for all her force Hath Asia sent, and for her youth I sigh. Nor messenger arrives, nor horseman spurs With tidings to this seat of Persia’s kings. The gates of Susa and Ecbatana Pour’d forth their martial trains; and Cissia sees Her ancient towers forsaken, while her youth, Some on the bounding steed, the tall bark some Ascending, some with painful march on foot, Haste on, to arrange the deep’ning files of war. Amistres, Artaphernes, and the might Of great Astaspes, Megabazes bold, Chieftains of Persia, kings, that, to the power Of the great king obedient, march with these Leading their martial thousands; their proud steeds Prance under them; steel bows and shafts their arms, Dreadful to see, and terrible in fight, Deliberate valour breathing in their souls. Artembares, that in his fiery horse Delights; Masistress; and Imaeus bold, Bending with manly strength his stubborn bow; Pharandaces, and Sosthanes, that drives With military pomp his rapid steeds. Others the vast prolific Nile hath sent; Pegastagon, that from Aegyptus draws His high birth; Susiscanes; and the chief That reigns o’er sacred Memphis, great Arsames; And Ariomardus, that o’er ancient Thebes Bears the supreme dominion; and with these, Drawn from their watery marshes, numbers train’d To the stout oar. Next these the Lycian troops, Soft sons of luxury; and those that dwell Amid the inland forests, from the sea Far distant; these Metragathes commands, And virtuous Arceus, royal chiefs, that shine In burnish’d gold, and many a whirling car Drawn by six generous steeds from Sardis lead, A glorious and a dreadful spectacle. And from the foot of Tmolus, sacred mount, Eager to bind on Greece the servile yoke, Mardon and Tharybis the massy spear Grasp with unwearied vigour; the light lance The Mysians shake. A mingled multitude Swept from her wide dominions skill’d to draw The unerring bow, in ships Euphrates sends From golden Babylon. With falchions arm’d From all the extent of Asia move the hosts Obedient to their monarch’s stern command. Thus march’d the flower of Persia, whose loved youth The world of Asia nourish’d, and with sighs Laments their absence; many an anxious look Their wives, their parents send, count the slow days, And tremble at the long-protracted time. strophe 1 Already o’er the adverse strandIn arms the monarch’s martial squadrons spread; The threat’ning ruin shakes the land,And each tall city bows its tower’d head. Bark bound to bark, their wondrous wayThey bridge across the indignant sea;The narrow Hellespont’s vex’d waves disdain, His proud neck taught to wear the chain. Now has the peopled Asia’s warlike lord, By land, by sea, with foot, with horse,Resistless in his rapid course,O’er all their realms his warring thousands pour’d; Now his intrepid chiefs surveys,And glitt’ring like a god his radiant state displays. antistrophe 1 Fierce as the dragon scaled in goldThrough the deep files he darts his glowing eye; And pleased their order to behold,His gorgeous standard blazing to the sky, Rolls onward his Assyrian car,Directs the thunder of the war,Bids the wing’d arrows’ iron storm advance Against the slow and cumbrous lance.What shall withstand the torrent of his sway When dreadful o’er the yielding shoresThe impetuous tide of battle roars,And sweeps the weak opposing mounds away? So Persia, with resistless might,Rolls her unnumber’d hosts of heroes to the fight. strophe 2 For when misfortune’s fraudful handPrepares to pour the vengeance of the sky, What mortal shall her force withstand? What rapid speed the impending fury fly? Gentle at first with flatt’ring smilesShe spreads her soft enchanting wiles,So to her toils allures her destined prey, Whence man ne’er breaks unhurt away.For thus from ancient times the Fates ordain That Persia’s sons should greatly dare,Unequall’d in the works of war;Shake with their thund’ring steeds the ensanguined plain, Dreadful the hostile walls surround,And lay their rampired towers in ruins on the ground. antistrophe 2 Taught to behold with fearless eyesThe whitening billows foam beneath the gale, They bid the naval forests rise,Mount the slight bark, unfurl the flying sail, And o’er the angry ocean bear To distant realms the storm of war.For this with many a sad and gloomy thought My tortured breast is fraught:Ah me! for Persia’s absent sons I sigh; For while in foreign fields they fight,Our towns exposed to wild affrightAn easy prey to the invader lie: Where, mighty Susa, where thy powers,To wield the warrior’s arms, and guard thy regal towers?

EPODE Crush’d beneath the assailing foeHer golden head must Cissia bend;While her pale virgins, frantic with despair, Through all her streets awake the voice of wo; And flying with their bosoms bare,Their purfled stoles in anguish rend:For all her youth in martial pride,Like bees that, clust’ring round their king,Their dark imbodied squadrons bring,Attend their sceptred monarch’s side,And stretch across the watery wayFrom shore to shore their long array.The Persian dames, with many a tender fear, In grief’s sad vigils keep the midnight hour;Shed on the widow’d couch the streaming tear, And the long absence of their loves deplore.Each lonely matron feels her pensive breast Throb with desire, with aching fondness glow,Since in bright arms her daring warrior dress’d Left her to languish in her love-lorn wo.Now, ye grave Persians, that your honour’d seats Hold in this ancient house, with prudent care And deep deliberation, so the state Requires, consult we, pond’ring the event Of this great war, which our imperial lord, The mighty Xerxes from Darius sprung, The stream of whose rich blood flows in our veins, Leads against Greece; whether his arrowy shower Shot from the strong-braced bow, or the huge spear High brandish’d, in the deathful field prevails. But see, the monarch’s mother: like the gods Her lustre blazes on our eyes: my queen, Prostrate I fall before her: all advance With reverence, and in duteous phrase address her,

(ATOSSA enters with her retinue. The Elders do their obeisance to her.)

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

Hail, queen, of Persia’s high-zoned dames supreme, Age-honour’d mother of the potent Xerxes, Imperial consort of Darius, hail! The wife, the mother of the Persians’ god, If yet our former glories fade not from us.

ATOSSA

And therefore am I come, leaving my house That shines with gorgeous ornaments and gold, Where in past days Darius held with me His royal residence. With anxious care My heart is tortured: I will tell you, friends, My thoughts, not otherwise devoid of fear, Lest mighty wealth with haughty foot o’erturn And trample in the dust that happiness, Which, not unbless’d by Heaven, Darius raised. For this with double force unquiet thoughts Past utterance fill my soul; that neither wealth With all its golden stores, where men are wanting, Claims reverence; nor the light, that beams from power, Shines on the man whom wealth disdains to grace. The golden stores of wealth indeed are ours; But for the light (such in the house I deem The presence of its lord) there I have fears. Advise me then, you whose experienced age Supports the state of Persia: prudence guides Your councils, always kind and faithful to me.

LEADER

Speak, royal lady, what thy will, assured We want no second bidding, where our power In word or deed waits on our zeal: our hearts In this with honest duty shall obey thee.

ATOSSA

Oft, since my son hath march’d his mighty host Against the lonians, warring to subdue Their country, have my slumbers been disturb’d With dreams of dread portent; but most last night, With marks of plainest proof. I’ll tell thee then: Alethought two women stood before my eyes Gorgeously vested, one in Persian robes Adorn’d, the other in the Doric garb. With more than mortal majesty they moved, Of peerless beauty; sisters too they seem’d, Though distant each from each they chanced to dwell, In Greece the one, on the barbaric coast The other. ’Twixt them soon dissension rose: My son then hasted to compose their strife, Soothed them to fair accord, beneath his car Yokes them, and reins their harness’d necks. The one, Exulting in her rich array, with pride Arching her stately neck, obey’d the reins; The other with indignant fury spurn’d The car, and dash’d it piecemeal, rent the reins, And tore the yoke asunder; down my son Fell from the seat, and instant at his side His father stands, Darius, at his fall Impress’d with pity: him when Xerxes saw, Glowing with grief and shame he rends his robes. This was the dreadful vision of the night. When I arose, in the sweet-flowing stream I bathed my hands, and on the incensed altars Presenting my oblations to the gods To avert these ills, an eagle I behold Fly to the altar of the sun; aghast I stood, my friends, and speechless; when a hawk With eager speed runs thither, furious cuffs The eagle with his wings, and with his talons Unplumes his head; meantime the imperial bird Cowers to the blows defenceless. Dreadful this To me that saw it, and to you that hear. My son, let conquest crown his arms, would shine With dazzling glory; but should Fortune frown, The state indeed presumes not to arraign His sovereignty; yet how, his honour lost, How shall he sway the sceptre of this land?

LEADER

We would not, royal lady, sink thy soul With fear in the excess, nor raise it high With confidence. Go then, address the gods; If thou hast seen aught ill, entreat their power To avert that ill, and perfect ev’ry good To thee, thy sons, the state, and all thy friends. Then to the earth, and to the mighty dead Behooves thee pour libations; gently cal Him that was once thy husband, whom thou saw’st In visions of the night; entreat his shade From the deep realms beneath to send to light Triumph to thee and to thy son; whate’er Bears other import, to inwrap, to hide it Close in the covering earth’s profoundest gloom. This, in the presage of my thoughts that flow Benevolent to thee, have I proposed; And all, we trust, shall be successful to thee.

ATOSSA

Thy friendly judgment first hath placed these dreams In a fair light, confirming the event Benevolent to my son and to my house. May all the good be ratified! These rites Shall, at thy bidding, to the powers of heaven, And to the manes of our friends, be paid In order meet, when I return; meanwhile Indulge me, friends, who wish to be inform’d Where, in what clime, the towers of Athens rise.

LEADER

Far in the west, where sets the imperial sun.

ATOSSA

Yet my son will’d the conquest of this town.

LEADER

May Greece through all her states bend to his power!

ATOSSA

Send they embattled numbers to the field?

LEADER

A force that to the Medes hath wrought much wo.

ATOSSA

Have they sufficient treasures in their houses?

LEADER

Their rich earth yields a copious fount of silver.

ATOSSA

From the strong bow wing they the barbed shaft?

LEADER

They grasp the stout spear, and the massy shield.

ATOSSA

What monarch reigns, whose power commands their ranks?

LEADER

Slaves to no lord, they own no kingly power.

ATOSSA

How can they then resist the invading foe?

LEADER

As to spread havoc through the numerous host, That round Darius form’d their glitt’ring files.

ATOSSA

Thy words strike deep, and wound the parent’s breast Whose sons are march’d to such a dangerous field.

LEADER

But, if I judge aright, thou soon shalt hear Each circumstance; for this way, mark him, speeds A Persian messenger; he bears, be sure, Tidings of high import, or good or ill.

(A MESSENGER enters.)

MESSENGER