_Chor._ We neither wish, O Lady, thee to frighten O'ermuch with what we say, nor yet encourage: But thou, the Gods adoring with entreaties, If thou hast seen aught ill, bid them avert it, And that all good things may receive fulfilment For thee, thy children, and thy friends and country. 220 And next 'tis meet libations due to offer To Earth and to the dead. And ask thy husband, Dareios, whom thou say'st by night thou sawest, With kindly mood from 'neath the Earth to send thee Good things to light for thee and for thine offspring, While adverse things shall fade away in darkness. Such things do I, a self-taught seer, advise thee In kindly mood, and any way we reckon That good will come to thee from out these omens. _Atoss._ Well, with kind heart, hast thou, as first expounder, Out of my dreams brought out a welcome meaning For me, and for my sons; and thy good wishes, May they receive fulfilment! And this also, As thou dost bid, we to the Gods will offer 230 And to our friends below, when we go homeward. But first, my friends, I wish to hear of Athens, Where in the world do men report it standeth?[24] _Chor._ Far to the West, where sets our king the Sun-God. _Atoss._ Was it this city my son wished to capture? _Chor._ Aye, then would Hellas to our king be subject. _Atoss._ And have they any multitude of soldiers? _Chor._ A mighty host, that wrought the Medes much mischief. _Atoss._ And what besides? Have they too wealth sufficing? _Chor._ A fount of silver have they, their land's treasure.[25]240 _Atoss._ Have they a host in archers' skill excelling? _Chor._ Not so, they wield the spear and shield and bucklers.[26] _Atoss._ What shepherd rules and lords it o'er their people? _Chor._ Of no man are they called the slaves or subjects. _Atoss._ How then can they sustain a foe invading? _Chor._ So that they spoiled Dareios' goodly army. _Atoss._ Dread news is thine for sires of those who're marching. _Chor._ Nay, but I think thou soon wilt know the whole truth; This running one may know is that of Persian:[27] For good or evil some clear news he bringeth. 250 _Enter_ Messenger _Mess._ O cities of the whole wide land of Asia! O soil of Persia, haven of great wealth! How at one stroke is brought to nothingness Our great prosperity, and all the flower Of Persia's strength is fallen! Woe is me! 'Tis ill to be the first to bring ill news; Yet needs must I the whole woe tell, ye Persians: All our barbaric mighty host is lost.[28] STROPHE I _Chor._ O piteous, piteous woe! 260 O strange and dread event! Weep, O ye Persians, hearing this great grief! _Mess._ Yea, all things there are ruined utterly; And I myself beyond all hopes behold The light of day at home. ANTISTROPHE I