MESSENGER.

Xerxes himself lives and beholds the sun.

ATOSSA.

Thy word is sunshine to my sorrowing house;
A cheerful day after a dismal night.

MESSENGER.

Artembares, that led ten thousand horse,
Lies slain upon the rough Silenian shore;
And Dadaces, that led a thousand more,
Pierced by a spear plunged headlong from his barque;
And Tenagon, Bactria's true son and pride,
Lies on the wave-washed beach of Ajax' Isle.
Lileus, Arsames, Argestes too,
Round the dove-haunted island drifting, struck
Its girdling rocks on fell disaster's day.
Matallus, that from Chrysa came, has fallen,
He that dark horsemen thrice ten thousand led;
The flowing beard that graced his cheek in gore
Steeped unto crimson turned its russet hue.
Arabian Magos, Bactrian Artames,
Die in a strange land, never to return;
And Tharybis, of five times fifty sail
Commander, Lyrna's son, with his fair face
By foul mischance of war has been laid low.