Whom a god with his scythe mowed down!
For the halls of Hades, dark and wide,
Xerxes hath plenished with Persia’s pride,
And the land laments her sons.
Hundreds have trodden the path of gloom,
Thousands of Asia’s choicest bloom;
Tens of thousands, that wielded the bow,
Are gone to the chambers of death below.
Ah me! ah me! these strong-limbed men,
Where be they now that were lusty then?