_Xer._ Ah, thou dost wake in me
The memory of the spell of yearning love
For comrades brave and true,
Telling of cursed ills,
Yea, cursed, hateful doom; 970
And lo, within my frame
My heart cries out, cries out.
_Chor._ Yea, another too we long for,
Xanthes, captain of ten thousand
Mardian warriors, and Anchares
Arian born, and great Arsakes
And Diæxis, lords of horsemen,
Kigdagatas and Lythimnas,
Tolmos, longing for the battle: 980
*Much I marvel, much I marvel,[71]
For they come not, as the rear-guard
Of thy tent on chariot mounted.[72]