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Dread Powers who dwell below,

Hermes and Earth and Thou,

Monarch of Hades, do ye now

His spirit to the light upsend;

For, if a cure for these dire ills he know,

Alone of mortals he may speak the end.

Me doth our blessèd, godlike monarch hear,

Pouring these varied doleful notes of woe,

Broken by sighs?

To him is my barbaric utterance clear,

Telling our wretched griefs in piercing cries?

Me doth he hear below?

But thou, O Earth, and ye dread powers of night,

Send from your sunless realms to upper air

A shade of might;

The monarch, Susa-born, the Persians' god,

Upsend ye,—Him whose equal Persia ne'er

Hath shrouded 'neath her sod.

Dear was the hero, dear his tomb,

For dear the manners it doth hide;

Aidoneus, thou, from nether gloom,

Éscort and guide,

Aidoneus, hear our prayer,—

The king of Persians send, true king, to upper air.