But the spirit within me is troubled and tossed,
When I think of the King and the Persian host;
And my soul, dark-stirred with the prophet’s mood,
Bodes nothing good.
For the strength of the Asian land went forth,
And my heart cries out for the young king’s worth
That marshalled them on to the war:[f8]
Nor herald, nor horseman, nor wandering fame,
Since then to the towers of the Persian came.
From Susa and from Ecbatana far,