A collection of Aeschylus’s four other plays (other as in besides the Orestia trilogy).

The Persians: Seems mostly of historical interest, as Aeschylus was apparently at the battle of Salamis. The play tells of the Persians learning of their defeat. I feel like a modern analogous play would have far more gloating.

Seven against Thebes: Part of Aeschylus’s four plays covering the Oedipus story, the others are lost. Interesting, this covers the part of the story not told by Sophocles. A large part of it consists of the so-called shield scene where each of the seven are described and matched up with someone from the city. The end of the play was altered to match Sophocles’s Antigone.

Prometheus Bound: Some believe this was written by someone else, perhaps Aeschylus’s son. This finds Prometheus punished for helping humans after Zeus determined to destroy them. While some of the play is about Prometheus, and the knowledge he has that will save him, a large part is about Io’s future, which relates to The Supplicants.

The Supplicants: Although part of a different tetraology, the story here is summarized in Prometheus Bound. In this play the Chorus (i.e. the supplicants) are the protagonist, looking to avoid a forced marriage. This is the middle play, so the eventually climax (the woman are forced to marry, and all but one end up killing their husbands) happens off screen. There’s some interesting ideas here. They seek the help of Argos, but helping them could mean Argos entering into a war. And though it is only spelled out through inference, Argos ends up being ruled as a tyrant by the end.

All of these pale compared to the Orestia, but perhaps that’s unfair since none contain their companion pieces. I have to admit after reading most (especially The Persians) I felt like nothing happened. It’s not appropriate, but the convention seems to mostly invert “Show, don’t Tell” that predominates writing standards now.

I definitely think The Supplicants was my favorite, despite it being the middle play.

Every Greek tragedy that we are fortunate to have is excellent and absolutely worth reading. This review is not for these tragedies as a collection or individually. That is a very different task that I think is best done through reading a good study of Greek tragedy. Rather, this is about the Chicago translations generally, and this one in particular. These are all very good translations that, as I understand from both friends who read these in the Greek and friends who are Classicists, are faithful to the Classic Greek. There is supplementary material but not too much to sway the reader. Also, these volumes are excellent for reading groups and the classroom since the standard pagination on the margins is very close to the original, such as you might find in a Loeb. They are worth the extra money.

These are 4 plays by the father of Greek tragedy, and are interesting both as early examples of the dramatic art (the use of the Chorus for example) and as celebrations of Greek culture and traditions.

I had only read The Persians before and that has a real historical background against which Aeschylus explores his themes of tyranny and divine justice. It is a very powerful drama full of anguish and despair. Prometheus Unbound is probably the most famous of Aeschylus’ plays, but it is the middle part of a trilogy and suffers because the two other parts have been lost. Nevertheless, the clash between the gods and mortals is a compelling one. Seven Against Thebes was the least memorable and didn’t even have the same ‘feel’ as the others.

A surprise favourite for me was The Suppliant Maidens where I liked the way the language unfolded. The maidens are fleeing from forced marriage in Egypt and seek shelter in Greece, and within this simple concept Aeschylus explores the tradition of such marriages, the descent of the maidens in a divine line from Io and Zeus, and the ethics of the Greek people who must decide whether to shelter the maidens. It’s simple but really well done.

recensione sul blog: http://thereadingpal.blogspot.it/2018...



Sto cercando di recuperare la lettura di classici greci e latini, per piacere personale. Purtroppo mi manca la conoscenza sia del greco antico che del latino, entrambe lingue che dovrei imparare. Questa volta è toccato ad alcune opere di Eschilo.
La mia è una copia vecchissima, tanto che ha il prezzo in lire, ma sia l'introduzione che la traduzione sono state scritte dalle stesse persone della nuova versione.
Consiglio di non saltare la parte introduttiva: io, presonalmente, l'ho trovata molto interessante. Purtroppo nel corso di Letteratura Greca quest'anno si ci è concentrato su altri autori, quindi per me è stato un approfondimento molto gradito.
Per quanto riguarda la traduzione, senza sapere la lingua non posso dire molto, ecco. Guardando l'originale riconoscevo qualche parola, ma non tanto da poter controllare la traduzione. Nel complesso si leggeva bene, anche se alcuni punti mi sono piaciuti più di altri. È un peccato che ci manchino alcuni versi. Mi chiedo come sarebbe leggerlo, e anche vederlo, in originale. Eschilo ha portato parecchie innovazioni al teatro greco, e le tragedie da lui scritte sono davvero interessanti.
Tra queste quattro opere, quella che ho preferito è sicuramente il Prometeo Incatenato, seguito da I persiani. Per quanto riguarda il Prometeo, racconta il mito del titano Prometeo e della sua punizione, inflittagli da Zeus per aver donato il fuoco agli umani. È quella che mi è piaciuta di più perché adoro la mitologia greca, e perché, leggendo opere che parlano di loro, mi sento più vicina agli dèi. Per quanto riguarda I Persiani, invece, viene portata a Susa la notizia della sconfitta di Salamina. L'ultima parte, dove appare Serse, è uno dei punti che più ho amato. Anche I sette contro Tebe e Le supplici sono bellissime opere, sopratutto la seconda per quanto mi riguarda.
In tutte queste opere possiamo individuare dettagli della cultura greca del tempo, altro dettaglio che mi interessa molto, e le note a volte aiutano ad individuare dettagli che potrebbero sfuggire.
Non ho molto da dire, a essere sincera. Le opere mi sono piaciute, le trame erano interessanti e la traduzione facile da seguire. Il tutto si legge piuttosto velocemente ed io, personalmente, non mi sono affatto annoiata nella lettura.

Kun lukee antiikin kreikkalaisia näytelmiä. on hyvä tuntea aihetta etukäteen. Totta kai monista on kasvanut suuria perustarinoita, joiden nimet elävät edelleen, kuten Oidipus, Sisyfos, Prometheus ja niin edelleen. Prometheus itse asiassa oli syy, miksi luin tämän kokoelman. En löytänyt siitä suomeksi omaa julkaisua, joten luettiin nyt kerralla neljä antiikin tragediaa. Näissä on tietysti hyvä tiedostaa, että varsinaisia tapahtumia ei ole, kaikki kerrotaan esiintymislavalla yhdeltä toiselle ja vielä runomuodossa, joten aina tällainen tavallinen kaduntallaaja ei ole täysin perillä, mistä on kyse. Kannattaa siis käyttää esimerkiksi nettiä saadakseen lisävalaistusta. Joka tapauksessa jälleen kerran veri virtaa valtoimenaan ja naiset ovat lähinnä vaihdon välineitä. Jumalat eivät juurikaan piittaa kuolevaisista, paitsi Prometheus ja hän saikin maksaa siitä karvaasti. Jos kiinnostaa länsimaisen kulttuurin ja kirjallisuuden alku, huonomminkin voisi lukemisensa valita.

3.5 stars rounded down. A great start to western drama.

Persians - 4 stars
Otototoi, you are saying / that the dead bodies of our loved ones / are floating, soaked and constantly buffeted by salt water, / shrouded in mantles that drift in the waves! (274-277)

But Artembares, the commander of ten thousand horse, is being pounded against the rugged shores of Sileniae; and took an effortless leap out of his ship; and the excellent Tenagon, a noble of the Bactrians, now wanders around the wave-beaten island of Ajax. (305)

The hulls of our ships turned keel-up, and the sea surface was no longer visible, filled as it was with the wreckage of ships and the slaughter of men; the shores and reefs were also full of corpses. (415)

Terribly lacerated by the sea - pheu! - / they are being savaged by the voiceless children - ehhh-e! - / of the Undefiled - o-ahh! / Bereaved houses mourn their men, / and aged parents. (576-580)

Seven Against Thebes - 3 stars
For I speak of the transgression / born long ago, punished swiftly, but remaining to the third / generation, when Laius, defying / Apollo, who had told him thrice / at the central navel of earth, / the oracular sanctuary of Pytho, to die / without issue to save his city, / mastered by his own cherished, unwise counsels, / begot his own death, / Oedipus the father-slayer, / who sowed the sacrosanct soil / of his mother, where he had been nurtured, / and suffered a bloodstained progeny: / it was mindless madness / that brought that bridal couple together. (743-757)

Suppliants -3 stars

Prometheus Bound -3.5 stars
Now drive the remorseless bite of the adamantine wedge with all your power right through his chest. (64-65)

In the first place, the Father will tear this rugged ravine wall into fragments with his thunder and the fire of his lightning-bolt, and will bury you under it, gripped in the embrace of the rocks. After the completion of a vast length of time, you will come back again to the light; and then, I tell you, the winged hound of Zeus, the bloodthirsty eagle, will greedily butcher your body into great ragged shreds, coming uninvited for a banquet that lasts all day, and will feast on your liver, which will turn black with gnawing. (1015-1025)

The god Prometheus, who in defiance of Zeus has saved mankind and given them fire, is chained to a remote crag as a punishment ordered by the king of the gods. Despite his isolation Prometheus is visited by the ancient god Oceanus, by a chorus of Oceanus’ daughters, by the “cow-headed” Io (another victim of Zeus), and finally by the god Hermes, who vainly demands from Prometheus his knowledge of a secret that could threaten Zeus’s power. After refusing to reveal his secret, Prometheus is cast into the underworld for further torture. The drama of the play lies in the clash between the irresistible power of Zeus and the immovable will of Prometheus, who has been rendered still more stubborn by Io’s misfortunes at the hands of Zeus. The most striking and controversial aspect of the play is its depiction of Zeus as a tyrant. Prometheus himself has proved to be for later ages an archetypal figure of defiance against tyrannical power.

Prometheus dared, and suffered for it, and therefore his story speaks to every single person who has dared and suffered. The Athenian playwright Aeschylus told well the story of Prometheus’ transgression and torment back around 430 B.C.; and as this Penguin Books edition of four of Aeschylus’ plays demonstrates, the same themes that predominate in Prometheus Bound can also be found in other Aeschylean plays such as The Seven Against Thebes, The Suppliants, and The Persians.

Prometheus Bound starts off on a grim note, and only gets grimmer from there. As the play begins, the Titan Prometheus, who has defied the will of Zeus by stealing fire from heaven and giving it to humankind, is being bound to a rocky mountaintop near the sea. A sympathetically depicted Hephaestus, god of the forge, is notably reluctant to chain Prometheus to the mountain – “how can I/Find heart to lay hands on a god of my own race,/And cruelly clamp him to this bitter, bleak ravine?” (pp. 20-21) – but feels that he cannot defy the will of Zeus.

Bound to his rock, knowing that he will be condemned to unending torture, Prometheus states that his reason for giving fire to humans was not simply to raise them from the level of the other animals. Rather, he says that Zeus “Of wretched humans…took no account, resolved/To annihilate them and create another race”, and claims that “This purpose there was no one to oppose but I:/I dared. I saved the human race from being ground/To dust, from total death” (p. 27). Some modern readers might see a parallel between Prometheus’ story and the Biblical account of Christ’s enduring the torments of the Crucifixion in order to save humankind from being lost to sin. Others, who have seen Ridley Scott’s science-fiction film Prometheus (2012), will no doubt recall the revealing words of the android David: “Sometimes, to create, one must first destroy.”

Yet Prometheus holds a sort of trump card; he knows the identity of the woman who is fated to bear a son greater than his father – whose offspring could, theoretically, dethrone Zeus himself, if Zeus pursues a liaison with her. A cold and unsympathetic messenger-god Hermes demands that Prometheus reveal the identity of this woman – “The Father bids you tell him what this marriage is/Through which you boast that he shall fall from power” (p. 48) – and adds that Prometheus’ punishment, if he fails to submit to Zeus’ command, will include having his liver gnawed every day by an eagle. The Chorus, which usually in Greek drama expresses the likely sensibility of the audience, urges Prometheus to relent: “To us it seems that Hermes’ words are sensible./He bids you quit resistance and seek good advice./Do so; a wise man’s folly forfeits dignity” (p. 51). Yet Prometheus is unmoved, and the play ends with him crying out against his torment.

Prometheus Bound was the first play of a trilogy; the other two plays in the trilogy, Prometheus Unbound and Prometheus the Fire-Bringer, are lost. But if the dramatic trajectory of this trilogy was anything like what one sees in Aeschylus’ Oresteia, then perhaps these plays showed Prometheus softening his pride and Zeus moderating his wrath – a scenario in which, while humans need to learn to serve the gods faithfully, so the gods must learn to rule justly.

Certainly Prometheus has a major and enduring role in our culture – not just the film Prometheus, cited above, but also examples as varied as Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein (1818), bearing as it does the subtitle The Modern Prometheus; Percy Bysshe Shelley’s lyrical drama Prometheus Unbound (1820), which gives Shelley’s Romanticism-inflected version of the events following Aeschylus’ play; and even the Prometheus statue that dominates the lower plaza at New York’s Rockefeller Center, where the fire-bringing Titan is made to symbolize New York’s enduring spirit of commerce and enterprise. I suppose it is for the best that sculptor Paul Manship didn’t show Prometheus bound to the rock, with the liver-gnawing eagle and all that – would have sent the wrong message.

The suppliants of Aeschylus’ The Suppliants are 50 women – the “Danaids” or daughters of Danaus, whose brother, the Egyptian king Aegyptus has 50 sons. Aegyptus believes that it would be a simply perfect arrangement if all of Danaus’ daughters married all of Aegyptus’ sons – 50 brides for 50 brothers – but the Danaids are having none of it. Therefore they have left their Egyptian homeland and taken refuge on Greece’s Peloponnesian coast, saying, “Exile is our choice,/Our hope of escape from lust of men,/From abhorred and impious union with Aegyptus’ sons” (p. 54). The Argive king Pelasgus is skeptical at first regarding their request for political asylum in Argos, stating that “Marriage within the family gives increase of strength” (p. 64); evidently, it doesn’t much bother him if cousins marry. Yet Pelasgus faces a dreadful dilemma: if he shelters the Danaids, the Egyptians will make war upon him; if he rejects the Danaids, he will violate the obligation of every Greek king to shelter the suppliant. And an arrogant Egyptian herald, arriving on the Peloponnesian coast, makes all too clear his readiness to drag the Danaids – by the hair, if necessary – back into the slavery of marriage to the Aegyptids.

The play ends on a note of cautious hope for the Danaids; but the true shape of things to come may be seen in the words of a second chorus, a chorus of maids who counsel restraint and reverence for the will of the gods: “[Y]ou, it seems, would alter the unalterable….[I]n your prayers use restraint….Towards the gods – never be uncompromising” (p. 85). In the remaining plays of the tetralogy that The Suppliants begins, perhaps Aeschylus spun out the rest of the story: the Danaids’ forced marriage to the Aegyptids, their wedding-night murders of their husbands, and their punishment in Tartarus – forever carrying water in perforated buckets, to fill a tub that will never be filled.

The Seven Against Thebes invokes a mythological scenario that will be familiar to readers of Sophocles’ Antigone -- a civil war between Oedipus’ sons Eteocles and Polyneices. Greek viewers of Aeschylus’ time would have known well the story of how the two brothers are supposed to rule Thebes jointly; but Eteocles seizes sole power for himself, and in response Polyneices raises a mercenary army of Argive soldiers to lay siege to Thebes, with one Argive captain stationing himself outside each of Thebes’ seven gates – hence, the Seven Against Thebes. Eteocles commands elite Theban officers to defend the gates, and goes forth to lead the defense himself.

The scenario creates an ethical double-bind. Does one support the king who rules unjustly? Or does one follow the rebel who threatens to bring all the horrors of civil war to the city he wants to rule – who will, in effect, destroy Thebes in order to save it?

Eteocles possesses the arrogance characteristic of many of the tragic heroes of classical Greek drama, confidently asserting that the Theban people need “Never fear this horde of foreigners!/God will give victory” (p. 89). A chorus of Theban women meanwhile express their anxiety regarding the coming conflict, and pray to the gods for relief for the fate that awaits them if Polyneices’ rebel army prevails: “Come, all you gods who guard our country;/See us, threatened with slavery, joining in supplication” (p. 91).

The result of the battle is an eloquent denunciation of the horrors of civil war. All of the Seven Against Thebes are killed; so are the Theban captains who defended the city against them. Worse yet, the two brothers Eteocles and Polyneices have killed each other. Antigone and Ismene, sisters of Eteocles and Polyneices, come together to mourn over their dead brothers. As in Sophocles’ Antigone, it is ordained that Eteocles will receive honourable burial, while the body of the rebel Polyneices will be exposed to the elements; and Antigone boldly announces her intent of giving her brother Polyneices a dignified burial, come what may. The play ends on a note of division, with half of the chorus following the funeral procession of each of the dead brothers.

The Persians differs from the other plays in this collection, in that it draws from history rather than mythology for its source material. The tragic protagonist here is Xerxes, king of Persia; the time is sometime in 480 or 479 B.C., not long after the Greek victory at the Battle of Salamis destroyed Xerxes’ dreams of conquering the Greek city-states and incorporating them into the Persian Empire. When The Persians premiered in 472 B.C., the Greeks’ victory at Salamis was just eight years in the past – rather as if a playwright today, in 2017, wrote a play dramatizing a major 2009 event.

Standing at the tomb of Xerxes’ predecessor Darius, a Chorus of Persian councilors waits anxiously for the return of Xerxes, wondering what the result of the Persian expedition against Greece may have been. They are joined in front of the Persian royal palace at Susa by Xerxes’ mother Atossa, who expresses her own sense of dread “That our vast wealth may in its rash course overturn/That fair peace which Darius built with heaven’s help” (p. 127).

Atossa sees in a dream the destruction of the Persian forces at Salamis; and when the ghost of Darius arises, King Hamlet-like, from his tomb, having sensed disquiet in his former kingdom, Atossa must tell him the bad news of Xerxes’ defeat. The Persian Darius sounds very Greek when he bemoans how “my son, in youthful recklessness,/Not knowing the gods’ ways, has been the cause of all” (p. 143). That theme of impious pride being thrown down by divine will is reinforced when Xerxes himself enters, in rags, describes his defeat, and denounces himself as “A loathed and piteous outcast,/Born to destroy my race” (p. 148). Did the original Athenians watching this play feel sympathy for Xerxes in his downfall? Did they look at this play as an opportunity to do a bit of an “end-zone dance” over their defeated Persian enemy? Or were there elements of both?

With helpful commentary and notes from the distinguished translator Philip Vellacott, this Penguin Books edition of Prometheus Bound and Other Plays provides a fine and strong introduction to these works by the first of Athens’ great dramatists.

A couple of the plays in this edition are included simply because they are a few of the seven surviving plays of Aeschylus. All are part of trilogies where the other two parts are lost. Prometheus Bound and Seven Against Thebes are quality depictions of the stories of the god who suffered for bringing the light of knowledge to humanity and the fatal confrontation of Polyneices and Eteocles, sons of Oedipus, for control of Thebes. The Persians is a contemporary depiction of the recent triumph over Xerxes. All are good examples of Greek tragedy, although none are supremely great. For that, we fortunately have the examples of The Oresteia by the same playwright. Personally, Oresteia aside, I prefer Sophocles. Still, I would love to see somebody stage Prometheus, if only to see an actor perform while chained to a rock.

pretty well written, vaguely entertaining portrayal of one of the most well known greek myths, but not really any new or interesting ideas or worldviews presented. made a lot of sense when i found out aeschylus was a nepo baby.

Os versos estão marcados no papel. Isso aqui, portanto, é um "resumo do resumo" porque há muitas coisas que já precisam ser digitadas e copiar todos os versos aqui levaria tempo.



OS PERSAS

A população persa espera o retorno dos soldados.
O coro mostra-se confiante quanto a vitória do exército persa. Contudo, a rainha-mãe conta seus maus presságios. Em seguida, o mensageiro anuncia a derrota persa e assegura que o rei Xerxes está vivo. Segue-se a isso as histórias de como cada comandante persa foi morto.
A vitória grega foi atribuída a um Nume, e não por mérito do próprio exército, uma vez que os persas detinham uma expressiva superioridade numérica.
Com o relato do mensageiro concluído, o Coro canta o sofrimento dos persas.
A rainha, buscando acalmar os temores, levou libações funerárias ao antigo rei Dário, que respondeus às súplicas de sua mulher e apareceu em sua frente.
A última parte da tragédia é composta pelo Coro e Xerxes, que juntos sofrem pelas perdas causadas.



SETE CONTRA TEBAS

Etéocles enviou espiões ao exército inimigo de Argos, para que assim soubesse como seria o ataque de seu irmão, Polinices. Ao retornar, o mensageiro anuncia os sete comandantes que atacarão a cidade, que são respondidos com outros sete comandantes por Etéocles, sendo ele mesmo o sétimo.
Os espião retorna novamente e nomeia cada um dos comandantes, contando qual das portas eles atacarão, e Etéocles movimenta os seus de acordo com o adversário que achava mais adequado.
Ao saber que o sétimo atacante era seu irmão, Etéocles relembra das palavras de seu pai, que disse que ambos seriam mortos pelas mãos um do outro. O Coro tenta impedi-lo, mas não obtém sucesso, pois ele insiste que deve cumprir a vontade dos deuses.
Após a batalha, o Mensageiro anuncia ao Coro que a guerra fora vencida, mas que a profecia de Édipo realizou-se. Em seguida, inicia-se a história de Antígona, de Sófocles, na qual a irmã se recusa a cumprir a ordem do novo rei de não sepultar Polinices.



AS SUPLICANTES

As Danaiades, descendentes de Io, as cinquenta filhas do rei Dânao, fogem dos filhos de Egito, que desejavam casar-se com elas, para Argos. Na cidade, são recebidas pelo rei que questiona sua origem. O Coro responde invocando sua ascendência com Io.
Em seguida, pedem a ajuda do rei para que não sejam obrigadas a se casarem com os filhos de Egito. A princípio, o rei se recusa por temer trazer males à cidade, mas logo cede quando as danaiades ameaçam se enforcar junto às estátuas dos deuses.
Na cidade, o navio de soldados de Egito é visto. Dânao assegura as filhas que a cidade as defenderá e o Coro proclama prefirir a morte a se casar.
O rei interrompe o Arauto quando este tentava raptar as mulheres e oferece a elas uma residência para que possam ser protegidas.

Aeschylus was the first Greek tragedian. Only 10% of his 70 plays remain, and the only complete ancient Greek trilogy in the Oresteia (Agamemnon, The Libation Bearers, The Eumenides). Of the remaining plays, this collection includes Prometheus Bound, The Suppliants, Seven Against Thebes, The Persians.

As I had previously read Prometheus Bound I did not reread it here. However, the introduction had good coverage of how the Prometheia would have continued if the second and third plays of the trilogy remained. The Oresteia demonstrates the pattern of violence, counter-violence, and the subjugation of violence to reason and justice. Thus, Prometheus Bound is believed to be followed by Prometheus Unbound and ending with Prometheus the Fire-Bringer. How regrettable not to have the entire trilogy.

Next up, and thematically linked to Prometheus Bound is the first play of the Danaid trilogy (The Suppliants, The Egytians, The Daniads). This series focuses on the progeny of Io, an Argive Queen sent to wander the ancient world as a cow, a disguise bestowed by Zeus with a torment accursed by Hera. The story of 50 daughters of Danius pursued by 50 male cousins of Aegyptius to the seat of Argos, is a beautiful setup of the violence against the fleeing women and protection by Argos. We can imagine what will come in the second and third from some remaining fragments, but alas, these are really only conjecture.

The Seven Against Thebes is structurally a marvelous idea; it would have been the final play of the trilogy begun with Laius and Oedipus, thus is a play rebalancing violations of the world. The seven gates attacked and defended by the great warriors of each army. However the slow progression of conversation away from any action recalls the beginning of The Iliad and the parade of heroes. The end is as was fated by Apollo’s curse on Laius to the destruction of his family line. Oepidus could not escape his fate, nor can his warring sons, Eteocles and Polyneices. With their mutual deaths at the end, we hear their two sisters arrive, Antigone and Ismene. Enter Antigone, I cannot wait to begin the plays of Sophocles, whose plays concerning the Theban Cycle purportedly outshine Aeschylus’. Apparently the ending was rewritten to add Antigone and Ismene to the end of The Seven Against Thebes, in which Antigone declares her decision to bury the brother who threatened the city, against the cities wishes. I think, however, the sequence of Laius, Oedipus, Seven Against Thebes would be rather compelling. The doubling of sibling brothers and sisters at the end, makes for a trilogy finale whereby justice becomes ambiguous.

Aeschylus’ first play, The Persians was written in 472 BC, which is what makes these works so profound, and that they remain a miracle. Also remarkable, is it is the only play that covers a recent history to whom the audience would actually know the facts surrounding the Battle of Salamis. This play is set in Susu, the capital of the Persians. Most of the play constitutes a messenger relaying the defeat of the Persian navy and the total loses but that Xerxes has survived. At court, his mother, Atossa, hears and leads an investigation into the war’s outcome, whereby she visits her late husband’s tomb and his ghost, that of Darius, enters the play. Ending with Xerxes and a mourning chorus, this is such a brilliant way to have an enemy relays the “facts” of such a politically significant event.

CHORUS: Sad favour, sad request.
XERXES: Join my mournful hymn.
CHORUS: Ototototoi!
O grievous hand of Fate!
O king, we weep for you.
XERXES: Beat your breast,
Groan aloud for me.
CHORUS: O king, behold my tears.
XERXES: Cry aloud, beat your breast for me.
CHORUS: With good will, my master.
XERXES: Cry aloud and groan.
CHORUS: Ototototoi!
Bruising blows mingle with wails of grief.
XERXES: Come, beat your breast, intone a Mysian dirge.
CHORUS: O pain, O pain!
XERXES: Pluck for my sake the white hair from your beard.
CHORUS: With fingers clenched, and bitter cries,
We pluck the white hair from our beards.
XERXES: Weep and howl.
CHORUS: We weep and howl.
XERXES: Tear your gowns, tear them through.
CHORUS: O pain, O pain!
XERXES: And tear your hair in grief for all our army dead.
CHORUS: With fingers clenched, with bitter cries, We tear the white hair from our heads.
XERXES: Fill your eyes with tears.
CHORUS: Our eyes are filled with tears.
XERXES: Beat your breast, groan aloud for me.
CHORUS: Alas, alas!

This play would have been the second play in a trilogy, begun with Phineus about Jason and the Argonauts, and ended with one called Glaucus, concerning either the son of Sisyphus or a Boetian farmer who eats a magical herb. In either case, what a great loss.