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I have been haunted by a multitude of dreams at night since the time when my son, having despatched his army, departed with intent to lay waste the land of the Ionians. But never yet have I beheld so distinct a vision  as that of the last night. This I will describe to you. I dreamed that two women in beautiful clothes, one in Persian garb, the other in Dorian attire, appeared before my eyes; both far more striking in stature than are the women of our time,  flawless in beauty, sisters of the same family. As for the lands in which they dwelt, to one had been assigned by lot the land of Hellas, to the other that of the barbarians. The two, as I imagined it, seemed to provoke each other to a mutual feud, and my son, when he had become aware of this,  attempted to restrain and placate them. He yoked them both to his car and placed the collar-straps upon their necks. The one bore herself proudly in these trappings and kept her mouth obedient to the rein. The other struggled and with her hands  tore apart the harness of the car; then, free of the curb, she dragged it violently along with her and snapped the yoke in two. My son was hurled to the ground and his father Darius stood by his side filled with pity. But Xerxes, when he caught sight of him, tore the garments covering his body.
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