Who the people of the mainland Rule throughout—whom Mitragathes And brave Arkteus, kingly chieftains, Led, from Sardis, gold-abounding, Riding on their many chariots, Three or four a-breast their horses, Sight to look upon all dreadful. And the men of sacred Tmôlos[9] Rush to place the yoke of bondage On the neck of conquered Hellas. 50 Mardon, Tharabis, spear-anvils,[10] And the Mysians, javelin-darting;[11] Babylôn too, gold-abounding, Sends a mingled cloud, swept onward, Both the troops who man the vessels, And the skilled and trustful bowmen; And the race the sword that beareth, Follows from each clime of Asia, At the great King's dread commandment. These, the bloom of Persia's greatness, Now are gone forth to the battle; 60 And for these, their mother country, Asia, mourns with mighty yearning; Wives and mothers faint with trembling Through the hours that slowly linger, Counting each day as it passes. STROPHE I The king's great host, destroying cities mighty, Hath to the land beyond the sea passed over, Crossing the straits of Athamantid Helle,[12] 70 On raft by ropes secured, And thrown his path, compact of many a vessel, As yoke upon the neck of mighty ocean. ANTISTROPHE I Of populous Asia thus the mighty ruler 'Gainst all the land his God-sent host directeth In two divisions, both by land and water, Trusting the chieftains stern, The men who drive the host to fight, relentless— He, sprung from gold-born race, a hero godlike.[13] 80 STROPHE II Glancing with darkling look, and eyes as of ravening dragon, With many a hand, and many a ship, and Syrian chariot driving,[14] He upon spearmen renowned brings battle of conquering arrows.[15] ANTISTROPHE II Yea, there is none so tried as, withstanding the flood of the mighty,90 To keep within steadfast bounds that wave of ocean resistless; Hard to fight is the host of the Persians, the people stout-hearted. MESODE Yet ah! what mortal can ward the craft of the God all-deceiving? *Who, with a nimble foot, of one leap is easily sovereign? For Atè, fawning and kind, at first a mortal betraying, 100 Then in snares and meshes decoys him, Whence one who is but man in vain doth struggle to 'scape from. STROPHE III For Fate of old, by the high Gods' decree, Prevailed, and on the Persians laid this task, Wars with the crash of towers, And set the surge of horsemen in array, And the fierce sack that lays a city low. 110 ANTISTROPHE III