I report a mere few.

[The CHORUS cry out sharply.]

ATOSSA. Noooo!

These words I hear

lift evil to its height.

O the shame cast on Persians,

and the piercing laments!

But tell me,

turn back again,

was the count of Greek ships so great

they dared launch their rams

against Persia’s fleet?

MESSENGER. If numbers were all, believe me,

Asia’s navy would have won,

for Greek ships counted out

at only ten times thirty

and ten selected to lead out that line.

But Xerxes, this I know,

commanded a full thousand,

two hundred and seven

the fastest ever built.

That is our count. Perhaps you thought

we were outnumbered?

No.

It was some Power—

Something not human—

whose weight tipped the scales of luck

and cut our forces down.

Gods keep Athens safe for her goddess.

ATOSSA. You’re saying that Athens is not yet sacked?

MESSENGER. Long as her men live, her stronghold can’t be shaken.

ATOSSA. But at the beginning, when ship met ship,

tell me, who started the clash?

Greeks?

Or my son

who exulted in his thousand ships?

MESSENGER. My lady,

the first sign of the whole disaster came

when Something vengeful—

or evil and not human—

appeared from somewhere out there.

For a Greek,

who came in stealth from the Athenian fleet,

whispered this to your son Xerxes:

As soon as black night brought its darkness on,

Greeks would not maintain their stations, no,

but springing on the rowing benches,

scattering here, there in secret flight,

would try to save their own skins.

And at once,

for he had listened not understanding

the man’s treachery nor the gods’ high jealousy,

he gave all his captains this command:

As soon as Sun’s hot eye let go of Earth

and darkness seized the holy vault of Sky, then

they should deploy ships

in three tight-packed ranks

to bar outsailings and the salt-hammered path,

while others circled Ajax’ island.

And if the Greeks should somehow slip the trap

by setting sail, finding a hidden route,

Xerxes stated flatly

that every last captain would lose his head.

So he commanded in great good spirits.

He could not know the outcome set by gods.

There was no disorder. Obediently

the crews prepared their suppers,

and each sailor, taking a thong,

made his oar snug to the tholepin.

And when Sun’s glow faded and Night

was coming on,

each oarlord,

each expert man-at-arms

boarded his ship.

Squadron on squadron, cheers for the warships

roared from the decks,

and they sailed,

each captain maintaining his position.

And all night long the lords of the fleet

kept fully manned vessels plying the channel.

And night was wearing on.

The Greek forces never

tried sailing out secretly.

Not once.

But when Day rode her white colt

dazzling the whole world,

the first thing we heard

was a roar, a windhowl, Greeks

singing together, shouting for joy,

and Echo at once hurled back

that warcry