No More Learning

And thou, O venerable Mother-queen,
Beloved of Xerxes, to the palace pass
And take therefrom such raiment as befits
Thy son, and go to meet him: for his garb
In this extremity of grief hangs rent
Around his body, woefully unstitched,
Mere tattered fragments of once royal robes!
Go thou to him, speak soft and soothing words--
Thee, and none other, will he bear to hear,
As well I know. But I must pass away
From earth above, unto the nether gloom;
Therefore, old men, take my farewell, and clasp,
Even amid the ruin of this time,
Unto your souls the pleasure of the day,
For dead men have no profit of their gold!
[_The_ GHOST OF DARIUS _sinks_.

CHORUS

Alas, I thrill with pain for Persia's woes--
Many fulfilled, and others hard at hand!

ATOSSA

O spirit of the race, what sorrows crowd
Upon me! and this anguish stings me worst,
That round my royal son's dishonoured form
Hang rags and tatters, degradation deep!
I will away, and, bringing from within
A seemly royal robe, will straightway strive
To meet and greet my son: foul scorn it were
To leave our dearest in his hour of shame.
[_Exit_ ATOSSA.

CHORUS

Ah glorious and goodly they were,
the life and the lot that we gained,
The cities we held in our hand
when the monarch invincible reigned,
The king that was good to his realm,
sufficing, fulfilled of his sway,
A lord that was peer of the gods,
the pride of the bygone day!
Then could we show to the skies
great hosts and a glorious name,
And laws that were stable in might;
as towers they guarded our fame!
There without woe or disaster
we came from the foe and the fight,
In triumph, enriched with the spoil,
to the land and the city's delight.
What towns ere the Halys he passed!
what towns ere he came to the West,
To the main and the isles of the Strymon,
and the Thracian region possess'd!
And those that stand back from the main,
enringed by their fortified wall,
Gave o'er to Darius, the king,
the sceptre and sway over all!
Those too by the channel of Helle,
where southward it broadens and glides,
By the inlets, Propontis! of thee,
and the strait of the Pontic tides,
And the isles that lie fronting our sea-board,
and the Eastland looks on each one,
Lesbo and Chios and Paros,
and Samos with olive-trees grown,
And Naxos, and Myconos' rock,
and Tenos with Andros hard by,
And isles that in midmost Aegean,
aloof from the continent, lie--
And Lemnos and Icaros' hold--
all these to his sceptre were bowed,
And Cnidos and neighbouring Rhodes,
and Soli, and Paphos the proud,
And Cyprian Salamis, name-child of her
who hath wrought us this wrong!
Yea, and all the Ionian tract,
where the Greek-born inhabitants throng,
And the cities are teeming with gold--
Darius was lord of them all,
And, great by his wisdom, he ruled,
and ever there came to his call,
In stalwart array and unfailing,
the warrior chiefs of our land,
And mingled allies from the tribes
who bowed to his conquering hand!
But now there are none to gainsay
that the gods are against us; we lie
Subdued in the havoc of wreck,
and whelmed by the wrath of the sky!
[_Enter_ XERXES _in disarray_.

XERXES

Alas the day, that I should fall
Into this grimmest fate of all,
This ruin doubly unforeseen!
On Persia's land what power of Fate
Descends, what louring gloom of hate?
How shall I bear my teen?
My limbs are loosened where they stand,
When I behold this aged band--
Oh God! I would that I too, I,
Among the men who went to die,
Were whelmed in earth by Fate's command!

CHORUS

Ah welladay, my King! ah woe
For all our heroes' overthrow--
For all the gallant host's array,
For Persia's honour, pass'd away,
For glory and heroic sway
Mown down by Fortune's hand to-day!
Hark, how the kingdom makes its moan,
For youthful valour lost and gone,
By Xerxes shattered and undone!
He, he hath crammed the maw of hell
With bowmen brave, who nobly fell,
Their country's mighty armament,
Ten thousand heroes deathward sent!
Alas, for all the valiant band,
O king and lord! thine Asian land
Down, down upon its knee is bent!