Which when my son perceived, he checked their wrath
And calmed them, and beneath his chariot's yoke
He led them both, and o'er their necks the rein
He stretched. Then of her trappings one seemed proud
And to the bit her mouth obedient lent.
But her companion, like a restive steed,
The harness broke, and, heeding not the bit,
O'erthrew the car and snapped the yoke in twain.
My son falls, and his sire Darius comes
To aid and comfort him, whom when he sees,
Xerxes his garments rends in sign of woe.
Such was my dream. When morning came I rose,
And first the night's pollution purged away
With purifying waters, then I sought
The altar, with my sacrificial train
To lay the gift, which turns the wrath divine,
Of honeyed meal before the powers who save.
Behold an eagle flying in affright
To Phoebus' shrine; fear struck me mute, my friends.
Then lo! a falcon on the eagle swoops,
Assails him with his wings and tears his head
With angry talons, while the mightier bird
Cowers unresisting. Awful 'twas to see,
Awful it is for you to hear. My son,
If well he fares, will boundless glory win,
If ill--yet he no reckoning owes the state;
Let him but live and he is master here.

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