A Celebrated Description of the Battle. Among the Athenians who nobly fought at Marathon, and who also took part in the battle of Salamis, was the tragedian Æschylus; and so much did he distinguish himself in the capacity of soldier, that, in the picture which the Athenians caused to be painted representing the former battle, the figure of Æschylus held so prominent a place as to be at once recognized, even by a casual observer. Eight years after the latter battle Æschylus composed his tragedy of The Persians, which portrays, in vivid colors, the defeat of Xerxes, and gives a fuller, and, indeed, better account of that memorable sea-fight than is found even in the pages of Herodotus. Says MITFORD, "It is matter of regret, not indeed that Æschylus was a poet; but that prose-writing was yet in his age so little common that his poetical sketch of this great transaction is the most authoritative, the clearest, and the most consistent of any that has passed to posterity." In the famous tragedy of Æschylus the account of the destruction of the Persian fleet is supposed to be given by a Persian messenger, escaped from the fight, to Atos'sa, the mother of Xerxes. The scene is laid at Susa, the Persian capital, near the tomb of Darius. The whole drama may be considered as a proud triumphal song in favor of Liberty. Atossa, appearing with her attendants, and anxious for news of her son, first inquires in what clime are the towers of Athens-- the conquest of which her son had willed--and what mighty armies, what arms, and what treasures the Athenians boast, and what mighty monarch rules over them; and is told, to her surprise, that instead of the strong bow, like the Persians, they have stout spears and massy bucklers; and although their rich earth is a copious fount of silver, yet the people, "slaves to no lord, own no kingly power." Then enters the messenger, who exclaims: Woe to the towns of Asia's peopled realms! Woe to the land of Persia, once the port Of boundless wealth! All, at a blow, has perished! Ah me! How sad his task who brings ill tidings! But, to my tale of woe--I needs must tell it. Persians--the whole barbaric host has fallen! At this astounding news the chorus breaks out in, concert: Oh horror, horror, what a train of ills! Alas! Is Hellas then unscathed? And has Our arrowy tempest spent its force in vain? Raise the funereal cry--with dismal notes Wailing the wretched Persians. Oh, how ill They planned their measures! All their army perished! Then the messenger exclaims: I speak not from report; but these mine eyes Beheld the ruin which my tongue would utter. In heaps the unhappy dead lie on the strand Of Salamis, and all the neighboring shores. Oh, Salamis--how hateful is thy name! Oh, how my heart groans but to think of Athens! Atossa at length finds words to say: