Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/281

Rh The wives of Persia, steeped in woe,

Lament, of their dear lords bereft,

For her fierce spouse against the foe

Each sent spear-armed, and mourns unmated left.

But Persian elders, come,

And seated in our ancient hall of state

Devise we counsel, with deep-thoughted care,

For great in sooth the need;—

How haply fares our king,

Darius' seed,

Xerxes, from him derived whose name we bear

On bending of the bow doth conquest wait?

Or hath the might

Of iron-headed spear-shaft won the day?

But lo, in brightness like the eyes of gods,

Comes forth a light—

The mother of my royal lord, my queen.

Do we obeisance, falling at her feet;

Yea, it behoves us all

With words of salutation her to greet.

Of Persia's deep-zoned daughters supreme in rank, O Queen,

Hoar mother of King Xerxes, spouse of Darius, hail!