- Song Of The Furies Up and lead the dance of Fate! Lift the ...
- The Battle Of Salamis The night was passing, and the Grecian ...
- The Sacrifice Of Iphigenia Now long and long from wintry ...
- Prometheus Amid Hurricane And ...
- Lament For The Two Brothers Sl...
- The Beacon Fires A GLEAM -- a gleam -- from Ida's height, ...
- The Decree Of Athena Hear ye my statute, men of Attica-- Ye ...
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 »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
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 ...