THEMISTOCLES
Beneath the languid Eastern sun—
Where, from excess of perfumed heat
The sick air faints, and the hours run
From morn to night on fiery feet—
Exiled by impious decrees
I, far from Grecian lands and seas,
Move, who am called Themistocles.
Where, from excess of perfumed heat
The sick air faints, and the hours run
From morn to night on fiery feet—
Exiled by impious decrees
I, far from Grecian lands and seas,
Move, who am called Themistocles.
I, who have conquered, find it good
To crave from those I overcame
Shelter—behold my lips have sued
For Persian kindness—and my fame
To crave from those I overcame
Shelter—behold my lips have sued
For Persian kindness—and my fame
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