On the broad sea’s moonlit mirror.
Woe, Persia, woe! thou liest low, low!
Let the golden palaces groan!
Ye mothers weep for sons that shall sleep
In gore on Marathon!
2.
Where Indus and Hydaspes roll,
Where treeless deserts glow,
Where Scythians roam beneath the pole
O’er fields of hardened snow,