We advise thee, mother, neither with the feeble words of fear,
Nor with boastful courage. Turn thee to the gods in supplication:
Theirs it is to ward fulfilment of all evil-omened sights,
Bringing good to full fruition for thyself and for thy children,
For the city and all that love thee. Then a pure libation pour
To the Earth and to the Manes; with especial honor pray
The dread Shade of thy Darius whom thou sawest in the night,
To send blessings on thy Xerxes in the gladness of the day,
Keeping back unblissful sorrows in the sightless gloom of death.
Thus my soul its own diviner[f19] with a friendly kind concern