Capitolo 59
Earth of Or, and Hermes and the king
Of Hades, our Dariuses bring!
For if, over the prayers we prayed,
Him knoweth aught of help or help,
Him, him alone, in kingdoms under,
Can speak the limit of our pain!
Doth he feels me, the king we adored that it is god
between the of the corpse?
Doth he feels me send in my pain the compassionate one,
to whine manifold,
The complaint that he/she sobs and appeal? it is the voice of mine
sped that suffers
To the kingdom of the shades? doth he feels me and
is sorry for my sorry sigh?
Earth of Or, and ye God of the corpse! you release ye that
strength's spirit,
Who in Susa the building was born! allow him to rise on
once more to the light!
There is no anybody as him, none of everybody
That e'ers were staid in the Persian sepulchres!
Borne before him it was to burial of honoured,
A real heart! and it followed from our torn wounds.
God of the corpse, Or it gives again it,
Darius, regulates glorious!
He never wasted us with unwise war--
God, adviser and king, under of a happy star!
Ancient of days and it governs, he wakes up and comes--
O'er of the increase the grave of mounded!
Rises, foot of thy of plant, with sandal of put on saffron
Father to god and we!
Rises with diadem of thy, Or it produces benign,
On eyebrow of thy!
You list to the new and strange pains of line of thy,
Sire of a child of woeful!
A fog of the fate and hell it is to now round off us,
And the whole flower of city to death is made!
Alas, we cried once thee, and cry again!
God of Or of gentlemen, from double rashness
Earth is wasted of its men,
And down to death is rolled
Wreck of sail and oar,
Ships that are ships anybody more,
Be bodies of the killed ones!
[The Ghost Of DARIUS _rises_.
GHOST OF DARIUS
Ye grew old Persians, more truth of the truth,
Coevals of the youth that once was mine,
What troubleth now our city? harken, as
You complains and strikes the breast and lacerates the plan!