Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/133

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Bitter indeed the pang for comrades slain,

The brave and bold! thou strikest to my soul

Pain, pain beyond forgetting, hateful pain.

My inner spirit sobs and sighs with dole!

Another yet we yearn to see,

And see not! ah, thy chivalry,

Xanthis, thou chief of Mardian men

Countless! and thou, Anchares bright,

And ye, whose cars controlled the fight,

Arsaces and Diaixis wight,

Kegdadatas, Lythimnas dear,

And Tolmus, greedy of the spear!

I stand bereft! not in thy train

Come they, as erst! ah, ne'er again

Shall they return unto our eyes,

Car-borne, 'neath silken canopies!

Yea, gone are they who mustered once the host!

Yea, yea, forgotten, lost!

Alas, the woe and cost!

Alas, ye heavenly powers!

Ye wrought a sorrow past belief,

A woe, of woes the chief!

With aspect stern, upon us Ate lours!