Chorus:
chanting
My wonted awe o'ercomes me; in thy presence
I dare not raise my eyes, I dare not speak.
Ghost of Darius:
Since from the realms below, by thy sad
strains
Adjured, I come, speak; let thy words be brief;
Say whence thy grief, tell me unawed by fear.
I dread to forge a flattering tale, I dread
To grieve thee with a harsh offensive truth.
Ghost of Darius:
Since fear hath chained his tongue, high-honour'd
dame,
Once my imperial consort, check thy tears,
Thy griefs, and speak distinctly. Mortal man
Must bear his lot of wo; afflictions rise
Many from sea, many from land, if life
Be haply measured through a lengthen'd course.
Atossa:
O thou that graced with Fortune's choicest
gifts
Surpassing mortals, while thine eye beheld
Yon sun's ethereal rays, lived'st like a god
Bless'd amid thy Persians; bless'd I deem thee now
In death, ere sunk in this abyss of ills,
Darius, hear at once our sum of wo;
Ruin through all her states hath crush'd thy Persia.
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