Aeschylus, Persians 447–531: Second episode: the island, the retreat and the Strymon

There is an island lying before Salamis, a small one and dangerous anchorage for ships; its sea-washed shore is the haunt of Pan, who loves the dance. There Xerxes dispatched these, his choicest troops, in order that when the Hellenic enemy, wrecked from their ships, should flee in search of safety to the island, they might slaughter their force, an easy prey, and rescue their comrades from the straits of the sea. Grievously did he misjudge the issue. For when some god had given the glory to the Hellenes in the battle on the sea, on that same day, fencing their bodies in armor of bronze, they leapt from their ships and encircled the whole island, so that our men were at a loss which way to turn. Often they were struck by stones slung from their hands, and arrows sped from the bow-string kept falling upon them and doing them harm. At last the Hellenes, charging with one shout, struck them and hacked to pieces the limbs of the poor wretches, until they had utterly quenched the life of all. Xerxes groaned aloud when he beheld the extent of the disaster, for he occupied a seat commanding a clear view of the entire army—a lofty headland by the open sea. Tearing his robes and uttering a loud cry, he straightaway gave orders to his force on land and dismissed them in disorderly flight. This, besides the one already told, is the disaster you must bewail.

O hateful divinity, how have you foiled the purpose of the Persians! Cruel was the vengeance which my son brought upon himself for his designs against illustrious Athens; the barbarians whom Marathon destroyed were not enough. It was in an effort to exact retribution for them that my son has drawn upon himself so great a multitude of woes. But the ships that escaped destruction—tell me about them. Where did you leave them? Can you give a clear report?

The commanders of the ships which still remained fled with a rush in disorder wherever the wind bore them. As for the survivors of the army, they perished in Boeotian territory, some, faint from thirst, beside a refreshing spring, while some of us, exhausted and panting, made our way to the land of the Phocians, to Doris and the Melian gulf, where the Spercheus waters the plain with kindly stream. Coming from there, badly in need of food, we received welcome in the Achaean land and the cities of the Thessalians. There it was that many perished of thirst and hunger, for we were oppressed by both. And we came to the Magnesian land and to the country of the Macedonians, to the ford of the Axius and Bolbe’s reedy marsh, and to Mount Pangaeus, in the Edonian land. But on that night the god roused winter before its time and froze the stream of sacred Strymon from shore to shore. Many a man who before that had held the gods in no esteem, implored them then in supplication, doing obeisance to earth and heaven. But when our host had made an end of its fervent invocation of the gods, it ventured to pass across the ice-bound stream. And each of us who started on his way before the sun god dispersed his beams, found himself in safety, for the bright orb of the sun with its burning rays heated the middle section and pierced it with its flames. One after another our men sank in, and fortunate indeed was he who perished soonest. The survivors, after making their way through Thrace with great hardship, —and few they were indeed—escaped to the safety of the land of their homes; now the city of the Persians may make lament in regret for the beloved youth of the land. What I say is true, yet much remains untold of the ills launched by Heaven upon the Persians.

Chorus O unearthly power, source of our cruel distress, with what crushing weight have you fallen upon the whole Persian race!

Atossa How the utter destruction of our host distresses me! O vivid vision of my dreams at night, how clearly did you signify misfortune to me! And all too lightly did you in turn interpret it. However, since your explanation determined thus, first of all I wish to offer prayers to the gods, and then I will return after I have brought from the palace a sacrificial cake as a gift to Earth and the dead. I know indeed that it is for what cannot be undone, yet I do this in the hope that something more auspicious may come to pass in the future. But you should confer faithfully with the faithful counsellors in view of what has befallen. And as for my son, if he should come here before I return, comfort him and escort him to the palace, so that he will not inflict on himself some further ill to crown those already ours.