Parodos
[Choral 2]
he leads against a people renowned for the spear a warlike host of archers.
85
Chorus
And there is no man skilled to withstand the mighty stream of men, and with strong barriers keep out the sea’s invincible surge;
for Persia’s host cannot be withstood, and her men are courageous.
90
[Choral 3]
For by the will of the gods Fate has held sway
Chorus
since ancient time, and has ordained for the Persians the pursuit of rampart-destroying war, the turmoil of fighting horsemen, and the storming of cities.
95
And they have learned to look upon the precinct of the deep when the broad-wayed sea whitens to foam beneath the tempest’s blast, trusting in their finely wrought
100
cables and their devices which give passage to their army.
105
[Choral 4]
Yet the insidious guile of god—what mortal man can escape it? Who with agile foot can lightly overleap
Chorus
and escape its toils?
110
For Delusion, with her fair appearance, lures men astray into her snares, from which it is not possible to escape without meeting with disaster.
[Choral 5]
Therefore my heart is wrapped in gloom and is racked with fear for the Persian army lest the state learn that the mighty capital of Susa is empty of men.
115
Chorus
Fearful I am too that as bands of women cry aloud woe, the Cissian stronghold will raise a resounding shout responsive to the beating of breasts,
120
and that there will be a tearing of fine linen robes.
125
[Choral 6]
For all the men-at-arms, those who urge on steeds and those who march along the plain, have left the city and gone forth, like bees in a swarm, together with the captain of the host.
Chorus
They have crossed the headland, projecting into the sea and common to either continent, through which both shores are bridged.
130
And marriage-beds are filled with tears through longing for husbands;
each Persian woman has sent to the field her warlike and fiery consort, and now in grief and longing for her beloved lord, is left forsaken by her mate.
135
[Choral]
But come, Persians, let us take our place on the steps of this ancient palace and devise some wise and deeply-pondered counsel—for need of this has come upon us—as to how Xerxes our King,
140
Chorus
Darius’ son, scion of our own race as his forefather’s name declares, is faring. Is it the drawing of the bow that has triumphed, or is it the might of the sharp spear-head which has prevailed? Enter Atossa, richly dressed, on a chariot and attended by a numerous retinue
145
But look, here is a light like the eyes of the god, the mother of our king, my Queen. I bow low before her. It is fitting also that we all address her with words of salutation. The elders prostrate themselves and then rise to their feet. Their leader continues
150
