Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/131

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Ay, launch the woeful sorrow's cry,

The harsh, discordant melody,

For lo, the power, we held for sure,

Hath turned to my discomfiture!

Yea, dirges, dirges manifold

Will I send forth, for warriors bold,

For the sea-sorrow of our host!

The city mourns, and I must wail

With plashing tears our sorrow's tale,

Lamenting for the loved and lost!

Alas, the god of war, who sways

The scales of fight in diverse ways,

Gives glory to Ionia!

Ionian ships, in fenced array,

Have reaped their harvest in the bay,

A darkling harvest-field of Fate,

A sea, a shore, of doom and hate!

Cry out, and learn the tale of woe!

Where are thy comrades? where the band

Who stood beside thee, hand in hand,

A little while ago?

Where now hath Pharandákes gone,

Where Psammis, and where Pelagon?

Where now is brave Agdabatas,

And Susas too, and Datamas?

Hath Susiscanes past away,

The chieftain of Ecbatana?