The "Father of Tragedy," Aeschylus was born in 525 B.C. in the city of Eleusis. Immersed early in the mystic rites of the city and in the worship of the Mother and Earth goddess Demeter, he was once sent as a child to watch grapes ripening in the countryside. According to Aeschylus, when he dozed off, Dionysus appeared to him in a dream and ordered him to write tragedies. The obedient young Aeschylus began a tragedy the next morning and "succeeded very easily."
When Aeschylus first began writing, the theatre had only just begun to evolve. Plays were little more than animated oratorios or choral poetry supplemented with expressive dance. A chorus danced and ... more »
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Song Of The Furies
Up and lead the dance of Fate! Lift the song that mortals hate! Tell what rights are ours on earth, Over all of human birth.
The Battle Of Salamis
The night was passing, and the Grecian host By no means sought to issue forth unseen. But when indeed the day with her white steeds Held all the earth, resplendent to behold,
Prometheus Amid Hurricane And Earthquake
Earth is rocking in space! And the thunders crash up with a roar upon roar, And the eddying lightnings flash fire in my face, And the whirlwinds are whirling the dust round and round--
The Beacon Fires
A GLEAM -- a gleam -- from Ida's height, By the Fire-god sent, it came; From watch to watch it leapt, that light, As a rider rode the flame!
The Sacrifice Of Iphigenia
Now long and long from wintry Strymon blew The weary, hungry, anchor-straining blasts, The winds that wandering seamen dearly rue, Nor spared the cables worn and groaning masts;
Lament For The Two Brothers Slain By Eac...
Now do our eyes behold The tidings which were told: Twin fallen kings, twin perished hopes to mourn, The slayer, the slain,
The Decree Of Athena
Hear ye my statute, men of Attica-- Ye who of bloodshed judge this primal cause; Yea, and in future age shall Aegeus's host
The Complaint Of Prometheus
O holy Aether, and swift-winged Winds, And River-wells, and laughter innumerous Of yon Sea-waves! Earth, mother of us all,
Fragment From Aeschylus
The man who rightly acts without coercion Will not be grieved, can never wholly sink in wretchedness;
The Defiance Of Eteocles
Now at the Seventh Gate the seventh chief, Thy proper mother's son, I will announce, What fortune for this city, for himself,
A Prayer For Artemis
Though Zeus plan all things right, Yet is his heart's desire full hard to trace; Nathless in every place
The Lament Of The Old Nurse
NURSE Our mistress bids me with all speed to call Aegisthus to the strangers, that he come
The Appointed Time
Yet though a man gets many wounds in breast, He dieth not, unless the appointed time, The limit of his life's span, coincide; Nor does the man who by the hearth at home
Quotationsmore quotations »
''Like a bad doctor who has fallen down sick you are cast down, and cannot find what sort of drugs would cure your ailment.''Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.), Greek tragedian. Prometheus Bound, l. 473.
''Know yourself and fit yourself to new fashions. For there is a new ruler among the gods.''Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.), Greek tragedian. Prometheus Bound, l. 309.
''Champing against the bit as a new-yoked colt, you struggle and fight against the reins.''Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.), Greek tragedian. Prometheus Bound, l. 1009.
''A dreamlike feebleness by which the blind race of man is hampered.''Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.), Greek tragedian. Prometheus Bound, l. 548.
''For somehow this disease inheres in tyranny, never to trust one's friends.''Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.), Greek tragedian. Prometheus Bound, l. 224.
Song Of The Furies
Up and lead the dance of Fate!
Lift the song that mortals hate!
Tell what rights are ours on earth,
Over all of human birth.
Swift of foot to avenge are we!
He whose hands are clean and pure,
Naught our wrath to dread hath he;
Calm his cloudless days endure.
But the man that seeks to hide
Like him (1), his gore-bedewèd hands,
Witnesses to them that died,
The blood avengers at his side,
The Furies' troop forever stands.
O'er our victim come begin!
Come, the incantation sing,
Frantic all and maddening,
To the heart a brand of ...