STROPHE II. What cities of splendour To him did surrender, Though he crossed not the border that Halys prescribes To the Median tribes! From Susa far Thrace feared his war, {326} And the islanded cities of Strymon the river Cowered at the clang of his sounding quiver. ANTISTROPHE II. And cities of power, Girt with wall and with tower, Far inland away from the frith and the bay, Rejoiced in his sway; The proud roofs that gleam O'er Helle's broad stream, That fringe Propontis' bosomed shores, And where the mouth of hoarse Pontus roars. STROPHE III. And the sea-swept isles that like sentinels stand Breasting the ports of the Asian land, Lesbos and Chios, with bright wine glowing, And Samos, where groves of green olive are growing, Myconos, Paros, and Naxos together, Studding the main like brother with brother, And Andros that neighbourly lies in the sea, Tenos to thee. ANTISTROPHE III. And Lemnos that looks with a doubtful face Half to Asia, half to Thrace, And where Daedalean Icarus fell, And Rhodes and Cnidos of him can tell, And the cities of Cyprus great and small, Paphos and Soli obeyed his call, And the mother whose name the daughter borrows, That caused our sorrows.[f33] EPODE. And the towns of the Greeks, well peopled and wealthy, He swayed with counsels wise and healthy; And the mustered strength of the East stood by us, A harnessed array, Many-mingled were they, Made one at the call of the mighty Darius. But now the tide hath turned indeed, The gods have worked our woe, By the spear, and the glaive, And the fierce-lashing wave Low lies the might of the Mede! {327} [_Enter_ XERXES. XERXES. Ah wretched me! even so, even so; Suddenly, suddenly came the blow, And strong was the rod of the merciless god That struck the Persian low! Ah me! Ah me! My knees beneath me shake, to see These seniors reverend and grey, Gathered to meet me on such a day. O would that I had been fated to die With the brave where destiny found them, When they stained with gore the stranger's shore, And the darkness of death came round them! CHORUS. O king of the goodly army, for thee We weep, and the princes that went with thee, Of Persian nobles the glory and crown, Whom a god with his scythe mowed down! For the halls of Hades, dark and wide, Xerxes hath plenished with Persia's pride, And the land laments her sons. Hundreds have trodden the path of gloom, Thousands of Asia's choicest bloom; Tens of thousands, that wielded the bow, Are gone to the chambers of death below. Ah me! ah me! these strong-limbed men, Where be they now that were lusty then? All Asia mourns, O King, with thee, And bends the feeble knee.