I await Command In front, across the PLain My narrowed vision Does show a scene The likes before I've never seen. Proud Persia, Sixty Thousand strong Arrayed before us A mighty throng. "Tis hot The Hoplon strains My weary arm My Doru's blade does Shimmer in the sun The Xiphos at my side Does weight my hip And Greaves do chafe My restless legs. Throat and mouth Are parched and dry In silent voice for Water cry. Command to rest Does stir the ranks Our thirst to quench To Gods give thanks Again form up Is given sound And spear butts Slam against the ground Advance, the Medes await And we step forward To our Fate Seven thousand strong Athenians fight With a thousand Plateans to our Left and right Command to halt Then slowly back To draw the Persians To our trap We Hoplites stop To stand here firm While our left wing Then right do turn The trap is sprung The Persians flee In headlong flight Towards their rear The fight is ours No Hades gate "Tis Medes who now Will meet their Fate For on this Plain Of Marathon The Greeks prevailed Athens has won.
|