CHORUS.
And Aſia ſinking on her knee, O king,
Oppreſs'd, with griefs oppreſs'd, bends to the
earth.
XERXES.
And I, O wretched fortune, I was born
To cruſh, to deſolate my ruin'd country.
1140
CHORUS.
I have no voice, no ſwelling harmony,
No deſcant, ſave theſe notes of woe,
Harſh, and reſponſive to the ſullen ſigh,
Rude ſtrains, that unmelodious flow,
To welcome thy return.
1145
XERXES.
Persians. Aeschylus. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1779.
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