Xerxes in Greece
(October 480 BC)
Xerxes, sat on his throne high overSalamis,
Stared down in disbelief to see his Persian fleet,
(More than two thousand sail), trapped and destroyed within
Those narrow straits where they were lured by wily Greeks,
Whose mere four hundred triremes beat the waves to foam
And scattered his unwieldy craft like storm-sprayed spume.
Remembering that battle at Thermopylæ
Just two months earlier, (where brave Leonidas,
With scarce three hundred Spartans, had delayed for days
His untold millions of campaign-hardened men),
The chymic cud of his choleric bile burned sour
Upon his tongue.
He spat the bitter taste to ground
And swore at all his household gods; then ran, dismayed,
Into his proud pavilion where, deep in the cool,
Soft-damasked cushions, he buried his head to hide
That face whence shame had purged pained pride.
No food nor drink
Would he attempt to take for three whole days. Nor could
The loveliest of damsels in his crowded Court
Assuage the fury of his wild mind’s baffled thought.
