Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/319

Rh Loosed is my strength of thew,

These elders meeting face to face.

Would that, O Zeus, me too,

With the brave men laid low,

Death's doom had veiled in night.

Woe, king, for our brave army! Woe

For honours vast of Persia's reign,

Her warriors of renown,

Whom Fate hath now mown down!

Earth mourns her martial bloom,

Growth of her soil, by Xerxes slain,

Who crowds with Persians Hades' gloom.

Full many chiefs, our country's flower,

Lords of the conquering bow,

Now tread the paths of doom,

For multitudinous the power

Of men by death laid low.

Woe for our trusty forces! woe!

For Asia's land, upon her knee,

In direful fall, O king! sinks direfully.

Ah, miserable me,

Worthy of pity, wretched, born to be

To race and fatherland a direful ill.

And I, thy home-return to hail,

An evil-omened dirge will trill,