Fresh and unstaunched woes to hear,
Lord of a mighty lord appear!
For the clouds of Stygian night o’ercome us,
And all our youth are perished from us,
Come, good father Darius, come!
EPODE.
O woe! and woe! and yet again
Woe, and misery, and pain!
Why should’st thou die, and leave the land
Thou master of the mighty hand?