Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/102

72

O walls and towers of all the Asian realm,

O Persian land, O treasure-house of gold!

How, by one stroke, down to destruction, down,

Hath sunk our pride, and all the flower of war

That once was Persia's, lieth in the dust!

Woe on the man who first announceth woe—

Yet must I all the tale of death unroll!

Hark to me, Persians! Persia's host lies low.

O ruin manifold, and woe, and fear!

Let the wild tears run down, for the great doom is here!

This blow hath fallen, to the utterance,

And I, past hope, behold my safe return!

Too long, alack, too long this life of mine,

That in mine age I see this sudden woe condign!

As one who saw, by no loose rumour led,

Lords, I would tell what doom was dealt to us.

Alack, how vainly have they striven!

Our myriad hordes with shaft and bow

Went from the Eastland, to lay low

Hellas, beloved of Heaven!