Their trumpets pealed, and fire was in that sound, And with the dash of simultaneous oars Replying to the war-chant, on they came, Smiting the swirling brine, and in a trice They flashed upon the vision of the foe! The right wing first in orderly advance Came on, a steady column; following then, The rest of their array moved out and on, And to our ears there came a burst of sound, A clamour manifold.—_On, sons of Greece! On, for your country’s freedom! strike to save Wives, children, temples of ancestral gods, Graves of your fathers! now is all at stake_. Then from our side swelled up the mingled din Of Persian tongues, and time brooked no delay— Ship into ship drave hard its brazen beak With speed of thought, a shattering blow! and first One Grecian bark plunged straight, and sheared away Bowsprit and stem of a Phoenician ship. And then each galley on some other’s prow Came crashing in. Awhile our stream of ships Held onward, till within the narrowing creek Our jostling vessels were together driven, And none could aid another: each on each Drave hard their brazen beaks, or brake away The oar-banks of each other, stem to stern, While the Greek galleys, with no lack of skill, Hemmed them and battered in their sides, and soon The hulls rolled over, and the sea was hid, Crowded with wrecks and butchery of men. No beach nor reef but was with corpses strewn, And every keel of our barbarian host Hurried to flee, in utter disarray. Thereon the foe closed in upon the wrecks And hacked and hewed, with oars and splintered planks, As fishermen hack tunnies or a cast Of netted dolphins, and the briny sea Rang with the screams and shrieks of dying men, Until the night’s dark aspect hid the scene. Had I a ten days’ time to sum that count Of carnage, ’twere too little! know this well— One day ne’er saw such myriad forms of death! ATOSSA. Woe on us, woe! disaster’s mighty sea Hath burst on us and all the Persian realm! MESSENGER. Be well assured, the tale is but begun— The further agony that on us fell Doth twice outweigh the sufferings I have told! ATOSSA. Nay, what disaster could be worse than this? Say on! what woe upon the army came, Swaying the scale to a yet further fall? MESSENGER. The very flower and crown of Persia’s race, Gallant of soul and glorious in descent, And highest held in trust before the king, Lies shamefully and miserably slain. ATOSSA. Alas for me and for this ruin, friends! Dead, sayest thou? by what fate overthrown?