by Aeschylus
Therefore, old men, take my farewell, and clasp,
Even amid the ruin of this time,
Unto your souls the pleasure of the day,
For dead men have no profit of their gold!
[The GHOST OF DARIUS sinks.
CHORUS
Alas, I thrill with pain for Persia’s woes —
Many fulfilled, and others hard at hand!
ATOSSA
O spirit of the race, what sorrows crowd
Upon me! and this anguish stings me worst,
That round my royal son’s dishonoured form
Hang rags and tatters, degradation deep!
I will away, and, bringing from within
A seemly royal robe, will straightway strive
To meet and greet my son: foul scorn it were
To leave our dearest in his hour of shame.
[Exit ATOSSA.
CHORUS
Ah glorious and goodly they were,
the life and the lot that we gained,
The cities we held in our hand
when the monarch invincible reigned,
The king that was good to his realm,
sufficing, fulfilled of his sway,
A lord that was peer of the gods,
the pride of the bygone day!
Then could we show to the skies
great hosts and a glorious name,
And laws that were stable in might;
as towers they guarded our fame!
There without woe or disaster
we came from the foe and the fight,
In triumph, enriched with the spoil,
to the land and the city’s delight.
What towns ere the Halys he passed!
what towns ere he came to the West,
To the main and the isles of the Strymon,
and the Thracian region possess’d!
And those that stand back from the main,
enringed by their fortified wall,
Gave o’er to Darius, the king,
the sceptre and sway over all!
Those too by the channel of Helle,
where southward it broadens and glides,
By the inlets, Propontis! of thee,
and the strait of the Pontic tides,
And the isles that lie fronting our sea-board,
and the Eastland looks on each one,
Lesbo and Chios and Paros,
and Samos with olive-trees grown,
And Naxos, and Myconos’ rock,
and Tenos with Andros hard by,
And isles that in midmost Aegean,
aloof from the continent, lie —
And Lemnos and Icaros’ hold —
all these to his sceptre were bowed,
And Cnidos and neighbouring Rhodes,
and Soli, and Paphos the proud,
And Cyprian Salamis, name-child of her
who hath wrought us this wrong!
Yea, and all the Ionian tract,
where the Greek-born inhabitants throng,
And the cities are teeming with gold —
Darius was lord of them all,
And, great by his wisdom, he ruled,
and ever there came to his call,
In stalwart array and unfailing,
the warrior chiefs of our land,
And mingled allies from the tribes
who bowed to his conquering hand!
But now there are none to gainsay
that the gods are against us; we lie
Subdued in the havoc of wreck,
and whelmed by the wrath of the sky!
[Enter XERXES in disarray.
XERXES
Alas the day, that I should fall
Into this grimmest fate of all,
This ruin doubly unforeseen!
On Persia’s land what power of Fate
Descends, what louring gloom of hate?
How shall I bear my teen?
My limbs are loosened where they stand,
When I behold this aged band —
Oh God! I would that I too, I,
Among the men who went to die,
Were whelmed in earth by Fate’s command!
CHORUS
Ah welladay, my King! ah woe
For all our heroes’ overthrow —
For all the gallant host’s array,
For Persia’s honour, pass’d away,
For glory and heroic sway
Mown down by Fortune’s hand to-day!
Hark, how the kingdom makes its moan,
For youthful valour lost and gone,
By Xerxes shattered and undone!
He, he hath crammed the maw of hell
With bowmen brave, who nobly fell,
Their country’s mighty armament,
Ten thousand heroes deathward sent!
Alas, for all the valiant band,
O king and lord! thine Asian land
Down, down upon its knee is bent!
XERXES
Alas, a lamentable sound,
A cry of ruth! for I am found
A curse to land and lineage,
With none my sorrow to assuage!
CHORUS
Alas, a death-song desolate
I send forth, for thy home-coming!
A scream, a dirge for woe and fate,
Such as the Asian mourners sing,
A sorry and ill-omened tale
Of tears and shrieks and Eastern wail!
XERXES
Ay, launch the woeful sorrow’s cry,
The harsh, discordant melody,
For lo, the power, we held for sure,
Hath turned to my discomfiture!
CHORUS
Yea, dirges, dirges manifold
Will I send forth, for warriors bold,
For the sea-sorrow of our host!
The city mourns, and I must wail
With plashing tears our sorrow’s tale,
Lamenting for the loved and lost!
XERXES
Alas, the god of war, who sways
The scales of fight in diverse ways,
Gives glory to Ionia!
Ionian ships, in fenced array,
Have reaped their harvest in the bay,
A darkling harvest-field of Fate,
A sea, a shore, of doom and hate!
CHORUS
Cry out, and learn the tale of woe!
Where are thy comrades? where the band
Who stood beside thee, hand in hand,
A little while ago?
Where now hath Pharandákes gone,
Where Psammis, and where Pelagon?
Where now is brave Agdabatas,
And Susas too, and Datamas?
Hath Susiscanes past away,
The chieftain of Ecbatana?
XERXES
I left them, mangled castaways,
Flung from their Tyrian deck, and tossed
On Salaminian water-ways,
From surging tides to rocky coast!
CHORUS
Alack, and is Pharnuchus slain,
And Ariomardus, brave in vain?
Where is Seualces’ heart of fire?
Lilaeus, child of noble sire?
Are Tharubis and Memphis sped?
Hystaechmas, Artembáres dead?
And where is brave Masistes, where?
Sum up death’s count, that I may hear!
XERXES
Alas, alas, they came, their eyes surveyed
Ancestral Athens on that fatal day.
Then with a rending struggle were they laid
Upon the land, and gasped their life away!
CHORUS
And Batanochus’ child, Alpistus great,
Surnamed the Eye of State —
Saw you and left you him who once of old
Ten thousand thousand fighting-men enrolled?
His sire was child of Sesamas, and he
From Megabates sprang. Ah, woe is me,
Thou king of evil fate!<
br />
Hast thou lost Parthus, lost Oebares great?
Alas, the sorrow! blow succeedeth blow
On Persia’s pride; thou tellest woe on woe!
XERXES
Bitter indeed the pang for comrades slain,
The brave and bold! thou strikest to my soul
Pain, pain beyond forgetting, hateful pain.
My inner spirit sobs and sighs with dole!
CHORUS
Another yet we yearn to see,
And see not! ah, thy chivalry,
Xanthis, thou chief of Mardian men
Countless! and thou, Anchares bright,
And ye, whose cars controlled the fight,
Arsaces and Diaixis wight,
Kegdadatas, Lythimnas dear,
And Tolmus, greedy of the spear!
I stand bereft! not in thy train
Come they, as erst! ah, ne’er again
Shall they return unto our eyes,
Car-borne, ‘neath silken canopies!
XERXES
Yea, gone are they who mustered once the host!
CHORUS
Yea, yea, forgotten, lost!
XERXES
Alas, the woe and cost!
CHORUS
Alas, ye heavenly powers!
Ye wrought a sorrow past belief,
A woe, of woes the chief!
With aspect stern, upon us Ate looms!
XERXES
Smitten are we — time tells no heavier blow!
CHORUS
Smitten! the doom is plain!
XERXES
Curse upon curse and pang on pang we know!
CHORUS
With the Ionian power
We clashed, in evil hour!
Woe falls on Persia’s race, yea, woe again, again!
XERXES
Yea, smitten am I, and my host is all to ruin hurled!
CHORUS
Yea verily — in mighty wreck hath sunk the Persian world!
XERXES (holding up a torn robe and a quiver)
See you this tattered rag of pride?
CHORUS
I see it, welladay!
XERXES
See you this quiver?
CHORUS
Say, hath aught survived and ‘scaped the fray?
XERXES
A store for darts it was, erewhile!
CHORUS
Remain but two or three!
XERXES
No aid is left!
CHORUS
Ionian folk such darts, unfearing, see!
XERXES
Right resolute they are! I saw disaster unforeseen.
CHORUS
Ah, speakest thou of wreck, of flight, of carnage that hath been?
XERXES
Yea, and my royal robe I rent, in terror at their fall!
CHORUS
Alas, alas!
XERXES
Yea, thrice alas!
CHORUS
For all have perished, all!
XERXES
Ah woe to us, ah joy to them who stood against our pride!
CHORUS
And all our strength is minished and sundered from our side!
XERXES
No escort have I!
CHORUS
Nay, thy friends are whelmed beneath the tide!
XERXES
Wail, wail the miserable doom, and to the palace hie!
CHORUS
Alas, alas, and woe again!
XERXES
Shriek, smite the breast, as I!
CHORUS
An evil gift, a sad exchange, of tears poured out in vain!
XERXES
Shrill out your simultaneous wail!
CHORUS
Alas the woe and pain!
XERXES
O, bitter is this adverse fate!
CHORUS
I voice the moan with thee!
XERXES
Smite, smite thy bosom, groan aloud for my calamity!
CHORUS
I mourn and am dissolved in tears!
XERXES
Cry, beat thy breast amain!
CHORUS
O king, my heart is in thy woe!
XERXES
Shriek, wail, and shriek again!
CHORUS
O agony!
XERXES
A blackening blow —
CHORUS
A grievous stripe shall fall!
XERXES
Yea, beat anew thy breast, ring out the doleful Mysian call!
CHORUS
An agony, an agony!
XERXES
Pluck out thy whitening beard!
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
SEVEN AGAINST THEBES
Translated by Herbert Weir Smyth
First performed in 467 BC, this play tells the story of Eteocles and Polynices, the duelling sons of Oedipus, the shamed King of Thebes. The tragedy examines two of Aeschylus’ most enduring themes: the interference of the gods in human affairs and the city (polis) being a key development of human civilisation.
In the drama, the brothers Eteocles and Polynices agree to alternate ruling Thebes, but after the first year Eteocles refuses to step down and Polynices wages war to claim his crown, enlisting the help of six, bringing the number to seven, strong allies to attack his brother. Eventually, the brothers kill each other in single combat and the original ending of the play consisted of lamentations for the dead brothers. A new ending was added to the play some fifty years later, with Antigone and Ismene mourning their dead brothers and a messenger entering to announce an edict prohibiting the burial of Polynices; and finally Antigone declares her intention to defy this edict.
The play was the third in a connected Oedipus trilogy; the first two plays were Laius and Oedipus, with the concluding satyr play being The Sphinx, but sadly these works are now lost.
The Oath of the Seven Chiefs
CONTENTS
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
SEVEN AGAINST THEBES
An early frieze depiction of Polynices and Eteocles
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ETEOCLES, son of Oedipus, King of Thebes
A MESSENGER (Scout).
CHORUS of Theban Maidens
ANTIGONE
ISMENE
A HERALD.
SCENE. — The Acropolis of Thebes, in which stand altars and images of various divinities.
TIME. — Prehistoric.
DATE. — 467 B.C., at the City Dionysia.
&
nbsp; ARGUMENT
It had been thrice foretold by Apollo, the lord of Delphi, unto Laïus, the King of the Cadmeans, that if he would save his kingdom he must die without offspring. But Laïus followed the perverse counsels of his nature and disobeyed the voice of god: he begat a son, whom he would have exposed to his death on Mount Cithaeron; but the babe was rescued by a shepherd who bore him to Corinth, where he grew to manhood, believing himself to be the son of the king of that land, although in fact he had only been adopted by him being childless. But coming to misdoubt his parentage, Oedipus journeyed to Delphi to seek the truth; and when the god declared that he should slay his own father and marry his own mother, he sought to flee such a fate and betake himself far from the land wherein he thought his father and his mother dwelt. But it befell as the god had said: on the way he met and slew, unbeknown to himself, his father Laïus: he came to Thebes, destroyed the monster Sphinx that mad havoc on the land, married the Queen, even his mother, and begat two sons, Eteocles and Polynices, and two daughters, Antigone and Ismene. But when the truth stood revealed, his mother-wife hung herself, and Oedipus stabbed his eyes that they might not look on the misery he had wrought. And it came to pass that his sons, who ruled in his stead alternately, each the space of a year, treated him sore ill, so he cursed them and declared they should divide their inheritance by the sword. Eteocles would not suffer his brother to have his time to rule; and to enforce his right Polynices, who had fled to Adrastus, King of Argos, and married the daughter of that prince, mustered a host and sought to take his native town.
At this point the action of the play begins. Warned by the seer Teiresias that the Argives are bent on a supreme assault, Eteocles heartens the burghers, quells the outcries of the daughters of Thebes, frantic at their impending danger, and receives the tidings from a scout that the enemy is advancing against the seven gates. To each of the opposing chieftains as they are described by the scout Eteocles opposes a worthy antagonist, nor will he himself hold back from encountering his brother when he learns that he is to attack the seventh gate. The curse of his father must not stand before a soldier’s honour. And so the brothers fell, each by the other’s hand, and the curse of Oedipus and the warning of Apollo to Laïus were fulfilled.
SEVEN AGAINST THEBES
[A large gathering of citizens of Thebes. Enter Eteocles with attendants.]
ETEOCLES
[1] Men of Cadmus’s city, he who guards from the stern the concerns of the State and guides its helm with eyes untouched by sleep must speak to the point. For if we succeed, the responsibility is heaven’s; but if — may it not happen — disaster is our lot, Eteocles would be the one name shouted many times throughout the city in the citizens’ resounding uproars and laments. From these evils may Zeus the Defender, upholding his name, shield the city of the Cadmeans!
[10] But now you — both he who is still short of his youthful prime, and he who, though past his prime, still strengthens the abundant growth of his body, and every man still in his prime, as is fitting — you must aid the State and the altars of your homeland’s gods so that their honors may never be obliterated. You must aid, too, your children, and Mother Earth, your beloved nurse. For welcoming all the distress of your childhood, when you were young and crept upon her kind soil, she raised you to inhabit her and bear the shield, and to prove yourselves faithful in this time of need. And so, until today, God has been favorably inclined, for though we have long been under siege, the war has gone well for the most part through the gods’ will. But now, as the seer, the herdsman of birds, informs us, using his ears and his mind to understand with unerring skill the prophetic birds unaided by sacrificial fire — he, master of such prophecy, declares that the greatest Argive attack is being planned in night assembly and that they will make plans to capture our city. Hurry each of you to the battlements and the gates of our towered walls! Rush with all your armor! Fill the parapets and take your positions on the platforms of the towers. Stand your ground bravely where the gates open out, and do not be afraid of this crowd of foreigners. God will bring it to a good end.
