Now, henceforth, and forever,—­O latest to whom I upraise
Hand and heart and voice!  For Athens, leave pasture and flock! 
Present to help, potent to save, Pan deg.—­patron I call! deg.8
Archons deg. of Athens, topped by the tettix, deg. see, I return! deg.9
See, ’tis myself here standing alive, no spectre that speaks! 10
Crowned with the myrtle, did you command me, Athens and you,
“Run, Pheidippides, run and race, reach Sparta for aid! 
Persia has come, deg. we are here, where is She?” Your command I obeyed, deg.13
Ran and raced:  like stubble, some field which a fire runs through,
Was the space between city and city:  two days, two nights did I burn
Over the hills, under the dales, down pits and up peaks.

Into their midst I broke:  breath served but for “Persia has come! 
Persia bids Athens proffer slaves’-tribute, water and earth deg.; deg.18
Razed to the ground is Eretria. deg.—­but Athens, shall Athens sink, deg.19
Drop into dust and die—­the flower of Hellas deg. utterly die, deg.20
Die with the wide world spitting at Sparta, the stupid, the stander-by deg.? deg.21
Answer me quick,—­what help, what hand do you stretch o’er destruction’s brink? 
How,—­when?  No care for my limbs!—­there’s lightning in all and some—­
Fresh and fit your message to bear, once lips give it birth!”

O my Athens—­Sparta love thee? did Sparta respond? 
Every face of her leered in a furrow of envy, mistrust,
Malice,—­each eye of her gave me its glitter of gratified hate! 
Gravely they turned to take counsel, to cast for excuses.  I stood
Quivering,—­the limbs of me fretting as fire frets, an inch from dry wood: 
“Persia has come, Athens asks aid, and still they debate? 30
Thunder, thou Zeus!  Athene, are Spartans a quarry beyond
Swing of thy spear?  Phoibos deg. and Artemis, deg. clang them ’Ye must’!” deg.32

No bolt launched from Olumpos deg.!  Lo, their answer at last! deg.33
“Has Persia come,—­does Athens ask aid,—­may Sparta befriend? 
Nowise precipitate judgment—­too weighty the issue at stake! 
Count we no time lost time which lags thro’ respect to the Gods! 
Ponder that precept of old, ’No warfare, whatever the odds
In your favour, so long as the moon, half-orbed, is unable to take
Full-circle her state in the sky!’ Already she rounds to it fast: 
Athens must wait, patient as we—­who judgment suspend.” 40

Athens,—­except for that sparkle,—­thy name, I had mouldered to ash! 
That sent a blaze thro’ my blood; off, off and away was I back,
—­Not one word to waste, one look to lose on the false and the vile! 
Yet “O Gods of my land!” I cried, as each hillock and plain,
Wood and stream, I knew, I named, rushing past them again,
“Have ye kept faith, proved mindful of honours we paid you erewhile? 
Vain was the filleted victim, the fulsome libation!  Too rash
Love in its choice, paid you so largely service so slack!