The Prophecy of Athens, Herodotus 7.140

"Why sit you, doomed ones? Fly to the world's end, leaving home and the heights your city circles like a wheel. The head shall not remain in its place, nor the body, not the feet beneath, nor the hands, nor the parts between; but all is ruined, for fire and the headlong god of war speeding in a Scythian chariot shall bring you low. Many a tower shall he destroy, not yours alone, and give to pitiless fire many shrines of gods, which even now stand sweating, with fear quivering, while over the roof-tops black blood runs streaming in a prophecy of woe that needs must come. But rise, haste from the sanctuary and bow your hearts to grief"