Persians

Aeschylus

Aeschylus, Volume 1. Smyth, Herbert Weir, translator. London; New York: William Heinemann; G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1922.

  1. Royal lady, august queen of the Persians, pour these libations down to the chambers of the earth,
  2. while we, in solemn chant, beseech the guides of the dead beneath the earth to be gracious to our prayers. O holy divinities of the nether world, Earth and Hermes, and you, Lord of the dead,
  3. send up to the light the spirit from below; for if, beyond our prayers, he knows any further remedy for our distress, he alone of mortals can declare how to bring it to accomplishment.
Chorus
  1. Does our sainted and godlike king hear me as I utter,
  2. in obscure barbaric speech, my dismal and dolorous cries? Or must I shout aloud the utter misery of my anguish so that it pierces the earth? Does he hear me from below?
Chorus
  1. O Earth, and you other rulers of those who dwell in the nether world, ensure, I implore, that the glorious spirit, the god of the Persians, whom Susa bore, may quit his abode.
  2. Send to the upper world him the likes of whom the Persian earth has never entombed.
Chorus
  1. Beloved indeed was the hero, beloved is his burial mound; beloved are the qualities that lie buried there. O Aidoneus,
  2. Aidoneus, who convey shades to the upper air, permit our divine lord Darius to come forth!
Chorus
  1. For since he did not ever cause the destruction of his people by senseless and ruinous wars, he bore the name of divine counsellor
  2. to the Persians; and a divine counsellor he was, since he guided his people well.
Chorus
  1. King, our king of old, come forth, draw near! Rise to the barrow’s topmost point,
  2. lift your saffron-dyed sandal, display the crest of your royal tiara! Come forth, O blameless father Darius.
Chorus
  1. That you may hear
  2. pitiable and unheard-of sorrows, O Lord of our lord, appear! For a gloom, like that of Styx, hovers over us, since all the youth of the land
  3. is now utterly destroyed. Come forth, O blameless father Darius!
Chorus
  1. Alas, alas! You whose death your friends bewailed with bitter tears,
  2. why, my king, my king, why is it that our land has lost all its three-tiered galleys,