THE PERSIANS
99
Reckon a myriad-muster, 'twere ten times ten thousand, I trow.
Sad lord of lost legions,
Sorrow on thee!
Through Asia's wide regions
Thy welcome shall be
Lamentation and mourning and weeping: she stoopeth; she boweth the knee.
Xerxes.
Wail loud! Be not dumb!
On me be your moan!
For I am become
To kingdom and throne
A plague and a curse; yea, a burden, a weariness unto my own.
Chorus.
O crowned desolation,
Whose stripes thy land bears;
A sore salutation
She sounds in thy ears;
Mariandyne's death-lament hails thee: the cup of thy feasting is tears.
Xerxes.
Pour forth thy sorrow!
Long, long shall it flow!
Nor to-day nor to-morrow
Sufficeth thy woe.
I have felt the fierce changes of fortune; the blast of God's vengeance I know.
