Capitolo 49
The pain on the man that first the pain of announceth--
Still owes me the whole history of death explains!
Listen to me Persians! The innkeeper of Persia lies low.
CHOIR
Or ruins manifold, and the pain and fear!
Make the wounds torn wild unloading, for the great decree is here!
MESSENGER
This hath of the fallen hit, to the expression And me, over every hope I see
my sure return!
CHOIR
Too much long, alack, too much along this the life of mine,
What in mine the age I see this condign of sudden pain!
MESSENGER
As one whom he/she saw, from any rumours loosened duct,
God, I would say that decree was given to us.
CHOIR
Alack, as vainly they is striven!
Our innumerable hordes with auction and arc
Gone by the Eastland, to placed low
Hellas, beloved of Sky!
MESSENGER
Accumulated with men dead, yea, miserably killed,
Be every beach every bluff of Salamis!
CHOIR
You sayest sooth--well-a-day of ah!
Beaten among the waves, and lacerated,
On surges of there borne here,,
Bodies dead, bloodstained and abandoned,
In their long mantles they launches and they diverts!
MESSENGER
Their arcs didn't benefit! all are expert everybody,,
Debiting crushed helmets and whelmed in death.
CHOIR
Shout out the anxious moan of Your pain!
To their inopportune decree they went;
Sick strove them, and uselessly,
Be minished is their armament!
MESSENGER
Out on thee, hateful name of Salamis,
Out on Athens, mournful memory!
CHOIR
The pain on the bad fame of this day!
You, Athens, art our murderess;
Alack, full a lot of a Persian dame
Has gone away abandoned and husbandless!
ATOSSA
Mute that I have been a few, and tired
To this great pain, for him talked of passeth,
It is passeth every desire to ask of him.
Still if the of the send evils, men have to be born.
(_To the_ Messenger)
Explain the record! stand composed and says,
Even if heart of thy is internally groaning,
Who hath escaped, and, of our leaders that
Us has cry? what a head of a tribe in the van