Have all our triremes good
Been lost to this our land,
Ships that are ships no more, yea, ships no more?
The Ghost of Dareios appears on the summit of the
mound
Dar. O faithful of the Faithful, ye who were
Companions of my youth, ye Persian elders,
What troubles is't my country toils beneath?
The whole plain groans, cut up and furrowed o'er,[[49]]
And I, beholding now my queen beloved