Chorus monologue — Four Plays of Aeschylus

Queen, it stands not with my purpose to abet these fears of thine, Nor to speak with glazing comfort! nay, betake thee to the shrine! If thy dream foretold disaster, sue to gods to bar its way, And, for thyself, son, state, and friends, to bring fair fate to-day. Next, unto Earth and to the Dead be due libation poured, And by thee let Darius’ soul be wistfully implored— _I saw thee, lord, in last night’s dream, a phantom from the grave, I pray thee, lord, from earth beneath come forth to help and save! To me and to thy son send up the bliss of triumph now, And hold the gloomy fates of ill, dim in the dark below!_ Such be thy words! my inner heart good tidings doth foretell, And that fair fate will spring thereof, if wisdom guide us well.