Four Plays of Aeschylus Part 17

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

Pa.s.s! 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 G.o.d 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 t.i.tle here, in Cadmus' hold!

You it beseems now boys unripened yet To l.u.s.ty 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.

Mark now! until to-day, luck rules our scale; For we, though long beleaguered, in the main Have with our sallies struck the foemen hard.

But now the seer, the feeder of the birds, (Whose art unerring and prophetic skill Of ear and mind divines their utterance Without the lore of fire interpreted) Foretelleth, by the mastery of his art, That now an onset of Achaea's host Is by a council of the night designed To fall in double strength upon our walls.

Up and away, then, to the battlements, The gates, the bulwarks! don your panoplies, Array you at the breast-work, take your stand On floorings of the towers, and with good heart Stand firm for sudden sallies at the gates, Nor hold too heinous a respect for hordes Sent on you from afar: some G.o.d will guard!

I too, for shrewd espial of their camp, Have sent forth scouts, and confidence is mine They will not fail nor tremble at their task, And, with their news, I fear no foeman's guile.

[Enter A SPY.

THE SPY

Eteocles, high king of Cadmus' folk, I stand here with news certified and sure From Argos' camp, things by myself descried.

Seven warriors yonder, doughty chiefs of might, Into the crimsoned concave of a shield Have shed a bull's blood, and, with hands immersed Into the gore of sacrifice, have sworn By Ares, lord of fight, and by thy name, Blood-lapping Terror, Let our oath be heard- Either to raze the walls, make void the hold Of Cadmus-strive his children as they may- Or, dying here, to make the foemen's land With blood impasted. Then, as memory's gift Unto their parents at the far-off home, Chaplets they hung upon Adrastus' car, With eyes tear-dropping, but no word of moan.

For their steeled spirit glowed with high resolve, As lions pant, with battle in their eyes.

For them, no weak alarm delays the clear Issues of death or life! I parted thence Even as they cast the lots, how each should lead, Against which gate, his serried company.

Rank then thy bravest, with what speed thou may'st, Hard by the gates, to dash on them, for now, Full-armed, the onward ranks of Argos come!

The dust whirls up, and from their panting steeds White foamy flakes like snow bedew the plain.