_Chor._ Zeus our king, who now to nothing Bring'st the army of the Persians, Multitudinous, much boasting; And with gloomy woe hast shrouded Both Ecbatana and Susa; Many maidens now are tearing With their tender hands their mantles, 540 And with tear-floods wet their bosoms, In the common grief partaking; And the brides of Persian warriors, Dainty even in their wailing, Longing for their new-wed husbands, Reft of bridal couch luxurious, With its coverlet so dainty, Losing joy of wanton youth-time, Mourn in never-sated wailings. And I too in fullest measure Raise again meet cry of sorrow, Weeping for the loved and lost ones. STROPHE I For now the land of Asia mourneth sore, 550 Left desolate of men, 'Twas Xerxes led them forth, woe! woe! 'Twas Xerxes lost them all, woe! woe! 'Twas Xerxes who with evil counsels sped Their course in sea-borne barques. Why was Dareios erst so free from harm, First bowman of the state, The leader whom the men of Susa loved, ANTISTROPHE I While those who fought as soldiers or at sea, 560 These ships, dark-hulled, well-rowed, Their own ships bore them on, woe! woe! Their own ships lost them all, woe! woe! Their own ships, in the crash of ruin urged, And by Ionian hands?[45] The king himself, we hear, but hardly 'scapes, Through Thrakè's widespread steppes, And paths o'er which the tempests wildly sweep. STROPHE II And they who perished first, ah me! 570 Perforce unburied left, alas! Are scattered round Kychreia's shore,[46] woe! woe! Lament, mourn sore, and raise a bitter cry, Grievous, the sky to pierce, woe! woe! And let thy mourning voice uplift its strain Of loud and full lament. ANTISTROPHE II Torn by the whirling flood, ah me! Their carcases are gnawed, alas! By the dumb brood of stainless sea, woe! woe! 580 And each house mourneth for its vanished lord; And childless sires, woe! woe! Mourning in age o'er griefs the Gods have sent, Now hear their utter loss. STROPHE III And throughout all Asia's borders None now own the sway of Persia, Nor bring any more their tribute, Owning sway of sovereign master. Low upon the Earth, laid prostrate, 590 Is the strength of our great monarch ANTISTROPHE III