The wives of Persia, steeped in woe,
Lament, of their dear lords bereft,
For her fierce spouse against the foe 140
Each sent spear-armed, and mourns unmated left.
But Persian elders, come,
And seated in our ancient hall of state
Devise we counsel, with deep-thoughted care,
For great in sooth the need;—
How haply fares our king,
Darius' seed,
Xerxes, from him derived whose name we bear
On bending of the bow doth conquest wait?
Or hath the might 150
Of iron-headed spear-shaft won the day?
[Atossa is seen approaching in a royal chariot, attended by a numerous train.]
But lo, in brightness like the eyes of gods,
Comes forth a light—
The mother of my royal lord, my queen.
Do we obeisance, falling at her feet;
Yea, it behoves us all
With words of salutation her to greet.
[They prostrate themselves before her, touching the earth with their foreheads.]
Of Persia's deep-zoned daughters supreme in rank, O Queen,
Hoar mother of King Xerxes, spouse of Darius, hail!
