CHORUS

  While o'er the fields of Greece the embattled troops
  Of Persia march with delegated sway,
  We o'er their rich and gold-abounding seats
  Hold faithful our firm guard; to this high charge
  Xerxes, our royal lord, the imperial son
  Of great Darius, chose our honour'd age.
  But for the king's return, and his arm'd host
  Blazing with gold, my soul presaging ill
  Swells in my tortured breast: for all her force
  Hath Asia sent, and for her youth I sigh.
  Nor messenger arrives, nor horseman spurs
  With tidings to this seat of Persia's kings.
  The gates of Susa and Ecbatana
  Pour'd forth their martial trains; and Cissia sees
  Her ancient towers forsaken, while her youth,
  Some on the bounding steed, the tall bark some
  Ascending, some with painful march on foot,
  Haste on, to arrange the deep'ning files of war.
  Amistres, Artaphernes, and the might
  Of great Astaspes, Megabazes bold,
  Chieftains of Persia, kings, that, to the power
  Of the great king obedient, march with these
  Leading their martial thousands; their proud steeds
  Prance under them; steel bows and shafts their arms,
  Dreadful to see, and terrible in fight,
  Deliberate valour breathing in their souls.
  Artembares, that in his fiery horse
  Delights; Masistress; and Imaeus bold,
  Bending with manly strength his stubborn bow;
  Pharandaces, and Sosthanes, that drives
  With military pomp his rapid steeds.
  Others the vast prolific Nile hath sent;
  Pegastagon, that from Aegyptus draws
  His high birth; Susiscanes; and the chief
  That reigns o'er sacred Memphis, great Arsames;
  And Ariomardus, that o'er ancient Thebes
  Bears the supreme dominion; and with these,
  Drawn from their watery marshes, numbers train'd
  To the stout oar. Next these the Lycian troops,
  Soft sons of luxury; and those that dwell
  Amid the inland forests, from the sea
  Far distant; these Metragathes commands,
  And virtuous Arceus, royal chiefs, that shine
  In burnish'd gold, and many a whirling car
  Drawn by six generous steeds from Sardis lead,
  A glorious and a dreadful spectacle.
  And from the foot of Tmolus, sacred mount,
  Eager to bind on Greece the servile yoke,
  Mardon and Tharybis the massy spear
  Grasp with unwearied vigour; the light lance
  The Mysians shake. A mingled multitude
  Swept from her wide dominions skill'd to draw
  The unerring bow, in ships Euphrates sends
  From golden Babylon. With falchions arm'd
  From all the extent of Asia move the hosts
  Obedient to their monarch's stern command.
  Thus march'd the flower of Persia, whose loved youth
  The world of Asia nourish'd, and with sighs
  Laments their absence; many an anxious look
  Their wives, their parents send, count the slow days,
  And tremble at the long-protracted time.

  strophe 1

  Already o'er the adverse strand
  In arms the monarch's martial squadrons spread;
  The threat'ning ruin shakes the land,
  And each tall city bows its tower'd head.
  Bark bound to bark, their wondrous way
  They bridge across the indignant sea;
  The narrow Hellespont's vex'd waves disdain,
  His proud neck taught to wear the chain.
  Now has the peopled Asia's warlike lord,
  By land, by sea, with foot, with horse,
  Resistless in his rapid course,
  O'er all their realms his warring thousands pour'd;
  Now his intrepid chiefs surveys,
  And glitt'ring like a god his radiant state displays.

  antistrophe 1

  Fierce as the dragon scaled in gold
  Through the deep files he darts his glowing eye;
  And pleased their order to behold,
  His gorgeous standard blazing to the sky,
  Rolls onward his Assyrian car,
  Directs the thunder of the war,
  Bids the wing'd arrows' iron storm advance
  Against the slow and cumbrous lance.
  What shall withstand the torrent of his sway
  When dreadful o'er the yielding shores
  The impetuous tide of battle roars,
  And sweeps the weak opposing mounds away?
  So Persia, with resistless might,
  Rolls her unnumber'd hosts of heroes to the fight.

  strophe 2

  For when misfortune's fraudful hand
  Prepares to pour the vengeance of the sky,
  What mortal shall her force withstand?
  What rapid speed the impending fury fly?
  Gentle at first with flatt'ring smiles
  She spreads her soft enchanting wiles,
  So to her toils allures her destined prey,
  Whence man ne'er breaks unhurt away.
  For thus from ancient times the Fates ordain
  That Persia's sons should greatly dare,
  Unequall'd in the works of war;
  Shake with their thund'ring steeds the ensanguined plain,
  Dreadful the hostile walls surround,
  And lay their rampired towers in ruins on the ground.

  antistrophe 2

  Taught to behold with fearless eyes
  The whitening billows foam beneath the gale,
  They bid the naval forests rise,
  Mount the slight bark, unfurl the flying sail,
  And o'er the angry ocean bear
  To distant realms the storm of war.
  For this with many a sad and gloomy thought
  My tortured breast is fraught:
  Ah me! for Persia's absent sons I sigh;
  For while in foreign fields they fight,
  Our towns exposed to wild affright
  An easy prey to the invader lie:
  Where, mighty Susa, where thy powers,
  To wield the warrior's arms, and guard thy regal towers?

  epode

  Crush'd beneath the assailing foe
  Her golden head must Cissia bend;
  While her pale virgins, frantic with despair,
  Through all her streets awake the voice of wo;
  And flying with their bosoms bare,
  Their purfled stoles in anguish rend:
  For all her youth in martial pride,
  Like bees that, clust'ring round their king,
  Their dark imbodied squadrons bring,
  Attend their sceptred monarch's side,
  And stretch across the watery way
  From shore to shore their long array.
  The Persian dames, with many a tender fear,
  In grief's sad vigils keep the midnight hour;
  Shed on the widow'd couch the streaming tear,
  And the long absence of their loves deplore.
  Each lonely matron feels her pensive breast
  Throb with desire, with aching fondness glow,
  Since in bright arms her daring warrior dress'd
  Left her to languish in her love-lorn wo.

  Now, ye grave Persians, that your honour'd seats
  Hold in this ancient house, with prudent care
  And deep deliberation, so the state
  Requires, consult we, pond'ring the event
  Of this great war, which our imperial lord,
  The mighty Xerxes from Darius sprung,
  The stream of whose rich blood flows in our veins,
  Leads against Greece; whether his arrowy shower
  Shot from the strong-braced bow, or the huge spear
  High brandish'd, in the deathful field prevails.
  But see, the monarch's mother: like the gods
  Her lustre blazes on our eyes: my queen,
  Prostrate I fall before her: all advance
  With reverence, and in duteous phrase address her,

ATOSSA enters with her retinue. The Elders do their obeisance to her.


LEADER OF THE CHORUS

  Hail, queen, of Persia's high-zoned dames supreme,
  Age-honour'd mother of the potent Xerxes,
  Imperial consort of Darius, hail!
  The wife, the mother of the Persians' god,
  If yet our former glories fade not from us.


ATOSSA

  And therefore am I come, leaving my house
  That shines with gorgeous ornaments and gold,
  Where in past days Darius held with me
  His royal residence. With anxious care
  My heart is tortured: I will tell you, friends,
  My thoughts, not otherwise devoid of fear,
  Lest mighty wealth with haughty foot o'erturn
  And trample in the dust that happiness,
  Which, not unbless'd by Heaven, Darius raised.
  For this with double force unquiet thoughts
  Past utterance fill my soul; that neither wealth
  With all its golden stores, where men are wanting,
  Claims reverence; nor the light, that beams from power,
  Shines on the man whom wealth disdains to grace.
  The golden stores of wealth indeed are ours;
  But for the light (such in the house I deem
  The presence of its lord) there I have fears.
  Advise me then, you whose experienced age
  Supports the state of Persia: prudence guides
  Your councils, always kind and faithful to me.


LEADER

  Speak, royal lady, what thy will, assured
  We want no second bidding, where our power
  In word or deed waits on our zeal: our hearts
  In this with honest duty shall obey thee.


ATOSSA

  Oft, since my son hath march'd his mighty host
  Against the lonians, warring to subdue
  Their country, have my slumbers been disturb'd
  With dreams of dread portent; but most last night,
  With marks of plainest proof. I'll tell thee then:
  Alethought two women stood before my eyes
  Gorgeously vested, one in Persian robes
  Adorn'd, the other in the Doric garb.
  With more than mortal majesty they moved,
  Of peerless beauty; sisters too they seem'd,
  Though distant each from each they chanced to dwell,
  In Greece the one, on the barbaric coast
  The other. 'Twixt them soon dissension rose:
  My son then hasted to compose their strife,
  Soothed them to fair accord, beneath his car
  Yokes them, and reins their harness'd necks. The one,
  Exulting in her rich array, with pride
  Arching her stately neck, obey'd the reins;
  The other with indignant fury spurn'd
  The car, and dash'd it piecemeal, rent the reins,
  And tore the yoke asunder; down my son
  Fell from the seat, and instant at his side
  His father stands, Darius, at his fall
  Impress'd with pity: him when Xerxes saw,
  Glowing with grief and shame he rends his robes.
  This was the dreadful vision of the night.
  When I arose, in the sweet-flowing stream
  I bathed my hands, and on the incensed altars
  Presenting my oblations to the gods
  To avert these ills, an eagle I behold
  Fly to the altar of the sun; aghast
  I stood, my friends, and speechless; when a hawk
  With eager speed runs thither, furious cuffs
  The eagle with his wings, and with his talons
  Unplumes his head; meantime the imperial bird
  Cowers to the blows defenceless. Dreadful this
  To me that saw it, and to you that hear.
  My son, let conquest crown his arms, would shine
  With dazzling glory; but should Fortune frown,
  The state indeed presumes not to arraign
  His sovereignty; yet how, his honour lost,
  How shall he sway the sceptre of this land?


LEADER

  We would not, royal lady, sink thy soul
  With fear in the excess, nor raise it high
  With confidence. Go then, address the gods;
  If thou hast seen aught ill, entreat their power
  To avert that ill, and perfect ev'ry good
  To thee, thy sons, the state, and all thy friends.
  Then to the earth, and to the mighty dead
  Behooves thee pour libations; gently cal
  Him that was once thy husband, whom thou saw'st
  In visions of the night; entreat his shade
  From the deep realms beneath to send to light
  Triumph to thee and to thy son; whate'er
  Bears other import, to inwrap, to hide it
  Close in the covering earth's profoundest gloom.
  This, in the presage of my thoughts that flow
  Benevolent to thee, have I proposed;
  And all, we trust, shall be successful to thee.


ATOSSA

  Thy friendly judgment first hath placed these dreams
  In a fair light, confirming the event
  Benevolent to my son and to my house.
  May all the good be ratified! These rites
  Shall, at thy bidding, to the powers of heaven,
  And to the manes of our friends, be paid
  In order meet, when I return; meanwhile
  Indulge me, friends, who wish to be inform'd
  Where, in what clime, the towers of Athens rise.


LEADER

  Far in the west, where sets the imperial sun.


ATOSSA

  Yet my son will'd the conquest of this town.


LEADER

  May Greece through all her states bend to his power!


ATOSSA

  Send they embattled numbers to the field?


LEADER

  A force that to the Medes hath wrought much wo.


ATOSSA

  Have they sufficient treasures in their houses?


LEADER

  Their rich earth yields a copious fount of silver.


ATOSSA

  From the strong bow wing they the barbed shaft?


LEADER

  They grasp the stout spear, and the massy shield.


ATOSSA

  What monarch reigns, whose power commands their ranks?


LEADER

  Slaves to no lord, they own no kingly power.


ATOSSA

  How can they then resist the invading foe?


LEADER

  As to spread havoc through the numerous host,
  That round Darius form'd their glitt'ring files.


ATOSSA

  Thy words strike deep, and wound the parent's breast
  Whose sons are march'd to such a dangerous field.


LEADER

  But, if I judge aright, thou soon shalt hear
  Each circumstance; for this way, mark him, speeds
  A Persian messenger; he bears, be sure,
  Tidings of high import, or good or ill.

A MESSENGER enters.


MESSENGER

  Wo to the towns through Asia's peopled realms!
  Wo to the land of Persia, once the port
  Of boundless wealth, how is thy glorious state
  Vanish'd at once, and all thy spreading honours
  Fall'n, lost! Ah me! unhappy is his task
  That bears unhappy tidings: but constraint
  Compels me to relate this tale of wo.
  Persians, the whole barbaric host is fall'n.


CHORUS chanting

  O horror, horror! What a baleful train
  Of recent ills! Ah, Persians, as he speaks
  Of ruin, let your tears stream to the earth.


MESSENGER

  It is ev'n so, all ruin; and myself,
  Beyond all hope returning, view this light.


CHORUS chanting

  How tedious and oppressive is the weight
  Of age, reserved to hear these hopeless ills!


MESSENGER

  I speak not from report; but these mine eyes
  Beheld the ruin which my tongue would utter.


CHORUS chanting

  Wo, wo is me! Then has the iron storm,
  That darken'd from the realms of Asia, pour'd
  In vain its arrowy shower on sacred Greece.


MESSENGER

  In heaps the unhappy dead lie on the strand
  Of Salamis, and all the neighbouring shores.


CHORUS chanting

  Unhappy friends, sunk, perish'd in the sea;
  Their bodies, mid the wreck of shatter'd ships,
  Mangled, and rolling on the encumber'd waves!


MESSENGER

  Naught did their bows avail, but all the troops
  In the first conflict of the ships were lost.


CHORUS chanting

  Raise the funereal cry, with dismal notes
  Wailing the wretched Persians. Oh, how ill
  They plann'd their measures, all their army perish'd!


MESSENGER

  O Salamis, how hateful is thy name!
  And groans burst from me when I think of Athens.


CHORUS chanting

  How dreadful to her foes! Call to remembrance
  How many Persian dames, wedded in vain,
  Hath Athens of their noble husbands widow'd?


ATOSSA

  Astonied with these ills, my voice thus long
  Hath wanted utterance: griefs like these exceed
  The power of speech or question: yet ev'n such,
  Inflicted by the gods, must mortal man
  Constrain'd by hard necessity endure.
  But tell me all, without distraction tell me,
  All this calamity, though many a groan
  Burst from thy labouring heart. Who is not fallen?
  What leader must we wail? What sceptred chief
  Dying hath left his troops without a lord?


MESSENGER

  Xerxes himself lives, and beholds the light.


ATOSSA

  That word beams comfort on my house, a ray
  That brightens through the melancholy gloom.


MESSENGER

  Artembares, the potent chief that led
  Ten thousand horse, lies slaughtered on the rocks
  Of rough Sileniae. The great Dadaces,
  Beneath whose standard march'd a thousand horse,
  Pierced by a spear, fell headlong from the ship.
  Tenagon, bravest of the Bactrians, lies
  Roll'd on the wave-worn beach of Ajax' isle.
  Lilaeus, Arsames, Argestes, dash
  With violence in death against the rocks
  Where nest the silver doves. Arcteus, that dwelt
  Near to the fountains of the Egyptian Nile,
  Adeues, and Pheresba, and Pharnuchus
  Fell from one ship. Matallus, Chrysa's chief,
  That led his dark'ning squadrons, thrice ten thousand,
  On jet-black steeds, with purple gore distain'd
  The yellow of his thick and shaggy beard.
  The Magian Arabus, and Artames
  From Bactra, mould'ring on the dreary shore
  Lie low. Amistris, and Amphistreus there
  Grasps his war-wear spear; there prostrate lies
  The illustrious Ariomardus; long his los
  Shall Sardis weep: thy Mysian Sisames,
  And Tharybis, that o'er the burden'd deep
  Led five times fifty vessels; Lerna gave
  The hero birth, and manly race adorn'd
  His pleasing form, but low in death he lies
  Unhappy in his fate. Syennesis,
  Cilicia's warlike chief, who dared to front
  The foremost dangers, singly to the foes
  A terror, there too found a glorious death.
  These chieftains to my sad remembrance rise,
  Relating but a few of many ills.


ATOSSA

  This is the height of ill, ah me! and shame
  To Persia, grief, and lamentation loud.
  But tell me this, afresh renew thy tale:
  What was the number of the Grecian fleet,
  That in fierce conflict their bold barks should dare
  Rush to encounter with the Persian hosts.


MESSENGER

  Know then, in numbers the barbaric fleet
  Was far superior: in ten squadrons, each
  Of thirty ships, Greece plough'd the deep; of these
  One held a distant station. Xerxes led
  A thousand ships; their number well I know;
  Two hundred more, and seven, that swept the seas
  With speediest sail: this was their full amount.
  And in the engagement seem'd we not secure
  Of victory? But unequal fortune sunk
  Our scale in fight, discomfiting our host.


ATOSSA

  The gods preserve the city of Minerva.


MESSENGER

  The walls of Athens are impregnable,
  Their firmest bulwarks her heroic sons.


ATOSSA

  Which navy first advanced to the attack?
  Who led to the onset, tell me; the bold Greeks,
  Or, glorying in his numerous fleet, my son?


MESSENGER

  Our evil genius, lady, or some god
  Hostile to Persia, led to ev'ry ill.
  Forth from the troops of Athens came a Greek,
  And thus address'd thy son, the imperial Xerxes:-
  "Soon as the shades of night descend, the Grecians
  Shall quit their station; rushing to their oars
  They mean to separate, and in secret flight
  Seek safety." At these words, the royal chief,
  Little conceiving of the wiles of Greece
  And gods averse, to all the naval leaders
  Gave his high charge:-"Soon as yon sun shall cease
  To dart his radiant beams, and dark'ning night
  Ascends the temple of the sky, arrange
  In three divisions your well-ordered ships,
  And guard each pass, each outlet of the seas:
  Others enring around this rocky isle
  Of Salamis. Should Greece escape her fate,
  And work her way by secret flight, your heads
  Shall answer the neglect." This harsh command
  He gave, exulting in his mind, nor knew
  What Fate design'd. With martial discipline
  And prompt obedience, snatching a repast,
  Each mariner fix'd well his ready oar.
  Soon as the golden sun was set, and night
  Advanced, each train'd to ply the dashing oar,
  Assumed his seat; in arms each warrior stood,
  Troop cheering troop through all the ships of war.
  Each to the appointed station steers his course;
  And through the night his naval force each chief
  Fix'd to secure the passes. Night advanced,
  But not by secret flight did Greece attempt
  To escape. The morn, all beauteous to behold,
  Drawn by white steeds bounds o'er the enlighten'd earth;
  At once from ev'ry Greek with glad acclaim
  Burst forth the song of war, whose lofty notes
  The echo of the island rocks return'd,
  Spreading dismay through Persia's hosts, thus fallen
  From their high hopes; no flight this solemn strain
  Portended, but deliberate valour bent
  On daring battle; while the trumpet's sound
  Kindled the flames of war. But when their oars
  The paean ended, with impetuous force
  Dash'd the resounding surges, instant all
  Rush'd on in view: in orderly array
  The squadron on the right first led, behind
  Rode their whole fleet; and now distinct we heard
  From ev'ry part this voice of exhortation:-
  "Advance, ye sons of Greece, from thraldom save
  Your country, save your wives, your children save,
  The temples of your gods, the sacred tomb
  Where rest your honour'd ancestors; this day
  The common cause of all demands your valour."
  Meantime from Persia's hosts the deep'ning shout
  Answer'd their shout; no time for cold delay;
  But ship 'gainst ship its brazen beak impell'd.
  First to the charge a Grecian galley rush'd;
  Ill the Phoenician bore the rough attack,
  Its sculptured prow all shatter'd. Each advanced
  Daring an opposite. The deep array
  Of Persia at the first sustain'd the encounter;
  But their throng'd numbers, in the narrow seas
  Confined, want room for action; and, deprived
  Of mutual aid, beaks clash with beaks, and each
  Breaks all the other's oars: with skill disposed
  The Grecian navy circled them around
  With fierce assault; and rushing from its height
  The inverted vessel sinks: the sea no more
  Wears its accustomed aspect, with foul wrecks
  And blood disfigured; floating carcasses
  Roll on the rocky shores: the poor remains
  Of the barbaric armament to flight
  Ply every oar inglorious: onward rush
  The Greeks amid the ruins of the fleet,
  As through a shoal of fish caught in the net,
  Spreading destruction: the wide ocean o'er
  Wailings are heard, and loud laments, till night
  With darkness on her brow brought grateful truce.
  Should I recount each circumstance of wo,
  Ten times on my unfinished tale the sun
  Would set; for be assured that not one day
  Could close the ruin of so vast a host.


ATOSSA

  Ah, what a boundless sea of wo hath burst
  On Persia, and the whole barbaric race!


MESSENGER

  These are not half, not half our ills; on these
  Came an assemblage of calamities,
  That sunk us with a double weight of wo.


ATOSSA

  What fortune can be more unfriendly to us
  Than this? Say on, what dread calamity
  Sunk Persia's host with greater weight of wo.


MESSENGER

  Whoe'er of Persia's warriors glow'd in prime
  Of vig'rous youth, or felt their generous souls
  Expand with courage, or for noble birth
  Shone with distinguish'd lustre, or excell'd
  In firm and duteous loyalty, all these
  Are fall'n, ignobly, miserably fall'n.


ATOSSA

  Alas, their ruthless fate, unhappy friends!
  But in what manner, tell me, did they perish?


MESSENGER

  Full against Salamis an isle arises,
  Of small circumference, to the anchor'd bark
  Unfaithful; on the promontory's brow,
  That overlooks the sea, Pan loves to lead
  The dance: to this the monarch sends these chiefs,
  That when the Grecians from their shatter'd ships
  Should here seek shelter, these might hew them down
  An easy conquest, and secure the strand
  To their sea-wearied friends; ill judging what
  The event: but when the fav'ring god to Greece
  Gave the proud glory of this naval fight,
  Instant in all their glitt'ring arms they leap'd
  From their light ships, and all the island round
  Encompass'd, that our bravest stood dismay'd;
  While broken rocks, whirl'd with tempestuous force,
  And storms of arrows crush'd them; then the Greeks
  Rush to the attack at once, and furious spread
  The carnage, till each mangled Persian fell.
  Deep were the groans of Xerxes when he saw
  This havoc; for his seat, a lofty mound
  Commanding the wide sea, o'erlook'd his hosts.
  With rueful cries he rent his royal robes,
  And through his troops embattled on the shore
  Gave signal of retreat; then started wild,
  And fled disorder'd. To the former ills
  These are fresh miseries to awake thy sighs.


ATOSSA

  Invidious Fortune, how thy baleful power
  Hath sunk the hopes of Persia! Bitter fruit
  My son hath tasted from his purposed vengeance
  On Athens, famed for arms; the fatal field
  Of Marathon, red with barbaric blood,
  Sufficed not; that defeat he thought to avenge,
  And pull'd this hideous ruin on his head.
  But tell me, if thou canst, where didst thou leave
  The ships that happily escaped the wreck?


MESSENGER

  The poor remains of Persia's scatter'd fleet
  Spread ev'ry sail for flight, as the wind drives,
  In wild disorder; and on land no less
  The ruin'd army; in Boeotia some,
  With thirst oppress'd, at Crene's cheerful rills
  Were lost; forespent with breathless speed some pass
  The fields of Phocis, some the Doric plain,
  And near the gulf of Melia, the rich vale
  Through which Sperchius rolls his friendly stream.
  Achaea thence and the Thessalian state
  Received our famish'd train; the greater part
  Through thirst and hunger perish'd there, oppress'd
  At once by both: but we our painful steps
  Held onwards to Magnesia, and the land
  Of Macedonia, o'er the ford of Axius,
  And Bolbe's sedgy marshes, and the heights
  Of steep Pangaeos, to the realms of Thrace.
  That night, ere yet the season, breathing frore,
  Rush'd winter, and with ice incrusted o'er
  The flood of sacred Strymon: such as own'd
  No god till now, awe-struck, with many a prayer
  Adored the earth and sky. When now the troops
  Had ceased their invocations to the gods,
  O'er the stream's solid crystal they began
  Their march; and we, who took our early way,
  Ere the sun darted his warm beams, pass'd safe:
  But when this burning orb with fiery rays
  Unbound the middle current, down they sunk
  Each over other; happiest he who found
  The speediest death: the poor remains, that 'scaped,
  With pain through Thrace dragg'd on their toilsome march,
  A feeble few, and reach'd their native soil;
  That Persia sighs through all her states, and mourns
  Her dearest youth. This is no feigned tale:
  But many of the ills, that burst upon us
  In dreadful vengeance, I refrain to utter.

The MESSENGER withdraws.


LEADER OF THE CHORUS

  O Fortune, heavy with affliction's load,
  How bath thy foot crush'd all the Persian race!


ATOSSA

  Ah me, what sorrows for our ruin'd host
  Oppress my soul! Ye visions of the night
  Haunting my dreams, how plainly did you show
  These ills!-You set them in too fair a light.
  Yet, since your bidding hath in this prevail'd,
  First to the gods wish I to pour my prayers,
  Then to the mighty dead present my off 'rings,
  Bringing libations from my house: too late,
  I know, to change the past; yet for the future,
  If haply better fortune may await it,
  Behooves you, on this sad event, to guide
  Your friends with faithful counsels. Should my son
  Return ere I have finish'd, let your voice
  Speak comfort to him; friendly to his house
  Attend him, nor let sorrow rise on sorrows.

ATOSSA and her retinue go out.


CHORUS singing

  strophe

  Awful sovereign of the skies,
  When now o'er Persia's numerous host
  Thou badest the storm with ruin rise,
  All her proud vaunts of glory lost,
  Ecbatana's imperial head
  By thee was wrapp'd in sorrow's dark'ning shade;
  Through Susa's palaces with loud lament,
  By their soft hands their veils all rent,
  The copious tear the virgins pour,
  That trickles their bare bosoms o'er.
  From her sweet couch up starts the widow'd bride,
  Her lord's loved image rushing on her soul,
  Throws the rich ornaments of youth aside,
  And gives her griefs to flow without control:
  Her griefs not causeless; for the mighty slain
  Our melting tears demand, and sorrow-soften'd strain.

  antistrophe

  Now her wailings wide despair
  Pours these exhausted regions o'er:
  Xerxes, ill-fated, led the war;
  Xerxes, ill-fated, leads no more;
  Xerxes sent forth the unwise command,
  The crowded ships unpeopled all the land;
  That land, o'er which Darius held his reign,
  Courting the arts of peace, in vain,
  O'er all his grateful realms adored,
  The stately Susa's gentle lord.
  Black o'er the waves his burden'd vessels sweep,
  For Greece elate the warlike squadrons fly;
  Now crush'd, and whelm'd beneath the indignant deep
  The shatter'd wrecks and lifeless heroes lie:
  While, from the arms of Greece escaped, with toil
  The unshelter'd monarch roams o'er Thracia's dreary soil.

  epode

  The first in battle slain
  By Cychrea's craggy shore
  Through sad constraint, ah me! forsaken lie,
  All pale and smear'd with gore:-
  Raise high the mournful strain,
  And let the voice of anguish pierce the sky:-
  Or roll beneath the roaring tide,
  By monsters rent of touch abhorr'd;
  While through the widow'd mansion echoing wide
  Sounds the deep groan, and wails its slaughter'd lord:
  Pale with his fears the helpless orphan there
  Gives the full stream of plaintive grief to flow;
  While age its hoary head in deep despair
  Bends; list'ning to the shrieks of wo.
  With sacred awe
  The Persian law
  No more shall Asia's realms revere;
  To their lord's hand
  At his command,
  No more the exacted tribute bear.
  Who now falls prostrate at the monarch's throne?
  His regal greatness is no more.
  Now no restraint the wanton tongue shall own,
  Free from the golden curb of power;
  For on the rocks, wash'd by the beating flood,
  His awe commanding nobles lie in blood.

ATOSSA returns, clad in the garb of mourning; she carries offerings for the tomb of Darius.


ATOSSA

  Whoe'er, my friends, in the rough stream of life
  Hath struggled with affliction, thence is taught
  That, when the flood begins to swell, the heart
  Fondly fears all things; when the fav'ring gale
  Of Fortune smooths the current, it expands
  With unsuspecting confidence, and deems
  That gale shall always breathe. So to my eyes
  All things now wear a formidable shape,
  And threaten from the gods: my ears are pierced
  With sounds far other than of song. Such ills
  Dismay my sick'ning soul: hence from my house
  Nor glitt'ring car attends me, nor the train
  Of wonted state, while I return, and bear
  Libations soothing to the father's shade
  In the son's cause; delicious milk, that foams
  White from the sacred heifer; liquid honey,
  Extract of flowers; and from its virgin fount
  The running crystal; this pure draught, that flow'd
  From the ancient vine, of power to bathe the spirits
  In joy; the yellow olive's fragrant fruit,
  That glories in its leaves' unfading verdure;
  With flowers of various hues, earth's fairest offspring
  Inwreathed. But you, my friends, amid these rites
  Raise high your solemn warblings, and invoke
  Your lord, divine Darius; I meanwhile
  Will pour these off'rings to the infernal gods.


CHORUS chanting

  Yes, royal lady, Persia's honour'd grace,
  To earth's dark chambers pour thy off'rings: we
  With choral hymns will supplicate the powers
  That guide the dead, to be propitious to us.
  And you, that o'er the realms of night extend
  Your sacred sway, thee mighty earth, and the
  Hermes; thee chief, tremendous king, whose throne
  Awes with supreme dominion, I adjure:
  Send, from your gloomy regions, send his shade
  Once more to visit this ethereal light;
  That he alone, if aught of dread event
  He sees yet threat'ning Persia, may disclose
  To us poor mortals Fate's extreme decree.

  Hears the honour'd godlike king?
  These barbaric notes of wo,
  Taught in descant sad to ring,
  Hears he in the shades below?
  Thou, O Earth, and you, that lead
  Through your sable realms the dead,
  Guide him as he takes his way,
  And give him to the ethereal light of day!

  Let the illustrious shade arise
  Glorious in his radiant state,
  More than blazed before our eyes,
  Ere sad Susa mourn'd his fate.
  Dear he lived, his tomb is dear,
  Shrining virtues we revere:
  Send then, monarch of the dead,
  Such as Darius was, Darius' shade.

  He in realm-unpeopling war
  Wasted not his subjects' blood,
  Godlike in his will to spare,
  In his councils wise and good.
  Rise then, sovereign lord, to light;
  On this mound's sepulchral height
  Lift thy sock in saffron died,
  And rear thy rich tiara's regal pride!

  Great and good, Darius, rise:

Lord of Persia's lord, appear:

  Thus involved with thrilling cries
  Come, our tale of sorrow hear!
  War her Stygian pennons spreads,
  Brooding darkness o'er our heads;
  For stretch'd along the dreary shore
  The flow'r of Asia lies distain'd with gore.

  Rise, Darius, awful power;
  Long for thee our tears shall flow.
  Why thy ruin'd empire o'er
  Swells this double flood of wo?
  Sweeping o'er the azure tide
  Rode thy navy's gallant pride:
  Navy now no more, for all
  Beneath the whelming wave-

While the CHORUS Sings, ATOSSA performs her ritual by the tomb. As the song concludes the GHOST OF DARIUS appears from the tomb.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Ye faithful Persians, honour'd now in age,
  Once the companions of my youth, what ills
  Afflict the state? The firm earth groans, it opes,
  Disclosing its vast deeps; and near my tomb
  I see my wife: this shakes my troubled soul
  With fearful apprehensions; yet her off'rings
  Pleased I receive. And you around my tomb
  Chanting the lofty strain, whose solemn air
  Draws forth the dead, with grief-attemper'd notes
  Mournfully call me: not with ease the way
  Leads to this upper air; and the stern gods,
  Prompt to admit, yield not a passage back
  But with reluctance: much with them my power
  Availing, with no tardy step I come.
  Say then, with what new ill doth Persia groan?


CHORUS chanting

  My wonted awe o'ercomes me; in thy presence
  I dare not raise my eyes, I dare not speak.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Since from the realms below, by thy sad strains
  Adjured, I come, speak; let thy words be brief;
  Say whence thy grief, tell me unawed by fear.
  I dread to forge a flattering tale, I dread
  To grieve thee with a harsh offensive truth.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Since fear hath chained his tongue, high-honour'd dame,
  Once my imperial consort, check thy tears,
  Thy griefs, and speak distinctly. Mortal man
  Must bear his lot of wo; afflictions rise
  Many from sea, many from land, if life
  Be haply measured through a lengthen'd course.


ATOSSA

  O thou that graced with Fortune's choicest gifts
  Surpassing mortals, while thine eye beheld
  Yon sun's ethereal rays, lived'st like a god
  Bless'd amid thy Persians; bless'd I deem thee now
  In death, ere sunk in this abyss of ills,
  Darius, hear at once our sum of wo;
  Ruin through all her states hath crush'd thy Persia.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  By pestilence, or faction's furious storms?


ATOSSA

  Not so: near Athens perish'd all our troops.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Say, of my sons, which led the forces thither?


ATOSSA

  The impetuous Xerxes, thinning all the land.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  By sea or land dared he this rash attempt?


ATOSSA

  By both: a double front the war presented.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  A host so vast what march conducted o'er?


ATOSSA

  From shore to shore he bridged the Hellespont.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  What! could he chain the mighty Bosphorus?


ATOSSA

  Ev'n so, some god assisting his design.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Some god of power to cloud his better sense.


ATOSSA

  The event now shows what mischiefs he achieved.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  What suffer'd they, for whom your sorrows flow?


ATOSSA

  His navy sunk spreads ruin through the camp.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Fell all his host beneath the slaught'ring spear?


ATOSSA

  Susa, through all her streets, mourns her lost sons.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  How vain the succour, the defence of arms?


ATOSSA

  In Bactra age and grief are only left.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Ah, what a train of warlike youth is lost!


ATOSSA

  Xerxes, astonished, desolate, alone-


GHOST OF DARIUS

  How will this end? Nay, pause not. Is he safe?


ATOSSA

  Fled o'er the bridge, that join'd the adverse strands.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  And reach'd this shore in safety? Is this true?


ATOSSA

  True are thy words, and not to be gainsay'd.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  With what a winged course the oracles
  Haste their completion! With the lightning's speed
  Jove on my son hath hurled his threaten'd vengeance:
  Yet I implored the gods that it might fall
  In time's late process: but when rashness drives
  Impetuous on, the scourge of Heaven upraised
  Lashes the Fury forward; hence these ills
  Pour headlong on my friends. Not weighing this,
  My son, with all the fiery pride of youth,
  Hath quickened their arrival, while he hoped
  To bind the sacred Hellespont, to hold
  The raging Bosphorus, like a slave, in chains,
  And dared the advent'rous passage, bridging firm
  With links of solid iron his wondrous way,
  To lead his numerous host; and swell'd with thoughts
  Presumptuous, deem'd, vain mortal! that his power
  Should rise above the gods, and Neptune's might.
  And was riot this the phrensy of the soul?
  But much I fear lest all my treasured wealth
  Fall to some daring hand an easy prey.


ATOSSA

  This from too frequent converse with bad men
  The impetuous Xerxes learn'd; these caught his ear
  With thy great deeds, as winning for thy sons
  Vast riches with thy conquering spear, while he
  Tim'rous and slothful, never, save in sport,
  Lifted his lance, nor added to the wealth
  Won by his noble fathers. This reproach
  Oft by bad men repeated, urged his soul
  To attempt this war, and lead his troops to Greece.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Great deeds have they achieved, and memorable
  For ages: never hath this wasted state
  Suffer'd such ruin, since heaven's awful king
  Gave to one lord Asia's extended plains
  White with innumerous flocks, and to his hands
  Consign'd the imperial sceptre. Her brave hosts
  A Mede first led; the virtues of his son
  Fix'd firm the empire, for his temperate soul
  Breathed prudence. Cyrus next, by fortune graced,
  Adorn'd the throne, and bless'd his grateful friends
  With peace: he to his mighty monarchy
  Join'd Lydia, and the Phrygians; to his power
  Ionia bent reluctant; but the gods
  His son then wore the regal diadem.
  With victory his gentle virtues crown'd
  His son then wore the regal diadem.
  Next to disgrace his country, and to stain
  The splendid glories of this ancient throne,
  Rose Mardus: him, with righteous vengeance fired
  Artaphernes, and his confederate chiefs
  Crush'd in his palace: Maraphis assumed
  The sceptre: after him Artaphernes.
  Me next to this exalted eminence,
  Crowning my great ambition, Fortune raised.
  In many a glorious field my glittering spear
  Flamed in the van of Persia's numerous hosts;
  But never wrought such ruin to the state.
  Xerxes, my son, in all the pride of youth
  Listens to youthful counsels, my commands
  No more remember'd; hence, my hoary friends,
  Not the whole line of Persia's sceptred lords,
  You know it well, so wasted her brave sons.


LEADER OF THE CHORUS

  Why this? To what fair end are these thy words
  Directed? Sovereign lord, instruct thy Persians
  How, mid this ruin, best to guide their state.


GHOST OF DARIUS

  No more 'gainst Greece lead your embattled hosts;
  Not though your deep'ning phalanx spreads the field
  Outnumb'ring theirs: their very earth fights for them.


LEADER

  What may thy words import? How fight for them?


GHOST OF DARIUS

  With famine it destroys your cumbrous train.


LEADER

  Choice levies, prompt for action, will we send,


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Those, in the fields of Greece that now remain,
  Shall not revisit safe the Persian shore.


LEADER

  What! shall not all the host of Persia pass
  Again from Europe o'er the Hellespont?


GHOST OF DARIUS

  Of all their numbers few, if aught avails
  The faith of heaven-sent oracles to him
  That weighs the past, in their accomplishment
  Not partial: hence he left, in faithless hope
  Confiding, his selected train of heroes.
  These have their station where Asopus flows
  Wat'ring the plain, whose grateful currents roll
  Diffusing plenty through Boeotia's fields.
  There misery waits to crush them with the load
  Of heaviest ills, in vengeance for their proud
  And impious daring; for where'er they held
  Through Greece their march, they fear'd not to profane
  The statues of the gods; their hallow'd shrines
  Emblazed, o'erturn'd their altars, and in ruins,
  Rent from their firm foundations, to the ground
  Levell'd their temples; such their frantic deeds,
  Nor less their suff'rings; greater still await them;
  For Vengeance hath not wasted all her stores;
  The heap yet swells; for in Plataea's plains
  Beneath the Doric spear the clotted mas
  Of carnage shall arise, that the high mounds,
  Piled o'er the dead, to late posterity
  Shall give this silent record to men's eyes,
  That proud aspiring thoughts but ill beseem
  Weak mortals: for oppression, when it springs,
  Puts forth the blade of vengeance, and its fruit
  Yields a ripe harvest of repentant wo.
  Behold this vengeance, and remember Greece,
  Remember Athens: henceforth let not pride,
  Her present state disdaining, strive to grasp
  Another's, and her treasured happiness
  Shed on the ground: such insolent attempts
  Awake the vengeance of offended Jove.
  But you, whose age demands more temperate thoughts,
  With words of well-placed counsel teach his youth
  To curb that pride, which from the gods calls down
  Destruction on his head.

To ATOSSA

  And thou, whose age
  The miseries of thy Xerxes sink with sorrow,
  Go to thy house, thence choose the richest robe,
  And meet thy son; for through the rage of grief
  His gorgeous vestments from his royal limbs
  Are foully rent. With gentlest courtesy
  Soothe his affliction; for is duteous ear,
  I know, will listen to thy voice alone.
  Now to the realms of darkness I descend.
  My ancient friends, farewell, and mid these ills
  Each day in pleasures battle your drooping spirits,
  For treasured riches naught avail the dead.

The GHOST OF DARIUS vanishes into the tomb.


LEADER

  These many present, many future ills
  Denounced on Persia, sink my soul with grief.


ATOSSA

  Unhappy fortune, what a tide of ills
  Bursts o'er me! Chief this foul disgrace, which shows
  My son divested of his rich attire,
  His royal robes all rent, distracts my thoughts.
  But I will go, choose the most gorgeous vest,
  And liaste to meet my son. Ne'er in his woes
  Will I forsake whom my soul holds most dear.

ATOSSA departs as the CHORUS begins its song.


CHORUS

  strophe 1

  Ye powers that rule the skies,
  Memory recalls our great, our happy fate,
  Our well-appointed state,
  The scenes of glory opening to our eyes,
  When this vast empire o'er
  The good Darius, with each virtue bless'd
  That forms a monarch's breast,
  Shielding his subjects with a father's care
  Invincible in war,
  Extended like a god his awful power,
  Then spread our arms their glory wide,
  Guarding to peace her golden reign:
  Each tower'd city saw with pride
  Safe from the toils of war her homeward-marching train.

  antistrophe 1

  Nor Haly's shallow strand
  He pass'd, nor from his palace moved his state;
  He spoke; his word was Fate.
  What strong-based cities could his might withstand?
  Not those that lift their heads
  Where to the sea the floods of Strymon pass,
  Leaving the huts of Thrace;
  Nor those, that far the extended ocean o'er
  Stand girt with many a tower;
  Nor where the Hellespont his broad wave spreads;
  Nor the firm bastions' rampired might,
  Whose foot the deep Propontis laves;
  Nor those, that glorying in their height
  Frown o'er the Pontic sea, and shade his darken'd waves.

  strophe 2

  Each sea-girt isle around
  Bow'd to this monarch: humbled Lesbos bow'd;
  Paros, of its marble proud;
  Naxos with vines, with olives Samos crown'd:
  Him Myconos adored;
  Chios, the seat of beauty; Andros steep,
  That stretches o'er the deep
  To meet the wat'ry Tenos; him each bay
  Bound by the Icarian sea,
  Him Melos, Gnidus, Rhodes confess'd their lord;
  O'er Cyprus stretch'd his sceptred hand:
  Paphos and Solos own'd his power,
  And Salamis, whose hostile strand,
  The cause of all our wo, is red with Persian gore.

  antistrophe 2

  Ev'n the proud towns, that rear'd
  Sublime along the lonian coast their towers,
  Where wealth her treasures pours,
  Peopled from Greece, his prudent reign revered.
  With such unconquer'd might
  His hardy warriors shook the embattled fields,
  Heroes that Persia yields,
  And those from distant realms that took their way,
  And wedged in close array
  Beneath his glitt'ring banners claim'd the fight.
  But now these glories are no more:
  Farewell the big war's plumed pride:
  The gods have crush'd this trophied power;
  Sunk are our vanquish'd arms beneath the indignant tide.

XERXES enters, with a few followers. His royal raiment is torn, The entire closing scene is sung or chanted.


XERXES

  Ah me, how sudden have the storms of Fate,
  Beyond all thought, all apprehension, burst
  On my devoted head! O Fortune, Fortune!
  With what relentless fury hath thy hand
  Hurl'd desolation on the Persian race!
  Wo unsupportable! The torturing thought
  Of our lost youth comes rushing on my mind,
  And sinks me to the ground. O Jove, that
  Had died with those brave men that died in fight I


CHORUS

  O thou afflicted monarch, once the lord
  Of marshall'd armies, of the lustre beam'd
  From glory's ray o'er Persia, of her sons
  The pride, the grace, whom ruin now hath sunk
  In blood! The unpeopled land laments her youth
  By Xerxes led to slaughter, till the realms
  Of death are gorged with Persians; for the flower
  Of all the realm, thousands, whose dreadful bows
  With arrowy shower annoy'd the foe, are fall'n.


XERXES

  Your fall, heroic youths, distracts my soul.


CHORUS

  And Asia sinking on her knee, O king,
  Oppress'd, with griefs oppress'd, bends to the earth.


XERXES

  And I, O wretched fortune, I was born
  To crush, to desolate my ruin'd country!


CHORUS

  I have no voice, no swelling harmony,
  No descant, save these notes of wo,
  Harsh, and responsive to the sullen sigh,
  Rude strains, that unmelodious flow,
  To welcome thy return.


XERXES

  Then bid them flow, bid the wild measures flow
  Hollow, unmusical, the notes of grief;
  They suit my fortune, and dejected state.


CHORUS

  Yes, at thy royal bidding shall the strain
  Pour the deep sorrows of my soul;
  The suff'rings of my bleeding country plain,
  And bid the mournful measures roll.
  Again the voice of wild despair
  With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air;
  For high the god of war his flaming crest
  Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded,
  The haughty arms of Greece with conquest bless'd,
  And Persia's wither'd force confounded,
  Dash'd on the dreary beach her heroes slain,
  Or whelm'd them in the darken'd main.


XERXES

  To swell thy griefs ask ev'ry circumstance.


CHORUS

  Where are thy valiant friends, thy chieftains where?
  Pharnaces, Susas, and the might
  Of Pelagon, and Dotamas? The spear
  Of Agabates bold in fight?
  Psammis in mailed cuirass dress'd,
  And Susiscanes' glitt'ring crest?


XERXES

  Dash'd from the Tyrian vessel on the rocks
  Of Salamis they sunk, and smear'd with gore
  The heroes on the dreary strand are stretch'd.


CHORUS

  Where is Pharnuchus? Ariomardus where,
  With ev'ry gentle virtue graced?
  Lilaeus, that from chiefs renown'd in war
  His high-descended lineage traced?
  Where rears Sebalces his crown-circled head:
  Where Tharybis to battles bred,
  Artembares, Hystaechmes bold,
  Memphis, Masistress sheath'd in gold?


XERXES

  Wretch that I am! These on the abhorred town
  Ogygian Athens, roll'd their glowing eyes
  Indignant; but at once in the fierce shock
  Of battle fell, dash'd breathless on the ground.


CHORUS

  There does the son of Batanochus lie,
  Through whose rich veins the unsullied blood
  Of Susamus, down from the lineage high
  Of noble Mygabatas flow'd:
  Alpistus, who with faithful care
  Number'd the deep'ning files of war,
  The monarch's eye; on the ensanguined plain
  Low is the mighty warrior laid?
  Is great Aebares 'mong the heroes slain,
  And Partheus number'd with the dead?-
  Ah me! those bursting groans, deep-charged with wo,
  The fate of Persia's princes show.


XERXES

  To my grieved memory thy mournful voice,
  Tuned to the saddest notes of wo, recalls
  My brave friends lost; and my rent heart returns
  In dreadful symphony the sorrowing strain.


CHORUS

  Yet once more shall I ask thee, yet once more,
  Where is the Mardian Xanthes' might,
  The daring chief, that from the Pontic shore
  Led his strong phalanx to the fight?
  Anchares where, whose high-raised shield
  Flamed foremost in the embattled field?
  Where the high leaders of thy mail-clad horse,
  Daixis and Arsaces where?
  Where Cigdadatas and Lythimnas' force,
  Waving untired his purple spear?


XERXES

  Entomb'd, I saw them in the earth entomb'd;
  Nor did the rolling car with solemn state
  Attend their rites: I follow'd: low they lie
  (Ah me, the once great leaders of my host!
  Low in the earth, without their honours lie.)


CHORUS

  O wo, wo, wo! Unutterable wo
  The demons of revenge have spread;
  And Ate from her drear abode below
  Rises to view the horrid deed.


XERXES

  Dismay, and rout, and ruin, ills that wait
  On man's afflicted fortune, sink us down.


CHORUS

  Dismay, and rout, and ruin on us wait,
  And all the vengeful storms of Fate:
  Ill flows on ill, on sorrows sorrows rise;
  Misfortune leads her baleful train;
  Before the Ionian squadrons Persia flies,
  Or sinks ingulf'd beneath the main.
  Fall'n, fall'n is her imperial power,
  And conquest on her banners waits no more.


XERXES

  At such a fall, such troops of heroes lost,
  How can my soul but sink in deep despair!
  Cease thy sad strain.


CHORUS

  Is all thy glory lost?


XERXES

  Seest thou these poor remains of my rent robes?


CHORUS

  I see, I see.


XERXES

  And this ill-furnish'd quiver?


CHORUS

  Wherefore preserved?


XERXES

  To store my treasured arrows.


CHORUS

  Few, very few.


XERXES

  And few my friendly aids.


CHORUS

  I thought these Grecians shrunk appall'd at arms.


XERXES

  No: they are bold and daring: these sad eyes
  Beheld their violent and deathful deeds.


CHORUS

  The ruin, sayst thou, of thy shattered fleet?


XERXES

  And in the anguish of my soul I rent
  My royal robes.


CHORUS

  Wo, wo!


XERXES

  And more than wo.


CHORUS

  Redoubled, threefold wo!


XERXES

  Disgrace to me,
  But triumph to the foe.


CHORUS

  Are all thy powers
  In ruin crush'd?


XERXES

  No satrap guards me now.


CHORUS

  Thy faithful friends sunk in the roaring main.


XERXES

  Weep, weep their loss, and lead me to my house;
  Answer my grief with grief, an ill return
  Of ills for ills. Yet once more raise that strain
  Lamenting my misfortunes; beat thy breast,
  Strike, heave the groan; awake the Mysian strain
  To notes of loudest wo; rend thy rich robes,
  Pluck up thy beard, tear off thy hoary locks,
  And battle thine eyes in tears: thus through the streets
  Solemn and slow with sorrow lead my steps;
  Lead to my house, and wail the fate of Persia.


CHORUS

  Yes, once more at thy bidding shall the strain
  Pour the deep sorrows of my soul;
  The suff'rings of my bleeding untry plain,
  And bid the Mysian measures roll.
  Again the voice of wild despair
  With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air;
  For high the god of war his flaming crest
  Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded,
  The haughty arms of Greece with conquest bless'd,
  And Persia's withered force confounded,
  Dash'd on the dreary beach her heroes slain.,
  Or whelm'd them in the darken'd main.


THE END