Aeschylus, Persians 532–597: First stasimon: Zeus has broken the power of Persia

O sovereign Zeus, by destroying the army of the haughty and multitudinous Persians, you have shrouded in the gloom of grief the city of Susa and of Agbatana! Many a woman, who has a share in this sorrow, tears her veil with tender hands and moistens with drenching tears the robe covering her bosom. And the Persian wives, indulging in soft wailing through longing to behold their lords and abandoning the daintily wrought coverlets of their couches, the delight of their youth, mourn with complainings that know no end. So I too sustain the truly woeful fate of those who are gone.

For now in truth the whole land of Asia, decimated, moans: Xerxes led forth (woe!), Xerxes laid low (woe!), Xerxes disposed all things imprudently with his sea-going vessels. Why then was Darius in his time so unscathed by disaster, he who was ruler of archers, to the men of Susa a beloved leader?

For infantry and seamen both, the ships, dark-eyed and linen-winged, led forth (woe!), the ships laid them low (woe!), the ships, under the deadly impact of the foe and by the hands of Ionians. The King himself, as we learn, has barely made his escape over the wintry paths which traverse the plains of Thrace.

And they who were first to meet their doom (alas!), left behind by dire necessity (alas!), are swept along the Cychrean strand (woe!). Groan and gnash your teeth; in grievous strain shout forth our woes till they reach the heavens (alas!), raise high your wailing clamor in cries of misery.

Lacerated by the swirling waters (alas!) they are gnawed (alas!) by the voiceless children of the undefiled sea (alas!). The home, bereaved of his presence, laments its head; and parents, bereft of their children, in their old age bewail their heaven-sent woes (alas!), now that they learn the full measure of their afflictions.

Not now for long will those who dwell throughout the length and breadth of Asia abide under the sway of the Persians, nor will they pay further tribute at the compulsion of their lord, nor will they prostrate themselves to the earth and do him reverence; for the royal power has perished utterly.

No longer will men keep a curb upon their tongues; for the people are set free to utter their thoughts at will, now that the yoke of power has been broken. The blood-stained soil of Ajax’ sea-washed isle holds all that once was Persia.