Xerxes has led the hosts of Asia on the fatal expedition against Hellas. His mother, Atossa, remaining at Susa, has a fatal dream, which she recounts to the chorus of aged Persians.

* * * * *

ATOSSA'S DREAM.

LINES 178-216.

ATOSSA.

By dreams I have been haunted every night,
Since with his armament my son went forth
To smite the land of the Ionians.
Yet never dream has come so startling clear
As last night's vision; let me tell it thee:—
Methought two women, beauteously attired,
The robes of one in Persian fashion wrought.
Those of her mate in Dorian, met my view.
In stature they surpassed all womankind;
Peerless their forms; sisters they were in blood.
The heritage and dwelling-place of one
Was Hellas, of the other Asia.
Between these two methought a strife arose,
Which when my son perceived, he checked their wrath
And calmed them, and beneath his chariot's yoke
He led them both, and o'er their necks the rein
He stretched. Then of her trappings one seemed proud
And to the bit her mouth obedient lent.
But her companion, like a restive steed,
The harness broke, and, heeding not the bit,
O'erthrew the car and snapped the yoke in twain.
My son falls, and his sire Darius comes
To aid and comfort him, whom when he sees,
Xerxes his garments rends in sign of woe.
Such was my dream. When morning came I rose,
And first the night's pollution purged away
With purifying waters, then I sought
The altar, with my sacrificial train
To lay the gift, which turns the wrath divine,
Of honeyed meal before the powers who save.
Behold an eagle flying in affright
To Phoebus' shrine; fear struck me mute, my friends.
Then lo! a falcon on the eagle swoops,
Assails him with his wings and tears his head
With angry talons, while the mightier bird
Cowers unresisting. Awful 'twas to see,
Awful it is for you to hear. My son,
If well he fares, will boundless glory win,
If ill—yet he no reckoning owes the state;
Let him but live and he is master here.

* * * * *

SALAMIS.

The battle narrated by a Persian coming from the scene.

LINES 251-473.

MESSENGER.

Alas! ye cities all of Asia,
Alas! thou Persia, treasure-house of wealth,
How at one stroke has your prosperity
Been overthrown and Persia's glory lost!
Ill-luck has he that evil tidings brings,
Yet needs must I my tale of woe unfold.
Persians, our host has perished utterly.

* * * * * * *

ATOSSA.

O'erwhelming sorrow has long held me mute.
Disaster such as this transcends all thought,
Bars all enquiry, chokes all utterance.
And yet we mortals must misfortune bear
When heaven ordains. Then, though thy heart be
wrung,
Calm thee and tell us all, that we may know
Who of our warriors lives, whom we must mourn
Among our chiefs, as having by his death
Left void the station of his high command.

MESSENGER.

Xerxes himself lives and beholds the sun.

ATOSSA.

Thy word is sunshine to my sorrowing house;
A cheerful day after a dismal night.

MESSENGER.

Artembares, that led ten thousand horse,
Lies slain upon the rough Silenian shore;
And Dadaces, that led a thousand more,
Pierced by a spear plunged headlong from his barque;
And Tenagon, Bactria's true son and pride,
Lies on the wave-washed beach of Ajax' Isle.
Lileus, Arsames, Argestes too,
Round the dove-haunted island drifting, struck
Its girdling rocks on fell disaster's day.
Matallus, that from Chrysa came, has fallen,
He that dark horsemen thrice ten thousand led;
The flowing beard that graced his cheek in gore
Steeped unto crimson turned its russet hue.
Arabian Magos, Bactrian Artames,
Die in a strange land, never to return;
And Tharybis, of five times fifty sail
Commander, Lyrna's son, with his fair face
By foul mischance of war has been laid low.
While, bravest of the brave, Syennesis,
Cilicia's admiral, who to the foe
Most trouble gave, has met a glorious doom.

ATOSSA.

Alas! this overtops the height of woe;
For Persia naught remains but shame and wail.
But now take up thy story, let me hear
What was the number of the Hellenic fleet,
That thus it dared our Persian armament
In battle with encountering prows to brave.

MESSENGER.

Know that if numbers could have gained the day
Victory was ours, for the Hellenic fleet
Counted in all but thrice a hundred sail,
Of which were ten for swiftness set apart.
But with a thousand galleys Xerxes came—
His muster-roll I know—whereof the ships
For swiftness picked two hundred were and seven.
Think you herein ours was the weaker side?
Some deity against us turned the scale,
And brought confusion on our armament,
The powers of Heaven for Pallas' city fight.

ATOSSA.

Has Athens then escaped the avenger's hand?

MESSENGER.

Her walls are scatheless while her men remain.

ATOSSA.

Recount then how began the naval fight.

MESSENGER.

Lady, the origin of all our woes
Was the appearance of some evil power.
A man of Hellas from the Athenian fleet
Came forth unto thy son, King Xerxes, said
That, when the darkling shades of night came on,
His countrymen would flee, leaping aboard
Their ships, each as he might, to save their lives.
Which when King Xerxes heard, suspecting not
The Hellene's treachery nor the spite of heaven,
He gives this order to his admirals:—
As soon as daylight faded from the earth,
And darkness overspread the face of heaven,
In three divisions our main force to range,
Barring each outlet and each water-way,
And with the rest to circle Ajax' Isle;
All being warned that if the Hellenes found
A part unguarded and escaped their doom,
Each with his head should pay the penalty.
This fiat he with heart uplift sent forth,
As little knowing what the gods ordained.
Obedient to the word, our seamen all
Prepared their evening meal, then every man
In order to the rowlock lashed his oar.
Soon as the light of evening died away
And night came on, each man who plied the oar
Went to his ship with all the men-at-arms,
And the word passed along the lines of war.
Then they put forth, each in his place assigned,
And through the live-long night the captains kept
Our weary seamen toiling at the oar.
So passed the hours of darkness, yet the fleet
Of Hellas showed no sign of stealthy flight.
But when the white steeds of returning day
Suffused the land and sea with orient light,
From the Hellenic fleet the hymn of war
Pealed forth in unison, and echo loud
Rang out in answer from the rocky isle.
Amazement on the host of Asia fell
And consternation, for no thought of flight
Was in that solemn chant, but courage high,
Desire of battle, hope of victory.
Then did the trumpet, thrilling, fire all hearts.
The word was given, and with concordant sweep
Their dashing oars at once upturned the brine,
And soon their whole armada was in sight.
The right wing first came forth in fair array,
The whole fleet followed and the shout was raised
Through all the lines, "On, sons of Hellas, on;
On, for the freedom of your fatherland,
Your wives, your children, your forefathers' graves,
The temples of your gods; all are at stake."
In answer rang on our side, loud and wide,
The Persian war-cry. Time to lose was none.
At once, encountering with their brazen beaks
The squadrons met. A ship of Hellas first
Charged a Phoenician galley and stove in
Her stern-works; general then the onset grew.
At first the prowess of our Persian host
Made head, but, crowded in the narrow strait,
Our galleys, powerless mutual aid to lend,
Dashed on their consorts with their brazen beaks,
And swept each other's banks of oars away.
Meanwhile the watchful foe, surrounding them,
Charged on the rout; ship after ship went down
Before him, and the sea was lost to sight
Beneath the drifting wrecks and floating dead.
Then all resistance ended, and our ships
Plied one and all their oars in panic flight.
The foe, as 'twere a haul of tunny fish,
With splintered oars and fragments of the wreck
Assailed and slaughtered them; the waters rang
With mingled cries of death and victory,
Till night's dark veil descending closed the scene.
The sum of our disasters, though I spoke
For ten long days, I never could unfold.
Know in a word, so vast a multitude
Has never fallen in one disastrous day.

ATOSSA.

Alas! a huge wave of calamity
Has broken on our universal realm.

MESSENGER.

Thou art but half way through this tale of woe,
For a disaster on our army fell
Which twice outweighed all this that I have told.

ATOSSA.

Can fortune's spite what thou hast told surpass?
Go on, recount this new calamity
Which in thy estimation outweighs all.

MESSENGER.

The very flower of all our Persian host,
The trusted pillars of our monarchy,
Have met a piteous and a shameful end.

ATOSSA.

Ah! woe is me for this dire history.
Recount, then, how our noblest warriors fell.

MESSENGER.

An isle there is in face of Salamis,
Small and without a haven, on whose strand
Dance-loving Pan his measure often treads.
Thither the King despatched these chosen bands
That when from sinking ships crews swam ashore,
They of their foes might make an easy prey,
And their friends rescue from a watery grave,
Ill the event foreseeing. For when heaven
Gave the Hellenes victory on the sea,
At once their bodies they in armour sheathed,
Leaped from their galleys forth, and all the isle
With arms encircled. Outlet for escape
Our hopeless bands had none. A ceaseless storm
Of stones was rained upon them, and the shafts,
Whistling from many a bowstring, scattered death.
At last, combining in one charge, the foe
Fell on them, stabbed them, hacked them limb from limb,
Nor stayed the butchery till the last was slain.
Xerxes, when he such utter ruin saw
From the high throne where, on an eminence
Hard by the sea, he overlooked the scene,
Sent forth a piercing cry and rent his clothes;
Then gave his troops the order to retreat
And headlong took to flight. Now thou dost know
The harvest and the aftermath of woe.