But the king went nor comes again— And for that host, we saw depart Arrayed in gold, my boding heart Aches with a pulse of anxious pain, Presageful for its youthful king! No scout, no steed, no battle-car Comes speeding hitherward, to bring News to our city from afar! Erewhile they went, away, away, From Susa, from Ecbatana, From Kissa’s timeworn fortress grey, Passing to ravage and to war— Some upon steeds, on galleys some, Some in close files, they passed from home, All upon warlike errand bent— Amistres, Artaphernes went, Astaspes, Megabazes high, Lords of the Persian chivalry, Marshals who serve the great king’s word Chieftains of all the mighty horde! Horsemen and bowmen streamed away, Grim in their aspect, fixed to slay, And resolute to face the fray! With troops of horse, careering fast, Masistes, Artembáres passed: Imaeus too, the bowman brave, Sosthánes, Pharandákes, drave— And others the all-nursing wave Of Nilus to the battle gave; Came Susiskánes, warrior wild, And Pegastágon, Egypt’s child: Thee, brave Arsámes! from afar Did holy Memphis launch to war; And Ariomardus, high in fame, From Thebes the immemorial came, And oarsmen skilled from Nilus’ fen, A countless crowd of warlike men: And next, the dainty Lydians went— Soft rulers of a continent— Mitragathes and Arcteus bold In twin command their ranks controlled, And Sardis town, that teems with gold, Sent forth its squadrons to the war— Horse upon horse, and car on car, Double and triple teams, they rolled, In onset awful to behold. From Tmolus’ sacred hill there came The native hordes to join the fray, And upon Hellas’ neck to lay The yoke of slavery and shame; Mardon and Tharubis were there, Bright anvils for the foemen’s spear! The Mysian dart-men sped to war, And the long crowd that onward rolled From Babylon enriched with gold— Captains of ships and archers skilled To speed the shaft, and those who wield The scimitar;—the eastern band Who, by the great king’s high command, Swept to subdue the western land! Gone are they, gone—ah, welladay! The flower and pride of our array; And all the Eastland, from whose breast Came forth her bravest and her best, Craves longingly with boding dread— Parents for sons, and brides new-wed For absent lords, and, day by day, Shudder with dread at their delay!