Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/113

Rh

All these

Aboard a ship of Tyre

Perished. Where cold waves close

Above the wreck of lost empire

I left them with their foes:

The beaded bubbles hush and hiss,

The strong tide ebbs and flows,

Bruised on the beach at Salamis,

The waves that break on Salamis

Scourge them with bitter blows.

Woe! Woe! thrice woe! But tell me,

Pharnuchus, where is he?

Ariomardus and Seualkes

Whose fief was a king's fee?

And hast thou lost Lilæus,

Sprung from a noble strain?

And Tharubis and Memphis,

Are they among the slain?

Artembares,—Hystaechmas,—

For them my heart is fain.

Woe! Woe! thrice woe!

These many found one overthrow!

Their eyes all dim with coming death

They fixed on Athens, old, diluvial birth

Of Hate; inland on her detested earth

They gasped away their breath.