initial commit of ebook 22803HEAD main

author: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-15 01:54:25 -0700
committer: Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> 2025-10-15 01:54:25 -0700
commit: b176b500b25087232a184884a3043fcd4f6e3b6a (patch)
tree: 57b632ac35c32f3710ed56201c4e516a323a3d7b
242 files changed, 24642 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/22803-0.txt b/22803-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1d18e98
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6091 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Helen Redeemed and Other Poems, by Maurice Hewlett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Helen Redeemed and Other Poems
+
+Author: Maurice Hewlett
+
+Release Date: September 29, 2007 [EBook #22803]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN REDEEMED AND OTHER POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ HELEN REDEEMED
+
+ AND OTHER POEMS
+
+
+ BY
+ MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+
+ Δῶρον Ἔρως Ἀΐδῃ
+
+
+
+ MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
+ ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
+ 1913
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Archaic
+spellings have been retained. Greek text appears as originally printed.
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+    Love owes tribute unto Death,
+    Being but a flower of breath,
+    Ev'n as thy fair body is
+    Moment's figure of the bliss
+    Dwelling in the mind of God
+    When He called thee from the sod,
+    Like a crocus up to start,
+    Gray-eyed with a golden heart,
+    Out of earth, and point our sight
+    To thy eternal home of light.
+
+    Here on earth is all we know:
+    To let our love as steadfast blow,
+    Open-hearted to the sun,
+    Folded down when our day's done,
+    As thy flower that bids it be
+    Flower of thy charity.
+    'Tis not ours to boast or pray
+    Breath from us shall outlive clay;
+    'Tis not thine, thou Pitiful,
+    Set me task beyond my rule.
+
+    Yet as young men carve on trees
+    Lovely names, and find in these
+    Solace in the after time,
+    So to have hid thee in my rhyme
+    Shall be comfort when I take
+    The lonely road. Then, for my sake,
+    Keep thou this my graven sigh,
+    And, that I may not all die,
+    Open it, and hear it tell,
+    Here was one who loved thee well.
+
+_October 6, 1912._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                         PAGE
+
+ HELEN REDEEMED                             1
+ HYPSIPYLE                                123
+ OREITHYIA                                149
+ CLYTIÉ                                   155
+ LAI OF GOBERTZ                           159
+ THE SAINTS' MAYING                       169
+ THE ARGIVE WOMEN                         173
+ GNATHO                                   187
+ TO THE GODS OF THE COUNTRY               193
+ FOURTEEN SONNETS--
+     ALMA SDEGNOSA                        197
+     THE WINDS' POSSESSION                198
+     ASPETTO REALE                        199
+     KIN CONFESSED                        200
+     QUEL GIORNO PIÙ                      201
+     ABSENCE                              202
+     PRESENCE                             203
+     DREAM ANGUISH                        204
+     HYMNIA-BEATRIX                       206
+     LUX E TENEBRIS                       207
+     DUTY                                 208
+     WAGES                                209
+     EYE-SERVICE                          210
+     CLOISTER THOUGHTS                    211
+ THE CHAMBER IDYLL                        213
+ EPIGRAMMATA--
+     THE OLD HOUSE                        217
+     BLUE IRIS                            217
+     THE ROSEBUD                          218
+     SPRING ON THE DOWN                   218
+     SNOWY NIGHT                          219
+     EVENING MOOD                         219
+     THE PARTING                          220
+ DEDICATION OF A BOOK                     221
+
+
+
+
+NOTE
+
+
+Three of the Poems here published have appeared in book form already, in
+the Volume called _Songs and Meditations_, long out of print.
+
+
+
+
+HELEN REDEEMED
+
+
+PROEM
+
+    Sing of the end of Troy, and of that flood
+    Of passion by the blood
+    Of heroes consecrate, by poet's craft
+    Hallowed, if that thin waft
+    Of godhead blown upon thee stretch thy song
+    To span such store of strong
+    And splendid vision of immortal themes
+    Late harvested in dreams,
+    Albeit long years laid up in tilth. Most meet
+    Thou sing that slim and sweet
+    Fair woman for whose bosom and delight
+    Paris, as well he might,
+    Wrought all the woe, and held her to his cost
+    And Troy's, and won and lost
+    Perforce; for who could look on her or feel
+    Her near and not dare steal
+    One hour of her, or hope to hold in bars
+    Such wonder of the stars
+    Undimmed? As soon expect to cage the rose
+    Of dawn which comes and goes
+    Fitful, or leash the shadows of the hills,
+    Or music of upland rills
+    As Helen's beauty and not tarnish it
+    With thy poor market wit,
+    Adept to hue the wanton in the wild,
+    Defile the undefiled!
+    Yet by the oath thou swearedst, standing high
+    Where piled rocks testify
+    The holy dust, and from Therapnai's hold
+    Over the rippling wold
+    Didst look upon Amyklai's, where sunrise
+    First dawned in Helen's eyes,
+    Take up thy tale, good poet, strain thine art
+    To sing her rendered heart,
+    Given last to him who loved her first, nor swerved
+    From loving, but was nerved
+    To see through years of robbery and shame
+    Her spirit, a clear flame,
+    Eloquent of her birthright. Tell his peace,
+    And hers who at last found ease
+    In white-arm'd Heré, holy husbander
+    Of purer fire than e'er
+    To wife gave Kypris. Helen, and Thee sing
+    In whom her beauties ring,
+    Fair body of fair mind fair acolyte,
+    Star of my day and night!
+
+_18th September 1912._
+
+
+FIRST STAVE
+
+THE DEATH OF ACHILLES
+
+    Where Simoeis and Xanthos, holy streams,
+    Flow brimming on the level, and chance gleams
+    Betray far Ida through a rended cloud
+    And hint the awful home of Zeus, whose shroud
+    The thunder is--'twixt Ida and the main
+    Behold gray Ilios, Priam's fee, the plain
+    About her like a carpet; from whose height
+    The watchman, ten years watching, every night
+    Counteth the beacon fires and sees no less
+    Their number as the years wax and duress
+    Of hunger thins the townsmen day by day--
+    More than the Greeks kill plague and famine slay.
+      Here in their wind-swept city, ten long years
+    Beset and in this tenth in blood and tears
+    And havocry to fall, old Priam's sons
+    Guard still their gods, their wives and little ones,
+    Guard Helen still, for whose fair womanhood
+    The sin was done, woe wrought, and all the blood
+    Of Danaan and Dardan in their pride
+    Shed; nor yet so the end, for Heré cried
+    Shrill on the heights more vengeance on wrong done,
+    And Greek or Trojan paid it. Late or soon
+    By sword or bitter arrow they went hence,
+    Each with their goodliest paying one man's offence.
+    Goodliest in Troy fell Hector; back to Greek
+    Then swung the doomstroke, and to Dis the bleak
+    Must pass great Hector's slayer. Zeus on high,
+    Hidden from men, held up the scales; the sky
+    Told Thetis that her son must go the way
+    He sent Queen Hecuba's--himself must pay,
+    Himself though young, splendid Achilles' self,
+    The price of manslaying, with blood for pelf.
+      A grief immortal took her, and she grieved
+    Deep in sea-cave, whereover restless heaved
+    The wine-dark ocean--silently, not moving,
+    Tearless, a god. O Gods, however loving,
+    That is a lonely grief that must go dry
+    About the graves where the beloved lie,
+    And knows too much to doubt if death ends all
+    Pleasure in strength of limb, joy musical,
+    Mother-love, maiden-love, which never more
+    Must the dead look for on the further shore
+    Of Acheron, and past the willow-wood
+    Of Proserpine!
+                    But when he understood,
+    Achilles, that his end was near at hand,
+    Darkling he heard the news, and on the strand
+    Beyond the ships he stood awhile, then cried
+    The Sea-God that high-hearted and clear-eyed
+    He might go down; and this for utmost grace
+    He asked, that not by battle might his face
+    Be marred, nor fighting might some Dardan best
+    Him who had conquered ever. For the rest,
+    Fate, which had given, might take, as fate should be.
+    So prayed he, and Poseidon out of the sea,
+    There where the deep blue into sand doth fade
+    And the long wave rolls in, a bar of jade,
+    Sent him a portent in that sea-blue bird
+    Swifter than light, the halcyon; and men heard
+    The trumpet of his praise: "Shaker of Earth,
+    Hail to thee! Now I fare to death in mirth,
+    As to a banquet!"
+                      So when day was come
+    Lightly arose the prince to meet his doom,
+    And kissed Briseïs where she lay abed
+    And never more by hers might rest his head:
+    "Farewell, my dear, farewell, my joy," said he;
+    "Farewell to all delights 'twixt thee and me!
+    For now I take a road whose harsh alarms
+    Forbid so sweet a burden to my arms."
+    Then his clean limbs his weeping squires bedight
+    In all the mail Hephaistos served his might
+    Withal, of breastplate shining like the sun
+    Upon flood-water, three-topped helm whereon
+    Gleamed the gold basilisk, and goodly greaves.
+    These bore he without word; but when from sheaves
+    Of spears they picked the great ash Pelian
+    Poseidon gave to Peleus, God to a man,
+    For no man's manège else--than all men's fear:
+    "Dry and cold fighting for thee this day, my spear,"
+    Quoth he. And so when one the golden shield
+    Immortal, daedal, for no one else to wield,
+    Cast o'er his head, he frowned: "On thy bright face
+    Let me see who shall dare a dint," he says,
+    And stood in thought full-armed; thereafter poured
+    Libation at the tent-door to the Lord
+    Of earth and sky, and prayed, saying: "O Thou
+    That hauntest dark Dodona, hear me now,
+    Since that the shadowing arm of Time is flung
+    Far over me, but cloudeth me full young.
+    Scatheless I vow them. Let one Trojan cast
+    His spear and loose my spirit. Rage is past
+    Though I go forth my most provocative
+    Adventure: 'tis not I that seek. Receive
+    My prayer Thou as I have earned it--lo,
+    Dying I stand, and hail Thee as I go
+    Lord of the Ægis, wonderful, most great!"
+      Which done, he took his stand, and bid his mate
+    Urge on the steeds; and all the Achaian host
+    Followed him, not with outcry or loud boast
+    Of deeds to do or done, but silent, grim
+    As to a shambles--so they followed him,
+    Eyeing that nodding crest and swaying spear
+    Shake with the chariot. Solemn thus they near
+    The Trojan walls, slow-moving, as by a Fate
+    Driven; and thus before the Skaian Gate
+    Stands he in pomp of dreadful calm, to die,
+    As once in dreadful haste to slay.
+                                        Thereby
+    The walls were thick with men, and in the towers
+    Women stood gazing, clustered close as flowers
+    That blur the rocks in some high mountain pass
+    With delicate hues; but like the gray hill-grass
+    Which the wind sweepeth, till in waves of light
+    It tideth backwards--so all gray or white
+    Showed they, as sudden surges moved them cloak
+    Their heads, or bare their faces. And none spoke
+    Among them, for there stood not woman there
+    But mourned her dead, or sensed not in the air
+    Her pendent doom of death, or worse than death.
+    Frail as flowers were their faces, and all breath
+    Came short and quick, as on this dreadful show
+    Staring, they pondered it done far below
+    As on a stage where the thin players seem
+    Unkith to them who watch, the stuff of dream.
+    Nor else about the plain showed living thing
+    Save high in the blue where sailed on outspread wing
+    A vulture bird intent, with mighty span
+    Of pinion.
+                In the hush spake the dead man,
+    Hollow-voiced, terrible: "Ye tribes of Troy,
+    Here stand I out for death, and ye for joy
+    Of killing as ye will, by cast of spear,
+    By bowshot or with sword. If any peer
+    Of Hector or Sarpedon care the bout
+    Which they both tried aforetime let him out
+    With speed, and bring his many against one,
+    Fearing no treachery, for there shall be none
+    To aid me, God nor man; nor yet will I
+    Stir finger in the business, but will die
+    By murder sooner than in battle fall
+    Under some Trojan hand."
+                              Breathless stood all,
+    Not moving out; but Paris on the roof
+    Of his high house, where snug he sat aloof,
+    Drew taut the bowstring home, and notched a shaft,
+    Soft whistling to himself, what time with craft
+    Of peering eyes and narrow twisted face
+    He sought an aim.
+                      Swift from her hiding-place
+    Came burning Helen then, in her blue eyes
+    A fire unquenchable, but cold as ice
+    That scorcheth ere it strike a mortal chill
+    Upon the heart. "Darest thou...?"
+                                      Smiling still,
+    He heeded not her warning, nor he read
+    The terror of her eyes, but drew and sped
+    A screaming arrow, deadly, swerving not--
+    Then stood to watch the ruin he had wrought.
+      He heard the sob of breath o'er all the host
+    Of hushing men; he marked, but then he lost,
+    The blood-spurt at the shaft-head; for the crest
+    Upheaved, the shoulders stiffen'd, ere to the breast
+    Bent down the head, as though the glazing sight
+    Curious would mark the death-spot. Still upright
+    Stood he; but as a tree that on the side
+    Of Ida yields to axe her soaring pride
+    And lightlier waves her leafy crown, and swings
+    From side to side--so on his crest the wings
+    Erect seemed shaking upwards, and to sag
+    The spear's point, and the burden'd head to wag
+    Before the stricken body felt the stroke,
+    Or the strong knees grew lax, or the heart broke.
+      Breathless they waited; then the failing man
+    Stiffened anew his neck, and changed and wan
+    Looked for the last time in the face of day,
+    And seemed to dare the Gods such might to slay
+    As this, the sanguine splendid thing he was,
+    Withal now gray of face and pinched. Alas,
+    For pride of life! Now he had heard his knell.
+    His spirit passed, and crashing down he fell,
+    Mighty Achilles, and struck the earth, and lay
+    A huddled mass, a bulk of bronze and clay
+    Bestuck with gilt and glitter, like a toy.
+    There dropt a forest hush on watching Troy,
+    Upon the plain and watching ranks of men;
+    And from a tower some woman keened him then
+    With long thin cry that wavered in the air--
+    As once before one wailed her Hector there.
+
+
+SECOND STAVE
+
+MENELAUS' DREAM: HELEN ON THE WALL
+
+      So he who wore his honour like a wreath
+    About his brows went the dark way of death;
+    Which being done, that deed of ruth and doom
+    Gave breath to Troy; but on the Achaians gloom
+    Settled like pall of cloud upon a land
+    That swoons beneath it. Desperate they scanned
+    Each other, saying: "Now we are left by God,"
+    And in the huts behind the wall abode,
+    Heeding not Diomede, Idomeneus,
+    Nor keen Odysseus, nor that friend of Zeus
+    Mykenai's king, nor that robbed Menelaus,
+    Nor bowman Teukros, Nestor wise, nor Aias--
+    Huge Aias, cursed in death! Peleides bare
+    Himself with pride, but he went raving there.
+    For in the high assembly Thetis made
+    In honour of her son, to waft his shade
+    In peace to Hades' house, after the fire
+    Twice a man's height for him who did suspire
+    Twice a man's heart and render it to Heaven
+    Who gave it, after offerings paid and given,
+    And games of men and horses, she brought forth
+    His regal arms for hero of most worth
+    In the broad Danaan host, who was adjudged
+    Odysseus by all voices. Aias grudged
+    The vote and wandered brooding, drawn apart
+    From his room-fellows, seeding in his heart
+    Envy, which biting inwards did corrode
+    His mettle, and his ill blood plied the goad
+    Upon his brain, until the wretch made mad
+    Went muttering his wrongs, ill-trimmed, ill-clad,
+    Sightless and careless, with slack mouth awry,
+    And working tongue, and danger in the eye;
+    And oft would stare at Heaven and laugh his scorn:
+    "O fools, think not to trick me!" then forlorn
+    Would gaze about green earth or out to sea:
+    "This is the end of man in his degree"--
+    Thus would he moralise in those bare lands
+    With hopeless brows and tossing up of hands--
+    "To sow in sweat and see another reap!"
+    Then, pitying himself, he'd fall to weep
+    His desolation, scorned by Gods, by men
+    Slighted; but in a flash he'd rage again
+    And shake his naked sword at unseen foes,
+    And dare them bring Odysseus to his blows:
+    Or let the man but flaunt himself in arms...!
+      So threatening God knows what of savage harms,
+    On him the oxen patient in the marsh,
+    Knee-deep in rushes, gazed to hear his harsh
+    Outcry; and them his madness taught for Greeks,
+    So on their dumb immensity he wreaks
+    His vengeance, driving in the press with shout
+    Of "Aias! Aias!" hurtling, carving out
+    A way with mighty swordstroke, cut and thrust,
+    And makes a shambles in his witless lust;
+    And in the midst, bloodshot, with blank wild eyes
+    Stands frothing at the lips, and after lies
+    All reeking in his madman's battlefield,
+    And sleeps nightlong. But with the dawn's revealed
+    The pity of his folly; then he sees
+    Himself at his fool's work. With shaking knees
+    He stands amid his slaughter, and his own
+    Adds to the wreck, plunging without a groan
+    Upon his planted sword. So Aias died
+    Lonely; and he who, never from his side
+    Removed, had shared his fame, the Lokrian,
+    Abode the fate foreordered in the plan
+    Which the Blind Women ignorantly weave.
+
+      But think not on the dead, who die and leave
+    A memory more fragrant than their deeds,
+    But to the remnant rather and their needs
+    Give thought with me. What comfort in their swords
+    Have they, robbed of the might of two such lords
+    As Peleus' son and Telamon's? What art
+    Can drive the blood back to the stricken heart?
+    Like huddled sheep cowed obstinate, as dull
+    As oxen impotent the wain to pull
+    Out of a rut, which, failing at first lunge,
+    Answer not voice nor goad, but sideways plunge
+    Or backward urge with lowered heads, or stand
+    Dumb monuments of sufferance--so unmanned
+    The Achaians brooded, nor their chiefs had care
+    To drive them forth, since they too knew despair,
+    And neither saw in battle nor retreat
+    A way of honour.
+                      And the plain grew sweet
+    Again with living green; the spring o' the year
+    Came in with flush of flower and bird-call clear;
+    And Nature, for whom nothing wrought is vain,
+    Out of shed blood caused grass to spring amain,
+    And seemed with tender irony to flout
+    Man's folly and pain when twixt dead spears sprang out
+    The crocus-point and pied the plain with fires
+    More gracious than his beacons; and from pyres
+    Of burnt dead men the asphodel uprose
+    Like fleecy clouds flushed with the morning rose,
+    A holy pall to hide his folly and pain.
+      Thus upon earth hope fell like a new rain,
+    And by and by the pent folk within walls
+    Took heart and ploughed the glebe and from the stalls
+    Led out their kine to pasture. Goats and sheep
+    Cropt at their ease, and herd-boys now did keep
+    Watch, where before stood armèd sentinels;
+    And battle-grounds were musical with bells
+    Of feeding beasts. Afar, high-beacht, the ships
+    Loomed through the tender mist, their prows--like lips
+    Of thirsty birds which, lacking water, cry
+    Salvation out of Heaven--flung on high:
+    Which marking, Ilios deemed her worst of road
+    Was travelled, and held Paris for a God
+    Who winged the shaft that brought them all this peace.
+
+      He in their love went sunning, took his ease
+    In house and hall, at council or at feast,
+    Careless of what was greatest or what least
+    Of all his deeds, so only by his side
+    She lay, the blush-rose Helen, stolen bride,
+    The lovely harbour of his arms. But she,
+    A thrall, now her own thralldom plain could see,
+    And sick of dalliance, loathed herself, and him
+    Who had beguiled her. Now through eyes made dim
+    With tears she looked towards the salt sea-beach
+    Where stood the ships, and sought for sign in each
+    If it might be her people's, and so hers,
+    Poor alien!--Argive now herself she avers
+    And proudly slave of Paris and no wife:
+    Minion she calls herself; and when to strife
+    Of love he claims her, secret her heart surges
+    Back to her lord; and when to kiss he urges,
+    And when to play he woos her with soft words,
+    Secret her fond heart calleth, like a bird's,
+    Towards that honoured mate who honoured her,
+    Making her wife indeed, not paramour,
+    Mother, and sharer of his hearth and all
+    His gear. Thus every night: and on the wall
+    She watches every dawn for what dawn brings.
+      And the strong spirit of her took new wings
+    And left her lovely body in the arms
+    Of him who doted, conning o'er her charms,
+    And witless held a shell; but forth as light
+    As the first sigh of dawn her spirit took flight
+    Across the dusky plain to where fires gleamed
+    And muffled guards stood sentry; and it streamed
+    Within the hut, and hovered like a wraith,
+    A presence felt, not seen, as when gray Death
+    Seems to the dying man a bedside guest,
+    But to the watchers cannot be exprest.
+    So hovered Helen in a dream, and yearned
+    Over the sleeper as he moaned and turned,
+    Renewing his day's torment in his sleep;
+    Who presently starts up and sighing deep,
+    Searches the entry, if haply in the skies
+    The day begin to stir. Lo there, her eyes
+    Like waning stars! Lo there, her pale sad face
+    Becurtained in loose hair! Now he can trace
+    Athwart that gleaming moon her mouth's droopt bow
+    To tell all truth about her, and her woe
+    And dreadful store of knowledge. As one shockt
+    To worse than death lookt she, with horror lockt
+    Behind her tremulous tragic-moving lips:
+    "O love, O love," saith he, and saying, slips
+    Out of the bed: "Who hath dared do thee wrong?"
+    No answer hath she, but she looks him long
+    And deep, and looking, fades. He sleeps no more,
+    But up and down he pads the beaten floor,
+    And all that day his heart's wild crying hears,
+    And can thank God for gracious dew of tears
+    And tender thoughts of her, not thoughts of shame.
+    So came the next night, and with night she came,
+    Dream-Helen; and he knew then he must go
+    Whence she had come. His need would have it so--
+    And her need. Never must she call in vain.
+      Now takes he way alone over the plain
+    Where dark yet hovers like a catafalque
+    And all life swoons, and only dead thing walk,
+    Uneasy sprites denied a resting space,
+    That shudder as they flit from place to place,
+    Like bats of flaggy wing that make night blink
+    With endless quest: so do those dead, men think,
+    Who fall and are unserved by funeral rite.
+    These passes he, and nears the walls of might
+    Which Godhead built for proud Laomedon,
+    And knows the house of Paris built thereon,
+    Terraced and set with gadding vines and trees
+    And ever falling water, for the ease
+    Of that sweet indweller he held in store.
+    Thither he turns him quaking, but before
+    Him dares not look, lest he should see her there
+    Aglimmer through the dusk and, unaware,
+    Discover her fill some mere homely part
+    Intolerably familiar to his heart,
+    And deeply there enshrined and glorified,
+    Laid up with bygone bliss. Yet on he hied,
+    Being called, and ever closer on he came
+    As if no wrong nor misery nor shame
+    Could harder be than not to see her--Nay,
+    Even if within that smooth thief's arms she lay
+    Besmothered in his kisses--rather so
+    Had he stood stabbed to see, than on to go
+    His round of lonely exile!
+                                Now he stands
+    Beneath her house, and on his spear his hands
+    Rest, and upon his hands he grounds his chin,
+    And motionless abides till day come in;
+    Pure of his vice, that he might ease her woe,
+    Not brand her with his own. Not yet the glow
+    Of false dawn throbbed, nor yet the silent town
+    Stood washt in light, clear-printed to the crown
+    In the cold upper air. Dark loomed the walls,
+    Ghostly the trees, and still shuddered the calls
+    Of owl to owl from unseen towers. Afar
+    A dog barked. High and hidden in the haar
+    Which blew in from the sea a heron cried
+    Honk! and he heard his wings, but not espied
+    The heavy flight. Slow, slow the orb was filled
+    With light, and with the light his heart was thrilled
+    With opening music, faint, expectant, sharp
+    As the first chords one picks out from the harp
+    To prelude paean. Venturing all, he lift
+    His eyes, and there encurtained in a drift
+    Of sea-blue mantle close-drawn, he espies
+    Helen above him watching, her grave eyes
+    Upon him fixt, blue homes of mystery
+    Unfathomable, eternal as the sea,
+    And as unresting.
+                      So in that still place,
+    In that still hour stood those two face to face.
+
+
+THIRD STAVE
+
+MENELAUS SPEAKS WITH HELEN
+
+      But when he had her there, sharp root of ill
+    To him and his, safeguarded from him still,
+    Too sweet to be forgotten, too much marred
+    By usage to be what she seemed, bescarred,
+    Behandled, too much lost and too much won,
+    Mock image making horrible the sun
+    That once had shown her pure for his demesne,
+    And still revealed her lovely, and unclean--
+    Despair turned into stone what had been kind,
+    And bitter surged his griefs, to flood his mind.
+    "O ruinous face," said he, "O evil head,
+    Art thou so early from the wicked bed?
+    So prompt to slough the snugness of thy vice?
+    Or is it that in luxury thou art nice
+    Become, and dalliest?" Low her head she hung
+    And moved her lips. As when the night is young
+    The hollow wind presages storm, his moan
+    Came wailing at her. "Ten years here, alone,
+    And in that time to have seen thee thrice!"
+                                                But she:
+    "Often and often have I chanced to see
+    My lord pass."
+                    His heart leapt, as leaps the child
+    Enwombed: "Hast thou--?"
+                              Faintly her quick eyes smiled:
+    "At this time my house sleepeth, but I wake;
+    So have time to myself when I can take
+    New air, and old thought."
+                                As a man who skills
+    To read high hope out of dark oracles,
+    So gleamed his eyes; so fierce and quick said he:
+    "Lady, O God! Now would that I could be
+    Beside thee there, breathing thy breath, thy thought
+    Gathering!" Silent stood she, memory-fraught,
+    Nor looked his way. But he must know her soul,
+    So harpt upon her heart. "Is this the whole
+    That thou wouldst have me think, that thou com'st here
+    Alone to be?"
+                  She blushed and dared to peer
+    Downward. "Is it so wonderful," she said,
+    "If I desire it?" He: "Nay, by my head,
+    Not so; but wonderful I think it is
+    In any man to suffer it." The hiss
+    Of passion stript all vesture from his tones
+    And showed the King man naked to the bones,
+    Man naked to the body's utterance.
+      She turned her head, but felt his burning glance
+    Scorch, and his words leap up. "Dost thou desire
+    I leave thee then? Answer me that."
+                                        "Nay, sire,
+    Not so." And he: "Bid me to stay while sleeps
+    Thy house," he said, "so stay I." Her eyes' deeps
+    Flooded his soul and drowned him in despair,
+    Despair and rage. "Behold now, ten years' wear
+    Between us and our love! Now if I cast
+    My spear and rove the snow-mound of thy breast,
+    Were that a marvel?"
+                          Long she lookt and grave,
+    Pondering his face and searching. "Not so brave
+    My lord as that would prove him. Nay, and I know
+    He would not do it." And the truth was so;
+    And well he knew the reason: better she.
+      Yet for a little in that vacancy
+    Of silence and unshadowing light they stood,
+    Those long-divided, speechless. His first mood
+    With bitter grudge was choked, but hers was mild,
+    As fearing his. At last she named the child,
+    Asking, Was all well? Short he told her, Yes,
+    The child was well. She fingered in her dress
+    And watched her hand at play there.
+                                        "Here," she said,
+    "There is no child," and sighed. Into his dead
+    And wasted heart there leaped a flame and caught
+    His hollow eyes. "Rememberest thou naught,
+    Nothing regrettest, nothing holdst in grief
+    Of all our joy together ere that thief
+    Came rifling in?" For all her answer she
+    Lookt long upon him, long and earnestly;
+    And misty grew her eyes, and slowly filled.
+    Slowly the great tears brimmed, and slowly rilled
+    Adown her cheeks. So presently she hid
+    Those wells of grief, and hung her lovely head;
+    And he had no more words, but only a cry
+    At heart too deep for utterance, and too high
+    For tears.
+
+      And now came Paris from the house
+    Into the sun, rosy and amorous,
+    As when the sun himself from the sea-rim
+    Lifteth, and gloweth on the earth grown dim
+    With waiting; and he piped a low clear call
+    As mellow as the thrush's at the fall
+    Of day from some near thicket. At whose sound
+    Rose up caught Helen and blushing turned her round
+    To face him; but in going, ere she met
+    The prince, her hand along the parapet
+    She trailed, palm out, for sign to who below
+    Rent at himself, nor had the wit to know
+    In that dumb signal eloquence, and hope
+    Therein beyond his sick heart's utmost scope.
+    Throbbing he stood as when a quick-blown peat,
+    Now white, now red, burns inly--O wild heat,
+    O ravenous race of men, who'd barter Space
+    And Time for one short snatch of instant grace!
+      Withal, next day, drawn by his dear desire,
+    When as the young green burned like emerald fire
+    In the cold light, back to the tryst he came;
+    But she was sooner there, and called his name
+    Softly as cooing dove her bosom's mate;
+    And showed her eyes to him, which half sedate
+    To be so sought revealed her, half in doubt
+    Lest he should deem her bold to meet the bout
+    With too much readiness. But high he flaunted
+    Her name towards the sky. "Thou God-enchanted,
+    Thou miracle of dawn, thou Heart of the Rose,
+    Hail thou!" On his own eloquence he grows
+    The lover he proclaims. "O love," he saith,
+    "I would not leave thee for a moment's breath,
+    Nor once these ten long years had left thy side
+    Had it been possible to stay!"
+                                    She sighed,
+    She wondered o'er his face, she looked her fill,
+    Museful, still doubting, smiling half, athrill,
+    All virgin to his praise. "O wonderful,"
+    She said, "Such store of love for one so foul
+    As I am now!"
+                  O fatal hot-and-cold,
+    O love, whose iris wings not long can hold
+    The upper air! Sudden her thought smote hot
+    On him. "Thou sayest! True it is, God wot!
+    Warm from his bed, and tears for thy unworth;
+    Warm from his bed, and tears to meet my mirth;
+    Then back to his bed ere yet thy tears be dry!"
+      She heard not, but she knew his agony
+    Of burning vision, and kept back her tears
+    Until his pity moved in tune with hers
+    Towards herself. But he from thunderous brows
+    Frowned on. "No more I see thee by this house,
+    Except to slay thee when the hour decree
+    An end to this vile nest of cuckoldry
+    And holy vows made hateful, save thou speak
+    To each my question sooth. Keep dry thy cheek
+    From tears, hide up thy beauty with thy grief--
+    Or let him have his joy of them, thy thief,
+    What time he may. Answer me thou, or vain
+    Till thine hour strike to look for me again."
+      With hanging head and quiet hanging hands,
+    With lip atremble, as caught in fault she stands,
+    Scarce might he hear her whispered message:
+                                                "Ask,
+    Lord, and I answer thee."
+                              Strung to his task:
+    "Tell me now all," he said, "from that far day
+    Whenas embracing thee, I stood to pray,
+    And poured forth wine unto the thirsty earth
+    To Zeus and to Poseidon, in whose girth
+    Lie sea and land; to Gaia next, their spouse,
+    And next to Heré, mistress of my house,
+    Traitress, and thine, for grace upon my faring:
+    For thou wert by to hear me, false arm bearing
+    Upon my shoulder, glowing, lying cheek
+    Next unto mine. Ay, and thou prayedst, with meek
+    Fair seeming, prosperous send-off and return.
+    Tell me what then, tell all, and let me learn
+    With what pretence that dog-souled slaked his thirst
+    In thy sweet liquor. Tell me that the first."
+      Then Helen lifted up her head, and beamed
+    Clear light upon him from her eyes, which seemed
+    That blue which, lying on the white sea-bed
+    And gazing up, the sunbeam overhead
+    Would show, with green entinctured, and the warp
+    Inwoven of golden shafts, blended yet sharp;
+    So that a glory mild and radiant
+    Transfigured them. Upon him fell aslant
+    That lovely light, while in her cheeks the hue
+    Of throbbing dawn came sudden. So he knew
+    Her best before she spoke; for when she spoke
+    It was as if the nightingale should croak
+    In April midst the first young leaves, so bleak,
+    So harsh she schooled her throat, that it should speak
+    Dry matter and hard logic--as if she
+    Were careful lest self-pity urged a plea
+    Which was not hers to make; or as one faint
+    And desperate lays down all his argument
+    Like bricks upon a field, let who will make
+    A house of them; so drily Helen spake
+    With a flat voice. "Thou hadst been nine days gone,
+    Came my lord Alexandros, Priam's son,
+    And hailed me in the hall whereas I sat,
+    And claimed his guest-right, which not wondering at
+    I gave as fitting was. Then came the day
+    I was beguiled. What more is there to say?"
+      Fixt on her fingers playing on the wall
+    Her eyes were. But the King said: "Tell me all.
+    Thou wert beguiled: by his desire beguiled,
+    Or by thine own?" She shook her head and smiled
+    Most sadly, pitying herself. "Who knoweth
+    The ways of Love, whence cometh, whither goeth
+    The heart's low whimper? This I know, he loved
+    Me then, and pleasured only where I moved
+    About the house. And I had pleasure too
+    To know of me he had it. Then we knew
+    The day at hand when he must take the road
+    And leave me; and its eve we close abode
+    Within the house, and spake not. But I wept."
+    She stayed, and whispering down her next word crept:
+    "I was beguiled, beguiled." And then her lip
+    She bit, and rueful showed her partnership
+    In sinful dealing.
+                        But he, in his esteem
+    Bleeding and raw, urged on. "To Kranai's deme
+    He took thee then?"
+                        Speechless she bent her head
+    Towards her tender breasts whereon, soft shed
+    As upon low quiet hills, the dawn light played,
+    And limned their gentle curves or sank in shade.
+    So gazing, stood she silent, but the King
+    Urged on. "From thence to Ilios, thou willing,
+    He took thee?"
+                    Then, "I was beguiled," again
+    She said; and he, who felt a worthier strain
+    Stir in his gall compassion, and uplift
+    Him out of knowledge, saw a blessed rift
+    Upon his dark horizon, as tow'rds night
+    The low clouds break and shafted shows the light.
+    "Ten years beguiled!" he said, "but now it seems
+    Thou art----" She shook her head. "Nay, now come dreams;
+    Nay, now I think, remember, now I see."
+      "What callest thou to mind?" "Hermione,"
+    She said, "our child, and Sparta my own land,
+    And all the honour that lay to my hand
+    Had I but chosen it, as now I would"--
+    And sudden hid her face up in her hood,
+    Her courage ebbed in grief, all hardness drowned
+    In bitter weeping.
+                        Noble pity crowned
+    The greater man in him; so for a space
+    They wept together, she for loss; for grace
+    Of gain wept he. "No more," he said, "my sweet,
+    Tell me no more."
+                      "Ah, hear the whole of it
+    Before my hour is gone," she cried. But he
+    Groaning, "I dare not stay here lest I see
+    Him take thee again."
+                          Both hands to fold her breast,
+    She shook her head; like as the sun through mist
+    Shone triumph in her eyes. "Have no more fear
+    Of him or any----" Then, hearing a stir
+    Within the house, her finger toucht her lip,
+    And one fixt look she gave of fellowship
+    Assured--then turned and quickly went her way;
+    And his light vanisht with her for that day.
+
+
+FOURTH STAVE
+
+THE APOLOGY OF HELEN
+
+      O singing heart, O twice-undaunted lover!
+    O ever to be blest, twice blest moreover!
+    Twice over win the world in one girl's eyes,
+    Twice over lift her name up to the skies;
+    Twice to hope all things, so to be twice born--
+    For he lives not who cannot front the morn
+    Saying, "This day I live as never yet
+    Lived striving man on earth!" What if the fret
+    Of loss and ten years' agonizing snow
+    Thy hairs or leave their tracery on thy brow,
+    Each line beslotted by the demon hounds
+    Hunting thee down o' nights? Laugh at thy wounds,
+    Laugh at thy eld, strong lover, whose blood flows
+    Clear from the fountain, singing as it goes,
+    "She loves, and so I live and shall not die!
+    Love on, love her: 'tis immortality."
+      Once more before the sun he greeted her:
+    She glowed her joy; her mood was calm and clear
+    As mellow evening's whenas, like a priest,
+    Rain has absolved the world, and golden mist
+    Hangs over all like benediction.
+    In her proud eyes sat triumph on a throne,
+    To know herself beloved, her lover by,
+    So near the consummation. Womanly
+    She dallied with the moment when, all wife,
+    Upon his breast she'd lie and cast her life,
+    Cast body, soul and spirit in one gest
+    Supreme of giving. Glorying in his quest
+    Of her, now let her hide what he must glean,
+    But not know yet. Ah, sweet to feel his keen
+    Long eye-search, like the touch of eager fingers,
+    And sweet to thrill beneath such hot blush-bringers;
+    To fence with such a swordsman hazardous
+    And sweet. "Belov'd, thou art glad of me!" Then thus
+    Antiphonal to him she breathes, "Thou sayest!"
+      "I see thy light and hail it!"
+                                      "Thou begayest
+    My poor light."
+                    "Knowest thou not that thou art loved?"
+      "And am I loved then?"
+                              "If thou'ldst have it proved,
+    Look in my eyes. Would thine were open book!"
+      "Palimpsest I," she said, and would not look.
+      But he was grappling now with truth, would have it,
+    What though it cost him all his gain. She gave it,
+    Looking him along. "O lady mine," he said,
+    "Now are my clouds disperséd every shred;
+    For thou art mine; I think thou lovest me.
+    Speak, is that true?"
+                          She could not, or may be
+    She would not hold her gaze, but let it fall,
+    And watched her fingers idling on the wall,
+    And so remained; but urged to it by the spell
+    He cast, she whispered down, "I cannot tell
+    Thee here, and thus apart"--which when he had
+    In its full import drove him well-nigh mad
+    With longing. "Call me and I come!"
+                                        But fear
+    Flamed in her eyes: "No, no, 'tis death! He's here
+    At hand. 'Tis death for thee, and worse than death--"
+    She ended so--"for both of us."
+                                    And breath
+    Failed him, for well he knew now what she meant,
+    And sighed his thanks to Gods beneficent.
+      Thereafter in sweet use of lovers' talk,
+    In boon spring weather, whenas lovers walk
+    Handfasted through the meadows pied, and wet
+    With dew from flower and leaf, these lovers met--
+    Two bodies separate, one wild heart between,
+    Day after day, these two long-severed been;
+    And of this mating of the eye and tongue
+    There grew desire passionate and strong
+    For body's mating and its testimony,
+    Hearts' intimacy, perfect, full and free.
+      And Helen for her heart's ease did deny
+    Her girdled Goddess of the beamy eye,
+    Saying, "Come you down, Mistress of sleek loves
+    And panting nights: your service of bought doves
+    And honey-hearted wine may cost too dear.
+    What hast thou done for me since first my ear
+    With thy sly music thou didst sign and seal
+    Apprentice to thy mystery, teach me feel
+    Thy fierce divinity in the trembling touch
+    Of open lips? Served I not thee too much
+    In Kranai and in Sparta my demesne,
+    Too much in wide-wayed Ilios, Eastern Queen?
+    Yes, but it was too much a thousandfold,
+    For what was I but leman bought and sold?
+      "For woman craved what mercy hath man brought,
+    What face a woman for a woman sought?
+    What mercy or what face? And what saith she,
+    The hunted, scornéd wretch? Boast that she be
+    Coveted, hankered, spat on? One to gloat,
+    The rest to snarl without! If man play goat,
+    What must she play? Her glory is it to draw
+    On greedy eye, sting greedy lip and paw,
+    And find the crown of her desire therein?
+    Hath she no rarer bliss than all this sin,
+    Is she for dandling, kissing, hidden up
+    For hungry hands to stroke or lips to sup?
+    Hath she then nothing of her own, no mirth
+    In honesty, nor eyes to worship worth,
+    Nor pride except in that which makes men dogs,
+    Nor loathing for the vice wherein, like logs
+    That float beneath the sun, lie fair women
+    Submiss, inert receptacles for sin?
+    Is this her all? Hath she no heart, nor care
+    Therefor? No womb, nor hope therein to bear
+    Fruit of her heart's insurgence? Is her face,
+    Are these her breasts for fondling, not to grace
+    Her heart's high honour, swell to nurture it,
+    That it too grow? Hath she no mother-wit,
+    Nor sense for living things and innocent,
+    Nor leap of joy for this good world's content
+    Of sun and wind, of flower and leaf, and song
+    Of bird, or shout of children as they throng
+    The world of mated men and women? Nay,
+    Persuade me not, O Kypris; but I say
+    Evil hath been the lore which thou hast taught--
+    For many have loved my face, and many sought
+    My breast, and thought it joy supping thereat
+    Sweetness and dear delight; but out of that
+    What hath there come to them, to me and all
+    Mine but hot shame? Not milk, but bitter gall."
+
+      So in her high passion she rent herself
+    And rocked, or hid her face upon the shelf
+    Of the grim wall, lest he should see the whole
+    Inexpiable sorrow of her soul.
+    But he by pity pure made bountiful
+    Lent her excuse, by every means to lull
+    Her agony. Said he, "Of mortals who
+    Can e'er withstand the way she wills them to,
+    Kypris the forceful Goddess? Nay, dear child,
+    Thou wert constrained."
+                            She said, "I was beguiled
+    And clung to him until the day-dawn broke
+    When I could read as in the roll of a book
+    His open heart. And then my own heart reeled
+    To know him craven, dog, not man, revealed
+    A panting drudge of lust, who held me here
+    Caged vessel. Nay, come close. I loved him dear,
+    Too dear, I know; but never till he came
+    Had known the leap of joy, the fire of flame
+    Upon the heart he gave me, Paris the bright,
+    Whose memory was music and his sight
+    Fragrance, whose nearness made my footfall dance,
+    Whose touch was fever, and his burning glance
+    Faintness and blindness; in whose light my life
+    Centred; who was the sun, and I, false wife,
+    The foolish flower that turns whereso he wheels
+    Over the broad earth's canopy, and steals
+    Colour from his strong beam, but at the last
+    Whenas the night comes and the day is past
+    Droops, burnt at the heart. So loved I him, and so
+    Waxed bold to dare the deed that brought this woe."
+      And there she changed, and bitter was her cry:
+    "Ah, lord, far better had it been to die
+    Ere I had cast this pain on thee, and shame
+    On me, and wrought such outrage on our name.
+    Natheless I live----"
+                          "Ay, and give life!" he said;
+    "Yet this thing more I'd have thee tell--what led
+    Thy thought to me? From him, what turned thy troth--
+    Such troth as there could be?"
+                                    She cried, "The oath!
+    The oath ye sware before the Lords of Heaven,
+    The sacrifice, the pledges taken and given
+    When thou and Paris met upon the plain,
+    And all the host sat down to watch you twain
+    Do battle, which should have me. For my part,
+    They took me forth to watch; as in the mart
+    A heifer feels the giver of the feast
+    Pinch in her flank, and hears the chaffer twist
+    This way and that for so much fat or lean--
+    Even so was I, a queen, child of a queen."
+      She bit her lip until the blood ran free,
+    And in her eyes he markt deep injury
+    Scald as the salt tears welled; but "Listen yet,"
+    She said: "Ye fought, and Paris fell beset
+    Under thy spurning heel, yet felt no whit
+    The bitterness as I must come to it;
+    For she, his Goddess, hid him up in mists
+    And brought him beat and broken from the lists
+    Here to his chamber. But I stood and burned,
+    Shameful to be by one lost, by one earned,
+    A prize for games, a slave, a bandied thing--
+    Since as the oath was made so must I swing
+    From bed to bed. But while I stood and wept,
+    Melted in fruitless sorrow, up she crept
+    For me, his Goddess, gliding like a snake,
+    Who wreathed her arms and whispering me go make
+    The nuptial couch, 'What oath binds love?' did say.
+    Loathing him, I must go. He had his way,
+    As well he might who paid that goodly price,
+    Honour, truth, courage, all, to have his vice:
+    The which forsook him when those fair things fled;
+    For though my body hath lain in his bed,
+    My heart abhors it. And now in truth I wis
+    My lord's true heart is where my own heart is,
+    The two together welded and made whole;
+    And I will go to him and give my soul
+    And shamed and faded body to his nod,
+    To spurn or take; and he shall be my God."
+      Whereat made virgin, as all women are
+    By love's white purging fire which leaves no scar
+    Where all was soiled and seamed before the torch
+    Of Eros toucht the heart, and the keen scorch
+    Lickt up the foul misuse of vase so fair
+    As woman's body, Helen flusht and fair
+    Leaned from the wall a fire-hued seraph's face
+    And in one rapt long look gave and took Grace.
+    Deep in her eyes he saw the light divine,
+    Quick in him ran fierce joy of it like wine:
+    Light unto light made answer, as a flag
+    Answers when men tell tidings from one crag
+    Unto another, and from peak to peak
+    The good news flashes. Scarcely could he speak
+    Measurable words, so high his wild thought whirled:
+    "Bride, Goddess, Helen, O Wonder of the World,
+    Shall I come for thee?"
+                            Her tender words came soft
+    As dropping rose petals on garden croft
+    Down from the wall's sheer height--"Come soon, come soon."
+    And homing to the lines those drummed his tune.
+
+
+FIFTH STAVE
+
+A COUNCIL OF THE ACHAIANS: THE EMBASSY OF ODYSSEUS
+
+      Now calleth he assembly of the chiefs,
+    Princes and kings and captains, them whose griefs
+    To ease his own like treasure had been lent;
+    Who came and sat at board within the tent
+    Of him they hailed host-father and their lord
+    For this adventure, in aught else abhorred
+    Of all true men. He sits above the rest,
+    The fox-red Agamemnon, round his crest
+    The circlet of his kingship over kings,
+    And at his thigh the sword gold-hilted swings
+    Which Zeus gave Atreus once; and in his heart
+    That gnawing doubt which twice had checkt his start
+    For high emprise, having twice egged him to it,
+    As stout Odysseus knew who had to rue it.
+      Beside him Nestor sat, Nestor the old,
+    White as the winter moon, with logic cold
+    Instilled, as if the blood in him had fled
+    And in his veins clear spirit ran instead,
+    Which made men reasons and not fired their sprites.
+    And next Idomeneus of countless fights,
+    Shrewd leader of the Cretans; by his side
+    Keen-flashing Diomedes in his pride,
+    The young, the wild in onset, whose war-shrill,
+    Next after Peleus' son's, held all Troy still,
+    And stayed the gray crows at their ravelling
+    Of dead men's bones. Into debate full fling
+    Went he, adone with tapping of the foot
+    And drumming on the board. Had but his suit
+    Been granted--so he said--the war were done
+    And Troy a name ere full three years had gone:
+    For as for Helen and her daintiness,
+    Troy held a mort of women who no less
+    Than she could pleasure night when work was over
+    And men came home ready to play the lover;
+    And in housework would better her. Let Helen
+    Be laid by Paris, villain, and dead villain--
+    Dead long ago if he had taken the field
+    Instead of Menelaus. Then no shield
+    Had Kypris' golden body been, acquist
+    With his sword-arm already, near the wrist!
+      So Diomedes. Next him sat a man
+    With all his woe to come, the Lokrian
+    Aias, son of Oïleus, bearded swart,
+    Pale, with his little eyes, and legs too short
+    And arms too long, a giant when he sat,
+    Dwarf else, and in the fight a tiger-cat.
+    But mark his neighbour, mark him well: to him
+    Falleth the lot to lay a charge more grim
+    On woman fair than even Althaia felt
+    Like lead upon her heartstrings, when she knelt
+    And blew to flame the brand that held the life
+    Of her own son; or Procne with the knife,
+    Who slew and dressed her child to be a meal
+    To his own father. But this man's thews were steel,
+    And steely were the nerves about his heart,
+    As they had need. Mark him, and mark the part
+    He plays hereafter. Odysseus is his name,
+    The wily Ithacan, deathless in his fame
+    And in his substance deathless, since he goes
+    Immortal forth and back wherever blows
+    The thunder of thy rhythm, O blind King,
+    First of the tribe of them with songs to sing,
+    Fountain of storied music and its end--
+    For who the poet since who doth not tend
+    To essay thy leaping measure, or call down
+    Thy nodded approbation for his crown
+    And all his wages?
+                        Other chiefs sat there
+    In order due: as Pyrrhos, very fair
+    And young, with high bright colour, and the hue
+    Of evening in his eyes of violet-blue--
+    Son of Achilles he, and new to war.
+    Then Antiklos and Teukros, best by far
+    Of all the bowmen in the host. And last
+    Menestheus the Athenian dikast,
+    Who led the folk from Pallas's fair home.
+      To them spake Menelaus, being come
+    Into assembly last, and taken in hand
+    The spokesman's staff: "Ye princes of our land,
+    Adventurous Achaians, stout of heart,
+    Good news I bring, that now we may depart
+    Each to his home and kindred, each to his hearth
+    And wife and children dear and well-tilled garth,
+    Contented with the honour he has brought
+    To me and mine, since I have what we've sought
+    With bitter pain and loss. Yea, even now
+    Hath Heré crowned your strife and earned my vow
+    Made these ten years come harvest, having drawn
+    The veil from off those eyes than which not dawn
+    Holds sweeter light nor holier, once they see.
+    Yea, chieftains, Helen's heart comes back to me;
+    And fast she watches now hard by the wall
+    Of the wicked house, and ere the cock shall call
+    Another morn I have her in my arms
+    Redeemed for Sparta, pure of Trojan harms,
+    Whole-hearted and clean-hearted as she came
+    First, before Paris and his deed of shame
+    Threatened my house with wreck, and on his own
+    Have brought no joy. This night, disguised, alone,
+    I stand within the city, waiting day;
+    Then when men sleep, all in the shadowless gray,
+    Robbing the robber, I drop down with her
+    Over the wall--and lo! the end of the war!"
+      Thus great of heart and high of heart he spake,
+    And trembling ceased. Awhile none cared to break
+    The silence, like unto that breathless hush
+    That holds a forest ere the great winds rush
+    Up from the sea-gulf, bringing furious rain
+    Like mist to drown all nature, blot the plain
+    In one great sheet of water without form.
+    So held the chiefs. Then Diomede brake in storm.
+      Ever the first he was to fling his spear
+    Into the press of battle; dread his cheer,
+    Like the long howling of a wolf at eve
+    Or clamour of the sea-birds when they grieve
+    And hanker the out-scouring of the net
+    Hidden behind the darkness and the wet
+    Of tempest-ridden nights. "Princes," he cried,
+    "What say ye to this wooer of his bride,
+    For whom it seems ten nations and their best
+    Have fought ten years to bring her back to nest?
+    Is this your meed of honour? Was it for this
+    You flung forth fortune--to ensure him his?
+    And he made snug at home, we seek our lands
+    Barer than we left them, with emptier hands,
+    And some with fewer members, shed that he
+    Might fare as soft and trim as formerly!
+    Not so went I adventuring, good friend;
+    Not so look I this business to have end:
+    Nay, but I fight to live, not live to fight,
+    And so will live by day as thou by night,
+    Sating my eyes with havoc on this race
+    Of robbers of the hearth; see their strong place
+    Brought level with the herbage and the weed,
+    That where they revelled once shrew-mice may feed,
+    And moles make palaces, and bats keep house.
+    And if thou art of spleen so slow to rouse
+    As quit thy score by thieving from a thief
+    And leave him scatheless else, thou art no chief
+    For Tydeus' son, who sees no end of strife
+    But in his own or in his foeman's life."
+      So he. Then Pyrrhos spake: "By that great shade
+    Wherein I stand, which thy false Paris made
+    Who slew my father, think not so to have done
+    With Troy and Priam; for Peleides' son
+    Must slake the sword that cries, and still the ghost
+    Of him that haunts the ingles of this coast,
+    Murdered and unacquit while that man's father
+    Liveth."
+      Then leapt up two, and both together
+    Cried, "Give us Troy to sack, give us our fill
+    Of gold and bronze; give us to burn and kill!"
+    And Aias said, "Are there no women then
+    In Troy, but only her? And are we men
+    Or virgins of Athené?" And the dream
+    Of her who served that dauntless One made gleam
+    His shifting eyes, and stretcht his fleshy lips
+    Behind his beard.
+                      Then stood that prince of ships
+    And shipmen, great Odysseus; with one hand
+    He held the staff, with one he took command;
+    And thus in measured tones, with word intent
+    Upon the deed, fierce but not vehement,
+    Drave in his dreadful message. At his sight
+    Clamour died down, even as the wind at night
+    Falls and is husht at rising of the moon.
+    "Ye chieftains of Achaia, not so soon
+    Is strife of ten years rounded to a close,
+    Neither so are men seated, friends or foes.
+    For say thus lightly we renounced the meed
+    Of our long travail, gave so little heed
+    To our great dead as find in one man's joy
+    Full recompense for all we've sunk in Troy--
+    Wives desolate, children fatherless, lands, gear,
+    Stock without master, wasting year by year;
+    Youth past, age creeping on, friends, brothers, sons
+    Lost in the void, gone where no respite runs
+    For sorrow, but the darkness covers all--
+    What name should we bequeath our sons but thrall,
+    Or what beside a name, who let go by
+    Ilios the rich for others' usury?
+    And have the blessed Gods no say in this?
+    Think you they be won over by a kiss--
+    Heré the Queen, she, the unwearied aid
+    Of all our striving, Pallas the war-maid?
+    Have they not vowed, and will ye scant their hate,
+    Havoc on Ilios from gate to gate,
+    And for her towers abasement to the dust?
+    Behold, O King, lust shall be paid with lust,
+    And treachery with treachery, and for blood
+    Blood shall be shed. Therefore let loose the flood
+    Of our pent passion; break her gates in, raze
+    The walls of her, cumber her pleasant ways
+    With dead men; set on havoc, sate with spoil
+    Men ravening; get corn and wine and oil,
+    Women to clasp in love, gold, silken things,
+    Harness of flashing bronze, swords, meed of kings,
+    Chariots and horses swifter than the wind
+    Which, coursing Ida, leaves ruin behind
+    Of snapt tall trees: not faster shall they fall
+    Than Trojan spears once we are on the wall.
+    So only shall ye close this agelong strife,
+    Nor by redemption of a too fair wife,
+    Now smiling, now averse, now hot, now cold,
+    O Menelaus, may the tale be told!
+    Nay, but by slaying of Achilles' slayer,
+    By the betrayal of the bed-betrayer,
+    By not withholding from the spoils of war
+    Men freeborn, nor from them that beaten are
+    Their rueful wages. Ilios must fall."
+      He said, and sat, and heard the acclaim of all,
+    Save of the sons of Atreus, who sat glum,
+    One flusht, one white as parchment, and both dumb;
+    One raging to be contraried, one torn
+    By those two passions wherewith he was born,
+    The lust for body's ease and lust of gain.
+      Then slow he rose, Mykenai's king of men,
+    Gentle his voice to hear. "Laertes' son,"
+    He said, but 'twas Nestor he looked upon,
+    The wise old man who sat beside his chair,
+    Mild now who once, a lion, kept his lair
+    Untoucht of any, or if e'er he left it,
+    Left it for prey, and held that when he reft it
+    From foe, or over friend made stronger claim:
+    "Laertes' son," the king said, "all men's fame
+    Reports thee just and fertile in device;
+    And as the friend of God great is thy price
+    To us of Argos; for without the Gods
+    How should we look to trace the limitless roads
+    That weave a criss-cross 'twixt us and our home?
+    Go to now, some will stay and other some
+    Take to the sea-ways, hasty to depart,
+    Not warfaring as men fare to the mart,
+    To best a neighbour in some chaffering bout;
+    But honour is the prize wherefor they go out,
+    And having that, dishonoured are content
+    To leave the foe--that is best punishment.
+    Natheless since men there be, Argives of worth,
+    Who needs must shed more blood ere they go forth--
+    As if of blood enough had not been spilt!--
+    Devise thou with my brother if thou wilt,
+    Noble Odysseus, seeking how compose
+    His honour with thy judgment. Well he knows
+    Thy singleness of heart, deep ponderer,
+    Lover of a fair wife, and sure of her.
+    Come, let this be the sum of our debate."
+      "Content you," Menelaus said, "I wait
+    Upon thy word, thou fosterling of Zeus."
+      Then said Odysseus, "Be it as you choose,
+    Ye sons of Atreus. Then, advised, I say
+    Let me win into Troy as best I may,
+    Seek out the lovely lady of our land
+    And learn of her the watchwords, see how stand
+    The sentries, how the warders of the gates;
+    The strength, how much it is; what prize awaits
+    To crown our long endeavour. These things learned,
+    Back to the ships I come ere yet are burned
+    The watch-fires of the night, before the sun
+    Hath urged his steeds the course they are to run
+    Out of the golden gateways of the East."
+      Which all agreed, and Helen's lord not least.
+
+
+SIXTH STAVE
+
+HELEN AND PARIS; ODYSSEUS AND HELEN
+
+      Like as the sweet free air, when maids the doors
+    And windows open wide, wanders the floors
+    And all the passage ways about the house,
+    Keen marshal of the sun, or serious
+    The cool gray light of morning 'gins to peer
+    Ere yet the household stirs, or chanticlere
+    Calls hinds to labour but hints not the glee
+    Nor full-flood glory of the day to be
+    When round about the hill the sun shall swim
+    And burn a sea-path--so demure and slim
+    Went Helen on her business with swift feet
+    And light, yet recollected, and her sweet
+    Secret held hid, that she was loved where need
+    Called her to mate, and that she loved indeed--
+    Ah, sacred calm of wedlock, passion white
+    Of lovers knit in Heré's holy light!
+      But while in early morn she wonned alone
+    And Paris slept, shrill rose her singing tone,
+    And brave the light on kindled cheeks and eyes:
+    Brave as her hope is, brave the flag she flies.
+      Then, as the hour drew on when the sun's rim
+    Should burn a sheet of gold to herald him
+    On Ida's snowy crest, lithe as a pard
+    For some lord's pleasuring encaged and barred
+    She paced the hall soft-footed up and down,
+    Lightly and feverishly with quick frown
+    Peered shrewdly this way, that way, like a bird
+    That on the winter grass is aye deterred
+    His food-searching by hint of unknown snare
+    In thicket, holt or bush, or lawn too bare;
+    Anon stopped, lip to finger, while the tide
+    Beat from her heart against her shielded side--
+    Now closely girdled went she like a maid--
+    And then slipt to the window, where she stayed
+    But minutes three or four; for soon she past
+    Out to the terrace, there to be at last
+    Downgazing on her glory, which her king
+    Reflected up in every motioning
+    And flux of his high passion. Only here
+    She triumphed, nor cared she to ask how near
+    The end of Troy, nor hazarded a guess
+    What deeds must do ere that could come to pass.
+    To her the instant homage held all joy--
+    And what to her was Sparta, or what Troy
+    Beside the bliss of that?
+                              Or Paris, what
+    Was he, who daily, nightly plained his lot
+    To have risked all the world and ten years loved
+    This woman, now to find her nothing moved
+    By what he had done with her, what desired
+    To do? And more she chilled the less he tired,
+    And more he ventured less she cared recall
+    What was to her of nothing worth, or all:
+    All if the King required it of her, nought
+    If he who now could take it. It was bought,
+    And his by bargain: let him have it then;
+    But let it be for giving once again,
+    And all the rubies in the world's deep heart
+    Could fetch no price beside it.
+                                    Yet apart
+    She brooded on the man who held her chained,
+    Minister to his pleasure, and disdained
+    Him more the more herself she must disparage,
+    Reflecting on him all her hateful carriage,
+    So old, incredible, so flat, so stale,
+    No more to be recalled than old wife's tale;
+    And scorned him, saw him neither high nor low,
+    Not villain and not hero, who would go
+    Midway 'twixt baseness and nobility,
+    And not be fierce, if fierceness hurt a flea
+    Before his eyes. The man loved one thing more
+    Than all the world, and made his mind a whore
+    To minister his heart's need, for a price.
+      All which she loathed, yet chose not to be nice
+    With the snug-revelling wretch, her master yet,
+    Whose leaguer, though she scorned it, was no fret;
+    But lift on wings of her exalted mood,
+    She let him touch and finger what he would,
+    Unconscious of his being--as he saw,
+    And with a groan, whipt sharp upon the raw
+    Of his esteem, "Ah, cruel art thou turned,"
+    Would cry, "Ah, frosty fire, where I am burned,
+    Yet dying bless the flame that is my bane!"
+    With which to clasp her closer was he fain,
+    To touch in love, and feast his eyes to see
+    Her quiver at his touch, and laugh to be
+    The plucker of such chords of such a rote;
+    And laughing stoop and kiss her milky throat,
+    Then see her shut eyes hide what he had done.
+    "Nay, shut them not upon me, nay, nor shun
+    My worship!" So he said; but she, "They fade,
+    But are not yet so old as thou hast made
+    The soul thou pinnest here beneath my breasts
+    Which you have loved too well." His hand he rests
+    Over one fair white bosom like a cup,
+    And leaning, of her lips his own must sup;
+    But she will not, but gently doth refuse it,
+    Without a reason, save she doth not choose it.
+      Then when he flung away, she sat alone
+    And nursed her hope and sorrow, both in one
+    Perturbéd bosom; and her fingers wove
+    White webs as far afield her wits did rove
+    Perpending and perpending. So frail, so fair,
+    So faint she seemed, a wraith you had said there,
+    A woman dead, and not in lovely flesh.
+    But all the while she writhed within the mesh
+    Of circumstance, and fiercely flamed her rage:
+    "O slave, O minion, thing kept in a cage
+    For this sleek master's handling!" So she fumed
+    What time her wide eyes sought all ways, or loomed
+    Like winter lakes dark in a field of snow,
+    And still; nor lifted they their pall of woe
+    Responsive to her heart, nor flashed the thrill
+    That knew, which said, "A true man loveth me still."
+
+      That same night, as she used, fair Helen went
+    Among the suppliants in the hall, and lent
+    To each who craved the bounty of her grace,
+    Her gentle touch on wounds, her pitiful face
+    To beaten eyes' dumb eloquence, that art
+    She above all could use, to stroke the heart
+    And plead compassion in bestowing it.
+    So with her handmaids busy did she flit
+    From man to man, 'mid outlaws, broken blades,
+    Robbed husbandmen, their robbers, phantoms, shades
+    Of what were men till hunger made them less
+    Than man can be and still know uprightness;
+    And whom she spake with kindly words and cheer
+    In him the light of hope began to peer
+    And glimmer in his eyes; and him she fed
+    And nourisht, then sent homeward comforted
+    A little, to endure a little more.
+      Now among these, hard by the outer door,
+    She marked a man unbent whose sturdy look
+    Never left hers for long, whose shepherd's hook
+    Seemed not a staff to prop him, whose bright eyes
+    Burned steadily, as fire when the wind dies.
+    Great in the girth was he, but not so tall
+    By a full hand as many whom the wall
+    Showed like gaunt channel-posts by an ebb tide
+    Left stranded in a world of ooze. Beside
+    His knees she kneeled, and to his wounded feet
+    Applied her balms; but he, from his low seat
+    Against the wall, leaned out and in her ear
+    Whispered, but so that no one else could hear,
+    "Other than my wounds are there for thy pains,
+    Lady, and deeper. One, a grievous, drains
+    The great heart of a king, and one is fresh,
+    Though ten years old, in the sweet innocent flesh
+    Of a young child."
+                        Nothing said she, but stoopt
+    The closer to her task. He thought she droopt
+    Her head, he knew she trembled, that her shoulder
+    Twitcht as she wrought her task; so he grew bolder,
+    Saying, "But thou art pitiful! I know
+    That thou wilt wash their wounds."
+                                        She whispered "Oh,
+    Be sure of me!"
+                    Then he, "Let us have speech
+    Secret together out of range or reach
+    Of prying ears, if such a chance may be."
+      Then she said, "Towards morning look for me
+    Here, when the city sleeps, before the sun."
+      So till the glimmer of dawn this hardy one
+    Keepeth the watch in Paris' house. All night
+    With hard unwinking eyes he sat upright,
+    While all about the sleepers lay, like stones
+    Littered upon a hill-top, save that moans,
+    Sighings and "Gods, have pity!" showed that they
+    By night rehearsed the miseries of day,
+    And by bread lived not but by hope deferred.
+      Grimly he suffered till such time he heard
+    Helen's light foot and faint and gray in the mist
+    Descried her slim veiled outline, saw her twist
+    And slip between the sleepers on the ground,
+    Atiptoe coming, swift, with scarce a sound,
+    Not faltering in fear. No fear she had.
+    From head to foot a sea-blue mantle clad
+    Her lovely shape, from which her pale keen face
+    Shone like the moon in frosty sky. No case
+    Was his to waver, for her eyes spake true
+    As Heaven upon the world. Him then she drew
+    To follow her, out of the house, to where
+    The ilex trees stood darkly, and the air
+    Struck sharp and chill before the dawn's first breath.
+    There stood a little altar underneath
+    An image: Artemis the quick deerslayer,
+    High-girdled and barekneed; to Whom in prayer
+    First bowed, then stood erect with lifted hands,
+    Palms upward, Helen. "Lady of open lands
+    And lakes and windy heights," prayed she, "so do
+    To me as to Amphion's wife when blew
+    The wind of thy high anger, and she stared
+    On sudden death that not one dear life spared
+    Of all she had--so do to me if false
+    I prove unto this Argive!"
+                                Then the walls
+    And gates of Ilios she traced in the sand,
+    And told him of the watch-towers, and how manned
+    The gates at night; and where the treasure was,
+    And where the houses of the chiefs. But as
+    She faltered in the tale, "Show now," said he,
+    "Where Priam's golden palace is."
+                                      But she
+    Said, "Nay, not that; for since the day of shame
+    That brought me in, no word or look of blame
+    Hath he cast on me. Nay, when Hector died
+    And all the city turned on me and cried
+    My name, as to an outcast dog men fling
+    Howling and scorn, not one word said the King.
+    And when they hissed me in the shrines of the Gods,
+    And women egged their children on with nods
+    To foul the house-wall, or in passing spat
+    Towards it, he, the old King, came and sat
+    Daily with me, and often on my hair
+    Would lay a gentle hand. Him thou shalt spare
+    For my sake who betray him."
+                                  Odysseus said,
+    "Well, thou shalt speak no more of him. His bed
+    Is not of thy making, nor mine, but his
+    Who hath thee here a cageling, thy Paris.
+    Him he begat as well as Hector. Now
+    Let Priam look to reap what he did sow."
+      But when glad light brimmed o'er the cup of earth
+    And shrill birds called forth men to grief or mirth
+    As might afford their labour under the sun,
+    Helen advised how best to get him gone,
+    And fetched a roll of cord, the which made fast
+    About a stanchion, about him next she cast,
+    About and about until the whole was round
+    His body, and the end to his arm she bound:
+    Then showed him in the wall where best foothold
+    Might be, and watcht him down as fold by fold
+    He paid the cable out; and as he paid
+    So did she twist it, till the coil was made
+    As it had been at first. Then watcht she him
+    Stride o'er the plain until he twinkled dim
+    And sank into the mist.
+                            That day came not
+    King Menelaus to the trysting spot;
+    But ere Odysseus left her she had ta'en
+    A crocus flower which on her breast had lain,
+    And toucht it with her lips. "Give this," said she,
+    "To my good lord who hath seen the flower in me."
+
+
+SEVENTH STAVE
+
+THEY BUILD THE HORSE AND ENTER IN
+
+      What weariness of wind and wave and foam
+    Was to be for Odysseus ere his home
+    Of scrub and crag and scanty pasturage
+    He saw again! What stress of pilgrimage
+    Through roaring waterways and cities of men,
+    What sojourn among folk beyond the ken
+    Of mortal seafarers in homelier seas,
+    More trodden lands! Sure, none had earned his ease
+    As he, that windless morning when he drew
+    Near silent Ithaca, gray in misty blue,
+    And wondered on the old familiar scene,
+    Which was to him as it had never been
+    Aforetime. Say, had he but had inkling
+    That in this hour all that long wandering
+    Of his was self-ensured, had he been bold
+    To plan and carry what must now be told
+    Of this too hardy champion? Solve it you
+    Whose chronicling is over. Mine's to do.
+      All day until the setting of the sun,
+    Devising how to use what he had won
+    Odysseus stood; for nothing within walls
+    Was hid, he knew the very trumpet-calls
+    Wherewith they turned the guard out, and the cries
+    The sentries used to hearten or advise
+    The city in the watches of the night.
+    Once in, no hope for Ilios; but his plight
+    No better stood for that, since no way in
+    Could he conceive, nor entry hope to win
+    For any force enough to seize the gate
+    And open for the host.
+                            But then some Fate,
+    Or, some men say, Athené the gray-eyed,
+    Ever his friend, never far from his side,
+    Prompted him look about him. Then he heeds
+    A stork set motionless in the dry reeds
+    That lift their withered arms, a skeleton host,
+    Long after winter and her aching frost
+    Are gone, and rattle in the spring's soft breeze
+    Dry bones, as if to daunt the budding trees
+    And warn them of the summer's wrath to come.
+    Still sat the bird, as fast asleep or numb
+    With cold, her head half-buried in her breast,
+    With close-shut eyes: a dead bird on the nest,
+    Arrow-shot--for behold! a wound she bore
+    Mid-breast, which stooping to, to see the more,
+    Lo, forth from it came busy, one by one,
+    Light-moving ants! So she to her death had gone
+    These many days; and there where she lost life
+    Her carrion shell with it again was rife.
+    So teems the earth, that ere our clay be rotten
+    New hosts sweep clean the hearth, our deeds forgotten.
+      But stooping still, Odysseus saw her not
+    Nor her brisk tenantry; afar his thought,
+    And after it his vision, crossed the plain
+    And lit on Ilios, dim and lapt in rain,
+    Piled up like blocks which Titans rear to mark
+    Where hero of their breed sits stiff and stark,
+    Spear in dead hand, and dead chin on dead knees;
+    And "Ha," cried he, "proud hinderer of our ease,
+    Now hold I thee within my hollowed hand!"
+      Straightway returning, Troy's destruction planned,
+    He sends for one Epeios, craftsman good,
+    And bids him frame him out a horse in wood,
+    Big-bellied as a ship of sixty oars
+    Such as men use for traffic, not in wars,
+    Nor piracy, but roomy, deep in the hold,
+    Where men may shelter if needs be from cold,
+    Or sleep between their watches. "Scant not you,"
+    He said, "your timber not your sweat. Drive through
+    This horse for me, Epeios, as if we
+    Awaited it to give the word for sea
+    And Hellas and our wives and children dear;
+    For this is true, without it we stay here
+    Another ten-year shift, if by main force
+    We would take Troy, but ten days with my horse."
+      So to their task Epeios and his teams
+    Went valiantly, and heaved and hauled great beams
+    Of timber from far Ida, and hacked amain
+    And rought the framework out. Then to it again
+    They went with adzes and their smoothing tools,
+    And made all shapely; next bored for their dools
+    With augurs, and made good stock on to stock
+    With mortise and with dovetail. Last, they lock
+    The frames with clamps, the nether to the upper,
+    And body forth a horse from crest to crupper
+    In outline.
+                Now their ribbing must be shaped
+    With axe to take the round, first rought, then scraped
+    With adzes, then deep-mortised in the frame
+    To bear the weight of so much mass, whose fame
+    When all was won, the Earth herself might quake,
+    Supporting on her broad breast. Now they take
+    Planks sawn and smoothed, and set them over steam
+    Of cauldrons to be supple. These to the beam
+    Above they rivet fast, and bend them down
+    Till from the belly more they seem to have grown
+    Than in it to be ended, so well sunk
+    And grooved they be. There's for the horse's trunk.
+    But as for head and legs, these from the block
+    Epeios carved, and fixed them on the stock
+    With long pins spigotted and clamps of steel;
+    And then the tail, downsweeping to the heel,
+    He carved and rivetted in place. Yet more
+    He did; for cunningly he made a door
+    Beneath the belly of him, in a part
+    Where Nature lends her aid to sculptor's art,
+    And few would have the thought to look for it,
+    Or eyes so keen to find, if they'd the wit.
+      Greatly stood he, hogmaned, with wrinkled néck
+    And wrying jaw, as though upon the check
+    One rode him. On three legs he stood, with one
+    Pawing the air, as if his course to run
+    Was overdue. Almost you heard the champ
+    And clatter of the bit, almost the stamp
+    And scrape of hoof; almost his fretful crest
+    He seemed to toss on high. So much confest
+    The wondering host. "But where's the man to ride?"
+    They askt. Odysseus said, "He'll go inside.
+    Yet there shall seem a rider--nay, let two
+    Bespan so brave a back," Epeios anew
+    He spurred, and had his horsemen as he would,
+    Two noble youths, star-frontletted, but nude
+    Of clothing, and unarmed, who sat as though
+    Centaurs not men, and with their knees did show
+    The road to travel. Next Odysseus bid,
+    "Gild thou me him, Epeios"; which he did,
+    And burnisht after, till he blazed afar
+    Like that great image which men hail for a star
+    Of omen holy, image without peer,
+    Chryselephantine Athené with her spear,
+    Shining o'er Athens; to which their course they set
+    When homeward faring through the seaways wet
+    From Poros or from Nauplia, or some
+    From the Eubœan gulf, or where the foam
+    Washes the feet of Sounion, on whose brow
+    Like a white crown the shafts burn even now.
+      Such was the shaping of the Horse of Wood,
+    The bane of Ilios.
+                        Ordered now they stood
+    Midway between the ships and Troy, and cast
+    The lots, who should go in from first to last
+    Of all the chieftains chosen. And the lot
+    Leapt out of Diomede, so in he got
+    And sat up in the neck. Next Aias went,
+    Clasping his shins and blinking as he bent,
+    Working the ridges of his villainous brow,
+    Like puzzled, patient monkey on a bough
+    That peers with bald, far-seeing eyes, whose scope
+    And steadfastness seem there to mock our hope;
+    Next Antiklos, and next Meriones
+    The Cretan; next good Teukros. After these
+    Went Pyrrhos, Agamemnon, King of men,
+    Menestheus and Idomeneus, and then
+    King Menelaus; and Odysseus last
+    Entered the desperate doorway, and made fast.
+      And all the Achaian remnant, seeing their best
+    To this great venture finally addrest,
+    Stood awed in silence; but Nestor the old
+    Bade bring the victims, and these on the wold
+    In sight of Troy he slew, and so uplift
+    The smoke of fire, and bloodsmoke, as a gift
+    Acceptable to Him he hailed by name
+    Kronion, sky-dweller, who giveth fame,
+    Lord of the thunder; to Heré next, and Her,
+    The Maid of War and holy harbinger
+    Of Father Zeus, who bears the Ægis dread
+    And shakes it when the storm peals overhead
+    And lightning splits the firmament with fire;
+    Nor yet forgat Poseidon, dark-haired sire
+    Of all the seas, and of great Ocean's flow,
+    The girdler of the world. So back with slow
+    And pondered steps they all returned, and dark
+    Swallowed up Troy, and Horse, and them who stark
+    Abode within it. And the great stars shone
+    Out over sea and land; and speaking none,
+    Nursing his arms, nursing within his breast
+    His enterprise, each hero sat at rest
+    Ignorant of the world of day and night,
+    Or whether he should live to see the light,
+    Or see it but to perish in this cage.
+    Only Odysseus felt his heart engage
+    The blithelier for the peril. He was stuff
+    That thrives by daring, nor can dare enough.
+
+      Three days, three nights before the Skaian Gate
+    Sat they within their ambush, apt for fate;
+    Three days, three nights, the Trojans swarmed the walls
+    And towers or held high council in their halls
+    What this portended, this o'erweening mass
+    Reared up so high no man stretching could pass
+    His hand over the crupper, of such girth
+    Of haunch, to span the pair no man on earth
+    Could compass with both arms. But most their eyes
+    Were for the riders who in godlike guise
+    Went naked into battle, as Gods use,
+    Untrammel'd by our shifts of shields and shoes,
+    As if we dread the earth whereof we are.
+    Sons of God, these: for bore not each a star
+    Ablaze upon his forelock? Lo, they say,
+    Kastor and Polydeukes, who but they,
+    Come in to save their sister at the last,
+    And war for Troy, and root King Priam fast
+    In his demesne, him and his heirs for ever!
+    Now call they soothsayers to make endeavour
+    With engines of their craft to read the thing;
+    But others urge them hale it to the King--
+    "Let him dispose," they say, "of it and us,
+    And order as he will, from Pergamos
+    To heave it o'er the sheer and bring to wreck;
+    Or burn with fire; or harbour to bedeck
+    The temple of some God: of three ways one.
+    Here it cannot abide to flout the sun
+    With arrogant flash for every beam of his."
+      Herewith agreed the men of mysteries,
+    Raking the bloodsick earth to have the truth,
+    And getting what they lookt for, as in sooth
+    A man will do. So then they all fell to't
+    To hale with cords and lever foot by foot
+    The portent; and as frenzy frenzy breeds,
+    And what one has another thinks he needs,
+    So to a straining twenty other score
+    Lent hands, and ever from the concourse more
+    Of them, who hauled as if Troy's life depended
+    On hastening forward that wherein it ended.
+      So came the Horse to Troy, so was filled up
+    With retribution that sweet loving-cup
+    Paris had drunk to Helen overseas--
+    The cup which whoso drains must taste the lees.
+
+
+EIGHTH STAVE
+
+THE HORSE IN TROY; THE PASSION OF KASSANDRA
+
+      High over Troy the windy citadel,
+    Pergamos, towereth, where is the cell
+    And precinct of Athené. There, till reived,
+    They kept the Pallium, sacred and still grieved
+    By all who held the city consecrate
+    To Her, as first it was, till she learned hate
+    For what had once been lovely, and let in
+    The golden Aphrodité, and sweet sin
+    To ensnare Prince Paris and send him awooing
+    A too-fair wife, to be his own undoing
+    And Troy's and all the line's of Dardanos,
+    That traced from Zeus to him, from him to Tros,
+    From Tros to Ilos, to Laomedon,
+    Who begat Priam as his second son.
+    But out of Troy Assarakos too came,
+    From whom came Kapys; and from him the fame
+    Of good Anchises, with whom Kypris lay
+    In love and got Aineias. He, that day
+    Of dreadful wrath, safe only out did come,
+    And builded great Troy's line in greater Rome.
+      Now to the forecourt flock the Trojan folk
+    To view the portent. Now they bring to yoke
+    Priam's white horses, that the stricken king
+    Himself may see the wonder-working thing,
+    Himself invoke with his frail trembling voice
+    The good Twin Brethren for his aid and Troy's.
+    So presently before it Priam stands,
+    Father and King of Troy, with feeble hands
+    And mild pale eyes wherein Grief like a ghost
+    Sits; and about him all he has not lost
+    Of all his children gather, with grief-worn
+    Andromaché and her first, and last, born,
+    The boy Astyanax. And there apart
+    The wise Aineias stands, of steadfast heart
+    But not acceptable--for some old grudge
+    Inherited--Aineias, silent judge
+    Of folly, as he had been since the sin
+    Of Paris knelled the last days to begin.
+    But he himself, that Paris, came not out,
+    But kept his house in these his days of doubt,
+    Uncertain of his footing, being of those
+    On whom the faintest breath of censure blows
+    Chill as the wind that from the frozen North
+    Palsies the fount o' the blood. He dared not forth
+    Lest men should see--and how not see? he thought--
+    That Helen held him lightlier than she ought.
+      But Helen came there, gentle as of old,
+    Self-held, sufficient to herself, not bold,
+    Not modest nor immodest, taking none
+    For judge or jury of what she may have done;
+    But doing all she was to do, sedate,
+    Intent upon it and deliberate.
+    As she had been at first, so was she now
+    When she had put behind her her old vow
+    And had no pride but thinking of her new.
+    But she was lovelier, of more burning hue,
+    And in her eyes there shone, for who could see,
+    A flickering light, half scare and half of glee,
+    Which made those iris'd orbs to wax and wane
+    Like to the light of April days, when rain
+    And sun contend the sovereignty. She kept
+    Beside the King, and only closer crept
+    To let him feel her there when some harsh word
+    Or look made her heart waver. Many she heard,
+    And much she saw, but knew the King her friend,
+    Him only since great Hector met his end.
+    And while so pensive and demure she stood,
+    With one thin hand just peeping at her hood,
+    The which close-folded her from head to knee,
+    Her heart within her bosom hailed her--"Free!
+    Free from thy thralldom, free to save, to give,
+    To love, be loved again, and die to live!"
+    So she--yet who had said, to see her there,
+    The sweet-faced woman, blue-eyed, still and fair
+    As windless dawn in some quiet mountain place,
+    To such a music let her passion race?
+
+      Now hath the King his witless welcome paid,
+    And now invoked the gods, and the cold shade
+    Which once was Hector; now, being upheld
+    By two his sons, with shaking hands of eld
+    The knees of those two carved and gilded youths
+    He touches while he prays, and praying soothes
+    The crying heart of Helen. But not so
+    Kassandra views him pray, that well of woe
+    Kassandra, she whom Loxias deceived
+    With gift to see, and not to be believed;
+    To read within the heart of Time all truth
+    And see men blindly blunder, to have ruth,
+    To burn, to cry, "Out, haro!" and be a mock--
+    Ah, and to know within this gross wood-block
+    The fate of all her kindred, and her own,
+    Unthinkable! Now with her terror blown
+    Upon her face, to blanch it like a sheet,
+    Now with bare frozen eyes which only greet
+    The viewless neighbours of our world she strips
+    The veil and shrieketh Troy's apocalypse:
+    "Woe to thee, Ilios! The fire, the fire! And rain,
+    Rain like to blood and tears to drown the plain
+    And cover all the earth up in a shroud,
+    One great death-clout for thee, Ilios the proud!
+    Touch not, handle not----" Outraged then she turned
+    To Helen--"O thou, for whom Troy shall be burned,
+    O ruinous face, O breasts made hard with gall,
+    Now are ye satisfied? Ye shall have all,
+    All Priam's sons and daughters, all his race
+    Gone quick to death, hailing thee, ruinous face!"
+      Her tragic mask she turned upon all men:
+    "The lion shall have Troy, to make his den
+    Within her pleasant courts, in Priam's high seat
+    Shall blink the vulture, sated of his meat;
+    And in the temples emptied of their Gods
+    Bats shall make quick the night, and panting toads
+    Make day a loathing to the light it brings.
+    Listen! Listen! they flock out; heed their wings.
+    The Gods flee forth of this accursèd haunt,
+    And leave the memory of it an old chant,
+    A nursery song, an idle tale that's told
+    To children when your own sons are grown old
+    In Argive bonds, and have no other joy
+    Than whispering to their offspring tales of Troy."
+      Whereat she laught--O bitter sound to hear!
+    And struggled with herself, and grinned with fear
+    And misery lest even now her fate
+    Should catch her and she be believed too late.
+    "Is't possible, O Gods! Are ye so doomed
+    As not to know this Horse a mare, enwombed
+    Of men and swords? Know ye not there unseen
+    The Argive princes wait their dam shall yean?
+    Anon creeps Sparta forth, to find his balm
+    In that vile woman; forth with itching palm
+    Mykenai creeps, snuffing what may be won
+    By filching; forth Pyrrhos the braggart's son
+    That dared do violence to Hector dead,
+    But while he lived called Gods to serve his stead;
+    Forth Aias like a beast, to mangle me--
+    These things ye will not credit, but I see."
+    Then once again, and last, she turned her switch
+    On Helen, hissing, "Out upon thee, witch,
+    Smooth-handed traitress, speak thy secrets out
+    That we may know thee, how thou goest about
+    Caressing, with a hand that hides a knife,
+    That which shall prove false paramour, false wife,
+    Fair as the sun is fair that smiles and slays"--
+    And then, "O ruinous face, O ruinous face!"
+    But nothing more, for sudden all was gone,
+    Spent by her passion. Muttering, faint and wan
+    Down to the earth she sank, and to and fro
+    Rocking, drew close her hood, and shrouded so,
+    Her wild voice drowning, died in moans away.
+      But Helen stood bright-eyed as glancing day,
+    Near by the Horse, and with a straying hand
+    Did stroke it here and there, and listening stand,
+    Leaning her head towards its gilded flank,
+    And strain to hear men's breath behind the plank;
+    And she had whispered if she dared some word
+    Of promise; but afraid to be o'erheard,
+    Leaned her head close and toucht it with her cheek,
+    Then drew again to Priam, schooled and meek.
+    But Menelaus felt her touch, and mum
+    Sat on, nursing his mighty throw to come;
+    And Aias started, with some cry uncouth
+    And vile, but fast Odysseus o'er his mouth
+    Clapt hand, and checkt his foul perseverance
+    To seek in every deed his own essence.
+
+      Now when the ways were darkened, and the sun
+    Sank red to sea, and homeward all had gone
+    Save that distraught Kassandra, who still served
+    The temple whence the Goddess long had swerved,
+    Athené, hating Troy and loving them
+    Who craved to snatch and make a diadem
+    Of Priam's regal crown for other brows--
+    She, though foredoomed she knew, held to her vows,
+    And duly paid the thankless evening rite--
+    There came to Paris' house late in the night
+    Deïphobus his brother, young and trim,
+    For speech with fair-tressed Helen, for whose slim
+    And budded grace long had he sighed in vain;
+    And found her in full hall, and showed his pain
+    And need of her. To whom when she draws close
+    In hot and urgent crying words he shows
+    His case, hers now, that here she tarry not
+    Lest evil hap more dread than she can wot:
+    "For this," he says, "is Troy's extremest hour."
+    But when to that she bowed her head, the power
+    Of his high vision made him vehement:
+    "Dark sets the sun," he cried, "and day is spent";
+    But she said, "Nay, the sun will rise with day,
+    And I shall bathe in light, lift hands and pray."
+      "Thou lift up hands, bound down to a new lord!"
+    He mocked; then whispered, "Lady, with a sword
+    I cut thy bonds if so thou wilt."
+                                      Apart
+    She moved: "No sword, but a cry of the heart
+    Shall loose me."
+                      Then he said, "Hear what I cry
+    From my heart unto thine: fly, Helen, fly!"
+    Whereat she shook her head and sighed, "Even so,
+    Brother, I fly where thou canst never go.
+    Far go I, out of ken of thee and thy peers."
+      He knew not what she would, but said, "Thy fears
+    Are of the Gods and holy dooms and Fate,
+    But mine the present menace in the gate.
+    This I would save thee."
+                              "I fear it not," said she,
+    "But wait it here."
+                        He cried, "Here shalt thou see
+    Thy Spartan, and his bitter sword-point feel
+    Against thy bosom."
+                        "I bare it to the steel,"
+    Saith she. He then, "If ever man deserved thee
+    By service, I am he, who'd die to serve thee."
+      Glowing she heard him, being quickly moved
+    By kindness, loving ever where she was loved.
+    But now her heart was fain for rest; the night
+    Called her to sleep and dreams. So with a light
+    And gentle hand upon him, "Brother, farewell,"
+    She said, "I stay the issue, and foretell
+    Honour therein at least."
+                              Then at the door
+    She kissed him. And she saw his face no more.
+
+
+NINTH STAVE
+
+THE GODS FORSAKE TROY
+
+      Now Dawn came weeping forth, and on the crest
+    Of Ida faced a chill wind from the West.
+    Forth from the gray sea wrack-laden it blew
+    And howled among the towers, and stronger grew
+    As crept unseen the sun his path of light.
+    Then she who in the temple all that night
+    Had kept her rueful watch, the prophetess
+    Kassandra, peering sharply, heard the press
+    And rush of flight above her, and with sick
+    Foreboding waited; and the air grew thick
+    With flying shapes immortal overhead.
+      As in late Autumn, when the leaves are shed
+    And dismal flit about the empty ways,
+    And country folk provide against dark days,
+    And heap the woodstack, and their stores repair,
+    Attent you know the quickening of the air,
+    And closer yet the swish and sweep and swing
+    Of wings innumerable, emulous to bring
+    The birds to broader skies and kindlier sun,
+    And know indeed that winter is begun--
+    So seeing first, then hearing, she knew the hour
+    Was come when Troy must fall, and not a tower
+    Be left to front the morrow. And she covered
+    Her head and mourned, while one by one they hovered
+    Above their shrines, then flockt and faced the dawn.
+
+      First, in her car of shell and amber, drawn
+    By clustering doves with burnisht wings, a-throng,
+    Passes Queen Aphrodité, and her song
+    Is sweet and sharp: "I gave my sacred zone
+    To warm thy bosom, Helen which by none
+    That live by labour and in tears are born
+    And sighing go their ways, has e'er been worn.
+    It kindled in thine eyes the lovelight, showed
+    Thy burning self in his. Thy body glowed
+    With beauty like to mine: mine thy love-laughter
+    Thy cooing in the night, thy deep sleep after,
+    Thy rapture of the morning, love renewed;
+    And all the shadowed day to sit and brood
+    On what has been and what should be again:
+    Thou wilt not? Nay, I proffer not in vain
+    My gifts, for I am all or will be nought.
+    Lo, where I am can be no other thought."
+      Thus to the wooded heights of Ida she
+    Was drawn, hid in that pearly galaxy
+    Of snow-white pigeons.
+                            Next upon the height
+    Of Pergamos uplift a beam of light
+    That for its core enshrined a naked youth,
+    Golden and fierce. She knew the God sans ruth,
+    Him who had given woeful prescience to her,
+    Apollo, once her lover and her wooer;
+    Who stood as one stands glorying in his grace
+    And strength, full in the sun, though on her place
+    Within the temple court no sun at all
+    Shone, nor as yet upon the topmost wall
+    Was any tinge of him, but all showed gray
+    And sodden in the wind and blown sea-spray.
+    Not to him dared she lift her voice in prayer,
+    Nor scarce her eyes to see him.
+                                    To him there
+    Came swift a spirit in shape of virgin slim,
+    With snooded hair and kirtle belted trim,
+    Short to the knee; and in her face the gale
+    Had blown bright sanguine colour. Free and hale
+    She was; and in her hand she held a bow
+    Unstrung, and o'er her shoulders there did go
+    A baldrick that made sharp the cleft betwixt
+    Her sudden breasts--to that a quiver fixt,
+    Showing gold arrow-points. No God there is
+    In Heaven more swift than Delian Artemis,
+    The young, the pure health-giver of the Earth,
+    Who loveth all things born, and brings to birth,
+    And after slays with merciful sudden death--
+    In whom is gladness all and wholesome breath,
+    And to whom all the praise of him who writes,
+    Ever.
+          These two she saw like meteorites
+    Flare down the wind and burn afar, then fade.
+    And Leto next, a mother grave and staid,
+    Drave out her chariot, which two winged stags drew,
+    Swift following, robed in gown of inky blue,
+    And hooded; and her hand which held the hood
+    Gleamed like a patch of snow left in a wood
+    Where hyacinths bring down to earth the sky.
+      And in her wake a winging company,
+    Dense as the cloud of gulls which from a rock
+    At sea lifts up in myriads, if the knock
+    Of oars assail their peace, she saw, and mourned
+    The household gods. For outward they too turned,
+    The spirits of the streams and water-brooks,
+    And nymphs who haunt the pastures, or in nooks
+    Of woodlands dwell. There like a lag of geese
+    Flew in long straying lines the Oreades
+    That in wild dunes and commons have their haunt;
+    There sped the Hamadryads; there aslant,
+    As from the sea, but wheeling ere they crost
+    Their sisters, thronged the river-nymphs, a host;
+    And now the Gods of homestead and the hearth,
+    Like sad-faced mourning women, left the garth
+    Where each had dwelt since Troy was stablishéd,
+    And been the holy influence over bed
+    And board and daily work under the sun
+    And nightlong slumber when day's work was done:
+    They rose, and like a driven mist of rain
+    Forsook the doomed high city and the plain,
+    And drifted eastaway; and as they went
+    Heaviness spread o'er Ilios like a tent,
+    And past not off, but brooded all day long.
+
+      But ever coursed new spirits to the throng
+    That packt the ways of Heaven. From the plain,
+    From mere and holt and hollow rose amain
+    The haunters of the silence; from the streams
+    And wells of water, from the country demes,
+    From plough and pasture, bottom, ridge and crest
+    The rustic Gods rose up and joined the rest.
+    Like a long wisp of cloud from out his banks
+    Streamed Xanthos, that swift river, to the ranks
+    Of flying shapes; and driven by that same mind
+    That urged him to it came Simoeis behind,
+    And other Gods and other, of stream and tree
+    And hill and vale--for nothing there can be
+    On earth or under Heaven, but hath in it
+    Essence whereby alone its form may hit
+    Our apprehension, channelled in the sense
+    Which feedeth us, that we through vision dense
+    See Gods as trees walking, or in the wind
+    That singeth in the bents guess what's behind
+    Its wailing music.
+                        And now the unearthly flock,
+    Emptying every water, wood, bare rock
+    And pasture, beset Ida, and their wings
+    Beat o'er the forest which about her springs
+    And makes a sea of verdure, whence she lifts
+    Her soaring peaks to bathe them in the drifts
+    Of cloud, and rare reveal them unto men--
+    For Zeus there hath his dwelling, out of ken
+    Of men alike and gods. But now the brows,
+    The breasting summits, still eternal snows,
+    And all the faces of the mountain held
+    A concourse like in number to the field
+    Of Heaven upon some breathless summer night
+    Printed with myriad stars, some burning bright,
+    Some massed in galaxy, a cloudy scar,
+    And others faint, as infinitely far.
+    There rankt the Gods of Heaven, Earth, and Sea,
+    Brethren of them now hastening from the fee
+    Of stricken Priam. Out of his deep cloud
+    Zeus flamed his levin, and his thunder loud
+    Volleyed his welcome. With uplifted hands
+    Acclaiming, God's oncoming each God stands
+    To greet. And thus the Hierarchy at one
+    Sits to behold the bitter business done
+    Which Paris by his luxury bestirred.
+
+      But in the city, like a stricken bird
+    Grieving her desolation and despair,
+    As voiceless and as lustreless, astare
+    For imminent Death, Kassandra croucht beneath
+    Her very doom, herself the bride of Death;
+    For in the temple's forecourt reared the mass
+    Of that which was to bring the woe to pass,
+    And hidden in him both her murderers
+    Wrung at their nails.
+                          And slow the long day wears
+    While all the city broods. The chiefs keep house,
+    Or gather on the wall, or make carouse
+    To simulate a freedom they feel not;
+    And at street corners men in shift or plot
+    Whisper together, or in the market-place
+    Gather, and peer each other in the face
+    Furtively, seeking comfort against care;
+    Whose eyes, meeting by chance, shift otherwhere
+    In haste. But in the houses, behind doors
+    Shuttered and barred, the women scrub their floors,
+    Or ply their looms as busily: for they
+    Ever cure care with care, and if a day
+    Be heavy lighten it with heavier task;
+    And for their griefs wear beauty like a mask,
+    And answer heart's presaging with a song
+    On their brave lips, and render right for wrong.
+    Little, by outward seeming, do they know
+    Of doom at hand, of fate or blood or woe,
+    Nor how their children, playing by their knees,
+    Must end this day of busyness-at-ease
+    In shrieking night, with clamour for their bread,
+    And a red bath, and a cold stone for a bed
+    Under the staring moon.
+
+                            Now sinks the sun
+    Blood-red into the heavy sea and dun,
+    And forth from him, as he were stuck with swords,
+    Great streams of light go upward. Then the lords
+    Of havoc and unrest prepare their storms,
+    And o'er the silent city, vulture forms--
+    Eris and Enyo, Alké, Ioké,
+    The biter, the sharp-bitten, the mad, the fey--
+    Hover and light on pinnacle and tower:
+    The gray Erinnyes, watchful for the hour
+    When Haro be the wail. And down the sky
+    Like a white squall flung Até with a cry
+    That sounded like the wind in a ship's shrouds,
+    As shrill and wild at once. The driving clouds
+    Surging together, blotted out the sea,
+    The beachéd ships, the plain with mound and tree,
+    And slantwise came the sheeted rain, and fast
+    The darkness settled in. Kassandra cast
+    Her mantle o'er her head, and with slow feet
+    Entered her shrine deserted, there to greet
+    Her fate when it should come; and merciful Sleep
+    Befriended her.
+                    Now from his lair did creep
+    Odysseus forth unarmed, his sword and spear
+    There in the Horse, and warily to peer
+    And spy his whereabouts the Ithacan
+    Went doubtful. Then his dreadful work began,
+    As down the bare way of steep Pergamos
+    Under the dark he sought for Paris' house.
+
+
+TENTH STAVE
+
+ODYSSEUS COMES AGAIN TO PARIS' HOUSE
+
+      There in her cage roamed Helen light and fierce,
+    Unresting, with bright eyes and straining ears,
+    Nor ever stayed her steps; but first the hall
+    She ranged, touching the pillars; next to the wall
+    Went out and shot her gaze into the murk
+    Whereas the ships should lie; then to her work
+    Upon the great loom turned and wove a shift,
+    But idly, waiting always for some lift
+    In the close-wrapping fog that might discover
+    The moving hosts, the spearmen of her lover--
+    Lover and husband, master and lord of life,
+    Coming at last to take a slave to wife.
+    And as wide-eyed she stared to feel her heart
+    Leap to her side, she felt the warm tears start,
+    And thankt the Goddess for the balm they brought.
+    Yet to her women, withal so highly wrought
+    By hope and care and waiting, she was mild
+    And gentle-voiced, and playful as a child
+    That sups the moment's joy, and nothing heeds
+    Time past or time to come, but fills all needs
+    With present kindness. She would laugh and talk,
+    Take arms, suffer embraces, even walk
+    The terrace 'neath the eyes of all her fate,
+    And seem to heed what they might show or prate,
+    As if her whole heart's heart were in this house
+    And not at fearful odds and perilous.
+    And should one speak of Paris, as to say,
+    "Would that our lord might see thee go so gay
+    About his house!" Gently she'd bend her head
+    Down to her breast and pluck a vagrant thread
+    Forth from her tunic's hem, and looking wise,
+    Gaze at her hand which on her bosom's rise
+    Lit like a butterfly and quivered there.
+      Now in the dusk, with Paris otherwhere
+    At council with the chieftains, into the hall
+    To Helen there, was come, adventuring all,
+    Odysseus in the garb of countryman,
+    A herdsman from the hills, with stain of tan
+    Upon his neck and arms, with staff and scrip,
+    And round each leg bound crosswise went a strip
+    Of good oxhide. Within the porch he came
+    And louted low, and hailed her by her name,
+    Among her maidens easy to be known,
+    Though not so tall as most, and not full blown
+    To shape and flush like a full-hearted rose;
+    But like a summer wave her bosom flows
+    Lax and most gentle, and her tired sweet face
+    Seems pious as the moon in a blue space
+    Of starless heaven, and in her eyes the hue
+    Of early morning, gray through mist of blue.
+    Not by a flaunted beauty is she guessed
+    Queen of them all, but by the right expressed
+    In her calm gaze and fearless, and that hold
+    Upon her lips which Gods have. Nay, not cold,
+    Thou holy one, not cold thy lips, which say
+    All in a sigh, and with one word betray
+    The passion of thy heart! But who can wis
+    The fainting piercing message of thy kiss?
+    O blest initiate--let him live to tell
+    Thy godhead, show himself thy miracle!
+      But when she saw him there with his head bowed
+    And humble hands, deeply her fair face glowed,
+    And broad across the iris swam the black
+    Until her eyes showed darkling. "Friend, your lack
+    Tell me," she said, "and what is mine to give
+    Is yours; but little my prerogative
+    Here in this house, where I am not the queen
+    You call me, but another name, I ween,
+    Serves me about the country you are of,
+    Which Ilios gives me too, but not in love.
+    Yet are we all alike in evil plight,
+    And should be tender of each other's right,
+    And of each other's wrongdoing, and wrongs done
+    Upon us. Have you wife and little one
+    Hungry at home? Have you a son afield?
+    Or do you mourn? Alas, I cannot wield
+    The sword you lack, nor bow nor spear afford
+    To serve...."
+      He said, "Nay, you can sheathe the sword,
+    Slack bowstring, and make spear a hunter's toy.
+    Lady, I come to end this war of Troy
+    In your good pleasure."
+                            With her steady eyes
+    Unwinking fixt, "Let you and me devise,"
+    Said she, "this happy end of bow and spear,
+    So shall we serve the land. You have my ear;
+    Speak then."
+                  "But so," he said, "these maidens have it.
+    But we save Troy alone, or never save it."
+      Turning she bid them leave her with a nod,
+    And they obeyed. Swift then and like a God
+    She seemed, with bright all-knowing eyes and calm
+    Gesture of high-held head, and open palm
+    To greet. "Laertes' son, what news bringst thou?"
+      "Lady," he said, "the best. The hour is now.
+    We stand within the heaven-establisht walls,
+    We gird the seat. Within an hour it falls,
+    The seat divine of Dardanos and Tros,
+    After our ten years' travail and great loss
+    Of heroes not yet rested, but to rest
+    Soon."
+            Then she laid her hand upon her breast
+    To stay it. "Who are ye that stand here-by?"
+      "Desperate men," he said, "prepared to die
+    If thou wilt have it so. Chief is there none
+    Beside the ships but Nestor. All are gone
+    Forth in the Horse. Under thy covering hand
+    Thou holdest all Achaia. Here we stand,
+    Epeios, Pyrrhos, Antiklos, with these
+    Cretan Idomeneus, Meriones,
+    Aias the Lokrian, Teukros, Diomede
+    Of the loud war-cry, next thy man indeed,
+    Golden-haired Menelaus the robbed King,
+    And Agamemnon by him, and I who bring
+    This news and must return to take what lot
+    Thou choosest us; for all is thine, God wot,
+    To end or mend, to make or mar at will."
+      A weighty utterance, but she heard the thrill
+    Within her heart, and listened only that--
+    To know her love so near. So near he sat
+    Hidden when she that toucht the Horse's flank
+    Could have toucht him! "Odysseus!" her voice sank
+    To the low tone of the soft murmuring dove
+    That nests and broods, "Odysseus, heard my love
+    My whisper of his name when close I stood
+    And stroked the Horse?"
+                            "I heard and understood,"
+    He said, "and Lokrian Aias would have spoken
+    Had I not clapt a hand to his mouth--else broken
+    By garish day had been our house of dream,
+    And our necks too. I heard a woman scream
+    Near by and cry upon the Ruinous Face,
+    But none made answer to her."
+                                  Nought she says
+    To that but "I am ready; let my lord
+    Come when he will. Humbly I wait his word."
+      "That word I bring," Odysseus said, "he comes.
+    Await him here."
+                      Her wide eyes were the homes
+    Of long desire. "Ah, let me go with thee
+    Even as I am; from this dark house take me
+    While Paris is abroad!"
+                            He shook his head.
+    "Not so, but he must find thee here abed--
+    And Paris here."
+                      The light died out; a mask
+    Of panic was her face, what time her task
+    Stared on a field of white horror like blood:
+    "Here! But there must be strife then!"
+                                            "Well and good,"
+    Said he.
+              Then she, shivering and looking small,
+    "And one must fall?" she said; he, "One must fall."
+      Reeling she turned her pincht face other way
+    And muttered with her lips, grown cold and gray,
+    Then fawning came at him, and with her hands
+    Besought him, but her voice made no demands,
+    Only her haunted eyes were quick, and prayed,
+    "Ah, not to fall through me!"
+                                  "By thee," he said,
+    "The deed is to be done."
+                              She droopt adown
+    Her lovely head; he heard her broken moan,
+    "Have I not caused enough of blood-shedding,
+    And enough women's tears? Is not the sting
+    Sharp enough of the knife within my side?"
+    No more she could.
+                        Then he, "Think not to avoid
+    The lot of man, who payeth the full price
+    For each deed done, and riddeth vice by vice:
+    Such is the curse upon him. The doom is
+    By God decreed, that for thy forfeit bliss
+    In Sparta thou shalt pay the price in Troy,
+    Dishonour for lost honour, pain for joy;
+    By what hot thought impelled, by that alone
+    Win back; by violence violence atone.
+    If by chicane thou fleddest, by chicane
+    Win back thy blotted footprints. Out again
+    With all thine arts of kisses slow and long,
+    Of smiles and stroking hands, and crooning song
+    Whenas full-fed with love thou lulledst asleep;
+    Renew thine eyebright glances, whisper and creep
+    And twine about his neck thy wreathing arms:
+    As we with spears so do thou with thy charms,
+    Arm thee and wait the hour of fire and smoke
+    To purge this robbery. Paris by the stroke
+    Of him he robbed shall wash out his old cheat
+    In blood, and thou, woman, by new deceit
+    Of him redeem thy first. For thus God saith,
+    Traitress, thou shalt betray thy thief to death."
+      He ceased, and she by misery made wild
+    And witless, shook, and like a little child
+    Gazed piteous, and asked, "What must I do?"
+      He answered, "Hold him by thee, falsely true,
+    Until the King stand armed within the house
+    Ready to take his blood-price. Even thus,
+    By shame alone shalt thou redeem thy shame."
+      And now she claspt his knee and cried his name:
+    "Mercy! I cannot do it. Let me die
+    Sooner than go to him so. What, must I lie
+    With one and other, make myself a whore,
+    And so go back to Sparta, nevermore
+    To hold my head up level with my slaves,
+    Nor dare to touch my child?"
+                                  Said he, "Let knaves
+    Deal knavishly till freedom they can win;
+    And so let sinners purge themselves of sin."
+    Then fiercely looking on her where she croucht
+    Fast by his knees, his whole mind he avoucht:
+    "How many hast thou sent the way of death
+    By thy hot fault? What ghosts like wandering breath
+    Shudder and wail unhouseled on the plain,
+    Shreds of Achaian honour? What hearts in pain
+    Cry the night through? What souls this very night
+    Fare forth? Art thou alone to sup delight,
+    Alone to lap in pleasantness, who first
+    And only, with thy lecher and his thirst,
+    Wrought all the harm? Only for thy smooth sake
+    Did Paris reive, and Menelaus ache,
+    And Hector die ashamed, and Peleus' son
+    Stand to the arrow, and Aias Telamon
+    Find madness and self-murder for the crown
+    Of all his travail?" He eyed her up and down
+    Sternly, as measuring her worth in scorn.
+    "Not thus may traffic any woman born
+    While men endure cold nights and burning days,
+    Hunger and wretchedness."
+                              She stands, she says,
+    "Enough--I cannot answer. Tell me plain
+    What I must do."
+                      "At dark," he said, "we gain
+    The Gates and open them. A trumpet's blast
+    Will sound the entry of the host. Hold fast
+    Thy Paris then. We storm the citadel,
+    High Pergamos; that won, the horn will tell
+    The sack begun. But hold thou Paris bound
+    Fast in thine arms. Once more the horn shall sound.
+    That third is doom for him. Release him then."
+      All blank she gazed. "Unarmed to face armed men?"
+    "Unarmed," he said, "to meet his judgment day."
+
+      Now was thick silence broken; now no way
+    For her to shift her task nor he his fate.
+    Keenly she heeds. "'Tis Paris at the gate!
+    What now? Whither away? Where wilt thou hide?"
+      He lookt her in the face. "Here I abide
+    What he may do. Was it not truth I spake
+    That all Hellas lay in thy hand? Now take
+    What counsel or what comfort may avail."
+      Paris stood in the door and cried her Hail.
+    "Hail to thee, Rose of the World!" then saw the man,
+    And knit his brows upon him, close to scan
+    His features; but Odysseus had his hood
+    Shadowing his face. Some time the Trojan stood
+    Judging, then said, "Thou seek'st? What seekest thou?"
+      "A debt is owed me. I seek payment now."
+    So he was told; but he drew nearer yet.
+    "I would know more of thee and of thy debt,"
+    He said.
+              And then Odysseus, "This thy strife
+    Hath ruined all my fields which are my life,
+    Brought murrain on my beasts, cold ash to my hearth,
+    Emptiness to my croft. Hunger and dearth,
+    Are these enough? Who pays me?"
+                                    Then Paris,
+    "I pay, but first will know what man it is
+    I am to pay, and in what kind." So said,
+    Snatching the hood, he whipt it from his head
+    And lookt and knew the Ithacan. "Now by Zeus,
+    Treachery here!" He swung his sword-arm loose
+    Forth of his cloak and set hand to his sword;
+      But Helen softly called him: "Hath my lord
+    No word of greeting for his bondwoman?"
+    Straightway he went to her, and left the man,
+    And took her in his arms, and held her close.
+    And light of foot, Odysseus quit the house.
+
+
+ELEVENTH STAVE
+
+THE BEGUILING OF PARIS
+
+      Now Paris tipt her chin and turned her face
+    Upwards to his that fondly he might trace
+    The beauty of her budded lips, and stoop
+    And kiss them softly; and fingered in the loop
+    That held her girdle, and closer pressed, on fire,
+    Towards her; for her words had stung desire
+    Anew; and wooing in his fond boy's way,
+    Whispered and lookt his passion; then to pray
+    Began: "Ah, love, long strange to me, behold
+    Thy winter past, and come the days of gold
+    And pleasance of the spring! For in thine eyes
+    I see his light and hail him as he flies!
+    Nay, cloud him not, nor veil him"--for she made
+    To turn her face, saying, "Ah, let them fade:
+    The soul thou prisonest here is grayer far."
+      But he would give no quarter now. "O star,
+    O beacon-star, shine on me in the night
+    That I may wash me in thy bath of light,
+    Taking my fill of thee; so cleanséd all
+    And healed, I rise renewed to front what call
+    May be!" which said, with conquest in his bones
+    And in his eyes assurance, in high tones
+    He called her maids, bade take her and prepare
+    The couch, and her to be new-wedded there;
+    For long had they been strangers to their bliss.
+      So by the altar standeth she submiss
+    And watchful, praying silent and intense
+    To a strange-figured Goddess, to his sense
+    Who knew but Aphrodité. "Love, what now?
+    Who is thy God? What secret rite hast thou?"
+    For grave and stern above that altar stood
+    Heré the Queen of Heaven.
+                              In dry mood
+    She answered him, "Chaste wives to her do pray
+    Before they couch, Blest be the strife! You say
+    We are to be new-wedded. Pour with me
+    Libation that we love not fruitlessly."
+      So said, she took the well-filled cup and poured,
+    And prayed, saying, "O Mother, not abhorred
+    Be this my service of thee. Count it not
+    Offence, nor let my prayers be forgot
+    When reckoning comes of things done and not done
+    By me thy child, or to me, hapless one,
+    Unloving paramour and unloved wife!"
+      "Heré, to thee for issue of the strife!"
+    Cried Paris then, and poured. So Helen went
+    And let her maids adorn her to his bent.
+
+      Then took he joy of her, and little guessed
+    Or cared what she might give or get. Possest
+    Her body by his body, but her mind
+    Searcht terribly the issue. As one blind
+    Explores the dark about him in broad day
+    And fingers in the air, so as she lay
+    Lax in his arms, her fainting eyes, aglaze
+    For terror coming, sought escape all ways.
+    Alas for her! What way for woman fair,
+    Whose joy no fairer makes her than despair?
+    Her burning lips that kisses could not cool,
+    Her beating heart that not love made so full,
+    The surging of her breast, her clinging hands:
+    Here are such signs as lover understands,
+    But fated Paris nowise. Her soul, distraught
+    To save him, proved the net where he was caught.
+    For more she anguisht lest love be his bane
+    The fiercelier spurred she him, to make him fain
+    Of that which had been ruinous to all.
+      But all the household gathered on the wall
+    While these two in discordant bed were plight,
+    And watcht the Achaian fires. No beacon-light
+    Showed by the shore, but countless, flickering, streamed
+    Innumerable lights, wove, dipt and gleamed
+    Like fireflies on a night of summer heat,
+    Withal one way they moved, though many beat
+    Across and back, and mingled with the rest.
+    Anon a great glare kindled from the crest
+    Of Ida, and was answered by a blaze
+    Behind the ships, which threw up in red haze
+    Huge forms of prow and beak. Then from the Mound
+    Of Ilos fire shot up, from sacred ground,
+    And out the mazy glory of moving lights
+    One sped and flared, as of the meteorites
+    In autumn some fly further, brighter courses.
+    A chariot! They heard the thunder of the horses;
+    And as they flew the torch left a bright wake.
+    And thus to one another woman spake,
+    "Lo, more lights race! They follow him, they near,
+    Catch and draw level. Hark! Now you can hear
+    The tramp of men!"
+                        Says one, "That baleful sheen
+    Is light upon their spears. The Greeks, I ween,
+    Are coming up to rescue or requite."
+      But then her mate: "They mass, they fill the night
+    With panic terror."
+                        True, that all night things
+    Fled as they came. They heard the flickering wings
+    Of countless birds in haste, and as they flew
+    So fled the dark away. Light waxed and grew
+    Until the dead of night was vivified
+    And radiant opened out the countryside
+    With pulsing flames of fire, which gleamed and glanced,
+    Flickered, wavered, yet never stayed advance.
+    As the sun rising high o'er Ida cold
+    Beats a sea-path in flakes of molten gold,
+    So stretcht from shore to Troy that litten stream
+    That moved and shuddered, restless as a dream,
+    Yet ever nearing, till on spear and shield
+    They saw light like the moon on a drowned field,
+    And in the glare of torches saw and read
+    Gray faces, like the legions of the dead,
+    Silent about the walls, and waiting there.
+      But in the fragrant chamber Helen the fair
+    Lay close in arms, and Paris slept, his head
+    Upon her bosom, deep as any dead.
+
+      Sudden there smote the blast of a great horn,
+    Single, long-held and shuddering, and far-borne;
+    And then a deathless silence. Paris stirred
+    On that soft pillow, and listened while they heard
+    Many men running frantically, with feet
+    That slapt the stones, and voices in the street
+    Of question and call--"Oh, who are ye that run?
+    What of the night?" "O peace!" And some lost one
+    Wailed like a woman, and her a man did curse,
+    And there were scuffling, prayers, and then worse--
+    A silence. But the running ended not
+    While Paris lay alistening with a knot
+    Of Helen's loose hair twisting round his finger.
+    "O love," he murmured low, "I may not linger.
+    The street's awake. Alas, thou art too kind
+    To be a warrior's bride." Sighing, she twined
+    Her arm about his neck and toucht his face,
+    And pressed it gently back to its warm place
+    Of pillowing. And Paris kissed her breast
+    And slept; but her heart's riot gave no rest
+    As quaking there she lay, awaiting doom.
+      Then afar off rose clamour, and the room
+    Was fanned with sudden light and sudden dark,
+    As on a summer night in a great park
+    Blazed forth you see each tuft of grass or mound,
+    Anon the drowning blackness, while the sound
+    Of Zeus's thunder hardens every close:
+    So here the chamber glared, then dipt, and rose
+    That far confuséd tumult, and now and then
+    The scurrying feet of passion-driven men.
+      Thrilling she waited with sick certainty
+    Of doom inexorable, while the struck city
+    Fought its death-grapple, and the windy height
+    Of Pergamos became a shambles. White
+    The holy shrines stared on a field of blood,
+    And with blank eyes the emptied temples stood
+    While murder raved before them, and below
+    And all about the city ran the woe
+    Of women for their children. Then the flame
+    Burst in the citadel, and overcame
+    The darkness, and the time seemed of broad day.
+    And Helen stared unwinking where she lay
+    Pillowing Paris.
+                      Now glad and long and shrill
+    The second trumpet sounds. They have the hill--
+    High Troy is down, is down! Starting, he wakes
+    And turns him in her arms. His face she takes
+    In her two hands and turns it up to hers.
+    Nothing she says, nothing she does, nor stirs
+    From her still scrutiny, nor so much as blinks
+    Her eyes, deep-searching, of whose blue he drinks,
+    And fond believes her all his own, while she
+    Marvels that aught of his she e'er could be
+    In times bygone. But now he is on fire
+    Again, and urges on her his desire,
+    And loses all the sense of present needs
+    For him in burning Troy, where Priam bleeds
+    Head-smitten, trodden on his palace-floor,
+    And white Kassandra yieldeth up her flower
+    To Aias' lust, and of the Dardan race
+    Survive he only, renegade disgrace,
+    He only and Aineias the wise prince.
+      But now is crying fear abroad and wins
+    The very household of the shameful lover;
+    Now are the streets alive, for worse in cover
+    Like a trapt rat to die than fight the odds
+    Under the sky. Now women shriek to the Gods,
+    And men run witlessly, and in and out
+    The Greeks press, burning, slaying, and the rout
+    Screameth to Heaven. As at sea the mews
+    Pack, their wings battling, when some fresh wrack strews
+    The tideway, and in greater haste to stop
+    Others from prey, will let their morsel drop,
+    And all the while make harsh lament--so here
+    The avid spoilers bickered in their fear
+    To be manœuvred out of robbery,
+    And tore the spoil, and mangled shamefully
+    Bodies of men to strip them, and in haste
+    To forestall ravishers left the victims chaste.
+    Ares, the yelling God, and Até white
+    Swept like a snow-storm over Troy that night;
+    And towers rockt, and in the naked glare
+    Of fire the smoke climbed to the upper air;
+    And clamour was as of the dead broke loose.
+      But Menelaus his stern way pursues,
+    And to the wicked house with chosen band
+    Cometh, his good sword naked in his hand;
+    And now, while Paris loves and holds her fast
+    In arms, the third horn sounds a shattering blast,
+    Long-held, triumphant; and about the door
+    Gathers the household, to cry, to pray, to implore,
+    And at the last break in and scream the truth--
+    "The Greeks! The Greeks! Save yourselves!"
+                                                Then in sooth
+    Starts Paris out of bed, and as he goes
+    Sees in the eyes of Helen all she knows
+    And all believes; and with his utter loss
+    Of her rises the man in him that was
+    Ere luxury had entered blood and bone
+    Of him. No word he said, but let one groan,
+    And turned his dying eyes to hers, and read
+    Therein his fate, that to her he was dead,
+    Long dead and cold in grave. Whereat he past
+    Out of the door, and met his end at last
+    As man, not minion.
+                        But the woman fair
+    Lay on her face, half buried in her hair,
+    Naked and prone beneath her saving sin,
+    Not yet enheartened new life to begin.
+
+
+ENVOY
+
+    But thou didst rise, Maid Helen, as from sleep,
+    A final tryst to keep
+    With thy true lover, in whose hands thy life
+    Lay, as in arms; his wife
+    In heart as well as deed; his wife, his friend,
+    His soul's fount and its end!
+    For such it is, the marriage of true minds,
+    Each in each sanction finds;
+    So if her beauty lift her out of thought
+    Whither man's to be brought
+    To worship her perfection on his knees,
+    So in his strength she sees
+    Self glorified, and two make one clear orb
+    Whereinto all rays absorb
+    Which stream from God and unto God return.--
+    So, as he fared, I yearn
+    To be, and serve my years of pain and loss
+    'Neath my walled Ilios,
+    With my eyes ever fixt to where, a star,
+    Thou and thy sisters are,
+    Helen and Beatrice, with thee embraced,
+    Hands in thy hands, and arms about thy waist.
+
+_1911-12._
+
+
+
+
+HYPSIPYLE
+
+
+    Queen of the shadows, Maid and Wife,
+    Twifold in essence, as in life,
+    The lamp of Death, the star of Birth,
+    Half cradled and half mourned by Earth,
+    By Hell half won, half lost! aid me
+    To sing thy fond Hypsipyle,
+    Thy bosom's mate who, unafraid,
+    Renounced for thee what part she had
+    In sun and wind upon the hill,
+    In dawn about the mere, in still
+    Woodlands, in kiss of lapping wave,
+    In laughter, in love--all this she gave!--
+    And shared thy dream-life, visited
+    The sunless country of the dead,
+    There to abide with thee, their Queen,
+    In that gray region, shadow-seen
+    By them that cast no shadows, yet
+    Themselves are shadows. Nor forget,
+    Koré, her love made manifest
+    To thee, familiar of her breast
+    And partner of her whispering mouth.
+
+      Thee too, Our Lady of the South,
+    Uranian Kypris, I invoke,
+    Regent of starry space, with stroke
+    Of splendid wing, in whose white wake
+    Stream those who, filled with thee, forsake
+    Their clinging shroudy clots, and rise,
+    Lover and loved, to thy pure skies,
+    To thy blue realm! O lady, touch
+    My lips with rue, for she loved much.
+
+      What poet in what cloistered nook,
+    Indenting in what roll of a book
+    His rhymes, can voice the tides of love?
+    Nay, thrilling lark, nay, moaning dove,
+    The nightingale's full-chargéd throat
+    That cheereth now, and now doth gloat,
+    And now recordeth bitter-sweet
+    Longing, too wise to image it:
+    These be your minstrels, lovers! Choose
+    From their winged choir your urgent Muse;
+    Let her your speechless joys relate
+    Which men with words sophisticate,
+    Striving by reasons make appear
+    To head what heart proclaims so clear
+    To heart; as if by wit to wis
+    What mouth to mouth tells in a kiss,
+    Or in their syllogisms dry
+    Freeze a swift glance's cogency.
+    Nay, but the heart's so music-fraught,
+    Music is all in love, words naught.
+    One heart's a rote, with music stored
+    Though mute; but two hearts make a chord
+    Of piercing music. One alone
+    Is nothing: two make the full tone.
+
+
+I
+
+      On Enna's uplands, on a lea
+    Between the mountains and the sea,
+    Shadowed anon by wandering cloud,
+    Or flickering wings of birds a-crowd,
+    And now all golden in the sun,
+    See Koré, see her maidens run
+    Hither and thither through those hours
+    Of dawn among the wide-eyed flowers,
+    While gentian, crocus, asphodel
+    (With rosy star in each white bell),
+    Anemone, blood-red with rings
+    Of paler fire, that plant that swings
+    A crimson cluster in the wind
+    They pluck, or sit anon to bind
+    Of these earth-stars a coronet
+    For their smooth-tresséd Queen, who yet
+    Strays with her darling interlaced,
+    Hypsipyle the grave, the chaste--
+    Her whose gray shadow-life with his
+    Who singeth now for ever is.
+      She, little slim thing, Koré's mate,
+    Child-faced, gray-eyed, of sober gait,
+    Of burning mind and passion pent
+    To image-making, ever went
+    Where wonned her Mistress; for those two
+    By their hearts' grace together grew,
+    The one to need, the one to give
+    (As women must if they would live,
+    Who substance win by waste of self
+    And only spend to hoard their pelf:
+    "O heart, take all of mine!" "O heart,
+    That which thou tak'st of thee is part--
+    No robbery therefore: mine is thine,
+    Take then!"): so she and Proserpine
+    Intercommunion'd each bright day,
+    And when night fell together lay
+    Cradled in arms, or cheek to cheek
+    Whispered the darkness out. Thou meek
+    And gentle vision! let me tell
+    Thy beauties o'er I love so well:
+    Thy sweet low bosom's rise and fall,
+    Pulsing thy heart's clear madrigal;
+    Or how the blue beam from thine eyes
+    Imageth all love's urgencies;
+    Thy lips' frail fragrance, as of flowers
+    Remembered in penurious hours
+    Of winter-exile; of thy brow,
+    Not written as thy breast of snow
+    With love's faint charact'ry, for his wing
+    Leaves not the heart long! Last I sing
+    Thy thin quick fingers, in whose pleaching
+    Lieth all healing, all good teaching--
+    Wherewith, touching my discontent,
+    I know how thou art eloquent!
+      Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle!
+    Now may that serve to comfort me,
+    While I, O Maiden dedicate,
+    Seek voice for singing thy gray Fate!
+
+      Now, as they went, one heart in two,
+    Brusht to the knees by flowers, by dew
+    Anointed, by the wind caressed,
+    By the light kissed on eyes and breast,
+    'Twas Koré talked; Hypsipyle
+    Listened, with eyes far-set, for she
+    Of speech was frugal, voicing low
+    And rare her heart's deep underflow--
+    Content to lie, like fallow sweet
+    For rain or sun to cherish it,
+    Or scattered seed substance to find
+    In her deep-funded, quiet mind.
+    And thus the Goddess: "Blest art thou,
+    Hypsipyle, who canst not know
+    Until the hour strikes what must come
+    To pass! But I foresee the doom
+    And stay to meet it. Even here
+    The place, and now the hour!" Then fear
+    Took her who spake so fearless, cold
+    Threaded her thronging veins--behold!
+    A hand on either shoulder stirs
+    That slim, sweet body close to hers,
+    And need fires need till, lip with lip,
+    They seal and sign their fellowship,
+    While Koré, godhead all forgot,
+    Clings whispering, "Child, leave me not
+    Whenas to darkness and the dead
+    I go!" And clear the answer sped
+    From warm mouth murmuring kiss and cheer,
+    "Never I leave thee, O my dear!"
+    Thereafter stand they beatingly,
+    Not speaking; and the hour draws nigh.
+
+      And all the land shows passing fair,
+    Fair the broad sea, the living air,
+    The misty mountain-sides, the lake
+    Flecked blue and purple! To forsake
+    These, and those bright flower-gatherers
+    Scattered about this land of theirs,
+    That stoop or run, that kneel to pick,
+    That cry each other to come quick
+    And see new treasure, unseen yet!
+    Remembered joy--ah, how forget!
+
+      But mark how all must come to pass
+    As was foreknowledged. In the grass
+    Whereas the Goddess and her mate
+    Stood, one and other, prompt for fate--
+    Listless the first and heavy-eyed,
+    Astrain the second--she espied
+    That strange white flower, unseen before,
+    With chalice pale, which thin stalk bore
+    And swung, as hanging by a hair,
+    So fine it seemed afloat in air,
+    Unlinkt and wafted for the feast
+    Of some blest mystic, without priest
+    Or acolyte to tender it:
+    Whereto the maid did stoop and fit
+    Her hand about its silken cup
+    To close it, that her mouth might sup
+    The honey-drop within. The bloom
+    Saw Koré then, and knew her doom
+    Foretold in it; and stood in trance
+    Fixéd and still. No nigromance
+    Used she, but read the fate it bore
+    In seedless womb and petals frore.
+    Chill blew the wind, waiting stood She,
+    Waiting her mate, Hypsipyle.
+
+      Then in clear sky the thunder tolled
+    Sudden, and all the mountains rolled
+    The dreadful summons round, and still
+    Lay all the lands, only the rill
+    Made tinkling music. Once more drave
+    Peal upon peal--and lo! a grave
+    Yawned in the Earth, and gushing smoke
+    Belched out, as driven, and hung, and broke
+    With sullen puff; like tongues the flame
+    Leapt following. Thence Aïdoneus came,
+    Swart-bearded king, with iron crown'd,
+    In iron mailed, his chariot bound
+    About with iron, holding back
+    Amain two steeds of glistering black
+    And eyeballs white-rimmed fearfully,
+    And nostrils red, and crests flying free;
+    Who held them pawing at the verge,
+    Tossing their spume up, as the surge
+    Flung high against some seaward bluff.
+    Nothing he spake, or smooth or gruff,
+    But drave his errand, gazing down
+    Upon the Maid, whose blown back gown
+    Revealed her maiden. Still and proud
+    Stood she among her nymphs, unbowed
+    Her comely head, undimmed her eye,
+    Inseparate her lips and dry,
+    Facing his challenge of her state,
+    Neither denying, nor desperate,
+    Pleading no mercy, seeing none,
+    Her wild heart masked in face of stone.
+    But they, her bevy, clustered thick
+    As huddled sheep, set their eyes quick,
+    And held each other, hand or waist,
+    Paling or flushing as fear raced
+    Thronging their veins--they knew not, they,
+    The gathered fates that broke this day,
+
+      And all the land seemed passing fair
+    To one who knew, and waited there.
+
+    "Goddess and Maid," then said the King,
+    "Long have I sought this day should bring
+    An end of torment. Know me thou
+    God postulant, with whom below
+    A world awaits her queen, while here
+    I seek and find one without peer;
+    Nor deem her heedless nor unschooled
+    In what in Heaven is writ and ruled.
+    Decreed of old my bride-right was,
+    Decreed thy Mother's pain and loss,
+    Decreed thy loathing, and decreed
+    That which thou shunnest to be thy need;
+    For thou shalt love me, Lady, yet,
+    Though little liking now, and fret
+    Of jealous care shall grave thy heart
+    And draw thee back when time's to part--
+    If fond Demeter have her will
+    Against thine own."
+
+                        The Maid stood still
+    And guarded watched, and her proud eyes'
+    Scrutiny bade his own advise
+    Whether indeed their solemn stare
+    Saw Destiny and read it there
+    Beyond her suitor, or within
+    Her own heart heard the message ring.
+    Awhile she gazed: her stern aspect,
+    Young and yet fraught with Godhead, checkt
+    Both Him who claimed, and her who'd cling,
+    And them who wondered. "O great King,"
+    She said, and mournful was her crying
+    As when night-winds set pine-trees sighing,
+    "King of the folk beyond the tide
+    Of sleep, behold thy chosen bride
+    Not shunning thee, nor seeking. Take
+    That which Gods neither mar nor make,
+    But only They, the Three, who spin
+    The threads which hem and mesh us in,
+    Both Gods and men, till she who peers
+    The longest cuts them with her shears.
+    Take, take, Aïdoneus, and take her,
+    My fosterling."
+                    Then He, "O star
+    Of Earth, O Beacon of my days,
+    Light of my nights, whose beamy rays
+    Shall pierce the foggy cerement
+    Wherein my dead grope and lament
+    Beyond all loss the loss of light,
+    Come! and be pleasant in my sight
+    This thy beloved. Perchance she too
+    Shall find a suitor come to woo;
+    For love men leave not with their bones--
+    That is the soul's, and half atones
+    And half makes bitterer their loss,
+    Remembering what their fortune was."
+      Trembling Hypsipyle uplift
+    Her eyes towards the hills, where swift
+    The shadows flew, but no more fleet
+    Than often she with flying feet
+    And flying raiment, she with these
+    Her mates, whom now estranged she sees--
+    As if the shadow-world had spread
+    About her now, and she was dead--
+    Her mates no more! cut off by fear
+    From these two fearless ones. A tear
+    Welled up and hovered, hung a gem
+    Upon her eyelid's dusky hem,
+    As raindrops linkt and strung arow
+    Broider with stars the winter bough.
+    This was her requiem and farewell
+    To them, thus rang she her own knell;
+    Nor more gave she, nor more asked they,
+    But took and went the fairy way.
+      For thus with unshed tears made blind
+    Went she: thus go the fairy kind
+    Whither fate driveth; not as we
+    Who fight with it, and deem us free
+    Therefore, and after pine, or strain
+    Against our prison bars in vain.
+    For to them Fate is Lord of Life
+    And Death, and idle is a strife
+    With such a master. They not know
+    Life past, life coming, but life now;
+    Nor back look they to long, nor forth
+    To hope, but sup the minute's worth
+    With draught so quick and keen that each
+    Moment gives more than we could reach
+    In all our term of three-score years,
+    Whereof full score we give to fears
+    Of losing them, and other score
+    Dreaming how fill the twenty more.
+      Now is the hour, Bride of the Night!
+    The chariot turns, the great steeds fight
+    The rocky entry; flies the dust
+    Behind the wheels at each fierce thrust
+    Of giant shoulder, at each lunge
+    Of giant haunch. Down, down they plunge
+    Into the dark, with rioting mane,
+    And the earth's door shuts-to again.
+    Now fly, ye Oreads, strain your arms,
+    Let eyes and hair voice your alarms--
+    Hair blown back, mouths astretch for fear,
+    Strained eyeballs--cry that Mother dear
+    Her daughter's rape; fly like the gale
+    That down the valleys drives the hail
+    In scurrying sheets, and lays the corn
+    Flat, which when man of woman born
+    Seeth, he bows him to the grass,
+    Whispering in hush, _The Oreads pass_.
+    (In shock he knows ye, and in mirth,
+    Since he is kindred of that earth
+    Which bore ye in her secret stress,
+    Images of her loveliness,
+    To her dear paramour the Wind.)
+    Follow me now that car behind.
+
+
+II
+
+      O ye that know the fairy throng,
+    And heed their secret under-song;
+    In flower or leaf's still ecstasy
+    Of birth and bud their passion see,
+    In wind or calm, in driving rain
+    Or frozen snow discern them strain
+    To utter and to be; who lie
+    At dawn in dewy brakes to spy
+    The rapture of their flying feet--
+    Follow me now those coursers fleet,
+    Sucked in their wake, down ruining
+    Through channelled night, where only sing
+    The shrill gusts streaming through the hair
+    Of them who sway and bend them there,
+    And peer in vain with shielded eyes
+    To rend the dark. Clinging it lies,
+    Thick as wet gossamer that shrouds
+    October brushwoods, or low clouds
+    That from the mountain tops roll down
+    Into the lowland vales, to drown
+    Men's voices and to choke their breath
+    And make a silence like to death.
+    But this was hot and dry; it came
+    And smote them, like the gush of flame
+    Fanned in a smithy, that outpours
+    And floods with fire the open doors.
+      Downward their course was, swift as flight
+    Of meteor flaring through the night,
+    Steady and dreadful, with no sound
+    Of wheels or hoofs upon the ground,
+    Nor jolt, nor jar; for once past through
+    Earth's portals, steeds and chariot flew
+    On wings invisible and strong
+    And even-oaring, such as throng
+    The nights when birds of passage sweep
+    O'er cities and the folk asleep:
+    Such was their awful flight. Afar
+    Showed Hades glimmering like a star
+    Seen red through fog: and as they sped
+    To that, the frontiers of the dead
+    Revealed their sullen leagues and bare,
+    And sad forms flitting here and there,
+    Or clustered, waiting who might come
+    Their empty ways with news of home.
+    Yet all one course at length must hold,
+    Or late or soon, and all be tolled
+    By Charon in his dark-prowed boat.
+    Thither was swept the chariot
+    And crossed dry-wheeled the coiling flood
+    Of Styx, and o'er the willow wood
+    And slim gray poplars which do hem
+    The further shore, Hell's diadem--
+    So by the tower foursquare and great
+    Where King Aïdoneus keeps his state
+    And rules his bodyless thralls they stand.
+
+      Dark ridge and hollow showed the land
+    Fold over fold, like waves of soot
+    Fixt in an anguish of pursuit
+    For evermore, so far as eye
+    Could range; and all was hot and dry
+    As furnace is which all about
+    Etna scorcheth in days of drouth,
+    And showeth dun and sinister
+    That fair isle linked to main so fair.
+    Nor tree nor herbage grew, nor sang
+    Water among the rocks: hard rang
+    The heel on metal, or on crust
+    Grew tender, or went soft in dust;
+    Neither for beast nor bird nor snake
+    Was harbourage; nor could such slake
+    Their thirst, nor from the bitter heat
+    Hide, since the sun not furnished it;
+    But airless, shadowless and dense
+    The land lay swooning, dead to sense
+    Beneath that vault of stuprous black,
+    Motionless hanging, without wrack
+    Of cloud to break and pass, nor rent
+    To hint the blue. Like the foul tent
+    A foul night makes, it sagged; for stars
+    Showed hopeless faces, with two scars
+    In each, their eyes' immortal woe,
+    Ever to seek and never know:
+    In all that still immensity
+    These only moved--these and the sea,
+    Which dun and sullen heaved, with surge
+    And swell unseen, save at the verge
+    Where fainted off the black to gray
+    And showed such light as on a day
+    Of sun's eclipse men tremble at.
+
+      Here the dead people moved or sat,
+    Casting no shadow, hailing none
+    Boldly; but in fierce undertone
+    They plied each other, or on-sped
+    Their way with signal of the head
+    For answer, or arms desperate
+    Flung up, or shrug disconsolate.
+    And this the quest of every one:
+    "What hope have ye?" And answer, "None."
+    Never passed shadow shadow but
+    That answer got to question put.
+    In that they lived, in that, alas!
+    Lovely and hapless, Thou must pass
+    Thy days, with this for added lot--
+    Aching, to nurse things unforgot.
+
+      Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle!
+    The Oread choir, the Oread glee:
+    The nimble air of quickening hills,
+    The sweet dawn light that floods and fills
+    The hollowed valleys; the dawn wind
+    That bids the world wake, and on blind
+    Eyelids of sleeping mortals lays
+    Cool palms that urge them see and praise
+    The Day-God coming with the sun
+    To hearten toil! He warned you run
+    And hide your beauties deep in brake
+    Of fern or briar, or reed of lake,
+    Or in wet crevice of the rock,
+    There to abide until the clock
+    You reckon by, with shadowy hands,
+    Lay benediction on the lands
+    And landsmen, and the eve-jar's croak
+    Summon ye, lightfoot fairy folk,
+    To your activity full tide
+    Over the empty earth and wide.
+    Here be your food, fair nymph, and coy
+    Of mortal ken--remember'd joy!
+
+      Remember'd joy! Ah, stormy nights,
+    Ah, the mad revel when wind fights
+    With wind, and slantwise comes the rain
+    And shatters at the window-pane,
+    To wake the hind, who little knows
+    Whose fingers drum those passionate blows,
+    Nor what swift indwellers of air
+    Ye be who hide in forms so fair
+    Your wayward motions, cruel to us,
+    While lovely, and dispiteous!
+    Ah, nights of flying scud and rout
+    When scared the slim young moon rides out
+    In her lagoon of open sky,
+    Or older, marks your revelry
+    As calm and large she oars above
+    Your drifting lives of ruth or love.
+    Boon were those nights of dusted gold
+    And glint of fireflies! Boon the cold
+    And witching frost! All's one, all's one
+    To thee, whose nights and days go on
+    Now in one span of changeless dusk
+    On one earth, crackling like the husk
+    Of the dropt mast in winter wood:
+    Remember'd joy--'tis all thy food,
+    Hypsipyle, to whose fond sprite
+    I vow my praise while I have light.
+
+      Dumbly she wandered there, as pale
+    With lack of light, with form as frail
+    As those poor hollow congeners
+    Whose searching eyes encountered hers,
+    Petitioning as mute as she
+    Some grain of hope, where none might be,
+    Daring not yet to voice their moan
+    To her whose case was not their own;
+    For where they go like breath in a shell
+    That wails, my love goes quick in Hell.
+
+      Alas, for her, the sweet and slim!
+    Slowly she pines; her eyes grow dim
+    With seeking; her smooth, sudden breasts
+    Hang languidly; those little nests
+    For kisses which her dimples were,
+    In cheeks graved hollow now by care
+    Vanish, and sharply thrusts her chin,
+    And sharp her bones of arm and shin.
+    Reproach she looks, about, above,
+    Denied her light, denied her love,
+    Denied for what she sacrificed,
+    Doomed to be fruitless agonist.
+    (O God, and I must see her fade,
+    Must see and anguish--in my shade!)
+      Nor help nor comfort gat she now
+    From her whose need called forth her vow;
+    For close in arms Queen Koré dwelt
+    In that great tower Aïdoneus built
+    To cherish her; deep in his bed,
+    Loved as the Gods love whom they wed;
+    Turned from pale maiden to pale wife,
+    Pale now with love's insatiate strife
+    First to appease, and then renew
+    The wild desire to mingle two
+    Natures, to long, to seek, to shun,
+    To have, to give, to make two one
+    That must be two if they would each
+    Learn all the lore that love can teach.
+    So strove the mistress, while the maid
+    Went alien among the dead,
+    Unspoken, speaking none, but watcht
+    By them who knew themselves outmatcht
+    By her, translated whole, nor guessed
+    What miseries gnawed within that breast,
+    Which could be toucht, which could give meat
+    To babe; which was not eye-deceit
+    As theirs, poor phantoms. So went she
+    Grudged but unscathed beside the sea,
+    Or sat alone by that sad strand
+    Nursing her worn cheek in her hand;
+    And did not mark, as day on day
+    Lengthened the arch of changeless gray,
+    How she was shadowed, how to her
+    Stretcht arms another prisoner;
+    Nor knew herself desirable
+    By any thankless guest of Hell--
+    Withal each phantom seemed no less
+    Whole-natured to her heedlessness.
+
+      Midway her round of solitude
+    She used to haunt a dead sea-wood
+    Where among boulders lifeless trees
+    Stuck rigid fingers to the breeze--
+    That stream of faint hot air that flits
+    Aimless at noon. 'Tis there she sits
+    Hour after hour, and as a dove
+    Croons when her breast is ripe for love,
+    So sings this exile, quiet, sad chants
+    Of love, yet knows not what she wants;
+    And singing there in undertone,
+    Is one day answered by the moan
+    Of hidden mourner; but no fear
+    Hath she for sound so true, though near;
+    Nay, but sings out her elegy,
+    Which, like an echo, answers he.
+    Again she sings; he suits her mood,
+    Nor breaks upon her solitude:
+    So she, choragus, calls the tune,
+    And as she leads he follows soon.
+    As bird with bird vies in the brake,
+    She sings no note he will not take--
+    As when she pleads, "Ah, my lost love,
+    The night is dark thou art not of,"
+    Quick cometh answering the phrase,
+    "O love, let all our nights be days!"
+    This, rapt, with beating heart, she heeds
+    And follows, "Sweet love, my heart bleeds!
+    Come, stay the wound thyself didst give";
+    Then he, "I come to bid thee live."
+    And so they carol, and her heart
+    Swells to believe his counterpart,
+    And strophé striketh clear, which he
+    Caps with his brave antistrophe;
+    And as a maiden waxes bold,
+    And opens what should not be told
+    When all her auditory she sees
+    Within her mirror, so to trees
+    And rocks, and sullen sounding main
+    She empties all her passioned pain;
+    And "love, love, love," her burden is,
+    And "I am starving for thee," his.
+    Moved, melted, all on fire she stands,
+    Holding abroad her quivering hands,
+    Raises her sweet eyes faint with tears
+    And dares to seek him whom she hears;
+    And from her parted lips a sigh
+    Stealeth, as knowing he is nigh
+    And her fate on her--then she'd shun
+    That which she seeks; but the thing's done.
+
+      Hollow-voiced, dim, spake her a shade,
+    "O thou that comest, nymph or maid--
+    If nymph, then maiden, since for aye
+    Virgin is immortality,
+    Nor love can change what Death cannot--
+    Look on me by love new-begot;
+    Look on me, child new-born, nor start
+    To see my form who knowest my heart;
+    For it is thine. O Mother and Wife,
+    Take then my love--thou gavest it life!"
+
+      So spake one close: to whom she lent
+    The wonder of her eyes' content--
+    That lucent gray, as if moonlight
+    Shone through a sapphire in the night--
+    And saw him faintly imaged, rare
+    As wisp of cloud on hillside bare,
+    A filamental form, a wraith
+    Shaped like that man who in the faith
+    Of one puts all his hope: who stood
+    Trembling in her near neighbourhood,
+    A thing of haunted eyes, of slim
+    And youthful seeming; yet not dim,
+    Yet not unmanly in his fashion
+    Of speech, nor impotent of passion--
+    The which his tones gave earnest of
+    And his aspéct of hopeless love;
+    Who, drawing nearer, came to stand
+    So close beside her that one hand
+    Lit on her shoulder--yet no touch
+    She felt: "O maiden overmuch,"
+    He grieved, "O body far too sweet
+    For such as I, frail counterfeit
+    Of man, who yet was once a man,
+    Cut off before the midmost span
+    Of mortal life was but half run,
+    Or ere to love he had found one
+    Like thee--yet happy in that fate,
+    That waiting, he is fortunate:
+    For better far in Hell to fare
+    With thee than commerce otherwhere,
+    Sharing the snug and fat outlook
+    Of bed and board and ingle-nook
+    With earth-bound woman, earth-born child.
+    Nay, but high love is free and wild
+    And centreth not in mortal things;
+    But to the soul giveth he wings,
+    And with the soul strikes partnership,
+    So may two let corruption slip
+    And breasting level, with far eyes
+    Lifted, seek haven in the skies,
+    Untrammel'd by the earthly mesh.
+    O thou," said he, "of fairy flesh,
+    Immortal prisoner, take of me
+    Love! 'tis my heritage in fee;
+    For I am very part thereof,
+    And share the godhead."
+                            So his love
+    Pled he with tones in love well-skilled
+    Which on her bosom beat and thrilled,
+    And pierced. No word nor look she had
+    To voice her heart, or sad or glad.
+    Rapt stood she, wooed by eager word
+    And by her need, whose cry she heard
+    Above his crying; but she guessed
+    She was desired, beset, possessed
+    Already, handfasted to sight,
+    And yielding so, her heart she plight.
+
+      Thus was her mating: of the eyes
+    And ears, and her love half surmise,
+    Detected by her burning face
+    Which saw, not felt, his fierce embrace.
+    For on her own she knew no hand
+    When caging it he seemed to stand,
+    And round her waist felt not the warm
+    Sheltered peace of the belting arm
+    She saw him clasp withal. When rained
+    His words upon her, or eyes strained
+    As though her inmost shrine to pierce
+    Where hid her heart of hearts, her ears
+    Conceived, although her body sweet
+    Might never feel a young life beat
+    And leap within it. Ah, what cry
+    That mistress e'er heard poet sigh
+    Could voice thy beauty? Or what chant
+    Of music be thy ministrant?
+    Since thou art Music, poesy
+    Must both thy spouse and increase be!
+
+      In the hot dust, where lizards crouch
+    And pant, he made her bridal couch;
+    Thither down drew her to his side
+    And, phantom, taught her to be bride
+    With words so ardent, looks so hot
+    She needs must feel what she had not,
+    Guess herself in beleaguered bed
+    And throb response. Thus she was wed.
+    As she whom Zeus loved in a cloud,
+    So lay she in her lover's shroud,
+    And o'er her members crept the chill
+    We know when mist creeps up a hill
+    Out of the vale at eve. As grows
+    The ivy, rooting as it goes,
+    In such a quick close envelope
+    She lay aswoon, nor guessed the scope
+    Nor tether of his hot intent,
+    Nor what to that inert she lent,
+    Save when at last with half-turned head
+    And glimmering eyes, encompasséd
+    She saw herself, a bride possest
+    By ghostly bridegroom, held and prest
+    To unfelt bosom, saw his mouth
+    Against her own, which to his drouth
+    Gave no allay that she could sense,
+    Nor took of her sweet recompense.
+    So moved by pity, stirred by rue,
+    Out of their onslaught young love grew.
+    Love that with delicate tongues of fire
+    Can kindle hearts inflamed desire
+    In her for him who needed it;
+    And so she claimed and by eyes' wit
+    Had what she would: and now made war,
+    Being, as all sweet women are,
+    Prudes till Love calls them, and then fierce
+    In love's high calling. Thus with her ears
+    She fed on love, and to her eyes
+    Lent deeds of passionate emprise--
+    Till at the last, the shadowy strife
+    Ended, she owned herself all wife.
+
+      High mating of the mind! O love,
+    Since this must be, on this she throve!
+    Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle,
+    Since this must be, O love, let be!
+
+_1911._
+
+
+
+
+OREITHYIA
+
+
+    Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried
+    To stormy Thrace from Athens where you tarried
+    Down by Ilissus all a blowy day
+    Among the asphodels, how rapt away
+    Thither, and in what frozen bed wert married?
+
+    "I was a King's tall daughter still unwed,
+    Slim and desirable my locks to shed
+    Free from the fillet. He my maiden belt
+    Undid with busy fingers hid but felt,
+    And made me wife upon no marriage bed.
+
+    "As idly there I lay alone he came
+    And blew upon my side, and beat a flame
+    Into my cheeks, and kindled both my eyes.
+    I suffered him who took no bodily guise:
+    The light clouds know whether I was to blame.
+
+    "Into my mouth he blew an amorous breath;
+    I panted, but lay still, as quiet as death.
+    The whispering planes and sighing grasses know
+    Whether it was the wind that loved me so:
+    I know not--only this, 'O love,' he saith,
+
+    "'O long beset with love, and overloved,
+    O easy saint, untempted and unproved,
+    O walking stilly virgin ways in hiding,
+    Come out, thou art too choice for such abiding!
+    She never valued ease who never roved.
+
+    "'Thou mayst not see thy lover, but he now
+    Is here, and claimeth thy low moonlit brow,
+    Thy wonderful eyes, and lips that part and pout,
+    And polished throat that like a flower shoots out
+    From thy dark vesture folded and crossed low.'
+
+    "With that he had his way and went his way;
+    For Gods have mastery, and a maiden's nay
+    Grows faint ere it is whispered all. I sped
+    Homeward with startled face and tiptoe tread,
+    And up the stair, and in my chamber lay.
+
+    "Crouching I lay and quaked, and heard the wind
+    Wail round the house like a mad thing confined,
+    And had no rest; turn wheresoe'er I would
+    This urgent lover stormed my solitude
+    And beat against the haven of my mind.
+
+    "And over all a clamour and dis-ease
+    Filled earth and air, and shuddered in my knees
+    So that I could not stand, but by the wall
+    Leaned pitifully breathing. Still his call
+    Volleyed against the house and tore the trees.
+
+    "Then out my turret-window as I might
+    I leaned my body to the blind wet night;
+    That eager lover leapt me, circled round,
+    Wreathed, folded, held me prisoner, wrapt and bound
+    In manacles of terror and delight.
+
+    "That night he sealed me to him, and I went
+    Thenceforth his leman, submiss and content;
+    So from the hall and feast, whenas I heard
+    His clear voice call, I flitted like a bird
+    That beats the brake, and garnered what he lent.
+
+    "I was no maid that was no wife; my days
+    Went by in dreams whose lights are golden haze
+    And skies are crimson. Laughing not, nor crying,
+    I strayed all witless with my loose hair flying,
+    Bearing that load that women think their praise.
+
+    "And felt my breasts grow heavy with that food
+    That women laugh to feel and think it good;
+    But I went shamefast, hanging down my head,
+    With girdle all too strait to serve my stead,
+    And bore an unguessed burden in my blood.
+
+    "There was a winter night he came again
+    And shook the window, till cried out my pain
+    Unto him, saying, 'Lord, I dare not live!
+    Lord, I must die of that which thou didst give!
+    Pity me, Lord!' and fell. The winter rain
+
+    "Beat at the casement, burst it, and the wind
+    Filled all the room, and swept me white and blind
+    Into the night. I heard the sound of seas
+    Beleaguer earth, I heard the roaring trees
+    Singing together. We left them far behind.
+
+    "And so he bore me into stormy Thrace,
+    Me and my load, and kissed back to my face
+    The sweet new blood of youth, and to my limbs
+    The wine of life; and there I bore him twins,
+    Zethes and Calaïs, in a rock-bound place."
+
+    Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried
+    To stormy Thrace, think you of how you tarried
+    And let him woo and wed? "Ah, no, for now
+    He's kissed all Athens from my open brow.
+    I am the Wind's wife, wooed and won and married."
+
+_1897._
+
+
+
+
+CLYTIÉ
+
+
+    Hearken, O passers, what thing
+    Fortuned in Hellas. A maid,
+    Lissom and white as the roe,
+    Lived recess'd in a glade.
+    Clytié, Hamadryad,
+    She was called that I sing--
+    Flower so fair, so frail, that to bring her a woe,
+    Surely a pitiful thing!
+
+    A wild bright creature of trees,
+    Brooks, and the sun among leaves,
+    Clytié, grown to be maid:
+    Ah, she had eyes like the sea's
+    Iris of green and blue!
+    White as sea-foam her brows,
+    And her hair reedy and gold:
+    So she grew and waxt supple and fit to be spouse
+    In a king's palace of old.
+
+    All in a kirtle of green,
+    With her tangle of red-gold hair,
+    In the live heart of an oak,
+    Clytié, harbouring there,
+    Thronéd there as a queen,
+    Clytié wondering woke:
+    Ah, child, what set thee too high for thy sweet demesne,
+    And who ponder'd the doleful stroke?
+
+    For the child that was maiden grown,
+    The queen of the forest places,
+    Clytié, Hamadryad,
+    Tired of the joy she had,
+    And the kingdom that was her own;
+    And tired of the quick wood-races,
+    And joy of herself in the pool when she wonder'd down,
+    And tired of her budded graces.
+
+    And the child lookt up to the Sun
+    And the burning track of his car
+    In the broad serene above her:
+    "O King Sun, be thou my lover,
+    For my beauty is just begun.
+    I am fresh and fair as a star;
+    Come, lie where the lilies are:
+    Behold, I am fair and dainty and white all over,
+    And I waste in the wood unknown!"
+
+    Rose-flusht, daring, she strain'd
+    Her young arms up, and she voiced
+    The wild desire of her heart.
+    The woodland heard her, the faun,
+    The satyr, and things that start,
+    Peering, heard her; the dove, crooning, complain'd
+    In the pine-tree by the lawn.
+    Only the runnel rejoiced
+    In his rushy hollow apart
+    To see her beauty flash up
+    White and red as the dawn.
+
+    Sorrow, ye passers-by,
+    The quick lift of her word,
+    The crimson blush of her pride!
+    Heard her the heavens' lord
+    In his flaming seat in the sky:
+    "Overbold of her years that will not be denied;
+    She would be the Sun-God's bride!"
+    His brow it was like the flat of a sword,
+    And levin the glance of his side.
+
+    And he bent unto her, and his mouth
+    Burnt her like coals of fire;
+    He gazed with passionate eyes,
+    Like flame that kindles and dries,
+    And his breath suckt hers as the white rage of the South
+    Draws life; his desire
+    Was like to a tiger's drouth.
+    What shall the slim maiden avail?
+    Alas, and alas for her youth!
+
+    Tremble, O maids, that would set
+    Your love-longing to the Sun!
+    For Clytié mourn, and take heed
+    How she loved her king and did bleed
+    Ere kissing had yet begun.
+    For lo! one shaft from his terrible eyes she met,
+    And it burnt to her soul, and anon
+    She paled, and the fever-fret
+    Did bite to her bones; and wan
+    She fell to rueing the deed.
+
+    Mark ye, maidens, and cower!
+    Lo, for an end of breath,
+    Clytié, hardy and frail,
+    Anguisht after her death.
+    For the Sun-flower droops and is pale
+    When her king hideth his power,
+    And ever draggeth the woe of her piteous tale,
+    As a woman that laboureth
+    Yet never reacheth the hour:
+    So Clytié yearns to the Sun, for her wraith
+    Moans in the bow'd sunflower.
+
+    Clytié, Hamadryad,
+    Called was she that I sing:
+    Flower so fair and frail that to work her this woe,
+    Surely a pitiful thing!
+
+_1894._
+
+
+
+
+LAI OF GOBERTZ[1]
+
+
+    Of courteous Limozin wight,
+    Gobertz, I will indite:
+    From Poicebot had he his right
+          Of gentlehood;
+    Made monk in his own despite
+    In San Léonart the white,
+    Withal to sing and to write
+          _Coblas_ he could.
+
+    Learning had he, and rare
+    Music, and _gai saber_:
+    No monk with him to compare
+          In that monast'ry.
+    Full lusty he was to bear
+    Cowl and chaplet of hair
+    God willeth monks for to wear
+          For sanctity.
+
+    There in dortoir as he lay,
+    To this Gobertz, by my fay,
+    Came fair women to play
+          In his sleep;
+    Then he had old to pray,
+    Fresh and silken came they,
+    With eyen saucy and gray
+          That set him weep.
+
+    May was the month, and soft
+    The singing nights; up aloft
+    The quarter moon swam and scoffed
+          His unease.
+    Rose this Gobertz, and doffed
+    His habit, and left that croft,
+    Crying _Eleison_ oft
+          At Venus' knees.
+
+    Heartly the road and the town
+    Mauléon, over the down,
+    Sought he, and the renown
+          Of Savaric;
+    To that good knight he knelt down,
+    Asking of him in bown
+    Almesse of laurel crown
+          For his music.
+
+    Fair him Savaric spake,
+    "If _coblas_ you know to make,
+    Song and music to wake
+          For your part,
+    Horse and lute shall you take
+    Of _Jongleur_, lightly forsake
+    Cloister for woodland brake
+          With good heart."
+
+    Down the high month of May
+    Now rideth Gobertz his way
+    To Aix, to Puy, to Alais,
+          To Albi the old;
+    In Toulouse mindeth to stay
+    With Count Simon the Gay,
+    There to abide what day
+          Love shall hold.
+
+    Shrill riseth his song:
+    _Cobla_, _lai_, or _tenzon_,
+    None can render him wrong
+          In that _meinie_--
+    Love alone, that erelong
+    Showed him in all that throng
+    Of ladies Tibors the young,
+          None but she.
+
+    She was high-hearted and fair,
+    Low-breasted, with hair
+    Gilded, and eyes of vair
+          In burning face:
+    On her Gobertz astare,
+    Looking, stood quaking there
+    To see so debonnair
+          Hold her place.
+
+    Proud _donzela_ and free,
+    To clip nor to kiss had she
+    Talént, nor for minstrelsy
+          Was she fain;
+    Mistress never would be,
+    Nor master have; but her fee
+    She vowed to sweet Chastity,
+          Her suzerain.
+
+    Then this Gobertz anon
+    Returneth to Mauléon,
+    To Savaric maketh moan
+          On his knees.
+    Other pray'r hath he none
+    Save this, "Sir, let me begone
+    Whence I came, since fordone
+          My expertise."
+
+    Quod Savaric, "Hast thou sped
+    So ill in _amors_?" Answeréd
+    This Gobertz, "By my head,
+          She scorneth me."
+    "_Hauberc_ and arms then, instead
+    Of lute and begarlanded
+    Poll, take you," he said,
+          "For errantry."
+
+    Now rides he out, a dubbed knight,
+    The Spanish road, for to fight
+    Paynimry; day and night
+          Urgeth he;
+    In Saragoza the bright,
+    And Pampluna with might
+    Seeketh he what respite
+          For grief there be.
+
+    War-dimmed grew his gear,
+    Grim his visage; in fear
+    Listened Mahound his cheer
+          Deep in Hell.
+    Fled his legions to hear
+    Gobertz the knight draw near.
+    Now he closeth the year
+          In Compostell.
+
+    Offering there hath he made
+    Saint James, candles him paid,
+    Gold on the shrine hath laid;
+          Now Gobertz
+    Is for Toulouse, where that maid
+    Tibors wonned unafraid
+    Of Love and his accolade
+          That breaketh hearts.
+
+    He rode north and by east,
+    Nor rider spared he nor beast,
+    Nor tempered spur till at least
+          Forth of Spain;
+    Not for mass-bell nor priest,
+    For fast-day nor yet for feast
+    Stayed he, till voyage ceased
+          In Aquitaine.
+
+    Now remaineth to tell
+    What this Gobertz befell
+    When that he sought hostel
+          In his land.
+    Dined he well, drank he well,
+    Envy then had somedeal
+    With women free in _bordel_
+          For to spend.
+
+    In poor _alberc_ goeth he
+    Where bought pleasure may be,
+    Careless proffereth fee
+          For his bliss.
+    O Gobertz, look to thee.
+    Such a sight shalt thou see
+    Will make the red blood to flee
+          Thy heart, ywis.
+
+    Fair woman they bring him in
+    Shamefast in her burning sin,
+    All afire is his skin
+          _Par amors_.
+    Look not of her look to win,
+    Dare not lift up her chin,
+    Gobertz; in that soiled fond thing
+          Lo, Tibors!
+
+    "O love, O love, out, alas!
+    That it should come to this pass,
+    And thou be even as I was
+          In green youth,
+    Whenas delight and solace
+    Served I with wantonness,
+    And burned anon like the grass
+          To this ruth!"
+
+    But then lift she her sad eyes,
+    Gray like wet morning skies,
+    That wait the sun to arise,
+          Tears to amend.
+    "Gobertz, _amic_," so she cries,
+    "By Jesus' agonies
+    Hither come I by lies
+          Of false friend.
+
+    "Sir Richart de Laund he hight,
+    Who fair promised me plight
+    Of word and ring, on a night
+          Of no fame;
+    So then evilly bright
+    Had his will and delight
+    Of me, and fled unrequite
+          For my shame!
+
+    "Alas, and now to my thought
+    Flieth the woe that I wrought
+    Thee, Gobertz, that distraught
+          Thou didst fare.
+    Now a vile thing of nought
+    Fare I that once was so haught
+    And free, and could not be taught
+          By thy care."
+
+    But Gobertz seeth no less
+    Her honour and her sweetness,
+    Soon her small hand to kiss
+          Taketh he,
+    Saying, "Now for that stress
+    Drave thee here thou shalt bless
+    God, for so ending this
+          Thy penury."
+
+    Yet she would bid him away,
+    Seeking her sooth to say,
+    In what woful array
+          She was cast.
+    "Nay," said he, "but, sweet may,
+    Here must we bide until day:
+    Then to church and to pray
+          Go we fast."
+
+    Now then to all his talént,
+    Seeing how he was bent,
+    Him the comfort she lent
+          Of her mind.
+    Cried Gobertz, well content,
+    "If love by dreariment
+    Cometh, that was well spent,
+          As I find."
+
+    Thereafter somewhat they slept,
+    When to his arms she had crept
+    For comfort, and freely wept
+          Sin away.
+    Up betimes then he leapt,
+    Calling her name: forth she stept
+    Meek, disposed, to accept
+          What he say.
+
+    By hill road taketh he her
+    To the gray nuns of Beaucaire,
+    There to shred off her hair
+          And take veil.
+    Himself to cloister will fare
+    Monk to be, with good care
+    For their two souls. May his pray'r
+          Them avail!
+
+_1911._
+
+[1] I owe the substance of this _lai_ to my friend Ezra Pound, who
+unearthed it, ψαμάθῳ εἰλυμένα πολλῇ, in some Provençal repertory.
+
+
+
+
+THE SAINTS' MAYING
+
+
+    Since green earth is awake
+    Let us now pastime take,
+    Not serving wantonness
+    Too well, nor niggardness,
+    Which monks of men would make.
+
+    But clothed like earth in green,
+    With jocund hearts and clean,
+    We will take hands and go
+    Singing where quietly blow
+    The flowers of Spring's demesne.
+
+    The cuckoo haileth loud
+    The open sky; no cloud
+    Doth fleck the earth's blue tent;
+    The land laughs, well content
+    To put off winter shroud.
+
+    Now, since 'tis Easter Day,
+    All Christians may have play;
+    The young Saints, all agaze
+    For Christ in Heaven's maze,
+    May laugh who wont to pray.
+
+    Then welcome to our round
+    They light on homely ground:--
+    Agnes, Saint Cecily,
+    Agatha, Dorothy,
+    Margaret, Hildegonde;
+
+    Next come with Barbara
+    Lucy and Ursula;
+    And last, queen of the Nine,
+    Clear-eyed Saint Catherine
+    Joyful arrayeth her.
+
+    Then chooseth each her lad,
+    And after frolic had
+    Of dance and carolling
+    And playing in a ring,
+    Seek all the woodland shade.
+
+    And there for each his lass
+    Her man a nosegay has,
+    Which better than word spoken
+    Might stand to be her token
+    And emblem of her grace.
+
+    For Cecily, who bent
+    Her slim white neck and went
+    To Heaven a virgin still,
+    The nodding daffodil,
+    That bends but is not shent.
+
+    Lucy, whose wounded eyes
+    Opened in Heaven star-wise,
+    The lady-smock, whose light
+    Doth prank the grass with white,
+    Taketh for badge and prize.
+
+    Because for Lord Christ's hest
+    Men shore thy warm bright breast,
+    Agatha, see thy part
+    Showed in the burning heart
+    Of the white crocus best.
+
+    What fate was Barbara's
+    Shut in the tower of brass,
+    We figure and hold up
+    Within the stiff king-cup
+    That crowns the meadow grass.
+
+    Agnes, than whose King Death
+    Stayed no more delicate breath
+    On earth, we give for dower
+    Wood-sorrel, that frail flower
+    That Spring first quickeneth.
+
+    Dorothy, whose shrill voice
+    Bade Heathendom rejoice,
+    The sweet-breath'd cowslip hath;
+    And Margaret, who in death
+    Saw Heaven, her pearly choice.
+
+    Then she of virgin brood
+    Whom Prince of Britain woo'd,
+    Ursula, takes by favour
+    The hyacinth whose savour
+    Enskies the sunny wood.
+
+    Hildegonde, whose spirit high
+    The Cross did not deny,
+    Yet blusht to feel the shame,
+    Anemones must claim,
+    Whose roses early die.
+
+    Last, she who gave in pledge
+    Her neck to the wheel's edge,
+    Taketh the fresh primrose
+    Which (even as she her foes)
+    Redeems the wintry hedge.
+
+    So garlanded, entwined,
+    Each as may prompt her mind,
+    The Saints renew for Earth
+    And Heaven such seemly mirth
+    As God once had design'd.
+
+    And when the day is done,
+    And veil'd the goodly Sun,
+    Each man his maid by right
+    Doth kiss and bid Good-night;
+    And home goes every one.
+
+    The maids to Heaven do hie
+    To serve God soberly;
+    The lads, their loves in Heaven,
+    What lowly work is given
+    They do, to win the sky.
+
+_1896._
+
+
+
+
+THE ARGIVE WOMEN[2]
+
+ CHTHONOË          MYRTILLA
+ RHODOPE           PASIPHASSA
+ GORGO             SITYS
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SCENE
+
+The women's house in the House of Paris in Troy.
+
+TIME.--The Tenth year of the War.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ _Helen's women are lying alone in the twilight
+     hour. Chthonoë presently rises and throws a
+     little incense upon the altar flame. Then she
+     begins to speak to the Image of Aphrodite in
+     a low and tired voice._
+
+
+                CHTHONOË
+
+    Goddess of burning and little rest,
+    By the hand swaying on thy breast,
+    By glancing eye and slow sweet smile
+    Tell me what long look or what guile
+    Of thine it was that like a spear
+    Pierced her heart, who caged me here
+    In this close house, to be with her
+    Mistress at once and prisoner!
+      Far from earth and her pleasant ways
+    I lie, whose nights are as my days
+    In this dim house, where on the wall
+    I watch the shadows rise and fall
+    And know not what is reckt or done
+    By men and horses out in the sun,
+    Nor heed their traffic, nor their cheer
+    As forth they go or back, but hear
+    The fountain plash into the pond,
+    The brooding doves, and sighs of fond
+    Lovers whose lips yearn as they sever
+    For longer joy, joy such as never
+    Hath man but in the mind. But what
+    Men do without, that I know not
+    Who see them but as shadows thrown
+    Upon a screen. I see them blown
+    Like clouds of flies about the plain
+    Where the winds sweep them and make vain
+    Their panoplies. They hem the verge
+    Of this high wall to guard us--urge
+    Galloping horses into war
+    And meet in shock of battle, far
+    Below us and our dreams: withal
+    Ten years have past us in this thrall
+    Since Helen came with eyes agleam
+    To Troy, and trod the ways of dream.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Men came about us, crying, "The Greeks!
+    Ships out at sea with high-held peaks
+    Like questing birds!" But I lay still
+    Kissing, nor turned.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+                          So I, until
+    The herald broke into my sleep,
+    Crying Agamemnon on the deep
+    With ships from high Mykenai. Then
+    I minded he was King of Men--
+    But not of women in the arms
+    They loved.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+                I heard their shrill alarms
+    Faint and far off, like an old fame.
+    Below this guarded house men came--
+    Chariots and horses clasht; they cried
+    King Agamemnon in his pride,
+    Or Hector, or young Diomede;
+    But I was kissing, could not heed
+    Aught save the eyes that held mine bound.
+    Anon a hush--anon the sound
+    Of hooves resistless, pounding--a cry,
+    "Achilles! Save yourselves!" But I--
+    Clinging I lay, and sighed in sign
+    That love must weary at last, even mine--
+    Even mine, Sweetheart!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                            Who watcht when flared
+    Lord Hector like a meteor, dared
+    The high stockade and fired the ships?
+    I watcht his lips who had had my lips.
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    And when he slew Menoikios' son,
+    Sister, what then?
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                        My cheek was wan
+    For lack of kissing--so I blew
+    On slumbering lids to draw anew
+    The eyes of him who had loved me well,
+    But now was faint.
+
+
+                CHTHONOË
+
+                        O Kypris, tell
+    The deeds of men, not lovers!
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+                                  Here
+    Came one all palsied in his fear,
+    Chattering and white, to Paris abed,
+    Flusht in his sleep--told Hector dead,
+    Dead and dishonoured, while he slept.
+    He sighed and turned. But Helen wept.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Not I. I turned and felt warm draught
+    Of breath upon my cheek, and laught
+    Softly, and snuggling, slept.
+
+
+                CHTHONOË
+
+                                  Fie, fie!
+    Goddess, drugged in thy dreams we lie,
+    Logs, not women, logs in the sun!
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    Thou art sated. So fretteth One,
+    The very fount of Love's sweet well,
+    The chord of Love made visible,
+    Sickened of her own loveliness,
+    Haggard as hawk too long in jess,
+    Aching for flight.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+                        Recall the bout
+    When Paris armed him and went out
+    Into the lists, and all men thronged
+    To see----
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+                Lord Paris and him he wronged
+    Fight for her, who should have her! We stood
+    Upon the walls, and she with her hood
+    Close to her cheek. But I saw the flicker
+    In her blue eyes!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                      But I was quicker,
+    And saw the man she looked upon,
+    And after what her blue eyes shone
+    Like cyanus in morning light.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Husband and lover she saw fight,
+    Man to man, with death between.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    Hatred coucht, as long and lean
+    As a lone wolf, on her man's crest--
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    And bit the Trojan!
+
+
+                CHTHONOË
+
+                        Thine was the rest,
+    Goddess! And Helen lit the fire,
+    With her disdain, of his desire.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Her eyes burned like the frosty stars
+    Of winter midnight.
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                        His the scars!
+    Bitten in his wax-pale cheek.
+
+
+                CHTHONOË
+
+    Nay, in his heart----
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+                          Nay, in his bleak
+    And writhen smile you see it!
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+                                  Nay!
+    In his sick soul.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+                      Let him go his way!
+    Hear my thought of a happier thing--
+    Sparta's trees in flood of spring
+    Where Eurotas' banks abrim
+    Drown the reeds, and foam-clots swim
+    Like a scattered brood of duck!
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Flowers anod! White flowers to pluck,
+    Stiffened in the foamy curds!
+    Ah, the green thickets quick with birds!
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    Calling Itys! Itys! Itys!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    She calls not here--her house it is
+    In Sparta!
+
+
+                RHODOPE (_with a sob_)
+
+                Peace!
+
+
+                CHTHONOË
+
+                        From my heart a cry--
+    Send me back, Goddess, ere I die
+    To those dear places and clean things--
+    To see my people, feel the wings
+    Of the gray night fold over me,
+    And touch my mother's knees, and be
+    Her child, as long ago I was
+    Before I lay burning in Ilios!
+
+                [_They hide their faces in their knees.
+                      Then one by one they sing._]
+
+    Let me sing an old sweet air,
+    Mother of Argos, to Thee,
+    For hope in my heart is fair
+    As light on the hills seen from afar at sea;
+    And my weary eyes turn there
+    As to the haven where my soul would be.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    I will arise and make choice
+    The house of my tumbled breast,
+    For she cometh, I hear the voice
+    Of her wings of healing, and she shall be my guest;
+    And my joys shall be her joys,
+    And my home her home, O wind of the South West!
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    As a bird that listens and thrills,
+    Hidden deep in the night,
+    For the sound of the little rills
+    That run musically towards the light;
+    As a hart to the high hills
+    Turneth his dying eyes, my soul takes flight.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Ah, to be folded deep
+    In the shade of Taygetus,
+    In my mother's arms to sleep
+    Even as a child when I lay harboured thus!
+    Oh, that I were as thy sheep,
+    Lacedaemon, my land, cradle and nurse of us!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    In Argos they sow the grain,
+    In Troy blood is their sowing;
+    There a green mantle covers the plain
+    Where the sweet green corn and sweet short grass are growing;
+    But here passion and pain--
+    Blood and dust upon earth, and a hot wind blowing.
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    To the hold on the far red hill
+    From the hold on the wide green lea,
+    Over the running water, follow who will
+    Therapnae's hawk with the dove of Amyklae.
+    But I would lie husht and still,
+    And feel the new grass growing quick over me!
+
+          [_The scene grows dark as they sit.
+              Their eyes are full of tears.
+              Presently one looks up, listening,
+              then another, then another. They
+              are all alert._]
+
+
+                CHTHONOË
+
+    Who prayeth peace? I feel her peace
+    Steal through me as a quiet air
+    Enters the house with sweet increase
+    Of light to healing, praise to prayer!
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    What do I know of guiltiness
+    When she is here, and with grave eyes
+    Seeketh the ways of quietness
+    And lampeth them?
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+                      Arise, arise!
+
+                      [_They all stand waiting._]
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Hark! Her footfall like the dew--
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    As a flower by frost made sere
+    Long before the sun breaks through,
+    Feeleth him, I know her near.
+
+                    [_Helen stands in the doorway._]
+
+
+                CHTHONOË
+
+    This is she, the source of light,
+    Source of light and end of it,
+    Argive Helen, slim and sweet,
+    For whose bosom and delight,
+    For whose eyes, those wells of peace,
+    Paris wrought, as well he might,
+    Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    Starry wonder that she was,
+    Caged like sea-bird in his arms,
+    See her passion thrill, then pass
+    From him who, doting on her charms,
+    So became abominable.
+    Watch her bosom dip and swell,
+    See her nostrils fan and curve
+    At his touch who loved not well,
+    But loved too much, who broke the spell;
+    Watch her proud head stiffen and swerve.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Upon the wall with claspt white hands
+    See her vigil keep intent,
+    Argive Helen, lo! she stands
+    Looking seaward where the fires
+    Hem the shore innumerable;
+    Sign of that avenging host,
+    All Achaia's chivalry,
+    Past the tongue of man to tell,
+    Peers and kindred of her sires
+    Come to win back Helen lost.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    There to her in that gray hour,
+    That gray hour before the sun,
+    Cometh he she waiteth for,
+    Menelaus like a ghost,
+    Like a dry leaf tempest-tost,
+    Stalking restless, her reproach.
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    There alone, those two, long severed been,
+    Eye each other, one wild heart between.
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    "O thou ruinous face,
+    O thou fatally fair,
+    O the pity of thee!
+    What dost thou there,
+    Watching the madness of me?"
+
+
+                CHTHONOË
+
+    Him seemed her eyes were pools of dark
+    To drown him, yet no word she spake;
+    But gazing, grave as a lonely house,
+    All her wonder thrilled to wake.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    "By thy roses and snow,
+    By thy sun-litten hair,
+    By thy low bosom and slow
+    Pondered kisses, O hear!
+
+    "By thy glimmering eyes,
+    By thy burning cheek,
+    By thy murmuring sighs,
+    Speak, Helen, O speak!
+
+    "Ruinous Face, O Ruinous Face,
+    Art thou come so early," he said,
+    "So early forth from the wicked bed?"
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Him she pondered, grave and still,
+    Stirring not from her safe place:
+    He marked the glow, he felt the thrill,
+    He saw the dawn new in her face.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Within her low voice wailed the tone
+    Of one who grieves and prays for death:
+    "Lord, I am come to be alone,
+    Alone here with my sorrow," she saith.
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    "False wife, what pity was thine
+    For hearth and altar, for man and child?
+    What is thy sorrow worth unto mine?"
+    She rocked, moaning, "I was beguiled!"
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece
+    By her begun, the slim, the sweet,
+    Ended by her in final peace
+    Of him who loved her first of all;
+    Nor ever swerved from his high passion,
+    But through misery and shame
+    Saw her spirit like a flame
+    Eloquent of her sacred fashion--
+    Hers whose eyes are homes of light,
+    To which she tends, from which she came.
+
+_1912._
+
+[2] _Helen Redeemed_, the first poem in this book, was originally
+conceived as a drama. Here is a scene from it, the first after the
+Prologue, which would have been spoken by Odysseus. The action of the
+play would have begun with the entry of Helen.
+
+
+
+
+GNATHO
+
+
+    Gnatho, Satyr, homing at dusk,
+    Trotting home like a tired dog,
+    By mountain slopes 'twixt the junipers
+    And flamed oleanders near the sea,
+    Found a girl-child asleep in a fleece,
+    Frail as wax, golden and rose;
+    Whereat at first he skipt aside
+    And stayed him, nosing and peering, whereto
+    Next he crept, softly breathing,
+    Blinking his fear. None was there
+    To guard; the sun had dipt in the sea,
+    Faint fire empurpled the flow
+    Of heaving water; no speck, no hint
+    Of oar or wing on the main, on the deep
+    Sky, empty as a great shell,
+    Fainting in its own glory. This thing,
+    This rare breath, this miracle--
+    Alone with him in the world! His
+    To wonder, fall to, with craning eyes
+    Fearfully daring; next, since it moved not,
+    Stooping, to handle, to stroke, to peer upon
+    Closely, nosing its tender length,
+    Doglike snuffing--at last to kiss
+    In reverence wonderful, lightlier far
+    Than thistledown falls, brushing the Earth.
+    But the child awoke and, watching him, cried not,
+    Cruddled visage, choppy hands,
+    Blinking eyes, red-litten, astare,
+    Horns and feet--nay, crowed and strained
+    To reach this wonder.
+                          As one a glass
+    Light as foam, hued like the foam,
+    A breath-bubble of fire, will carry,
+    He in arms lifted his freight,
+    Looking wonderfully upon it
+    With scarce a breath, and humbleness
+    To be so brute ebbed to the flood
+    Of pride in his new assuréd worth--
+    Trusted so, who could be vile?
+
+    So to his cave in the wood he bore her,
+    Fleeting swift as a fear thro' the dark trees.
+
+    There in the silence of tall trees,
+    Under the soaring shafts,
+    Far beneath the canopied leafage,
+    In the forest whisper, the thick silences;
+    Or on the wastes
+    Of sheltered mountains where the spires
+    Of solemn cypress frame the descent
+    Upon the blue, and open to sea--
+    Here grew Ianthe maiden slim
+    With none to spy but this gnarled man-brute;
+    Most fair, most hid, like a wood-flower
+    Slim for lack of light; so she grew
+    In flowering line of limb
+    And flower of face, retired and shy,
+    Urged by the bland air; unknown,
+    Lonely and lovely, husbanding
+    Her great possessions--hers now,
+    Another's when he cared to claim them.
+    For thus went life: to lead the herds
+    Of pricking deer she saw the great stags
+    Battle in empty glades, then mate;
+    Thus on the mountains chose the bears,
+    And in the woods she heard the wolves
+    Anguishing in their loves
+    Thro' the dense nights, far in the forest.
+    And so collected went she, and sure
+    Her time would come and with it her master.
+
+    But Gnatho watcht her under his brows
+    When she lay heedless, spilling beauty--
+    How ever lovelier, suppler, sleeker,
+    How more desirable, how near;
+    How rightly his, how surely his--
+    Then gnaw'd his cheek and turn'd his head.
+
+    For unsuspect, some dim forbidding
+    Rose within him and knockt at his heart
+    And said, Not thine, but for reverence.
+    And some wild horror desperate drove him,
+    Suing a pardon from unknown Gods
+    For untold trespass, to seek the sea,
+    Upon whose shore, to whose cool breathing
+    He'd stretch his arms, broken with strife
+    Of self and self; and all that water
+    Steadfast lapt and surged. Came tears
+    To furrow his cheeks, came strength to return
+    To her, and bear with longer breath
+    Her sweet familiarities, blind
+    Obedience to nascent blind desire--
+    Till again he lookt and burn'd again.
+
+    Thus his black ferment boil'd. O' nights
+    He'd dream and revel frenziedly
+    As with the love-stung nymphs. Awake,
+    In a chill sweat, he'd tear at himself,
+    Claw at his flesh and leap in the brook,
+    Drench the red embers of his vice
+    Into a mass abhorred. Clean then,
+    He'd seek his bed and pass unscath'd
+    The bower of fern where the sleek limbs
+    Of white Ianthe, mesht in her hair,
+    Lay lax in sleep. But Gnatho now
+    Saw only God, as on some still peak
+    Snowy and lonely under the stars
+    We look, and see God in all that calm.
+
+    One night of glamour, under a moon
+    That seemed to steep the air with gold,
+    They two sat stilly and watcht the sea
+    Tremulously heaving over a path
+    Of light like a river of molten gold.
+    Warm blew the breeze to land; she lean'd
+    Her idle head, idly played
+    Her fingers in his belt, and he
+    Embracing held her, yielding, subdued;
+    Sideways saw the curve of her cheek,
+    Downcast lashes, droopt lip
+    Which seem'd to court his pleasure--
+                                          Then
+    On waves of fire came racing his needs
+    With zest of rage to possess and tear
+    That which his frenzy, maskt as love,
+    Courted: so he lean'd to her ear,
+    Thrilled in torrents hoarse his case--
+    "Love, I burn, I burn!
+    Slake me, love!" He raved in whisper.
+    And she lookt up with her wide full eyes,
+    Saying, "My love!" and yielded herself.
+
+    Deep night settled on hill and plain,
+    The moon went out, the concourse of stars
+    Lay strewn above, and with golden eyes
+    Peered on them lockt. Far and faint
+    The great stags belled; far and faint
+    Quested the wolves; the leopards' howling
+    Lent desolation to night; and low
+    The night-jar purr'd. At sea one light
+    Swayed restlessly, and on the rocks
+    Sounded the tireless lapping deep.
+    Lockt they lay thro' all the silences.
+
+      Dawn stole in with whimper of rain
+    And a wailing wind from the sea--
+    Gray sea, gray dawn and scurrying clouds
+    And scud of rain. The fisher boat,
+    The sands, the headlands fringed with broom
+    And tamarisk were blotted.
+                                Alone,
+    Caged in the mist of earth
+    That beat his torment back to himself,
+    So that in vain he sought for the Gods,
+    And lifted up hands in vain
+    To witness this white wreck prone and still--
+    Gnatho the Satyr blinkt on his work.
+
+_1898-1912._
+
+
+
+
+TO THE GODS OF THE COUNTRY
+
+
+    Sun and Moon, shine upon me;
+      Make glad my days and clear my nights!
+
+    O Earth, whose child I am,
+      Grant me thy patience!
+
+    O Heaven, whose heir I may be,
+      Keep quick my hope!
+
+    Your steadfastness I need, O Hills;
+      O Rain, thy kindness!
+
+    Snow, keep me pure;
+      O Fire, teach me thy pride!
+
+    From you, ye Winds, I ask your blitheness!
+
+_1909._
+
+
+
+
+FOURTEEN SONNETS
+
+1896
+
+
+ALMA SDEGNOSA
+
+    Not that dull spleen which serves i' the world for scorn,
+      Is hers I watch from far off, worshipping
+      As in remote Chaldaea the ancient king
+    Adored the star that heralded the morn.
+    Her proud content she bears as a flag is borne
+      Tincted the hue royal; or as a wing
+      It lifts her soaring, near the daylight spring,
+    Whence, if she lift, our days must pass forlorn.
+
+    The pure deriving of her spirit-state
+    Is so remote from men and their believing,
+    They shrink when she is cold, and estimate
+    That hardness which is but a God's dismay:
+    As when the Heaven-sent sprite thro' Hell sped cleaving,
+    Only the gross air checkt him on his way.
+
+
+THE WINDS' POSSESSION
+
+    When winds blow high and leaves begin to fall,
+      And the wan sunlight flits before the blast;
+    When fields are brown and crops are garnered all,
+      And rooks, like mastered ships, drift wide and fast;
+    Maid Artemis, that feeleth her young blood
+      Leap like a freshet river for the sea,
+    Speedeth abroad with hair blown in a flood
+      To snuff the salt west wind and wanton free.
+
+    Then would you know how brave she is, how high
+    Her ancestry, how kindred to the wind,
+    Mark but her flashing feet, her ravisht eye
+    That takes the boist'rous weather and feels it kind:
+    And hear her eager voice, how tuned it is
+    To Autumn's clarion shrill for Artemis.
+
+
+ASPETTO REALE
+
+    That hour when thou and Grief were first acquainted
+      Thou wrotest, "Come, for I have lookt on death."
+      Piteous I held my indeterminate breath
+    And sought thee out, and saw how he had painted
+    Thine eyes with rings of black; yet never fainted
+      Thy radiant immortality underneath
+      Such stress of dark; but then, as one that saith,
+    "I know Love liveth," sat on by death untainted.
+
+    O to whom Grief too poignant was and dry
+    To sow in thee a fountain crop of tears!
+    O youth, O pride, set too remote and high
+    For touch of solace that gives grace to men!
+    Thy life must be our death, thy hopes our fears:
+    We weep, thou lookest strangely--we know thee then!
+
+
+KIN CONFESSED
+
+    Long loving, all our love was husbanded
+      Until one morning on the brown hillside,
+      One misty Autumn morn when Sun did hide
+    His radiance, yet was felt. No words we said,
+      But in one flash transfigured, glorified,
+    All her heart's tumult beating white and red,
+      She fell prone on her face and hid her wide
+    Over-brimmed eyes in dewy fern.
+                                    I prayed,
+    Then spake, "In us two now is manifest
+    That throbbing kindred whereof thou art graft
+    And I the grafted, in this holy place."
+    She, turning half, with sober shame confest
+    Discovery, then hid her rosy face.
+    I read her wilding heart, and my heart laught.
+
+
+QUEL GIORNO PIÙ ...
+
+    That day--it was the last of many days,
+      Nor could we know when such days might be given
+    Again--we read how Dante trod the ways
+      Of utmost Hell, and how his heart was riven
+      By sad Francesca, whose sin was forgiven
+    So far that, on her Paolo fixing gaze,
+      She supt on his again, and thought it Heaven,
+    She knew her gentler fate and felt it praise.
+
+    We read that lovers' tale; each lookt at each;
+    But one was fearless, innocent of guile;
+    So did the other learn what she could teach:
+    We read no more, we kiss'd not, but a smile
+    Of proud possession flasht, hover'd a while
+    'Twixt soul and soul. There was no need for speech.
+
+
+ABSENCE
+
+    When she had left us but a little while
+      Methought I sensed her spirit here and there
+      About my house: upon the empty stair
+    Her robe brusht softly; o'er her chamber still
+    There lay her fragrant presence to beguile
+      Numb heart, dead heart. I knelt before her chair,
+      And praying felt her hand laid on my hair,
+    Felt her sweet breath, and guess'd her wistful smile.
+
+    Then thro' my tears I lookt about the room,
+    But she was gone. I heard my heart beat fast;
+    The street was silent; I could not see her now.
+    Sorrow and I took up our load, and past
+    To where our station was with heads bent low,
+    And autumn's death-moan shiver'd thro' the gloom.
+
+
+PRESENCE
+
+    When she had left us but a little while,
+      I still could hear the ringing of her voice,
+    Still see athwart the dusk her shy half-smile
+      And that sweet trust wherein I most rejoice.
+
+    Then in her self-same tones I heard, "Go thou,
+      Set to that work appointed thee to do,
+    Remembering I am with thee here and now,
+      Watchful as ever. See, my eyes shine true!"
+
+    I lookt, and saw the concourse of clear stars,
+      Steadfast, of limpid candour, and could discover
+    Her soul look on me thro' the prison-bars
+      Which slunk like sin from such an honest Lover:
+
+    And thro' the vigil-pauses of that night
+    She beam'd on me; and my soul felt her light.
+
+
+DREAM ANGUISH
+
+    My thought of thee is tortured in my sleep--
+      Sometimes thou art near beside me, but a cloud
+    Doth grudge me thy pale face, and rise to creep
+      Slowly about thee, to lap thee in a shroud;
+    And I, as standing by my dead, to weep
+      Desirous, cannot weep, nor cry aloud.
+      Or we must face the clamouring of a crowd
+    Hissing our shame; and I who ought to keep
+      Thine honour safe and my betrayed heart proud,
+    Knowing thee true, must watch a chill doubt leap
+      The tired faith of thee, and thy head bow'd,
+    Nor budge while the gross world holdeth thee cheap!
+
+    Or there are frost-bound meetings, and reproach
+    At parting, furtive snatches full of fear;
+    Love grown a pain; we bleed to kiss, and kiss
+    Because we bleed for love; the time doth broach
+    Shame, and shame teareth at us till we tear
+    Our hearts to shreds--yet wilder love for this!
+
+
+HYMNIA-BEATRIX
+
+    Before you pass and leave me gaunt and chill
+      Alone to do what I have joyed in doing
+    In your glad sight, suffer me, nor take ill
+      If I confess you prize and me pursuing.
+      As the rapt Tuscan lifted up his eyes
+    Whither his Lady led, and lived with her,
+      Strong in her strength, and in her wisdom wise,
+    Love-taught with song to be her thurifer;
+      So I, that may no nearer stand than he
+    To minister about the holy place,
+    Am well content to watch my Heaven in thee
+    And read my Credo in thy sacred face.
+      For even as Beatrix Dante's wreath did bind,
+    So, Hymnia, hast thou imparadised my mind.
+
+
+LUX E TENEBRIS
+
+    I thank all Gods that I can let thee go,
+      Lady, without one thought, one base desire
+      To tarnish that clear vision I gained by fire,
+    One stain in me I would not have thee know.
+    That is great might indeed that moves me so
+      To look upon thy Form, and yet aspire
+      To look not there, rather than I should mire
+    That wingéd Spirit that haunts and guards thy brow.
+
+    So now I see thee go, secure in this
+    That what I have is thee, that whole of thee
+    Whereof thy fair infashioning is sign:
+    For I see Honour, Love, and Wholesomeness,
+    And striving ever to reach them, and to be
+    As they, I keep thee still; for they are thine.
+
+
+DUTY
+
+    Oh, I am weak to serve thee as I ought;
+      My shroud of flesh obscures thy deity,
+      So thy sweet Spirit that should embolden me
+    To shake my wings out wide, serves me for nought,
+    But receives tarnish, vile dishonour, wrought
+      By that thou earnest to bless--O agony
+      And unendurable shame! that, loving thee,
+    I dare not love, fearing my poisonous thought!
+
+      Man is too vile for any such high grace,
+    For that he seeks to honour he can but mar;
+      So had I rather shun thy starry face
+    And fly the exultation to know thee near--
+    For if one glance from me wrought thee a scar
+    'Twould not be death, but life that I should fear.
+
+
+WAGES
+
+    Sometimes the spirit that never leaves me quite
+      Taps at my heart when thou art in the way,
+      Saying, Now thy Queen cometh: therefore pray,
+    Lest she should see thee vile, and at the sight
+    Shiver and fly back piteous to the light
+      That wanes when she is absent. Then, as I may,
+      I wash my soilèd hands and muttering, say,
+    Lord, make me clean; robe Thou me in Thy white!
+
+      So for a brief space, clad in ecstasy,
+    Pure, disembodied, I fall to kiss thy feet,
+    And sense thy glory throbbing round about;
+    Whereafter, rising, I hold thee in a sweet
+    And gentle converse that lifts me up to be,
+    When thou art gone, strange to the gross world's rout.
+
+
+EYE-SERVICE
+
+    Meseems thine eyes are two still-folded lakes
+      Wherein deep water reflects the guardian sky,
+      Searching wherein I see how Heaven is nigh
+    And our broad Earth at peace. So my Love takes
+    My soul's thin hands and, chafing them, she makes
+      My life's blood lusty and my life's hope high
+      For the strong lips and eyes of Poesy,
+    To hold the world well squandered for their sakes.
+
+    I looked thee full this day: thine unveiled eyes
+      Rayed their swift-searching magic forth; and then
+      I felt all strength that love can put in men
+    Whenas they know that loveliness is wise.
+    For love can be content with no less prize,
+      To lift us up beyond our mortal ken.
+
+
+CLOISTER THOUGHTS
+
+(AT WESTMINSTER)
+
+    Within these long gray shadows many dead
+      Lie waiting: we wait with them. Do you believe
+      That at the last the threadbare soul will give
+    All his shifts over, and stand dishevellèd,
+    Naked in truth? Then we shall hear it said,
+      "Ye two have waited long, daring to live
+      Grimly through days tormented; now reprieve
+    Awaiteth you with all these ancient dead!"
+
+    The slope sun letteth down thro' our dark bars
+    His ladder from the skies. Hand fast in hand,
+    With quiet hearts and footsteps quiet and slow,
+    Like children venturous in an unknown land
+    We will come to the fields whose flowers are stars,
+    And kneeling ask, "Lord, wilt Thou crown us now?"
+
+
+
+
+THE CHAMBER IDYLL
+
+
+    The blue night falleth, the moon
+    Is over the hill; make fast,
+    Fasten the latch, I am tired: come soon,
+    Come! I would sleep at last
+    In your bosom, my love, my love!
+
+    The airy chamber above
+    Has the lattice ajar, that night
+    May breathe upon you and me, my love,
+    And the moon bless our marriage-rite--
+    Come, lassy, to bed, to bed!
+
+    The roof-thatch overhead
+    Shall cover the stars' bright eyes;
+    The fleecy quilt shall be coverlid
+    For your meek virginities,
+    And your wedding, my bride, my bride!
+
+    See, we are side to side,
+    Virgin in deed and name--
+    Come, for love will not be denied,
+    Tarry not, have no shame:
+    Are we not man and bride?
+
+_1894._
+
+
+
+
+EPIGRAMMATA
+
+1910
+
+
+THE OLD HOUSE
+
+    Mossy gray stands the House, four-square to the wind,
+    Embosomed in the hills. The garden old
+    Of yew and box and fishpond speaks her mind,
+    Sweet-ordered, quaint, recluse, fold within fold
+    Of quietness; but true and choice and kind--
+    A sober casket for a heart of gold.
+
+
+BLUE IRIS
+
+    Blue is the Adrian sea, and darkly blue
+    The Ægean; and the shafted sun thro' them,
+    That fishes grope to, gives the beamy hue
+    Rayed from her iris's deep diadem.
+
+
+THE ROSEBUD
+
+    In June I brought her roses, and she cupt
+    One slim bud in her hand and cherisht it,
+    And put it to her mouth. Rose and she supt
+    Each other's sweetness; but the flower was lit
+    By her kind eyes, and glowed. Then in her breast
+    She laid it blushing, warm and doubly blest.
+
+
+SPRING ON THE DOWN
+
+    When Spring blows o'er the land, and sunlight flies
+    Across the hills, we take the upland way.
+    I have her waist, the wooing wind her eyes
+    And lips and cheeks. His kissing makes her gay
+    As flowers. "Thou hast two lovers, O my dear,"
+    Say I; and she, "He takes what thou dost fear."
+
+
+SNOWY NIGHT
+
+    The snow lies deep, ice-fringes hem the thatch;
+    I knock my shoes, my Love lifts me the latch,
+    Shows me her eyes--O frozen stars, they shine
+    Kindly! I clasp her. Quick! her lips are mine.
+
+
+EVENING MOOD
+
+    Late, when the sun was smouldering down the west,
+    She took my arm and laid her cheek to me;
+    The fainting twilight held her, and I guess'd
+    All she would tell, but could not let me see--
+    Wonder and joy, the rising of her breast,
+    And confidence, and still expectancy.
+
+
+THE PARTING
+
+    Breathless was she and would not have us part:
+    "Adieu, my Saint," I said, "'tis come to this."
+    But she leaned to me, one hand at her heart,
+    And all her soul sighed trembling in a kiss.
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION OF A BOOK
+
+
+    To the Fountain of my long Dream,
+    To the Chalice of all my Sorrow,
+    To the Lamp held up, and the Stream
+    Of Light that beacons the Morrow;
+
+    To the Bow, the Quiver and Dart,
+    To the Bridle-rein, to the Yoke
+    Proudly upborne, to the Heart
+    On Fire, to the Mercy-stroke;
+
+    To Apollo herding his Cattle,
+    To Proserpina grave in Dis;
+    To the high Head in the Battle,
+    And the Crown--I consecrate this.
+
+_1911._
+
+
+
+
+_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.
+
+
+
+
+ BY MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+ THE AGONISTS
+
+ A TRILOGY OF GOD AND MAN
+
+ MINOS KING OF CRETE, ARIADNE IN NAXOS,
+ THE DEATH OF HIPPOLYTUS
+
+ _Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net._
+
+_SPECTATOR._--"The three plays have throughout a high level of dramatic
+interest, and they have moments of great tragic beauty.... It is not a
+book of sporadic beauties, for its most remarkable quality is its unity
+of interest and effect. The chorus has many passages of lyrical charm
+... but it is the great story which moves us most deeply, the stress of
+dramatic and logical sequence, so that we have no time to notice the art
+of it all. This is a high tribute to Mr. Hewlett's technical skill. At
+its best the irregular verse has a sharp freshness which the more
+orthodox metres could scarcely give."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The poetry is full of music, yet refreshingly free
+from monotony, and in passages when swift broken phrases are of the
+essence of the atmosphere the effect is splendidly dramatic and austere.
+Mr. Hewlett is to be congratulated upon a high success in a field of the
+worthiest enterprise."
+
+_OBSERVER._--"There is no single passage that can fail to charm when
+read aloud, woven with magic of rhythm, and music of phrase. It is a
+great heroic subject, nobly conceived, and finely and thoughtfully
+executed."
+
+_BLACK AND WHITE._--"_The Agonists_ is more than fine verse; it is
+literature impregnated with the purest fragrance of the classic spirit."
+
+_DAILY EXPRESS._--"There is real drama in _The Agonists_, and there is
+much splendid beauty."
+
+_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"Of the beauty of a great deal of the poetry it is
+difficult to speak too highly."
+
+_STANDARD._--"The imaginative grasp of these dramas, as well as their
+lyric charm, is unquestionable, and so also is the rare skill with which
+the strife of elemental passions is described and the action of the
+relentless laws which made men of old regard life as the sport of the
+gods."
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+BY MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+_Crown 8vo. 6s. each._
+
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS: A ROMANCE.
+
+_SPECTATOR._--"_The Forest Lovers_ is no mere literary _tour de force_,
+but an uncommonly attractive romance, the charm of which is greatly
+enhanced by the author's excellent style."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"Mr. Maurice Hewlett's _The Forest Lovers_ stands
+out with conspicuous success.... There are few books of this season
+which achieve their aim so simply and whole-heartedly as Mr. Hewlett's
+ingenious and enthralling romance."
+
+
+THE SONG OF RENNY.
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"Mr. Hewlett has produced a remarkable series of
+historical novels, and _The Song of Renny_ is one of the best of
+them.... An admirable romance, full of 'go' and colour and good temper."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"Mr. Hewlett is mounted upon his Pegasus again,
+riding full tilt against a rushing wind, with the moonlight of
+imagination playing glorious tricks upon all the marvellous sights
+around him."
+
+
+THE QUEEN'S QUAIR: OR, THE SIX YEARS' TRAGEDY.
+
+_ATHENÆUM._--"A fine book, fine not only for its extraordinary wealth of
+incidental beauties, but also for the consistency of conception and the
+tolerant humanity with which its main theme is put before you."
+
+_WESTMINSTER GAZETTE._--"That Mr. Maurice Hewlett would give us a
+flaming, wonderful picture of Queen Mary was a foregone conclusion."
+
+
+RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.
+
+Mr. FREDERIC HARRISON in _THE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW_.--"Such historic
+imagination, such glowing colour, such crashing speed, set forth in such
+pregnant form, carry me away spell-bound."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The story carries us along as though throughout we
+were galloping on strong horses. There is a rush and fervour about it
+all which sweeps us off our feet till the end is reached, and the tale
+is done. It is very clever, very spirited."
+
+
+LITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY.
+
+_DAILY CHRONICLE._--"And even such as fail to understand, will very
+certainly enjoy--enjoy the sometimes gay and sometimes biting humour,
+the deft delineation, the fine quality of colour, the delicately-flavoured
+phrasing."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The most finished studies which have appeared since
+some of the essays of Walter Pater."
+
+
+OPEN COUNTRY: A COMEDY WITH A STING.
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"_Open Country_ is a beautiful bit of work, a work
+that is inspired through and through with a genuine love for what is
+pure and beautiful. Mr. Hewlett's main figures have not only a wonderful
+charm in themselves, but they are noble, simple, and true-hearted
+creatures. Sanchia, the heroine, is a divine creation."
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"_Open Country_ is an important book and a fine
+novel."
+
+
+REST HARROW: A COMEDY OF RESOLUTION.
+
+_DAILY NEWS._--"_Rest Harrow_ has not only the effect of providing an
+æsthetically logical conclusion to the motives of _Open Country_, but it
+throws back a radiant retrospective influence, enhancing the value of
+what has preceded it.... In many ways the best piece of work Mr. Hewlett
+has done."
+
+_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"The present book certainly sustains the charm of
+_Open Country_ without any faltering of dramatic movement."
+
+
+THE STOOPING LADY.
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"A wondrously beautiful piece of fiction, gallant
+and romantic, a high treat for lovers of good reading."
+
+_WORLD._--"A rarely picturesque and beautiful production."
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"A story which fascinates him who reads."
+
+
+MRS. LANCELOT: A COMEDY OF ASSUMPTIONS.
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The story, as a whole, sustains a lofty level of
+creative vigour, and is dignified, moreover, with something of the epic
+flavour, as the old order is seen breaking up under the advance of new
+ideas and revolutionary enthusiasms.... Among the best books that the
+present age is likely to produce."
+
+_DAILY GRAPHIC._--"The best work of its kind since Meredith."
+
+
+FOND ADVENTURES: TALES OF THE YOUTH OF THE WORLD.
+
+_SPECTATOR._--"The materials for romance provided by this period (the
+Renaissance) are inexhaustibly rich, and Mr. Maurice Hewlett is
+admirably equipped for the task of reconstituting many of its phases."
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"The present volume is a rich mine of beauty. It
+contains four fine romantic tales."
+
+
+NEW CANTERBURY TALES.
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+ NEW TWO-SHILLING EDITION
+
+ OF
+
+ THE NOVELS OF
+ MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+ In Cloth binding. Crown 8vo. 2s. net each.
+
+
+1. THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+2. THE QUEEN'S QUAIR.
+
+3. LITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY.
+
+4. RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.
+
+5. THE STOOPING LADY.
+
+6. FOND ADVENTURES.
+
+7. NEW CANTERBURY TALES.
+
+8. HALFWAY HOUSE.
+
+9. OPEN COUNTRY: A COMEDY WITH A STING.
+
+10. REST HARROW: A COMEDY OF RESOLUTION.
+
+
+_ATHENÆUM._--"The Two-shilling Series deserves exceptional praise for
+its handiness and excellent type."
+
+_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"An enterprise to be welcomed by all lovers of
+good literature."
+
+_DAILY MAIL._--"This cheap and handsome edition is very welcome."
+
+_WORLD._--"Extremely attractive edition.... Notable examples of what can
+nowadays be achieved in the way of handsome book-production at
+surprisingly moderate prices."
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+BY MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+
+A MASQUE OF DEAD FLORENTINES.
+
+    WHEREIN SOME OF DEATH'S CHOICEST PIECES, AND THE GREAT GAME THAT HE
+    PLAYED THEREWITH, ARE FRUITFULLY SET FORTH. 4to. 10s. net.
+
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+    With 16 Illustrations in Colour by A. S. HARTRICK. 8vo. 5s. net.
+
+
+LETTERS TO SANCHIA UPON THINGS AS THEY ARE.
+
+    EXTRACTED FROM THE CORRESPONDENCE OF MR. JOHN MAXWELL SENHOUSE.
+    Crown 8vo. 1s. 6d. net.
+
+
+THE ROAD IN TUSCANY: A COMMENTARY.
+
+    Illustrated by JOSEPH PENNELL. Extra Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. net.
+
+_TIMES._--"Its vividness is extraordinary; there is no one quite like
+Mr. Hewlett for seizing all the colour and character of a place in half
+a dozen words.... An admirable book.... Mr. Pennell's profuse
+illustrations to this book are very attractive."
+
+
+EARTHWORK OUT OF TUSCANY.
+
+    BEING IMPRESSIONS AND TRANSLATIONS OF MAURICE HEWLETT. Globe 8vo.
+    4s. net.
+
+_OBSERVER._--"This re-issue of Mr. Hewlett's beautiful book comes to us
+as one of the pleasant Eversley Series--a form in which it may be hoped,
+for the sake of the reading world, that it is to make many new friends."
+
+
+_Pott 8vo. Cloth. 7d. net each._
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+THE STOOPING LADY.
+
+
+_Medium 8vo. Sewed. 6d. each._
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.
+
+THE QUEEN'S QUAIR.
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+COMPLETE EDITIONS OF THE POETS.
+
+_Uniform Edition. In Green Cloth. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. each._
+
+
+THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.
+
+With a Portrait engraved on Steel by G. J. STODART.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF MATTHEW ARNOLD.
+
+With a Portrait engraved on Steel by G. J. STODART.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+With Introduction by THOMAS HUGHES, and a Portrait.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+
+Edited by Professor DOWDEN. With a Portrait.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
+
+Edited, with a Biographical Introduction, by J. DYKES CAMPBELL. Portrait
+as Frontispiece.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+With Introduction by JOHN MORLEY, and a Portrait.
+
+
+THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF T. E. BROWN.
+
+With a Portrait; and an Introduction by W. E. HENLEY.
+
+
+THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.
+
+With Introduction, Memoir, and Notes, by W. M. ROSSETTI.
+
+
+THE DYNASTS. An Epic-Drama of the War with Napoleon.
+
+By THOMAS HARDY. Three Parts in One Vol.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE BAB BALLADS, with which are included Songs of a Savoyard.
+
+By Sir W. S. GILBERT. Sixth Edition. Illustrated.
+
+
+THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS.
+
+With 20 Illustrations on Steel by CRUIKSHANK, LEECH, and BARHAM.
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Helen Redeemed and Other Poems, by Maurice Hewlett
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN REDEEMED AND OTHER POEMS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22803-0.txt or 22803-0.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/8/0/22803/
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/22803-0.zip b/22803-0.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..45359fc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-0.zip
diff --git a/22803-8.txt b/22803-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d25d19b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6093 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Helen Redeemed and Other Poems, by Maurice Hewlett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Helen Redeemed and Other Poems
+
+Author: Maurice Hewlett
+
+Release Date: September 29, 2007 [EBook #22803]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN REDEEMED AND OTHER POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ HELEN REDEEMED
+
+ AND OTHER POEMS
+
+
+ BY
+ MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+
+ {D�ron Er�s Aid�}
+
+
+
+ MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
+ ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
+ 1913
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Archaic
+spellings have been retained. Greek words have been transliterated and
+are shown between {braces}. The oe ligature has been transcribed as
+[oe].
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+    Love owes tribute unto Death,
+    Being but a flower of breath,
+    Ev'n as thy fair body is
+    Moment's figure of the bliss
+    Dwelling in the mind of God
+    When He called thee from the sod,
+    Like a crocus up to start,
+    Gray-eyed with a golden heart,
+    Out of earth, and point our sight
+    To thy eternal home of light.
+
+    Here on earth is all we know:
+    To let our love as steadfast blow,
+    Open-hearted to the sun,
+    Folded down when our day's done,
+    As thy flower that bids it be
+    Flower of thy charity.
+    'Tis not ours to boast or pray
+    Breath from us shall outlive clay;
+    'Tis not thine, thou Pitiful,
+    Set me task beyond my rule.
+
+    Yet as young men carve on trees
+    Lovely names, and find in these
+    Solace in the after time,
+    So to have hid thee in my rhyme
+    Shall be comfort when I take
+    The lonely road. Then, for my sake,
+    Keep thou this my graven sigh,
+    And, that I may not all die,
+    Open it, and hear it tell,
+    Here was one who loved thee well.
+
+_October 6, 1912._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                         PAGE
+
+ HELEN REDEEMED                             1
+ HYPSIPYLE                                123
+ OREITHYIA                                149
+ CLYTI�                                   155
+ LAI OF GOBERTZ                           159
+ THE SAINTS' MAYING                       169
+ THE ARGIVE WOMEN                         173
+ GNATHO                                   187
+ TO THE GODS OF THE COUNTRY               193
+ FOURTEEN SONNETS--
+     ALMA SDEGNOSA                        197
+     THE WINDS' POSSESSION                198
+     ASPETTO REALE                        199
+     KIN CONFESSED                        200
+     QUEL GIORNO PI�                      201
+     ABSENCE                              202
+     PRESENCE                             203
+     DREAM ANGUISH                        204
+     HYMNIA-BEATRIX                       206
+     LUX E TENEBRIS                       207
+     DUTY                                 208
+     WAGES                                209
+     EYE-SERVICE                          210
+     CLOISTER THOUGHTS                    211
+ THE CHAMBER IDYLL                        213
+ EPIGRAMMATA--
+     THE OLD HOUSE                        217
+     BLUE IRIS                            217
+     THE ROSEBUD                          218
+     SPRING ON THE DOWN                   218
+     SNOWY NIGHT                          219
+     EVENING MOOD                         219
+     THE PARTING                          220
+ DEDICATION OF A BOOK                     221
+
+
+
+
+NOTE
+
+
+Three of the Poems here published have appeared in book form already, in
+the Volume called _Songs and Meditations_, long out of print.
+
+
+
+
+HELEN REDEEMED
+
+
+PROEM
+
+    Sing of the end of Troy, and of that flood
+    Of passion by the blood
+    Of heroes consecrate, by poet's craft
+    Hallowed, if that thin waft
+    Of godhead blown upon thee stretch thy song
+    To span such store of strong
+    And splendid vision of immortal themes
+    Late harvested in dreams,
+    Albeit long years laid up in tilth. Most meet
+    Thou sing that slim and sweet
+    Fair woman for whose bosom and delight
+    Paris, as well he might,
+    Wrought all the woe, and held her to his cost
+    And Troy's, and won and lost
+    Perforce; for who could look on her or feel
+    Her near and not dare steal
+    One hour of her, or hope to hold in bars
+    Such wonder of the stars
+    Undimmed? As soon expect to cage the rose
+    Of dawn which comes and goes
+    Fitful, or leash the shadows of the hills,
+    Or music of upland rills
+    As Helen's beauty and not tarnish it
+    With thy poor market wit,
+    Adept to hue the wanton in the wild,
+    Defile the undefiled!
+    Yet by the oath thou swearedst, standing high
+    Where piled rocks testify
+    The holy dust, and from Therapnai's hold
+    Over the rippling wold
+    Didst look upon Amyklai's, where sunrise
+    First dawned in Helen's eyes,
+    Take up thy tale, good poet, strain thine art
+    To sing her rendered heart,
+    Given last to him who loved her first, nor swerved
+    From loving, but was nerved
+    To see through years of robbery and shame
+    Her spirit, a clear flame,
+    Eloquent of her birthright. Tell his peace,
+    And hers who at last found ease
+    In white-arm'd Her�, holy husbander
+    Of purer fire than e'er
+    To wife gave Kypris. Helen, and Thee sing
+    In whom her beauties ring,
+    Fair body of fair mind fair acolyte,
+    Star of my day and night!
+
+_18th September 1912._
+
+
+FIRST STAVE
+
+THE DEATH OF ACHILLES
+
+    Where Simoeis and Xanthos, holy streams,
+    Flow brimming on the level, and chance gleams
+    Betray far Ida through a rended cloud
+    And hint the awful home of Zeus, whose shroud
+    The thunder is--'twixt Ida and the main
+    Behold gray Ilios, Priam's fee, the plain
+    About her like a carpet; from whose height
+    The watchman, ten years watching, every night
+    Counteth the beacon fires and sees no less
+    Their number as the years wax and duress
+    Of hunger thins the townsmen day by day--
+    More than the Greeks kill plague and famine slay.
+      Here in their wind-swept city, ten long years
+    Beset and in this tenth in blood and tears
+    And havocry to fall, old Priam's sons
+    Guard still their gods, their wives and little ones,
+    Guard Helen still, for whose fair womanhood
+    The sin was done, woe wrought, and all the blood
+    Of Danaan and Dardan in their pride
+    Shed; nor yet so the end, for Her� cried
+    Shrill on the heights more vengeance on wrong done,
+    And Greek or Trojan paid it. Late or soon
+    By sword or bitter arrow they went hence,
+    Each with their goodliest paying one man's offence.
+    Goodliest in Troy fell Hector; back to Greek
+    Then swung the doomstroke, and to Dis the bleak
+    Must pass great Hector's slayer. Zeus on high,
+    Hidden from men, held up the scales; the sky
+    Told Thetis that her son must go the way
+    He sent Queen Hecuba's--himself must pay,
+    Himself though young, splendid Achilles' self,
+    The price of manslaying, with blood for pelf.
+      A grief immortal took her, and she grieved
+    Deep in sea-cave, whereover restless heaved
+    The wine-dark ocean--silently, not moving,
+    Tearless, a god. O Gods, however loving,
+    That is a lonely grief that must go dry
+    About the graves where the beloved lie,
+    And knows too much to doubt if death ends all
+    Pleasure in strength of limb, joy musical,
+    Mother-love, maiden-love, which never more
+    Must the dead look for on the further shore
+    Of Acheron, and past the willow-wood
+    Of Proserpine!
+                    But when he understood,
+    Achilles, that his end was near at hand,
+    Darkling he heard the news, and on the strand
+    Beyond the ships he stood awhile, then cried
+    The Sea-God that high-hearted and clear-eyed
+    He might go down; and this for utmost grace
+    He asked, that not by battle might his face
+    Be marred, nor fighting might some Dardan best
+    Him who had conquered ever. For the rest,
+    Fate, which had given, might take, as fate should be.
+    So prayed he, and Poseidon out of the sea,
+    There where the deep blue into sand doth fade
+    And the long wave rolls in, a bar of jade,
+    Sent him a portent in that sea-blue bird
+    Swifter than light, the halcyon; and men heard
+    The trumpet of his praise: "Shaker of Earth,
+    Hail to thee! Now I fare to death in mirth,
+    As to a banquet!"
+                      So when day was come
+    Lightly arose the prince to meet his doom,
+    And kissed Brise�s where she lay abed
+    And never more by hers might rest his head:
+    "Farewell, my dear, farewell, my joy," said he;
+    "Farewell to all delights 'twixt thee and me!
+    For now I take a road whose harsh alarms
+    Forbid so sweet a burden to my arms."
+    Then his clean limbs his weeping squires bedight
+    In all the mail Hephaistos served his might
+    Withal, of breastplate shining like the sun
+    Upon flood-water, three-topped helm whereon
+    Gleamed the gold basilisk, and goodly greaves.
+    These bore he without word; but when from sheaves
+    Of spears they picked the great ash Pelian
+    Poseidon gave to Peleus, God to a man,
+    For no man's man�ge else--than all men's fear:
+    "Dry and cold fighting for thee this day, my spear,"
+    Quoth he. And so when one the golden shield
+    Immortal, daedal, for no one else to wield,
+    Cast o'er his head, he frowned: "On thy bright face
+    Let me see who shall dare a dint," he says,
+    And stood in thought full-armed; thereafter poured
+    Libation at the tent-door to the Lord
+    Of earth and sky, and prayed, saying: "O Thou
+    That hauntest dark Dodona, hear me now,
+    Since that the shadowing arm of Time is flung
+    Far over me, but cloudeth me full young.
+    Scatheless I vow them. Let one Trojan cast
+    His spear and loose my spirit. Rage is past
+    Though I go forth my most provocative
+    Adventure: 'tis not I that seek. Receive
+    My prayer Thou as I have earned it--lo,
+    Dying I stand, and hail Thee as I go
+    Lord of the �gis, wonderful, most great!"
+      Which done, he took his stand, and bid his mate
+    Urge on the steeds; and all the Achaian host
+    Followed him, not with outcry or loud boast
+    Of deeds to do or done, but silent, grim
+    As to a shambles--so they followed him,
+    Eyeing that nodding crest and swaying spear
+    Shake with the chariot. Solemn thus they near
+    The Trojan walls, slow-moving, as by a Fate
+    Driven; and thus before the Skaian Gate
+    Stands he in pomp of dreadful calm, to die,
+    As once in dreadful haste to slay.
+                                        Thereby
+    The walls were thick with men, and in the towers
+    Women stood gazing, clustered close as flowers
+    That blur the rocks in some high mountain pass
+    With delicate hues; but like the gray hill-grass
+    Which the wind sweepeth, till in waves of light
+    It tideth backwards--so all gray or white
+    Showed they, as sudden surges moved them cloak
+    Their heads, or bare their faces. And none spoke
+    Among them, for there stood not woman there
+    But mourned her dead, or sensed not in the air
+    Her pendent doom of death, or worse than death.
+    Frail as flowers were their faces, and all breath
+    Came short and quick, as on this dreadful show
+    Staring, they pondered it done far below
+    As on a stage where the thin players seem
+    Unkith to them who watch, the stuff of dream.
+    Nor else about the plain showed living thing
+    Save high in the blue where sailed on outspread wing
+    A vulture bird intent, with mighty span
+    Of pinion.
+                In the hush spake the dead man,
+    Hollow-voiced, terrible: "Ye tribes of Troy,
+    Here stand I out for death, and ye for joy
+    Of killing as ye will, by cast of spear,
+    By bowshot or with sword. If any peer
+    Of Hector or Sarpedon care the bout
+    Which they both tried aforetime let him out
+    With speed, and bring his many against one,
+    Fearing no treachery, for there shall be none
+    To aid me, God nor man; nor yet will I
+    Stir finger in the business, but will die
+    By murder sooner than in battle fall
+    Under some Trojan hand."
+                              Breathless stood all,
+    Not moving out; but Paris on the roof
+    Of his high house, where snug he sat aloof,
+    Drew taut the bowstring home, and notched a shaft,
+    Soft whistling to himself, what time with craft
+    Of peering eyes and narrow twisted face
+    He sought an aim.
+                      Swift from her hiding-place
+    Came burning Helen then, in her blue eyes
+    A fire unquenchable, but cold as ice
+    That scorcheth ere it strike a mortal chill
+    Upon the heart. "Darest thou...?"
+                                      Smiling still,
+    He heeded not her warning, nor he read
+    The terror of her eyes, but drew and sped
+    A screaming arrow, deadly, swerving not--
+    Then stood to watch the ruin he had wrought.
+      He heard the sob of breath o'er all the host
+    Of hushing men; he marked, but then he lost,
+    The blood-spurt at the shaft-head; for the crest
+    Upheaved, the shoulders stiffen'd, ere to the breast
+    Bent down the head, as though the glazing sight
+    Curious would mark the death-spot. Still upright
+    Stood he; but as a tree that on the side
+    Of Ida yields to axe her soaring pride
+    And lightlier waves her leafy crown, and swings
+    From side to side--so on his crest the wings
+    Erect seemed shaking upwards, and to sag
+    The spear's point, and the burden'd head to wag
+    Before the stricken body felt the stroke,
+    Or the strong knees grew lax, or the heart broke.
+      Breathless they waited; then the failing man
+    Stiffened anew his neck, and changed and wan
+    Looked for the last time in the face of day,
+    And seemed to dare the Gods such might to slay
+    As this, the sanguine splendid thing he was,
+    Withal now gray of face and pinched. Alas,
+    For pride of life! Now he had heard his knell.
+    His spirit passed, and crashing down he fell,
+    Mighty Achilles, and struck the earth, and lay
+    A huddled mass, a bulk of bronze and clay
+    Bestuck with gilt and glitter, like a toy.
+    There dropt a forest hush on watching Troy,
+    Upon the plain and watching ranks of men;
+    And from a tower some woman keened him then
+    With long thin cry that wavered in the air--
+    As once before one wailed her Hector there.
+
+
+SECOND STAVE
+
+MENELAUS' DREAM: HELEN ON THE WALL
+
+      So he who wore his honour like a wreath
+    About his brows went the dark way of death;
+    Which being done, that deed of ruth and doom
+    Gave breath to Troy; but on the Achaians gloom
+    Settled like pall of cloud upon a land
+    That swoons beneath it. Desperate they scanned
+    Each other, saying: "Now we are left by God,"
+    And in the huts behind the wall abode,
+    Heeding not Diomede, Idomeneus,
+    Nor keen Odysseus, nor that friend of Zeus
+    Mykenai's king, nor that robbed Menelaus,
+    Nor bowman Teukros, Nestor wise, nor Aias--
+    Huge Aias, cursed in death! Peleides bare
+    Himself with pride, but he went raving there.
+    For in the high assembly Thetis made
+    In honour of her son, to waft his shade
+    In peace to Hades' house, after the fire
+    Twice a man's height for him who did suspire
+    Twice a man's heart and render it to Heaven
+    Who gave it, after offerings paid and given,
+    And games of men and horses, she brought forth
+    His regal arms for hero of most worth
+    In the broad Danaan host, who was adjudged
+    Odysseus by all voices. Aias grudged
+    The vote and wandered brooding, drawn apart
+    From his room-fellows, seeding in his heart
+    Envy, which biting inwards did corrode
+    His mettle, and his ill blood plied the goad
+    Upon his brain, until the wretch made mad
+    Went muttering his wrongs, ill-trimmed, ill-clad,
+    Sightless and careless, with slack mouth awry,
+    And working tongue, and danger in the eye;
+    And oft would stare at Heaven and laugh his scorn:
+    "O fools, think not to trick me!" then forlorn
+    Would gaze about green earth or out to sea:
+    "This is the end of man in his degree"--
+    Thus would he moralise in those bare lands
+    With hopeless brows and tossing up of hands--
+    "To sow in sweat and see another reap!"
+    Then, pitying himself, he'd fall to weep
+    His desolation, scorned by Gods, by men
+    Slighted; but in a flash he'd rage again
+    And shake his naked sword at unseen foes,
+    And dare them bring Odysseus to his blows:
+    Or let the man but flaunt himself in arms...!
+      So threatening God knows what of savage harms,
+    On him the oxen patient in the marsh,
+    Knee-deep in rushes, gazed to hear his harsh
+    Outcry; and them his madness taught for Greeks,
+    So on their dumb immensity he wreaks
+    His vengeance, driving in the press with shout
+    Of "Aias! Aias!" hurtling, carving out
+    A way with mighty swordstroke, cut and thrust,
+    And makes a shambles in his witless lust;
+    And in the midst, bloodshot, with blank wild eyes
+    Stands frothing at the lips, and after lies
+    All reeking in his madman's battlefield,
+    And sleeps nightlong. But with the dawn's revealed
+    The pity of his folly; then he sees
+    Himself at his fool's work. With shaking knees
+    He stands amid his slaughter, and his own
+    Adds to the wreck, plunging without a groan
+    Upon his planted sword. So Aias died
+    Lonely; and he who, never from his side
+    Removed, had shared his fame, the Lokrian,
+    Abode the fate foreordered in the plan
+    Which the Blind Women ignorantly weave.
+
+      But think not on the dead, who die and leave
+    A memory more fragrant than their deeds,
+    But to the remnant rather and their needs
+    Give thought with me. What comfort in their swords
+    Have they, robbed of the might of two such lords
+    As Peleus' son and Telamon's? What art
+    Can drive the blood back to the stricken heart?
+    Like huddled sheep cowed obstinate, as dull
+    As oxen impotent the wain to pull
+    Out of a rut, which, failing at first lunge,
+    Answer not voice nor goad, but sideways plunge
+    Or backward urge with lowered heads, or stand
+    Dumb monuments of sufferance--so unmanned
+    The Achaians brooded, nor their chiefs had care
+    To drive them forth, since they too knew despair,
+    And neither saw in battle nor retreat
+    A way of honour.
+                      And the plain grew sweet
+    Again with living green; the spring o' the year
+    Came in with flush of flower and bird-call clear;
+    And Nature, for whom nothing wrought is vain,
+    Out of shed blood caused grass to spring amain,
+    And seemed with tender irony to flout
+    Man's folly and pain when twixt dead spears sprang out
+    The crocus-point and pied the plain with fires
+    More gracious than his beacons; and from pyres
+    Of burnt dead men the asphodel uprose
+    Like fleecy clouds flushed with the morning rose,
+    A holy pall to hide his folly and pain.
+      Thus upon earth hope fell like a new rain,
+    And by and by the pent folk within walls
+    Took heart and ploughed the glebe and from the stalls
+    Led out their kine to pasture. Goats and sheep
+    Cropt at their ease, and herd-boys now did keep
+    Watch, where before stood arm�d sentinels;
+    And battle-grounds were musical with bells
+    Of feeding beasts. Afar, high-beacht, the ships
+    Loomed through the tender mist, their prows--like lips
+    Of thirsty birds which, lacking water, cry
+    Salvation out of Heaven--flung on high:
+    Which marking, Ilios deemed her worst of road
+    Was travelled, and held Paris for a God
+    Who winged the shaft that brought them all this peace.
+
+      He in their love went sunning, took his ease
+    In house and hall, at council or at feast,
+    Careless of what was greatest or what least
+    Of all his deeds, so only by his side
+    She lay, the blush-rose Helen, stolen bride,
+    The lovely harbour of his arms. But she,
+    A thrall, now her own thralldom plain could see,
+    And sick of dalliance, loathed herself, and him
+    Who had beguiled her. Now through eyes made dim
+    With tears she looked towards the salt sea-beach
+    Where stood the ships, and sought for sign in each
+    If it might be her people's, and so hers,
+    Poor alien!--Argive now herself she avers
+    And proudly slave of Paris and no wife:
+    Minion she calls herself; and when to strife
+    Of love he claims her, secret her heart surges
+    Back to her lord; and when to kiss he urges,
+    And when to play he woos her with soft words,
+    Secret her fond heart calleth, like a bird's,
+    Towards that honoured mate who honoured her,
+    Making her wife indeed, not paramour,
+    Mother, and sharer of his hearth and all
+    His gear. Thus every night: and on the wall
+    She watches every dawn for what dawn brings.
+      And the strong spirit of her took new wings
+    And left her lovely body in the arms
+    Of him who doted, conning o'er her charms,
+    And witless held a shell; but forth as light
+    As the first sigh of dawn her spirit took flight
+    Across the dusky plain to where fires gleamed
+    And muffled guards stood sentry; and it streamed
+    Within the hut, and hovered like a wraith,
+    A presence felt, not seen, as when gray Death
+    Seems to the dying man a bedside guest,
+    But to the watchers cannot be exprest.
+    So hovered Helen in a dream, and yearned
+    Over the sleeper as he moaned and turned,
+    Renewing his day's torment in his sleep;
+    Who presently starts up and sighing deep,
+    Searches the entry, if haply in the skies
+    The day begin to stir. Lo there, her eyes
+    Like waning stars! Lo there, her pale sad face
+    Becurtained in loose hair! Now he can trace
+    Athwart that gleaming moon her mouth's droopt bow
+    To tell all truth about her, and her woe
+    And dreadful store of knowledge. As one shockt
+    To worse than death lookt she, with horror lockt
+    Behind her tremulous tragic-moving lips:
+    "O love, O love," saith he, and saying, slips
+    Out of the bed: "Who hath dared do thee wrong?"
+    No answer hath she, but she looks him long
+    And deep, and looking, fades. He sleeps no more,
+    But up and down he pads the beaten floor,
+    And all that day his heart's wild crying hears,
+    And can thank God for gracious dew of tears
+    And tender thoughts of her, not thoughts of shame.
+    So came the next night, and with night she came,
+    Dream-Helen; and he knew then he must go
+    Whence she had come. His need would have it so--
+    And her need. Never must she call in vain.
+      Now takes he way alone over the plain
+    Where dark yet hovers like a catafalque
+    And all life swoons, and only dead thing walk,
+    Uneasy sprites denied a resting space,
+    That shudder as they flit from place to place,
+    Like bats of flaggy wing that make night blink
+    With endless quest: so do those dead, men think,
+    Who fall and are unserved by funeral rite.
+    These passes he, and nears the walls of might
+    Which Godhead built for proud Laomedon,
+    And knows the house of Paris built thereon,
+    Terraced and set with gadding vines and trees
+    And ever falling water, for the ease
+    Of that sweet indweller he held in store.
+    Thither he turns him quaking, but before
+    Him dares not look, lest he should see her there
+    Aglimmer through the dusk and, unaware,
+    Discover her fill some mere homely part
+    Intolerably familiar to his heart,
+    And deeply there enshrined and glorified,
+    Laid up with bygone bliss. Yet on he hied,
+    Being called, and ever closer on he came
+    As if no wrong nor misery nor shame
+    Could harder be than not to see her--Nay,
+    Even if within that smooth thief's arms she lay
+    Besmothered in his kisses--rather so
+    Had he stood stabbed to see, than on to go
+    His round of lonely exile!
+                                Now he stands
+    Beneath her house, and on his spear his hands
+    Rest, and upon his hands he grounds his chin,
+    And motionless abides till day come in;
+    Pure of his vice, that he might ease her woe,
+    Not brand her with his own. Not yet the glow
+    Of false dawn throbbed, nor yet the silent town
+    Stood washt in light, clear-printed to the crown
+    In the cold upper air. Dark loomed the walls,
+    Ghostly the trees, and still shuddered the calls
+    Of owl to owl from unseen towers. Afar
+    A dog barked. High and hidden in the haar
+    Which blew in from the sea a heron cried
+    Honk! and he heard his wings, but not espied
+    The heavy flight. Slow, slow the orb was filled
+    With light, and with the light his heart was thrilled
+    With opening music, faint, expectant, sharp
+    As the first chords one picks out from the harp
+    To prelude paean. Venturing all, he lift
+    His eyes, and there encurtained in a drift
+    Of sea-blue mantle close-drawn, he espies
+    Helen above him watching, her grave eyes
+    Upon him fixt, blue homes of mystery
+    Unfathomable, eternal as the sea,
+    And as unresting.
+                      So in that still place,
+    In that still hour stood those two face to face.
+
+
+THIRD STAVE
+
+MENELAUS SPEAKS WITH HELEN
+
+      But when he had her there, sharp root of ill
+    To him and his, safeguarded from him still,
+    Too sweet to be forgotten, too much marred
+    By usage to be what she seemed, bescarred,
+    Behandled, too much lost and too much won,
+    Mock image making horrible the sun
+    That once had shown her pure for his demesne,
+    And still revealed her lovely, and unclean--
+    Despair turned into stone what had been kind,
+    And bitter surged his griefs, to flood his mind.
+    "O ruinous face," said he, "O evil head,
+    Art thou so early from the wicked bed?
+    So prompt to slough the snugness of thy vice?
+    Or is it that in luxury thou art nice
+    Become, and dalliest?" Low her head she hung
+    And moved her lips. As when the night is young
+    The hollow wind presages storm, his moan
+    Came wailing at her. "Ten years here, alone,
+    And in that time to have seen thee thrice!"
+                                                But she:
+    "Often and often have I chanced to see
+    My lord pass."
+                    His heart leapt, as leaps the child
+    Enwombed: "Hast thou--?"
+                              Faintly her quick eyes smiled:
+    "At this time my house sleepeth, but I wake;
+    So have time to myself when I can take
+    New air, and old thought."
+                                As a man who skills
+    To read high hope out of dark oracles,
+    So gleamed his eyes; so fierce and quick said he:
+    "Lady, O God! Now would that I could be
+    Beside thee there, breathing thy breath, thy thought
+    Gathering!" Silent stood she, memory-fraught,
+    Nor looked his way. But he must know her soul,
+    So harpt upon her heart. "Is this the whole
+    That thou wouldst have me think, that thou com'st here
+    Alone to be?"
+                  She blushed and dared to peer
+    Downward. "Is it so wonderful," she said,
+    "If I desire it?" He: "Nay, by my head,
+    Not so; but wonderful I think it is
+    In any man to suffer it." The hiss
+    Of passion stript all vesture from his tones
+    And showed the King man naked to the bones,
+    Man naked to the body's utterance.
+      She turned her head, but felt his burning glance
+    Scorch, and his words leap up. "Dost thou desire
+    I leave thee then? Answer me that."
+                                        "Nay, sire,
+    Not so." And he: "Bid me to stay while sleeps
+    Thy house," he said, "so stay I." Her eyes' deeps
+    Flooded his soul and drowned him in despair,
+    Despair and rage. "Behold now, ten years' wear
+    Between us and our love! Now if I cast
+    My spear and rove the snow-mound of thy breast,
+    Were that a marvel?"
+                          Long she lookt and grave,
+    Pondering his face and searching. "Not so brave
+    My lord as that would prove him. Nay, and I know
+    He would not do it." And the truth was so;
+    And well he knew the reason: better she.
+      Yet for a little in that vacancy
+    Of silence and unshadowing light they stood,
+    Those long-divided, speechless. His first mood
+    With bitter grudge was choked, but hers was mild,
+    As fearing his. At last she named the child,
+    Asking, Was all well? Short he told her, Yes,
+    The child was well. She fingered in her dress
+    And watched her hand at play there.
+                                        "Here," she said,
+    "There is no child," and sighed. Into his dead
+    And wasted heart there leaped a flame and caught
+    His hollow eyes. "Rememberest thou naught,
+    Nothing regrettest, nothing holdst in grief
+    Of all our joy together ere that thief
+    Came rifling in?" For all her answer she
+    Lookt long upon him, long and earnestly;
+    And misty grew her eyes, and slowly filled.
+    Slowly the great tears brimmed, and slowly rilled
+    Adown her cheeks. So presently she hid
+    Those wells of grief, and hung her lovely head;
+    And he had no more words, but only a cry
+    At heart too deep for utterance, and too high
+    For tears.
+
+      And now came Paris from the house
+    Into the sun, rosy and amorous,
+    As when the sun himself from the sea-rim
+    Lifteth, and gloweth on the earth grown dim
+    With waiting; and he piped a low clear call
+    As mellow as the thrush's at the fall
+    Of day from some near thicket. At whose sound
+    Rose up caught Helen and blushing turned her round
+    To face him; but in going, ere she met
+    The prince, her hand along the parapet
+    She trailed, palm out, for sign to who below
+    Rent at himself, nor had the wit to know
+    In that dumb signal eloquence, and hope
+    Therein beyond his sick heart's utmost scope.
+    Throbbing he stood as when a quick-blown peat,
+    Now white, now red, burns inly--O wild heat,
+    O ravenous race of men, who'd barter Space
+    And Time for one short snatch of instant grace!
+      Withal, next day, drawn by his dear desire,
+    When as the young green burned like emerald fire
+    In the cold light, back to the tryst he came;
+    But she was sooner there, and called his name
+    Softly as cooing dove her bosom's mate;
+    And showed her eyes to him, which half sedate
+    To be so sought revealed her, half in doubt
+    Lest he should deem her bold to meet the bout
+    With too much readiness. But high he flaunted
+    Her name towards the sky. "Thou God-enchanted,
+    Thou miracle of dawn, thou Heart of the Rose,
+    Hail thou!" On his own eloquence he grows
+    The lover he proclaims. "O love," he saith,
+    "I would not leave thee for a moment's breath,
+    Nor once these ten long years had left thy side
+    Had it been possible to stay!"
+                                    She sighed,
+    She wondered o'er his face, she looked her fill,
+    Museful, still doubting, smiling half, athrill,
+    All virgin to his praise. "O wonderful,"
+    She said, "Such store of love for one so foul
+    As I am now!"
+                  O fatal hot-and-cold,
+    O love, whose iris wings not long can hold
+    The upper air! Sudden her thought smote hot
+    On him. "Thou sayest! True it is, God wot!
+    Warm from his bed, and tears for thy unworth;
+    Warm from his bed, and tears to meet my mirth;
+    Then back to his bed ere yet thy tears be dry!"
+      She heard not, but she knew his agony
+    Of burning vision, and kept back her tears
+    Until his pity moved in tune with hers
+    Towards herself. But he from thunderous brows
+    Frowned on. "No more I see thee by this house,
+    Except to slay thee when the hour decree
+    An end to this vile nest of cuckoldry
+    And holy vows made hateful, save thou speak
+    To each my question sooth. Keep dry thy cheek
+    From tears, hide up thy beauty with thy grief--
+    Or let him have his joy of them, thy thief,
+    What time he may. Answer me thou, or vain
+    Till thine hour strike to look for me again."
+      With hanging head and quiet hanging hands,
+    With lip atremble, as caught in fault she stands,
+    Scarce might he hear her whispered message:
+                                                "Ask,
+    Lord, and I answer thee."
+                              Strung to his task:
+    "Tell me now all," he said, "from that far day
+    Whenas embracing thee, I stood to pray,
+    And poured forth wine unto the thirsty earth
+    To Zeus and to Poseidon, in whose girth
+    Lie sea and land; to Gaia next, their spouse,
+    And next to Her�, mistress of my house,
+    Traitress, and thine, for grace upon my faring:
+    For thou wert by to hear me, false arm bearing
+    Upon my shoulder, glowing, lying cheek
+    Next unto mine. Ay, and thou prayedst, with meek
+    Fair seeming, prosperous send-off and return.
+    Tell me what then, tell all, and let me learn
+    With what pretence that dog-souled slaked his thirst
+    In thy sweet liquor. Tell me that the first."
+      Then Helen lifted up her head, and beamed
+    Clear light upon him from her eyes, which seemed
+    That blue which, lying on the white sea-bed
+    And gazing up, the sunbeam overhead
+    Would show, with green entinctured, and the warp
+    Inwoven of golden shafts, blended yet sharp;
+    So that a glory mild and radiant
+    Transfigured them. Upon him fell aslant
+    That lovely light, while in her cheeks the hue
+    Of throbbing dawn came sudden. So he knew
+    Her best before she spoke; for when she spoke
+    It was as if the nightingale should croak
+    In April midst the first young leaves, so bleak,
+    So harsh she schooled her throat, that it should speak
+    Dry matter and hard logic--as if she
+    Were careful lest self-pity urged a plea
+    Which was not hers to make; or as one faint
+    And desperate lays down all his argument
+    Like bricks upon a field, let who will make
+    A house of them; so drily Helen spake
+    With a flat voice. "Thou hadst been nine days gone,
+    Came my lord Alexandros, Priam's son,
+    And hailed me in the hall whereas I sat,
+    And claimed his guest-right, which not wondering at
+    I gave as fitting was. Then came the day
+    I was beguiled. What more is there to say?"
+      Fixt on her fingers playing on the wall
+    Her eyes were. But the King said: "Tell me all.
+    Thou wert beguiled: by his desire beguiled,
+    Or by thine own?" She shook her head and smiled
+    Most sadly, pitying herself. "Who knoweth
+    The ways of Love, whence cometh, whither goeth
+    The heart's low whimper? This I know, he loved
+    Me then, and pleasured only where I moved
+    About the house. And I had pleasure too
+    To know of me he had it. Then we knew
+    The day at hand when he must take the road
+    And leave me; and its eve we close abode
+    Within the house, and spake not. But I wept."
+    She stayed, and whispering down her next word crept:
+    "I was beguiled, beguiled." And then her lip
+    She bit, and rueful showed her partnership
+    In sinful dealing.
+                        But he, in his esteem
+    Bleeding and raw, urged on. "To Kranai's deme
+    He took thee then?"
+                        Speechless she bent her head
+    Towards her tender breasts whereon, soft shed
+    As upon low quiet hills, the dawn light played,
+    And limned their gentle curves or sank in shade.
+    So gazing, stood she silent, but the King
+    Urged on. "From thence to Ilios, thou willing,
+    He took thee?"
+                    Then, "I was beguiled," again
+    She said; and he, who felt a worthier strain
+    Stir in his gall compassion, and uplift
+    Him out of knowledge, saw a blessed rift
+    Upon his dark horizon, as tow'rds night
+    The low clouds break and shafted shows the light.
+    "Ten years beguiled!" he said, "but now it seems
+    Thou art----" She shook her head. "Nay, now come dreams;
+    Nay, now I think, remember, now I see."
+      "What callest thou to mind?" "Hermione,"
+    She said, "our child, and Sparta my own land,
+    And all the honour that lay to my hand
+    Had I but chosen it, as now I would"--
+    And sudden hid her face up in her hood,
+    Her courage ebbed in grief, all hardness drowned
+    In bitter weeping.
+                        Noble pity crowned
+    The greater man in him; so for a space
+    They wept together, she for loss; for grace
+    Of gain wept he. "No more," he said, "my sweet,
+    Tell me no more."
+                      "Ah, hear the whole of it
+    Before my hour is gone," she cried. But he
+    Groaning, "I dare not stay here lest I see
+    Him take thee again."
+                          Both hands to fold her breast,
+    She shook her head; like as the sun through mist
+    Shone triumph in her eyes. "Have no more fear
+    Of him or any----" Then, hearing a stir
+    Within the house, her finger toucht her lip,
+    And one fixt look she gave of fellowship
+    Assured--then turned and quickly went her way;
+    And his light vanisht with her for that day.
+
+
+FOURTH STAVE
+
+THE APOLOGY OF HELEN
+
+      O singing heart, O twice-undaunted lover!
+    O ever to be blest, twice blest moreover!
+    Twice over win the world in one girl's eyes,
+    Twice over lift her name up to the skies;
+    Twice to hope all things, so to be twice born--
+    For he lives not who cannot front the morn
+    Saying, "This day I live as never yet
+    Lived striving man on earth!" What if the fret
+    Of loss and ten years' agonizing snow
+    Thy hairs or leave their tracery on thy brow,
+    Each line beslotted by the demon hounds
+    Hunting thee down o' nights? Laugh at thy wounds,
+    Laugh at thy eld, strong lover, whose blood flows
+    Clear from the fountain, singing as it goes,
+    "She loves, and so I live and shall not die!
+    Love on, love her: 'tis immortality."
+      Once more before the sun he greeted her:
+    She glowed her joy; her mood was calm and clear
+    As mellow evening's whenas, like a priest,
+    Rain has absolved the world, and golden mist
+    Hangs over all like benediction.
+    In her proud eyes sat triumph on a throne,
+    To know herself beloved, her lover by,
+    So near the consummation. Womanly
+    She dallied with the moment when, all wife,
+    Upon his breast she'd lie and cast her life,
+    Cast body, soul and spirit in one gest
+    Supreme of giving. Glorying in his quest
+    Of her, now let her hide what he must glean,
+    But not know yet. Ah, sweet to feel his keen
+    Long eye-search, like the touch of eager fingers,
+    And sweet to thrill beneath such hot blush-bringers;
+    To fence with such a swordsman hazardous
+    And sweet. "Belov'd, thou art glad of me!" Then thus
+    Antiphonal to him she breathes, "Thou sayest!"
+      "I see thy light and hail it!"
+                                      "Thou begayest
+    My poor light."
+                    "Knowest thou not that thou art loved?"
+      "And am I loved then?"
+                              "If thou'ldst have it proved,
+    Look in my eyes. Would thine were open book!"
+      "Palimpsest I," she said, and would not look.
+      But he was grappling now with truth, would have it,
+    What though it cost him all his gain. She gave it,
+    Looking him along. "O lady mine," he said,
+    "Now are my clouds dispers�d every shred;
+    For thou art mine; I think thou lovest me.
+    Speak, is that true?"
+                          She could not, or may be
+    She would not hold her gaze, but let it fall,
+    And watched her fingers idling on the wall,
+    And so remained; but urged to it by the spell
+    He cast, she whispered down, "I cannot tell
+    Thee here, and thus apart"--which when he had
+    In its full import drove him well-nigh mad
+    With longing. "Call me and I come!"
+                                        But fear
+    Flamed in her eyes: "No, no, 'tis death! He's here
+    At hand. 'Tis death for thee, and worse than death--"
+    She ended so--"for both of us."
+                                    And breath
+    Failed him, for well he knew now what she meant,
+    And sighed his thanks to Gods beneficent.
+      Thereafter in sweet use of lovers' talk,
+    In boon spring weather, whenas lovers walk
+    Handfasted through the meadows pied, and wet
+    With dew from flower and leaf, these lovers met--
+    Two bodies separate, one wild heart between,
+    Day after day, these two long-severed been;
+    And of this mating of the eye and tongue
+    There grew desire passionate and strong
+    For body's mating and its testimony,
+    Hearts' intimacy, perfect, full and free.
+      And Helen for her heart's ease did deny
+    Her girdled Goddess of the beamy eye,
+    Saying, "Come you down, Mistress of sleek loves
+    And panting nights: your service of bought doves
+    And honey-hearted wine may cost too dear.
+    What hast thou done for me since first my ear
+    With thy sly music thou didst sign and seal
+    Apprentice to thy mystery, teach me feel
+    Thy fierce divinity in the trembling touch
+    Of open lips? Served I not thee too much
+    In Kranai and in Sparta my demesne,
+    Too much in wide-wayed Ilios, Eastern Queen?
+    Yes, but it was too much a thousandfold,
+    For what was I but leman bought and sold?
+      "For woman craved what mercy hath man brought,
+    What face a woman for a woman sought?
+    What mercy or what face? And what saith she,
+    The hunted, scorn�d wretch? Boast that she be
+    Coveted, hankered, spat on? One to gloat,
+    The rest to snarl without! If man play goat,
+    What must she play? Her glory is it to draw
+    On greedy eye, sting greedy lip and paw,
+    And find the crown of her desire therein?
+    Hath she no rarer bliss than all this sin,
+    Is she for dandling, kissing, hidden up
+    For hungry hands to stroke or lips to sup?
+    Hath she then nothing of her own, no mirth
+    In honesty, nor eyes to worship worth,
+    Nor pride except in that which makes men dogs,
+    Nor loathing for the vice wherein, like logs
+    That float beneath the sun, lie fair women
+    Submiss, inert receptacles for sin?
+    Is this her all? Hath she no heart, nor care
+    Therefor? No womb, nor hope therein to bear
+    Fruit of her heart's insurgence? Is her face,
+    Are these her breasts for fondling, not to grace
+    Her heart's high honour, swell to nurture it,
+    That it too grow? Hath she no mother-wit,
+    Nor sense for living things and innocent,
+    Nor leap of joy for this good world's content
+    Of sun and wind, of flower and leaf, and song
+    Of bird, or shout of children as they throng
+    The world of mated men and women? Nay,
+    Persuade me not, O Kypris; but I say
+    Evil hath been the lore which thou hast taught--
+    For many have loved my face, and many sought
+    My breast, and thought it joy supping thereat
+    Sweetness and dear delight; but out of that
+    What hath there come to them, to me and all
+    Mine but hot shame? Not milk, but bitter gall."
+
+      So in her high passion she rent herself
+    And rocked, or hid her face upon the shelf
+    Of the grim wall, lest he should see the whole
+    Inexpiable sorrow of her soul.
+    But he by pity pure made bountiful
+    Lent her excuse, by every means to lull
+    Her agony. Said he, "Of mortals who
+    Can e'er withstand the way she wills them to,
+    Kypris the forceful Goddess? Nay, dear child,
+    Thou wert constrained."
+                            She said, "I was beguiled
+    And clung to him until the day-dawn broke
+    When I could read as in the roll of a book
+    His open heart. And then my own heart reeled
+    To know him craven, dog, not man, revealed
+    A panting drudge of lust, who held me here
+    Caged vessel. Nay, come close. I loved him dear,
+    Too dear, I know; but never till he came
+    Had known the leap of joy, the fire of flame
+    Upon the heart he gave me, Paris the bright,
+    Whose memory was music and his sight
+    Fragrance, whose nearness made my footfall dance,
+    Whose touch was fever, and his burning glance
+    Faintness and blindness; in whose light my life
+    Centred; who was the sun, and I, false wife,
+    The foolish flower that turns whereso he wheels
+    Over the broad earth's canopy, and steals
+    Colour from his strong beam, but at the last
+    Whenas the night comes and the day is past
+    Droops, burnt at the heart. So loved I him, and so
+    Waxed bold to dare the deed that brought this woe."
+      And there she changed, and bitter was her cry:
+    "Ah, lord, far better had it been to die
+    Ere I had cast this pain on thee, and shame
+    On me, and wrought such outrage on our name.
+    Natheless I live----"
+                          "Ay, and give life!" he said;
+    "Yet this thing more I'd have thee tell--what led
+    Thy thought to me? From him, what turned thy troth--
+    Such troth as there could be?"
+                                    She cried, "The oath!
+    The oath ye sware before the Lords of Heaven,
+    The sacrifice, the pledges taken and given
+    When thou and Paris met upon the plain,
+    And all the host sat down to watch you twain
+    Do battle, which should have me. For my part,
+    They took me forth to watch; as in the mart
+    A heifer feels the giver of the feast
+    Pinch in her flank, and hears the chaffer twist
+    This way and that for so much fat or lean--
+    Even so was I, a queen, child of a queen."
+      She bit her lip until the blood ran free,
+    And in her eyes he markt deep injury
+    Scald as the salt tears welled; but "Listen yet,"
+    She said: "Ye fought, and Paris fell beset
+    Under thy spurning heel, yet felt no whit
+    The bitterness as I must come to it;
+    For she, his Goddess, hid him up in mists
+    And brought him beat and broken from the lists
+    Here to his chamber. But I stood and burned,
+    Shameful to be by one lost, by one earned,
+    A prize for games, a slave, a bandied thing--
+    Since as the oath was made so must I swing
+    From bed to bed. But while I stood and wept,
+    Melted in fruitless sorrow, up she crept
+    For me, his Goddess, gliding like a snake,
+    Who wreathed her arms and whispering me go make
+    The nuptial couch, 'What oath binds love?' did say.
+    Loathing him, I must go. He had his way,
+    As well he might who paid that goodly price,
+    Honour, truth, courage, all, to have his vice:
+    The which forsook him when those fair things fled;
+    For though my body hath lain in his bed,
+    My heart abhors it. And now in truth I wis
+    My lord's true heart is where my own heart is,
+    The two together welded and made whole;
+    And I will go to him and give my soul
+    And shamed and faded body to his nod,
+    To spurn or take; and he shall be my God."
+      Whereat made virgin, as all women are
+    By love's white purging fire which leaves no scar
+    Where all was soiled and seamed before the torch
+    Of Eros toucht the heart, and the keen scorch
+    Lickt up the foul misuse of vase so fair
+    As woman's body, Helen flusht and fair
+    Leaned from the wall a fire-hued seraph's face
+    And in one rapt long look gave and took Grace.
+    Deep in her eyes he saw the light divine,
+    Quick in him ran fierce joy of it like wine:
+    Light unto light made answer, as a flag
+    Answers when men tell tidings from one crag
+    Unto another, and from peak to peak
+    The good news flashes. Scarcely could he speak
+    Measurable words, so high his wild thought whirled:
+    "Bride, Goddess, Helen, O Wonder of the World,
+    Shall I come for thee?"
+                            Her tender words came soft
+    As dropping rose petals on garden croft
+    Down from the wall's sheer height--"Come soon, come soon."
+    And homing to the lines those drummed his tune.
+
+
+FIFTH STAVE
+
+A COUNCIL OF THE ACHAIANS: THE EMBASSY OF ODYSSEUS
+
+      Now calleth he assembly of the chiefs,
+    Princes and kings and captains, them whose griefs
+    To ease his own like treasure had been lent;
+    Who came and sat at board within the tent
+    Of him they hailed host-father and their lord
+    For this adventure, in aught else abhorred
+    Of all true men. He sits above the rest,
+    The fox-red Agamemnon, round his crest
+    The circlet of his kingship over kings,
+    And at his thigh the sword gold-hilted swings
+    Which Zeus gave Atreus once; and in his heart
+    That gnawing doubt which twice had checkt his start
+    For high emprise, having twice egged him to it,
+    As stout Odysseus knew who had to rue it.
+      Beside him Nestor sat, Nestor the old,
+    White as the winter moon, with logic cold
+    Instilled, as if the blood in him had fled
+    And in his veins clear spirit ran instead,
+    Which made men reasons and not fired their sprites.
+    And next Idomeneus of countless fights,
+    Shrewd leader of the Cretans; by his side
+    Keen-flashing Diomedes in his pride,
+    The young, the wild in onset, whose war-shrill,
+    Next after Peleus' son's, held all Troy still,
+    And stayed the gray crows at their ravelling
+    Of dead men's bones. Into debate full fling
+    Went he, adone with tapping of the foot
+    And drumming on the board. Had but his suit
+    Been granted--so he said--the war were done
+    And Troy a name ere full three years had gone:
+    For as for Helen and her daintiness,
+    Troy held a mort of women who no less
+    Than she could pleasure night when work was over
+    And men came home ready to play the lover;
+    And in housework would better her. Let Helen
+    Be laid by Paris, villain, and dead villain--
+    Dead long ago if he had taken the field
+    Instead of Menelaus. Then no shield
+    Had Kypris' golden body been, acquist
+    With his sword-arm already, near the wrist!
+      So Diomedes. Next him sat a man
+    With all his woe to come, the Lokrian
+    Aias, son of O�leus, bearded swart,
+    Pale, with his little eyes, and legs too short
+    And arms too long, a giant when he sat,
+    Dwarf else, and in the fight a tiger-cat.
+    But mark his neighbour, mark him well: to him
+    Falleth the lot to lay a charge more grim
+    On woman fair than even Althaia felt
+    Like lead upon her heartstrings, when she knelt
+    And blew to flame the brand that held the life
+    Of her own son; or Procne with the knife,
+    Who slew and dressed her child to be a meal
+    To his own father. But this man's thews were steel,
+    And steely were the nerves about his heart,
+    As they had need. Mark him, and mark the part
+    He plays hereafter. Odysseus is his name,
+    The wily Ithacan, deathless in his fame
+    And in his substance deathless, since he goes
+    Immortal forth and back wherever blows
+    The thunder of thy rhythm, O blind King,
+    First of the tribe of them with songs to sing,
+    Fountain of storied music and its end--
+    For who the poet since who doth not tend
+    To essay thy leaping measure, or call down
+    Thy nodded approbation for his crown
+    And all his wages?
+                        Other chiefs sat there
+    In order due: as Pyrrhos, very fair
+    And young, with high bright colour, and the hue
+    Of evening in his eyes of violet-blue--
+    Son of Achilles he, and new to war.
+    Then Antiklos and Teukros, best by far
+    Of all the bowmen in the host. And last
+    Menestheus the Athenian dikast,
+    Who led the folk from Pallas's fair home.
+      To them spake Menelaus, being come
+    Into assembly last, and taken in hand
+    The spokesman's staff: "Ye princes of our land,
+    Adventurous Achaians, stout of heart,
+    Good news I bring, that now we may depart
+    Each to his home and kindred, each to his hearth
+    And wife and children dear and well-tilled garth,
+    Contented with the honour he has brought
+    To me and mine, since I have what we've sought
+    With bitter pain and loss. Yea, even now
+    Hath Her� crowned your strife and earned my vow
+    Made these ten years come harvest, having drawn
+    The veil from off those eyes than which not dawn
+    Holds sweeter light nor holier, once they see.
+    Yea, chieftains, Helen's heart comes back to me;
+    And fast she watches now hard by the wall
+    Of the wicked house, and ere the cock shall call
+    Another morn I have her in my arms
+    Redeemed for Sparta, pure of Trojan harms,
+    Whole-hearted and clean-hearted as she came
+    First, before Paris and his deed of shame
+    Threatened my house with wreck, and on his own
+    Have brought no joy. This night, disguised, alone,
+    I stand within the city, waiting day;
+    Then when men sleep, all in the shadowless gray,
+    Robbing the robber, I drop down with her
+    Over the wall--and lo! the end of the war!"
+      Thus great of heart and high of heart he spake,
+    And trembling ceased. Awhile none cared to break
+    The silence, like unto that breathless hush
+    That holds a forest ere the great winds rush
+    Up from the sea-gulf, bringing furious rain
+    Like mist to drown all nature, blot the plain
+    In one great sheet of water without form.
+    So held the chiefs. Then Diomede brake in storm.
+      Ever the first he was to fling his spear
+    Into the press of battle; dread his cheer,
+    Like the long howling of a wolf at eve
+    Or clamour of the sea-birds when they grieve
+    And hanker the out-scouring of the net
+    Hidden behind the darkness and the wet
+    Of tempest-ridden nights. "Princes," he cried,
+    "What say ye to this wooer of his bride,
+    For whom it seems ten nations and their best
+    Have fought ten years to bring her back to nest?
+    Is this your meed of honour? Was it for this
+    You flung forth fortune--to ensure him his?
+    And he made snug at home, we seek our lands
+    Barer than we left them, with emptier hands,
+    And some with fewer members, shed that he
+    Might fare as soft and trim as formerly!
+    Not so went I adventuring, good friend;
+    Not so look I this business to have end:
+    Nay, but I fight to live, not live to fight,
+    And so will live by day as thou by night,
+    Sating my eyes with havoc on this race
+    Of robbers of the hearth; see their strong place
+    Brought level with the herbage and the weed,
+    That where they revelled once shrew-mice may feed,
+    And moles make palaces, and bats keep house.
+    And if thou art of spleen so slow to rouse
+    As quit thy score by thieving from a thief
+    And leave him scatheless else, thou art no chief
+    For Tydeus' son, who sees no end of strife
+    But in his own or in his foeman's life."
+      So he. Then Pyrrhos spake: "By that great shade
+    Wherein I stand, which thy false Paris made
+    Who slew my father, think not so to have done
+    With Troy and Priam; for Peleides' son
+    Must slake the sword that cries, and still the ghost
+    Of him that haunts the ingles of this coast,
+    Murdered and unacquit while that man's father
+    Liveth."
+      Then leapt up two, and both together
+    Cried, "Give us Troy to sack, give us our fill
+    Of gold and bronze; give us to burn and kill!"
+    And Aias said, "Are there no women then
+    In Troy, but only her? And are we men
+    Or virgins of Athen�?" And the dream
+    Of her who served that dauntless One made gleam
+    His shifting eyes, and stretcht his fleshy lips
+    Behind his beard.
+                      Then stood that prince of ships
+    And shipmen, great Odysseus; with one hand
+    He held the staff, with one he took command;
+    And thus in measured tones, with word intent
+    Upon the deed, fierce but not vehement,
+    Drave in his dreadful message. At his sight
+    Clamour died down, even as the wind at night
+    Falls and is husht at rising of the moon.
+    "Ye chieftains of Achaia, not so soon
+    Is strife of ten years rounded to a close,
+    Neither so are men seated, friends or foes.
+    For say thus lightly we renounced the meed
+    Of our long travail, gave so little heed
+    To our great dead as find in one man's joy
+    Full recompense for all we've sunk in Troy--
+    Wives desolate, children fatherless, lands, gear,
+    Stock without master, wasting year by year;
+    Youth past, age creeping on, friends, brothers, sons
+    Lost in the void, gone where no respite runs
+    For sorrow, but the darkness covers all--
+    What name should we bequeath our sons but thrall,
+    Or what beside a name, who let go by
+    Ilios the rich for others' usury?
+    And have the blessed Gods no say in this?
+    Think you they be won over by a kiss--
+    Her� the Queen, she, the unwearied aid
+    Of all our striving, Pallas the war-maid?
+    Have they not vowed, and will ye scant their hate,
+    Havoc on Ilios from gate to gate,
+    And for her towers abasement to the dust?
+    Behold, O King, lust shall be paid with lust,
+    And treachery with treachery, and for blood
+    Blood shall be shed. Therefore let loose the flood
+    Of our pent passion; break her gates in, raze
+    The walls of her, cumber her pleasant ways
+    With dead men; set on havoc, sate with spoil
+    Men ravening; get corn and wine and oil,
+    Women to clasp in love, gold, silken things,
+    Harness of flashing bronze, swords, meed of kings,
+    Chariots and horses swifter than the wind
+    Which, coursing Ida, leaves ruin behind
+    Of snapt tall trees: not faster shall they fall
+    Than Trojan spears once we are on the wall.
+    So only shall ye close this agelong strife,
+    Nor by redemption of a too fair wife,
+    Now smiling, now averse, now hot, now cold,
+    O Menelaus, may the tale be told!
+    Nay, but by slaying of Achilles' slayer,
+    By the betrayal of the bed-betrayer,
+    By not withholding from the spoils of war
+    Men freeborn, nor from them that beaten are
+    Their rueful wages. Ilios must fall."
+      He said, and sat, and heard the acclaim of all,
+    Save of the sons of Atreus, who sat glum,
+    One flusht, one white as parchment, and both dumb;
+    One raging to be contraried, one torn
+    By those two passions wherewith he was born,
+    The lust for body's ease and lust of gain.
+      Then slow he rose, Mykenai's king of men,
+    Gentle his voice to hear. "Laertes' son,"
+    He said, but 'twas Nestor he looked upon,
+    The wise old man who sat beside his chair,
+    Mild now who once, a lion, kept his lair
+    Untoucht of any, or if e'er he left it,
+    Left it for prey, and held that when he reft it
+    From foe, or over friend made stronger claim:
+    "Laertes' son," the king said, "all men's fame
+    Reports thee just and fertile in device;
+    And as the friend of God great is thy price
+    To us of Argos; for without the Gods
+    How should we look to trace the limitless roads
+    That weave a criss-cross 'twixt us and our home?
+    Go to now, some will stay and other some
+    Take to the sea-ways, hasty to depart,
+    Not warfaring as men fare to the mart,
+    To best a neighbour in some chaffering bout;
+    But honour is the prize wherefor they go out,
+    And having that, dishonoured are content
+    To leave the foe--that is best punishment.
+    Natheless since men there be, Argives of worth,
+    Who needs must shed more blood ere they go forth--
+    As if of blood enough had not been spilt!--
+    Devise thou with my brother if thou wilt,
+    Noble Odysseus, seeking how compose
+    His honour with thy judgment. Well he knows
+    Thy singleness of heart, deep ponderer,
+    Lover of a fair wife, and sure of her.
+    Come, let this be the sum of our debate."
+      "Content you," Menelaus said, "I wait
+    Upon thy word, thou fosterling of Zeus."
+      Then said Odysseus, "Be it as you choose,
+    Ye sons of Atreus. Then, advised, I say
+    Let me win into Troy as best I may,
+    Seek out the lovely lady of our land
+    And learn of her the watchwords, see how stand
+    The sentries, how the warders of the gates;
+    The strength, how much it is; what prize awaits
+    To crown our long endeavour. These things learned,
+    Back to the ships I come ere yet are burned
+    The watch-fires of the night, before the sun
+    Hath urged his steeds the course they are to run
+    Out of the golden gateways of the East."
+      Which all agreed, and Helen's lord not least.
+
+
+SIXTH STAVE
+
+HELEN AND PARIS; ODYSSEUS AND HELEN
+
+      Like as the sweet free air, when maids the doors
+    And windows open wide, wanders the floors
+    And all the passage ways about the house,
+    Keen marshal of the sun, or serious
+    The cool gray light of morning 'gins to peer
+    Ere yet the household stirs, or chanticlere
+    Calls hinds to labour but hints not the glee
+    Nor full-flood glory of the day to be
+    When round about the hill the sun shall swim
+    And burn a sea-path--so demure and slim
+    Went Helen on her business with swift feet
+    And light, yet recollected, and her sweet
+    Secret held hid, that she was loved where need
+    Called her to mate, and that she loved indeed--
+    Ah, sacred calm of wedlock, passion white
+    Of lovers knit in Her�'s holy light!
+      But while in early morn she wonned alone
+    And Paris slept, shrill rose her singing tone,
+    And brave the light on kindled cheeks and eyes:
+    Brave as her hope is, brave the flag she flies.
+      Then, as the hour drew on when the sun's rim
+    Should burn a sheet of gold to herald him
+    On Ida's snowy crest, lithe as a pard
+    For some lord's pleasuring encaged and barred
+    She paced the hall soft-footed up and down,
+    Lightly and feverishly with quick frown
+    Peered shrewdly this way, that way, like a bird
+    That on the winter grass is aye deterred
+    His food-searching by hint of unknown snare
+    In thicket, holt or bush, or lawn too bare;
+    Anon stopped, lip to finger, while the tide
+    Beat from her heart against her shielded side--
+    Now closely girdled went she like a maid--
+    And then slipt to the window, where she stayed
+    But minutes three or four; for soon she past
+    Out to the terrace, there to be at last
+    Downgazing on her glory, which her king
+    Reflected up in every motioning
+    And flux of his high passion. Only here
+    She triumphed, nor cared she to ask how near
+    The end of Troy, nor hazarded a guess
+    What deeds must do ere that could come to pass.
+    To her the instant homage held all joy--
+    And what to her was Sparta, or what Troy
+    Beside the bliss of that?
+                              Or Paris, what
+    Was he, who daily, nightly plained his lot
+    To have risked all the world and ten years loved
+    This woman, now to find her nothing moved
+    By what he had done with her, what desired
+    To do? And more she chilled the less he tired,
+    And more he ventured less she cared recall
+    What was to her of nothing worth, or all:
+    All if the King required it of her, nought
+    If he who now could take it. It was bought,
+    And his by bargain: let him have it then;
+    But let it be for giving once again,
+    And all the rubies in the world's deep heart
+    Could fetch no price beside it.
+                                    Yet apart
+    She brooded on the man who held her chained,
+    Minister to his pleasure, and disdained
+    Him more the more herself she must disparage,
+    Reflecting on him all her hateful carriage,
+    So old, incredible, so flat, so stale,
+    No more to be recalled than old wife's tale;
+    And scorned him, saw him neither high nor low,
+    Not villain and not hero, who would go
+    Midway 'twixt baseness and nobility,
+    And not be fierce, if fierceness hurt a flea
+    Before his eyes. The man loved one thing more
+    Than all the world, and made his mind a whore
+    To minister his heart's need, for a price.
+      All which she loathed, yet chose not to be nice
+    With the snug-revelling wretch, her master yet,
+    Whose leaguer, though she scorned it, was no fret;
+    But lift on wings of her exalted mood,
+    She let him touch and finger what he would,
+    Unconscious of his being--as he saw,
+    And with a groan, whipt sharp upon the raw
+    Of his esteem, "Ah, cruel art thou turned,"
+    Would cry, "Ah, frosty fire, where I am burned,
+    Yet dying bless the flame that is my bane!"
+    With which to clasp her closer was he fain,
+    To touch in love, and feast his eyes to see
+    Her quiver at his touch, and laugh to be
+    The plucker of such chords of such a rote;
+    And laughing stoop and kiss her milky throat,
+    Then see her shut eyes hide what he had done.
+    "Nay, shut them not upon me, nay, nor shun
+    My worship!" So he said; but she, "They fade,
+    But are not yet so old as thou hast made
+    The soul thou pinnest here beneath my breasts
+    Which you have loved too well." His hand he rests
+    Over one fair white bosom like a cup,
+    And leaning, of her lips his own must sup;
+    But she will not, but gently doth refuse it,
+    Without a reason, save she doth not choose it.
+      Then when he flung away, she sat alone
+    And nursed her hope and sorrow, both in one
+    Perturb�d bosom; and her fingers wove
+    White webs as far afield her wits did rove
+    Perpending and perpending. So frail, so fair,
+    So faint she seemed, a wraith you had said there,
+    A woman dead, and not in lovely flesh.
+    But all the while she writhed within the mesh
+    Of circumstance, and fiercely flamed her rage:
+    "O slave, O minion, thing kept in a cage
+    For this sleek master's handling!" So she fumed
+    What time her wide eyes sought all ways, or loomed
+    Like winter lakes dark in a field of snow,
+    And still; nor lifted they their pall of woe
+    Responsive to her heart, nor flashed the thrill
+    That knew, which said, "A true man loveth me still."
+
+      That same night, as she used, fair Helen went
+    Among the suppliants in the hall, and lent
+    To each who craved the bounty of her grace,
+    Her gentle touch on wounds, her pitiful face
+    To beaten eyes' dumb eloquence, that art
+    She above all could use, to stroke the heart
+    And plead compassion in bestowing it.
+    So with her handmaids busy did she flit
+    From man to man, 'mid outlaws, broken blades,
+    Robbed husbandmen, their robbers, phantoms, shades
+    Of what were men till hunger made them less
+    Than man can be and still know uprightness;
+    And whom she spake with kindly words and cheer
+    In him the light of hope began to peer
+    And glimmer in his eyes; and him she fed
+    And nourisht, then sent homeward comforted
+    A little, to endure a little more.
+      Now among these, hard by the outer door,
+    She marked a man unbent whose sturdy look
+    Never left hers for long, whose shepherd's hook
+    Seemed not a staff to prop him, whose bright eyes
+    Burned steadily, as fire when the wind dies.
+    Great in the girth was he, but not so tall
+    By a full hand as many whom the wall
+    Showed like gaunt channel-posts by an ebb tide
+    Left stranded in a world of ooze. Beside
+    His knees she kneeled, and to his wounded feet
+    Applied her balms; but he, from his low seat
+    Against the wall, leaned out and in her ear
+    Whispered, but so that no one else could hear,
+    "Other than my wounds are there for thy pains,
+    Lady, and deeper. One, a grievous, drains
+    The great heart of a king, and one is fresh,
+    Though ten years old, in the sweet innocent flesh
+    Of a young child."
+                        Nothing said she, but stoopt
+    The closer to her task. He thought she droopt
+    Her head, he knew she trembled, that her shoulder
+    Twitcht as she wrought her task; so he grew bolder,
+    Saying, "But thou art pitiful! I know
+    That thou wilt wash their wounds."
+                                        She whispered "Oh,
+    Be sure of me!"
+                    Then he, "Let us have speech
+    Secret together out of range or reach
+    Of prying ears, if such a chance may be."
+      Then she said, "Towards morning look for me
+    Here, when the city sleeps, before the sun."
+      So till the glimmer of dawn this hardy one
+    Keepeth the watch in Paris' house. All night
+    With hard unwinking eyes he sat upright,
+    While all about the sleepers lay, like stones
+    Littered upon a hill-top, save that moans,
+    Sighings and "Gods, have pity!" showed that they
+    By night rehearsed the miseries of day,
+    And by bread lived not but by hope deferred.
+      Grimly he suffered till such time he heard
+    Helen's light foot and faint and gray in the mist
+    Descried her slim veiled outline, saw her twist
+    And slip between the sleepers on the ground,
+    Atiptoe coming, swift, with scarce a sound,
+    Not faltering in fear. No fear she had.
+    From head to foot a sea-blue mantle clad
+    Her lovely shape, from which her pale keen face
+    Shone like the moon in frosty sky. No case
+    Was his to waver, for her eyes spake true
+    As Heaven upon the world. Him then she drew
+    To follow her, out of the house, to where
+    The ilex trees stood darkly, and the air
+    Struck sharp and chill before the dawn's first breath.
+    There stood a little altar underneath
+    An image: Artemis the quick deerslayer,
+    High-girdled and barekneed; to Whom in prayer
+    First bowed, then stood erect with lifted hands,
+    Palms upward, Helen. "Lady of open lands
+    And lakes and windy heights," prayed she, "so do
+    To me as to Amphion's wife when blew
+    The wind of thy high anger, and she stared
+    On sudden death that not one dear life spared
+    Of all she had--so do to me if false
+    I prove unto this Argive!"
+                                Then the walls
+    And gates of Ilios she traced in the sand,
+    And told him of the watch-towers, and how manned
+    The gates at night; and where the treasure was,
+    And where the houses of the chiefs. But as
+    She faltered in the tale, "Show now," said he,
+    "Where Priam's golden palace is."
+                                      But she
+    Said, "Nay, not that; for since the day of shame
+    That brought me in, no word or look of blame
+    Hath he cast on me. Nay, when Hector died
+    And all the city turned on me and cried
+    My name, as to an outcast dog men fling
+    Howling and scorn, not one word said the King.
+    And when they hissed me in the shrines of the Gods,
+    And women egged their children on with nods
+    To foul the house-wall, or in passing spat
+    Towards it, he, the old King, came and sat
+    Daily with me, and often on my hair
+    Would lay a gentle hand. Him thou shalt spare
+    For my sake who betray him."
+                                  Odysseus said,
+    "Well, thou shalt speak no more of him. His bed
+    Is not of thy making, nor mine, but his
+    Who hath thee here a cageling, thy Paris.
+    Him he begat as well as Hector. Now
+    Let Priam look to reap what he did sow."
+      But when glad light brimmed o'er the cup of earth
+    And shrill birds called forth men to grief or mirth
+    As might afford their labour under the sun,
+    Helen advised how best to get him gone,
+    And fetched a roll of cord, the which made fast
+    About a stanchion, about him next she cast,
+    About and about until the whole was round
+    His body, and the end to his arm she bound:
+    Then showed him in the wall where best foothold
+    Might be, and watcht him down as fold by fold
+    He paid the cable out; and as he paid
+    So did she twist it, till the coil was made
+    As it had been at first. Then watcht she him
+    Stride o'er the plain until he twinkled dim
+    And sank into the mist.
+                            That day came not
+    King Menelaus to the trysting spot;
+    But ere Odysseus left her she had ta'en
+    A crocus flower which on her breast had lain,
+    And toucht it with her lips. "Give this," said she,
+    "To my good lord who hath seen the flower in me."
+
+
+SEVENTH STAVE
+
+THEY BUILD THE HORSE AND ENTER IN
+
+      What weariness of wind and wave and foam
+    Was to be for Odysseus ere his home
+    Of scrub and crag and scanty pasturage
+    He saw again! What stress of pilgrimage
+    Through roaring waterways and cities of men,
+    What sojourn among folk beyond the ken
+    Of mortal seafarers in homelier seas,
+    More trodden lands! Sure, none had earned his ease
+    As he, that windless morning when he drew
+    Near silent Ithaca, gray in misty blue,
+    And wondered on the old familiar scene,
+    Which was to him as it had never been
+    Aforetime. Say, had he but had inkling
+    That in this hour all that long wandering
+    Of his was self-ensured, had he been bold
+    To plan and carry what must now be told
+    Of this too hardy champion? Solve it you
+    Whose chronicling is over. Mine's to do.
+      All day until the setting of the sun,
+    Devising how to use what he had won
+    Odysseus stood; for nothing within walls
+    Was hid, he knew the very trumpet-calls
+    Wherewith they turned the guard out, and the cries
+    The sentries used to hearten or advise
+    The city in the watches of the night.
+    Once in, no hope for Ilios; but his plight
+    No better stood for that, since no way in
+    Could he conceive, nor entry hope to win
+    For any force enough to seize the gate
+    And open for the host.
+                            But then some Fate,
+    Or, some men say, Athen� the gray-eyed,
+    Ever his friend, never far from his side,
+    Prompted him look about him. Then he heeds
+    A stork set motionless in the dry reeds
+    That lift their withered arms, a skeleton host,
+    Long after winter and her aching frost
+    Are gone, and rattle in the spring's soft breeze
+    Dry bones, as if to daunt the budding trees
+    And warn them of the summer's wrath to come.
+    Still sat the bird, as fast asleep or numb
+    With cold, her head half-buried in her breast,
+    With close-shut eyes: a dead bird on the nest,
+    Arrow-shot--for behold! a wound she bore
+    Mid-breast, which stooping to, to see the more,
+    Lo, forth from it came busy, one by one,
+    Light-moving ants! So she to her death had gone
+    These many days; and there where she lost life
+    Her carrion shell with it again was rife.
+    So teems the earth, that ere our clay be rotten
+    New hosts sweep clean the hearth, our deeds forgotten.
+      But stooping still, Odysseus saw her not
+    Nor her brisk tenantry; afar his thought,
+    And after it his vision, crossed the plain
+    And lit on Ilios, dim and lapt in rain,
+    Piled up like blocks which Titans rear to mark
+    Where hero of their breed sits stiff and stark,
+    Spear in dead hand, and dead chin on dead knees;
+    And "Ha," cried he, "proud hinderer of our ease,
+    Now hold I thee within my hollowed hand!"
+      Straightway returning, Troy's destruction planned,
+    He sends for one Epeios, craftsman good,
+    And bids him frame him out a horse in wood,
+    Big-bellied as a ship of sixty oars
+    Such as men use for traffic, not in wars,
+    Nor piracy, but roomy, deep in the hold,
+    Where men may shelter if needs be from cold,
+    Or sleep between their watches. "Scant not you,"
+    He said, "your timber not your sweat. Drive through
+    This horse for me, Epeios, as if we
+    Awaited it to give the word for sea
+    And Hellas and our wives and children dear;
+    For this is true, without it we stay here
+    Another ten-year shift, if by main force
+    We would take Troy, but ten days with my horse."
+      So to their task Epeios and his teams
+    Went valiantly, and heaved and hauled great beams
+    Of timber from far Ida, and hacked amain
+    And rought the framework out. Then to it again
+    They went with adzes and their smoothing tools,
+    And made all shapely; next bored for their dools
+    With augurs, and made good stock on to stock
+    With mortise and with dovetail. Last, they lock
+    The frames with clamps, the nether to the upper,
+    And body forth a horse from crest to crupper
+    In outline.
+                Now their ribbing must be shaped
+    With axe to take the round, first rought, then scraped
+    With adzes, then deep-mortised in the frame
+    To bear the weight of so much mass, whose fame
+    When all was won, the Earth herself might quake,
+    Supporting on her broad breast. Now they take
+    Planks sawn and smoothed, and set them over steam
+    Of cauldrons to be supple. These to the beam
+    Above they rivet fast, and bend them down
+    Till from the belly more they seem to have grown
+    Than in it to be ended, so well sunk
+    And grooved they be. There's for the horse's trunk.
+    But as for head and legs, these from the block
+    Epeios carved, and fixed them on the stock
+    With long pins spigotted and clamps of steel;
+    And then the tail, downsweeping to the heel,
+    He carved and rivetted in place. Yet more
+    He did; for cunningly he made a door
+    Beneath the belly of him, in a part
+    Where Nature lends her aid to sculptor's art,
+    And few would have the thought to look for it,
+    Or eyes so keen to find, if they'd the wit.
+      Greatly stood he, hogmaned, with wrinkled n�ck
+    And wrying jaw, as though upon the check
+    One rode him. On three legs he stood, with one
+    Pawing the air, as if his course to run
+    Was overdue. Almost you heard the champ
+    And clatter of the bit, almost the stamp
+    And scrape of hoof; almost his fretful crest
+    He seemed to toss on high. So much confest
+    The wondering host. "But where's the man to ride?"
+    They askt. Odysseus said, "He'll go inside.
+    Yet there shall seem a rider--nay, let two
+    Bespan so brave a back," Epeios anew
+    He spurred, and had his horsemen as he would,
+    Two noble youths, star-frontletted, but nude
+    Of clothing, and unarmed, who sat as though
+    Centaurs not men, and with their knees did show
+    The road to travel. Next Odysseus bid,
+    "Gild thou me him, Epeios"; which he did,
+    And burnisht after, till he blazed afar
+    Like that great image which men hail for a star
+    Of omen holy, image without peer,
+    Chryselephantine Athen� with her spear,
+    Shining o'er Athens; to which their course they set
+    When homeward faring through the seaways wet
+    From Poros or from Nauplia, or some
+    From the Eub[oe]an gulf, or where the foam
+    Washes the feet of Sounion, on whose brow
+    Like a white crown the shafts burn even now.
+      Such was the shaping of the Horse of Wood,
+    The bane of Ilios.
+                        Ordered now they stood
+    Midway between the ships and Troy, and cast
+    The lots, who should go in from first to last
+    Of all the chieftains chosen. And the lot
+    Leapt out of Diomede, so in he got
+    And sat up in the neck. Next Aias went,
+    Clasping his shins and blinking as he bent,
+    Working the ridges of his villainous brow,
+    Like puzzled, patient monkey on a bough
+    That peers with bald, far-seeing eyes, whose scope
+    And steadfastness seem there to mock our hope;
+    Next Antiklos, and next Meriones
+    The Cretan; next good Teukros. After these
+    Went Pyrrhos, Agamemnon, King of men,
+    Menestheus and Idomeneus, and then
+    King Menelaus; and Odysseus last
+    Entered the desperate doorway, and made fast.
+      And all the Achaian remnant, seeing their best
+    To this great venture finally addrest,
+    Stood awed in silence; but Nestor the old
+    Bade bring the victims, and these on the wold
+    In sight of Troy he slew, and so uplift
+    The smoke of fire, and bloodsmoke, as a gift
+    Acceptable to Him he hailed by name
+    Kronion, sky-dweller, who giveth fame,
+    Lord of the thunder; to Her� next, and Her,
+    The Maid of War and holy harbinger
+    Of Father Zeus, who bears the �gis dread
+    And shakes it when the storm peals overhead
+    And lightning splits the firmament with fire;
+    Nor yet forgat Poseidon, dark-haired sire
+    Of all the seas, and of great Ocean's flow,
+    The girdler of the world. So back with slow
+    And pondered steps they all returned, and dark
+    Swallowed up Troy, and Horse, and them who stark
+    Abode within it. And the great stars shone
+    Out over sea and land; and speaking none,
+    Nursing his arms, nursing within his breast
+    His enterprise, each hero sat at rest
+    Ignorant of the world of day and night,
+    Or whether he should live to see the light,
+    Or see it but to perish in this cage.
+    Only Odysseus felt his heart engage
+    The blithelier for the peril. He was stuff
+    That thrives by daring, nor can dare enough.
+
+      Three days, three nights before the Skaian Gate
+    Sat they within their ambush, apt for fate;
+    Three days, three nights, the Trojans swarmed the walls
+    And towers or held high council in their halls
+    What this portended, this o'erweening mass
+    Reared up so high no man stretching could pass
+    His hand over the crupper, of such girth
+    Of haunch, to span the pair no man on earth
+    Could compass with both arms. But most their eyes
+    Were for the riders who in godlike guise
+    Went naked into battle, as Gods use,
+    Untrammel'd by our shifts of shields and shoes,
+    As if we dread the earth whereof we are.
+    Sons of God, these: for bore not each a star
+    Ablaze upon his forelock? Lo, they say,
+    Kastor and Polydeukes, who but they,
+    Come in to save their sister at the last,
+    And war for Troy, and root King Priam fast
+    In his demesne, him and his heirs for ever!
+    Now call they soothsayers to make endeavour
+    With engines of their craft to read the thing;
+    But others urge them hale it to the King--
+    "Let him dispose," they say, "of it and us,
+    And order as he will, from Pergamos
+    To heave it o'er the sheer and bring to wreck;
+    Or burn with fire; or harbour to bedeck
+    The temple of some God: of three ways one.
+    Here it cannot abide to flout the sun
+    With arrogant flash for every beam of his."
+      Herewith agreed the men of mysteries,
+    Raking the bloodsick earth to have the truth,
+    And getting what they lookt for, as in sooth
+    A man will do. So then they all fell to't
+    To hale with cords and lever foot by foot
+    The portent; and as frenzy frenzy breeds,
+    And what one has another thinks he needs,
+    So to a straining twenty other score
+    Lent hands, and ever from the concourse more
+    Of them, who hauled as if Troy's life depended
+    On hastening forward that wherein it ended.
+      So came the Horse to Troy, so was filled up
+    With retribution that sweet loving-cup
+    Paris had drunk to Helen overseas--
+    The cup which whoso drains must taste the lees.
+
+
+EIGHTH STAVE
+
+THE HORSE IN TROY; THE PASSION OF KASSANDRA
+
+      High over Troy the windy citadel,
+    Pergamos, towereth, where is the cell
+    And precinct of Athen�. There, till reived,
+    They kept the Pallium, sacred and still grieved
+    By all who held the city consecrate
+    To Her, as first it was, till she learned hate
+    For what had once been lovely, and let in
+    The golden Aphrodit�, and sweet sin
+    To ensnare Prince Paris and send him awooing
+    A too-fair wife, to be his own undoing
+    And Troy's and all the line's of Dardanos,
+    That traced from Zeus to him, from him to Tros,
+    From Tros to Ilos, to Laomedon,
+    Who begat Priam as his second son.
+    But out of Troy Assarakos too came,
+    From whom came Kapys; and from him the fame
+    Of good Anchises, with whom Kypris lay
+    In love and got Aineias. He, that day
+    Of dreadful wrath, safe only out did come,
+    And builded great Troy's line in greater Rome.
+      Now to the forecourt flock the Trojan folk
+    To view the portent. Now they bring to yoke
+    Priam's white horses, that the stricken king
+    Himself may see the wonder-working thing,
+    Himself invoke with his frail trembling voice
+    The good Twin Brethren for his aid and Troy's.
+    So presently before it Priam stands,
+    Father and King of Troy, with feeble hands
+    And mild pale eyes wherein Grief like a ghost
+    Sits; and about him all he has not lost
+    Of all his children gather, with grief-worn
+    Andromach� and her first, and last, born,
+    The boy Astyanax. And there apart
+    The wise Aineias stands, of steadfast heart
+    But not acceptable--for some old grudge
+    Inherited--Aineias, silent judge
+    Of folly, as he had been since the sin
+    Of Paris knelled the last days to begin.
+    But he himself, that Paris, came not out,
+    But kept his house in these his days of doubt,
+    Uncertain of his footing, being of those
+    On whom the faintest breath of censure blows
+    Chill as the wind that from the frozen North
+    Palsies the fount o' the blood. He dared not forth
+    Lest men should see--and how not see? he thought--
+    That Helen held him lightlier than she ought.
+      But Helen came there, gentle as of old,
+    Self-held, sufficient to herself, not bold,
+    Not modest nor immodest, taking none
+    For judge or jury of what she may have done;
+    But doing all she was to do, sedate,
+    Intent upon it and deliberate.
+    As she had been at first, so was she now
+    When she had put behind her her old vow
+    And had no pride but thinking of her new.
+    But she was lovelier, of more burning hue,
+    And in her eyes there shone, for who could see,
+    A flickering light, half scare and half of glee,
+    Which made those iris'd orbs to wax and wane
+    Like to the light of April days, when rain
+    And sun contend the sovereignty. She kept
+    Beside the King, and only closer crept
+    To let him feel her there when some harsh word
+    Or look made her heart waver. Many she heard,
+    And much she saw, but knew the King her friend,
+    Him only since great Hector met his end.
+    And while so pensive and demure she stood,
+    With one thin hand just peeping at her hood,
+    The which close-folded her from head to knee,
+    Her heart within her bosom hailed her--"Free!
+    Free from thy thralldom, free to save, to give,
+    To love, be loved again, and die to live!"
+    So she--yet who had said, to see her there,
+    The sweet-faced woman, blue-eyed, still and fair
+    As windless dawn in some quiet mountain place,
+    To such a music let her passion race?
+
+      Now hath the King his witless welcome paid,
+    And now invoked the gods, and the cold shade
+    Which once was Hector; now, being upheld
+    By two his sons, with shaking hands of eld
+    The knees of those two carved and gilded youths
+    He touches while he prays, and praying soothes
+    The crying heart of Helen. But not so
+    Kassandra views him pray, that well of woe
+    Kassandra, she whom Loxias deceived
+    With gift to see, and not to be believed;
+    To read within the heart of Time all truth
+    And see men blindly blunder, to have ruth,
+    To burn, to cry, "Out, haro!" and be a mock--
+    Ah, and to know within this gross wood-block
+    The fate of all her kindred, and her own,
+    Unthinkable! Now with her terror blown
+    Upon her face, to blanch it like a sheet,
+    Now with bare frozen eyes which only greet
+    The viewless neighbours of our world she strips
+    The veil and shrieketh Troy's apocalypse:
+    "Woe to thee, Ilios! The fire, the fire! And rain,
+    Rain like to blood and tears to drown the plain
+    And cover all the earth up in a shroud,
+    One great death-clout for thee, Ilios the proud!
+    Touch not, handle not----" Outraged then she turned
+    To Helen--"O thou, for whom Troy shall be burned,
+    O ruinous face, O breasts made hard with gall,
+    Now are ye satisfied? Ye shall have all,
+    All Priam's sons and daughters, all his race
+    Gone quick to death, hailing thee, ruinous face!"
+      Her tragic mask she turned upon all men:
+    "The lion shall have Troy, to make his den
+    Within her pleasant courts, in Priam's high seat
+    Shall blink the vulture, sated of his meat;
+    And in the temples emptied of their Gods
+    Bats shall make quick the night, and panting toads
+    Make day a loathing to the light it brings.
+    Listen! Listen! they flock out; heed their wings.
+    The Gods flee forth of this accurs�d haunt,
+    And leave the memory of it an old chant,
+    A nursery song, an idle tale that's told
+    To children when your own sons are grown old
+    In Argive bonds, and have no other joy
+    Than whispering to their offspring tales of Troy."
+      Whereat she laught--O bitter sound to hear!
+    And struggled with herself, and grinned with fear
+    And misery lest even now her fate
+    Should catch her and she be believed too late.
+    "Is't possible, O Gods! Are ye so doomed
+    As not to know this Horse a mare, enwombed
+    Of men and swords? Know ye not there unseen
+    The Argive princes wait their dam shall yean?
+    Anon creeps Sparta forth, to find his balm
+    In that vile woman; forth with itching palm
+    Mykenai creeps, snuffing what may be won
+    By filching; forth Pyrrhos the braggart's son
+    That dared do violence to Hector dead,
+    But while he lived called Gods to serve his stead;
+    Forth Aias like a beast, to mangle me--
+    These things ye will not credit, but I see."
+    Then once again, and last, she turned her switch
+    On Helen, hissing, "Out upon thee, witch,
+    Smooth-handed traitress, speak thy secrets out
+    That we may know thee, how thou goest about
+    Caressing, with a hand that hides a knife,
+    That which shall prove false paramour, false wife,
+    Fair as the sun is fair that smiles and slays"--
+    And then, "O ruinous face, O ruinous face!"
+    But nothing more, for sudden all was gone,
+    Spent by her passion. Muttering, faint and wan
+    Down to the earth she sank, and to and fro
+    Rocking, drew close her hood, and shrouded so,
+    Her wild voice drowning, died in moans away.
+      But Helen stood bright-eyed as glancing day,
+    Near by the Horse, and with a straying hand
+    Did stroke it here and there, and listening stand,
+    Leaning her head towards its gilded flank,
+    And strain to hear men's breath behind the plank;
+    And she had whispered if she dared some word
+    Of promise; but afraid to be o'erheard,
+    Leaned her head close and toucht it with her cheek,
+    Then drew again to Priam, schooled and meek.
+    But Menelaus felt her touch, and mum
+    Sat on, nursing his mighty throw to come;
+    And Aias started, with some cry uncouth
+    And vile, but fast Odysseus o'er his mouth
+    Clapt hand, and checkt his foul perseverance
+    To seek in every deed his own essence.
+
+      Now when the ways were darkened, and the sun
+    Sank red to sea, and homeward all had gone
+    Save that distraught Kassandra, who still served
+    The temple whence the Goddess long had swerved,
+    Athen�, hating Troy and loving them
+    Who craved to snatch and make a diadem
+    Of Priam's regal crown for other brows--
+    She, though foredoomed she knew, held to her vows,
+    And duly paid the thankless evening rite--
+    There came to Paris' house late in the night
+    De�phobus his brother, young and trim,
+    For speech with fair-tressed Helen, for whose slim
+    And budded grace long had he sighed in vain;
+    And found her in full hall, and showed his pain
+    And need of her. To whom when she draws close
+    In hot and urgent crying words he shows
+    His case, hers now, that here she tarry not
+    Lest evil hap more dread than she can wot:
+    "For this," he says, "is Troy's extremest hour."
+    But when to that she bowed her head, the power
+    Of his high vision made him vehement:
+    "Dark sets the sun," he cried, "and day is spent";
+    But she said, "Nay, the sun will rise with day,
+    And I shall bathe in light, lift hands and pray."
+      "Thou lift up hands, bound down to a new lord!"
+    He mocked; then whispered, "Lady, with a sword
+    I cut thy bonds if so thou wilt."
+                                      Apart
+    She moved: "No sword, but a cry of the heart
+    Shall loose me."
+                      Then he said, "Hear what I cry
+    From my heart unto thine: fly, Helen, fly!"
+    Whereat she shook her head and sighed, "Even so,
+    Brother, I fly where thou canst never go.
+    Far go I, out of ken of thee and thy peers."
+      He knew not what she would, but said, "Thy fears
+    Are of the Gods and holy dooms and Fate,
+    But mine the present menace in the gate.
+    This I would save thee."
+                              "I fear it not," said she,
+    "But wait it here."
+                        He cried, "Here shalt thou see
+    Thy Spartan, and his bitter sword-point feel
+    Against thy bosom."
+                        "I bare it to the steel,"
+    Saith she. He then, "If ever man deserved thee
+    By service, I am he, who'd die to serve thee."
+      Glowing she heard him, being quickly moved
+    By kindness, loving ever where she was loved.
+    But now her heart was fain for rest; the night
+    Called her to sleep and dreams. So with a light
+    And gentle hand upon him, "Brother, farewell,"
+    She said, "I stay the issue, and foretell
+    Honour therein at least."
+                              Then at the door
+    She kissed him. And she saw his face no more.
+
+
+NINTH STAVE
+
+THE GODS FORSAKE TROY
+
+      Now Dawn came weeping forth, and on the crest
+    Of Ida faced a chill wind from the West.
+    Forth from the gray sea wrack-laden it blew
+    And howled among the towers, and stronger grew
+    As crept unseen the sun his path of light.
+    Then she who in the temple all that night
+    Had kept her rueful watch, the prophetess
+    Kassandra, peering sharply, heard the press
+    And rush of flight above her, and with sick
+    Foreboding waited; and the air grew thick
+    With flying shapes immortal overhead.
+      As in late Autumn, when the leaves are shed
+    And dismal flit about the empty ways,
+    And country folk provide against dark days,
+    And heap the woodstack, and their stores repair,
+    Attent you know the quickening of the air,
+    And closer yet the swish and sweep and swing
+    Of wings innumerable, emulous to bring
+    The birds to broader skies and kindlier sun,
+    And know indeed that winter is begun--
+    So seeing first, then hearing, she knew the hour
+    Was come when Troy must fall, and not a tower
+    Be left to front the morrow. And she covered
+    Her head and mourned, while one by one they hovered
+    Above their shrines, then flockt and faced the dawn.
+
+      First, in her car of shell and amber, drawn
+    By clustering doves with burnisht wings, a-throng,
+    Passes Queen Aphrodit�, and her song
+    Is sweet and sharp: "I gave my sacred zone
+    To warm thy bosom, Helen which by none
+    That live by labour and in tears are born
+    And sighing go their ways, has e'er been worn.
+    It kindled in thine eyes the lovelight, showed
+    Thy burning self in his. Thy body glowed
+    With beauty like to mine: mine thy love-laughter
+    Thy cooing in the night, thy deep sleep after,
+    Thy rapture of the morning, love renewed;
+    And all the shadowed day to sit and brood
+    On what has been and what should be again:
+    Thou wilt not? Nay, I proffer not in vain
+    My gifts, for I am all or will be nought.
+    Lo, where I am can be no other thought."
+      Thus to the wooded heights of Ida she
+    Was drawn, hid in that pearly galaxy
+    Of snow-white pigeons.
+                            Next upon the height
+    Of Pergamos uplift a beam of light
+    That for its core enshrined a naked youth,
+    Golden and fierce. She knew the God sans ruth,
+    Him who had given woeful prescience to her,
+    Apollo, once her lover and her wooer;
+    Who stood as one stands glorying in his grace
+    And strength, full in the sun, though on her place
+    Within the temple court no sun at all
+    Shone, nor as yet upon the topmost wall
+    Was any tinge of him, but all showed gray
+    And sodden in the wind and blown sea-spray.
+    Not to him dared she lift her voice in prayer,
+    Nor scarce her eyes to see him.
+                                    To him there
+    Came swift a spirit in shape of virgin slim,
+    With snooded hair and kirtle belted trim,
+    Short to the knee; and in her face the gale
+    Had blown bright sanguine colour. Free and hale
+    She was; and in her hand she held a bow
+    Unstrung, and o'er her shoulders there did go
+    A baldrick that made sharp the cleft betwixt
+    Her sudden breasts--to that a quiver fixt,
+    Showing gold arrow-points. No God there is
+    In Heaven more swift than Delian Artemis,
+    The young, the pure health-giver of the Earth,
+    Who loveth all things born, and brings to birth,
+    And after slays with merciful sudden death--
+    In whom is gladness all and wholesome breath,
+    And to whom all the praise of him who writes,
+    Ever.
+          These two she saw like meteorites
+    Flare down the wind and burn afar, then fade.
+    And Leto next, a mother grave and staid,
+    Drave out her chariot, which two winged stags drew,
+    Swift following, robed in gown of inky blue,
+    And hooded; and her hand which held the hood
+    Gleamed like a patch of snow left in a wood
+    Where hyacinths bring down to earth the sky.
+      And in her wake a winging company,
+    Dense as the cloud of gulls which from a rock
+    At sea lifts up in myriads, if the knock
+    Of oars assail their peace, she saw, and mourned
+    The household gods. For outward they too turned,
+    The spirits of the streams and water-brooks,
+    And nymphs who haunt the pastures, or in nooks
+    Of woodlands dwell. There like a lag of geese
+    Flew in long straying lines the Oreades
+    That in wild dunes and commons have their haunt;
+    There sped the Hamadryads; there aslant,
+    As from the sea, but wheeling ere they crost
+    Their sisters, thronged the river-nymphs, a host;
+    And now the Gods of homestead and the hearth,
+    Like sad-faced mourning women, left the garth
+    Where each had dwelt since Troy was stablish�d,
+    And been the holy influence over bed
+    And board and daily work under the sun
+    And nightlong slumber when day's work was done:
+    They rose, and like a driven mist of rain
+    Forsook the doomed high city and the plain,
+    And drifted eastaway; and as they went
+    Heaviness spread o'er Ilios like a tent,
+    And past not off, but brooded all day long.
+
+      But ever coursed new spirits to the throng
+    That packt the ways of Heaven. From the plain,
+    From mere and holt and hollow rose amain
+    The haunters of the silence; from the streams
+    And wells of water, from the country demes,
+    From plough and pasture, bottom, ridge and crest
+    The rustic Gods rose up and joined the rest.
+    Like a long wisp of cloud from out his banks
+    Streamed Xanthos, that swift river, to the ranks
+    Of flying shapes; and driven by that same mind
+    That urged him to it came Simoeis behind,
+    And other Gods and other, of stream and tree
+    And hill and vale--for nothing there can be
+    On earth or under Heaven, but hath in it
+    Essence whereby alone its form may hit
+    Our apprehension, channelled in the sense
+    Which feedeth us, that we through vision dense
+    See Gods as trees walking, or in the wind
+    That singeth in the bents guess what's behind
+    Its wailing music.
+                        And now the unearthly flock,
+    Emptying every water, wood, bare rock
+    And pasture, beset Ida, and their wings
+    Beat o'er the forest which about her springs
+    And makes a sea of verdure, whence she lifts
+    Her soaring peaks to bathe them in the drifts
+    Of cloud, and rare reveal them unto men--
+    For Zeus there hath his dwelling, out of ken
+    Of men alike and gods. But now the brows,
+    The breasting summits, still eternal snows,
+    And all the faces of the mountain held
+    A concourse like in number to the field
+    Of Heaven upon some breathless summer night
+    Printed with myriad stars, some burning bright,
+    Some massed in galaxy, a cloudy scar,
+    And others faint, as infinitely far.
+    There rankt the Gods of Heaven, Earth, and Sea,
+    Brethren of them now hastening from the fee
+    Of stricken Priam. Out of his deep cloud
+    Zeus flamed his levin, and his thunder loud
+    Volleyed his welcome. With uplifted hands
+    Acclaiming, God's oncoming each God stands
+    To greet. And thus the Hierarchy at one
+    Sits to behold the bitter business done
+    Which Paris by his luxury bestirred.
+
+      But in the city, like a stricken bird
+    Grieving her desolation and despair,
+    As voiceless and as lustreless, astare
+    For imminent Death, Kassandra croucht beneath
+    Her very doom, herself the bride of Death;
+    For in the temple's forecourt reared the mass
+    Of that which was to bring the woe to pass,
+    And hidden in him both her murderers
+    Wrung at their nails.
+                          And slow the long day wears
+    While all the city broods. The chiefs keep house,
+    Or gather on the wall, or make carouse
+    To simulate a freedom they feel not;
+    And at street corners men in shift or plot
+    Whisper together, or in the market-place
+    Gather, and peer each other in the face
+    Furtively, seeking comfort against care;
+    Whose eyes, meeting by chance, shift otherwhere
+    In haste. But in the houses, behind doors
+    Shuttered and barred, the women scrub their floors,
+    Or ply their looms as busily: for they
+    Ever cure care with care, and if a day
+    Be heavy lighten it with heavier task;
+    And for their griefs wear beauty like a mask,
+    And answer heart's presaging with a song
+    On their brave lips, and render right for wrong.
+    Little, by outward seeming, do they know
+    Of doom at hand, of fate or blood or woe,
+    Nor how their children, playing by their knees,
+    Must end this day of busyness-at-ease
+    In shrieking night, with clamour for their bread,
+    And a red bath, and a cold stone for a bed
+    Under the staring moon.
+
+                            Now sinks the sun
+    Blood-red into the heavy sea and dun,
+    And forth from him, as he were stuck with swords,
+    Great streams of light go upward. Then the lords
+    Of havoc and unrest prepare their storms,
+    And o'er the silent city, vulture forms--
+    Eris and Enyo, Alk�, Iok�,
+    The biter, the sharp-bitten, the mad, the fey--
+    Hover and light on pinnacle and tower:
+    The gray Erinnyes, watchful for the hour
+    When Haro be the wail. And down the sky
+    Like a white squall flung At� with a cry
+    That sounded like the wind in a ship's shrouds,
+    As shrill and wild at once. The driving clouds
+    Surging together, blotted out the sea,
+    The beach�d ships, the plain with mound and tree,
+    And slantwise came the sheeted rain, and fast
+    The darkness settled in. Kassandra cast
+    Her mantle o'er her head, and with slow feet
+    Entered her shrine deserted, there to greet
+    Her fate when it should come; and merciful Sleep
+    Befriended her.
+                    Now from his lair did creep
+    Odysseus forth unarmed, his sword and spear
+    There in the Horse, and warily to peer
+    And spy his whereabouts the Ithacan
+    Went doubtful. Then his dreadful work began,
+    As down the bare way of steep Pergamos
+    Under the dark he sought for Paris' house.
+
+
+TENTH STAVE
+
+ODYSSEUS COMES AGAIN TO PARIS' HOUSE
+
+      There in her cage roamed Helen light and fierce,
+    Unresting, with bright eyes and straining ears,
+    Nor ever stayed her steps; but first the hall
+    She ranged, touching the pillars; next to the wall
+    Went out and shot her gaze into the murk
+    Whereas the ships should lie; then to her work
+    Upon the great loom turned and wove a shift,
+    But idly, waiting always for some lift
+    In the close-wrapping fog that might discover
+    The moving hosts, the spearmen of her lover--
+    Lover and husband, master and lord of life,
+    Coming at last to take a slave to wife.
+    And as wide-eyed she stared to feel her heart
+    Leap to her side, she felt the warm tears start,
+    And thankt the Goddess for the balm they brought.
+    Yet to her women, withal so highly wrought
+    By hope and care and waiting, she was mild
+    And gentle-voiced, and playful as a child
+    That sups the moment's joy, and nothing heeds
+    Time past or time to come, but fills all needs
+    With present kindness. She would laugh and talk,
+    Take arms, suffer embraces, even walk
+    The terrace 'neath the eyes of all her fate,
+    And seem to heed what they might show or prate,
+    As if her whole heart's heart were in this house
+    And not at fearful odds and perilous.
+    And should one speak of Paris, as to say,
+    "Would that our lord might see thee go so gay
+    About his house!" Gently she'd bend her head
+    Down to her breast and pluck a vagrant thread
+    Forth from her tunic's hem, and looking wise,
+    Gaze at her hand which on her bosom's rise
+    Lit like a butterfly and quivered there.
+      Now in the dusk, with Paris otherwhere
+    At council with the chieftains, into the hall
+    To Helen there, was come, adventuring all,
+    Odysseus in the garb of countryman,
+    A herdsman from the hills, with stain of tan
+    Upon his neck and arms, with staff and scrip,
+    And round each leg bound crosswise went a strip
+    Of good oxhide. Within the porch he came
+    And louted low, and hailed her by her name,
+    Among her maidens easy to be known,
+    Though not so tall as most, and not full blown
+    To shape and flush like a full-hearted rose;
+    But like a summer wave her bosom flows
+    Lax and most gentle, and her tired sweet face
+    Seems pious as the moon in a blue space
+    Of starless heaven, and in her eyes the hue
+    Of early morning, gray through mist of blue.
+    Not by a flaunted beauty is she guessed
+    Queen of them all, but by the right expressed
+    In her calm gaze and fearless, and that hold
+    Upon her lips which Gods have. Nay, not cold,
+    Thou holy one, not cold thy lips, which say
+    All in a sigh, and with one word betray
+    The passion of thy heart! But who can wis
+    The fainting piercing message of thy kiss?
+    O blest initiate--let him live to tell
+    Thy godhead, show himself thy miracle!
+      But when she saw him there with his head bowed
+    And humble hands, deeply her fair face glowed,
+    And broad across the iris swam the black
+    Until her eyes showed darkling. "Friend, your lack
+    Tell me," she said, "and what is mine to give
+    Is yours; but little my prerogative
+    Here in this house, where I am not the queen
+    You call me, but another name, I ween,
+    Serves me about the country you are of,
+    Which Ilios gives me too, but not in love.
+    Yet are we all alike in evil plight,
+    And should be tender of each other's right,
+    And of each other's wrongdoing, and wrongs done
+    Upon us. Have you wife and little one
+    Hungry at home? Have you a son afield?
+    Or do you mourn? Alas, I cannot wield
+    The sword you lack, nor bow nor spear afford
+    To serve...."
+      He said, "Nay, you can sheathe the sword,
+    Slack bowstring, and make spear a hunter's toy.
+    Lady, I come to end this war of Troy
+    In your good pleasure."
+                            With her steady eyes
+    Unwinking fixt, "Let you and me devise,"
+    Said she, "this happy end of bow and spear,
+    So shall we serve the land. You have my ear;
+    Speak then."
+                  "But so," he said, "these maidens have it.
+    But we save Troy alone, or never save it."
+      Turning she bid them leave her with a nod,
+    And they obeyed. Swift then and like a God
+    She seemed, with bright all-knowing eyes and calm
+    Gesture of high-held head, and open palm
+    To greet. "Laertes' son, what news bringst thou?"
+      "Lady," he said, "the best. The hour is now.
+    We stand within the heaven-establisht walls,
+    We gird the seat. Within an hour it falls,
+    The seat divine of Dardanos and Tros,
+    After our ten years' travail and great loss
+    Of heroes not yet rested, but to rest
+    Soon."
+            Then she laid her hand upon her breast
+    To stay it. "Who are ye that stand here-by?"
+      "Desperate men," he said, "prepared to die
+    If thou wilt have it so. Chief is there none
+    Beside the ships but Nestor. All are gone
+    Forth in the Horse. Under thy covering hand
+    Thou holdest all Achaia. Here we stand,
+    Epeios, Pyrrhos, Antiklos, with these
+    Cretan Idomeneus, Meriones,
+    Aias the Lokrian, Teukros, Diomede
+    Of the loud war-cry, next thy man indeed,
+    Golden-haired Menelaus the robbed King,
+    And Agamemnon by him, and I who bring
+    This news and must return to take what lot
+    Thou choosest us; for all is thine, God wot,
+    To end or mend, to make or mar at will."
+      A weighty utterance, but she heard the thrill
+    Within her heart, and listened only that--
+    To know her love so near. So near he sat
+    Hidden when she that toucht the Horse's flank
+    Could have toucht him! "Odysseus!" her voice sank
+    To the low tone of the soft murmuring dove
+    That nests and broods, "Odysseus, heard my love
+    My whisper of his name when close I stood
+    And stroked the Horse?"
+                            "I heard and understood,"
+    He said, "and Lokrian Aias would have spoken
+    Had I not clapt a hand to his mouth--else broken
+    By garish day had been our house of dream,
+    And our necks too. I heard a woman scream
+    Near by and cry upon the Ruinous Face,
+    But none made answer to her."
+                                  Nought she says
+    To that but "I am ready; let my lord
+    Come when he will. Humbly I wait his word."
+      "That word I bring," Odysseus said, "he comes.
+    Await him here."
+                      Her wide eyes were the homes
+    Of long desire. "Ah, let me go with thee
+    Even as I am; from this dark house take me
+    While Paris is abroad!"
+                            He shook his head.
+    "Not so, but he must find thee here abed--
+    And Paris here."
+                      The light died out; a mask
+    Of panic was her face, what time her task
+    Stared on a field of white horror like blood:
+    "Here! But there must be strife then!"
+                                            "Well and good,"
+    Said he.
+              Then she, shivering and looking small,
+    "And one must fall?" she said; he, "One must fall."
+      Reeling she turned her pincht face other way
+    And muttered with her lips, grown cold and gray,
+    Then fawning came at him, and with her hands
+    Besought him, but her voice made no demands,
+    Only her haunted eyes were quick, and prayed,
+    "Ah, not to fall through me!"
+                                  "By thee," he said,
+    "The deed is to be done."
+                              She droopt adown
+    Her lovely head; he heard her broken moan,
+    "Have I not caused enough of blood-shedding,
+    And enough women's tears? Is not the sting
+    Sharp enough of the knife within my side?"
+    No more she could.
+                        Then he, "Think not to avoid
+    The lot of man, who payeth the full price
+    For each deed done, and riddeth vice by vice:
+    Such is the curse upon him. The doom is
+    By God decreed, that for thy forfeit bliss
+    In Sparta thou shalt pay the price in Troy,
+    Dishonour for lost honour, pain for joy;
+    By what hot thought impelled, by that alone
+    Win back; by violence violence atone.
+    If by chicane thou fleddest, by chicane
+    Win back thy blotted footprints. Out again
+    With all thine arts of kisses slow and long,
+    Of smiles and stroking hands, and crooning song
+    Whenas full-fed with love thou lulledst asleep;
+    Renew thine eyebright glances, whisper and creep
+    And twine about his neck thy wreathing arms:
+    As we with spears so do thou with thy charms,
+    Arm thee and wait the hour of fire and smoke
+    To purge this robbery. Paris by the stroke
+    Of him he robbed shall wash out his old cheat
+    In blood, and thou, woman, by new deceit
+    Of him redeem thy first. For thus God saith,
+    Traitress, thou shalt betray thy thief to death."
+      He ceased, and she by misery made wild
+    And witless, shook, and like a little child
+    Gazed piteous, and asked, "What must I do?"
+      He answered, "Hold him by thee, falsely true,
+    Until the King stand armed within the house
+    Ready to take his blood-price. Even thus,
+    By shame alone shalt thou redeem thy shame."
+      And now she claspt his knee and cried his name:
+    "Mercy! I cannot do it. Let me die
+    Sooner than go to him so. What, must I lie
+    With one and other, make myself a whore,
+    And so go back to Sparta, nevermore
+    To hold my head up level with my slaves,
+    Nor dare to touch my child?"
+                                  Said he, "Let knaves
+    Deal knavishly till freedom they can win;
+    And so let sinners purge themselves of sin."
+    Then fiercely looking on her where she croucht
+    Fast by his knees, his whole mind he avoucht:
+    "How many hast thou sent the way of death
+    By thy hot fault? What ghosts like wandering breath
+    Shudder and wail unhouseled on the plain,
+    Shreds of Achaian honour? What hearts in pain
+    Cry the night through? What souls this very night
+    Fare forth? Art thou alone to sup delight,
+    Alone to lap in pleasantness, who first
+    And only, with thy lecher and his thirst,
+    Wrought all the harm? Only for thy smooth sake
+    Did Paris reive, and Menelaus ache,
+    And Hector die ashamed, and Peleus' son
+    Stand to the arrow, and Aias Telamon
+    Find madness and self-murder for the crown
+    Of all his travail?" He eyed her up and down
+    Sternly, as measuring her worth in scorn.
+    "Not thus may traffic any woman born
+    While men endure cold nights and burning days,
+    Hunger and wretchedness."
+                              She stands, she says,
+    "Enough--I cannot answer. Tell me plain
+    What I must do."
+                      "At dark," he said, "we gain
+    The Gates and open them. A trumpet's blast
+    Will sound the entry of the host. Hold fast
+    Thy Paris then. We storm the citadel,
+    High Pergamos; that won, the horn will tell
+    The sack begun. But hold thou Paris bound
+    Fast in thine arms. Once more the horn shall sound.
+    That third is doom for him. Release him then."
+      All blank she gazed. "Unarmed to face armed men?"
+    "Unarmed," he said, "to meet his judgment day."
+
+      Now was thick silence broken; now no way
+    For her to shift her task nor he his fate.
+    Keenly she heeds. "'Tis Paris at the gate!
+    What now? Whither away? Where wilt thou hide?"
+      He lookt her in the face. "Here I abide
+    What he may do. Was it not truth I spake
+    That all Hellas lay in thy hand? Now take
+    What counsel or what comfort may avail."
+      Paris stood in the door and cried her Hail.
+    "Hail to thee, Rose of the World!" then saw the man,
+    And knit his brows upon him, close to scan
+    His features; but Odysseus had his hood
+    Shadowing his face. Some time the Trojan stood
+    Judging, then said, "Thou seek'st? What seekest thou?"
+      "A debt is owed me. I seek payment now."
+    So he was told; but he drew nearer yet.
+    "I would know more of thee and of thy debt,"
+    He said.
+              And then Odysseus, "This thy strife
+    Hath ruined all my fields which are my life,
+    Brought murrain on my beasts, cold ash to my hearth,
+    Emptiness to my croft. Hunger and dearth,
+    Are these enough? Who pays me?"
+                                    Then Paris,
+    "I pay, but first will know what man it is
+    I am to pay, and in what kind." So said,
+    Snatching the hood, he whipt it from his head
+    And lookt and knew the Ithacan. "Now by Zeus,
+    Treachery here!" He swung his sword-arm loose
+    Forth of his cloak and set hand to his sword;
+      But Helen softly called him: "Hath my lord
+    No word of greeting for his bondwoman?"
+    Straightway he went to her, and left the man,
+    And took her in his arms, and held her close.
+    And light of foot, Odysseus quit the house.
+
+
+ELEVENTH STAVE
+
+THE BEGUILING OF PARIS
+
+      Now Paris tipt her chin and turned her face
+    Upwards to his that fondly he might trace
+    The beauty of her budded lips, and stoop
+    And kiss them softly; and fingered in the loop
+    That held her girdle, and closer pressed, on fire,
+    Towards her; for her words had stung desire
+    Anew; and wooing in his fond boy's way,
+    Whispered and lookt his passion; then to pray
+    Began: "Ah, love, long strange to me, behold
+    Thy winter past, and come the days of gold
+    And pleasance of the spring! For in thine eyes
+    I see his light and hail him as he flies!
+    Nay, cloud him not, nor veil him"--for she made
+    To turn her face, saying, "Ah, let them fade:
+    The soul thou prisonest here is grayer far."
+      But he would give no quarter now. "O star,
+    O beacon-star, shine on me in the night
+    That I may wash me in thy bath of light,
+    Taking my fill of thee; so cleans�d all
+    And healed, I rise renewed to front what call
+    May be!" which said, with conquest in his bones
+    And in his eyes assurance, in high tones
+    He called her maids, bade take her and prepare
+    The couch, and her to be new-wedded there;
+    For long had they been strangers to their bliss.
+      So by the altar standeth she submiss
+    And watchful, praying silent and intense
+    To a strange-figured Goddess, to his sense
+    Who knew but Aphrodit�. "Love, what now?
+    Who is thy God? What secret rite hast thou?"
+    For grave and stern above that altar stood
+    Her� the Queen of Heaven.
+                              In dry mood
+    She answered him, "Chaste wives to her do pray
+    Before they couch, Blest be the strife! You say
+    We are to be new-wedded. Pour with me
+    Libation that we love not fruitlessly."
+      So said, she took the well-filled cup and poured,
+    And prayed, saying, "O Mother, not abhorred
+    Be this my service of thee. Count it not
+    Offence, nor let my prayers be forgot
+    When reckoning comes of things done and not done
+    By me thy child, or to me, hapless one,
+    Unloving paramour and unloved wife!"
+      "Her�, to thee for issue of the strife!"
+    Cried Paris then, and poured. So Helen went
+    And let her maids adorn her to his bent.
+
+      Then took he joy of her, and little guessed
+    Or cared what she might give or get. Possest
+    Her body by his body, but her mind
+    Searcht terribly the issue. As one blind
+    Explores the dark about him in broad day
+    And fingers in the air, so as she lay
+    Lax in his arms, her fainting eyes, aglaze
+    For terror coming, sought escape all ways.
+    Alas for her! What way for woman fair,
+    Whose joy no fairer makes her than despair?
+    Her burning lips that kisses could not cool,
+    Her beating heart that not love made so full,
+    The surging of her breast, her clinging hands:
+    Here are such signs as lover understands,
+    But fated Paris nowise. Her soul, distraught
+    To save him, proved the net where he was caught.
+    For more she anguisht lest love be his bane
+    The fiercelier spurred she him, to make him fain
+    Of that which had been ruinous to all.
+      But all the household gathered on the wall
+    While these two in discordant bed were plight,
+    And watcht the Achaian fires. No beacon-light
+    Showed by the shore, but countless, flickering, streamed
+    Innumerable lights, wove, dipt and gleamed
+    Like fireflies on a night of summer heat,
+    Withal one way they moved, though many beat
+    Across and back, and mingled with the rest.
+    Anon a great glare kindled from the crest
+    Of Ida, and was answered by a blaze
+    Behind the ships, which threw up in red haze
+    Huge forms of prow and beak. Then from the Mound
+    Of Ilos fire shot up, from sacred ground,
+    And out the mazy glory of moving lights
+    One sped and flared, as of the meteorites
+    In autumn some fly further, brighter courses.
+    A chariot! They heard the thunder of the horses;
+    And as they flew the torch left a bright wake.
+    And thus to one another woman spake,
+    "Lo, more lights race! They follow him, they near,
+    Catch and draw level. Hark! Now you can hear
+    The tramp of men!"
+                        Says one, "That baleful sheen
+    Is light upon their spears. The Greeks, I ween,
+    Are coming up to rescue or requite."
+      But then her mate: "They mass, they fill the night
+    With panic terror."
+                        True, that all night things
+    Fled as they came. They heard the flickering wings
+    Of countless birds in haste, and as they flew
+    So fled the dark away. Light waxed and grew
+    Until the dead of night was vivified
+    And radiant opened out the countryside
+    With pulsing flames of fire, which gleamed and glanced,
+    Flickered, wavered, yet never stayed advance.
+    As the sun rising high o'er Ida cold
+    Beats a sea-path in flakes of molten gold,
+    So stretcht from shore to Troy that litten stream
+    That moved and shuddered, restless as a dream,
+    Yet ever nearing, till on spear and shield
+    They saw light like the moon on a drowned field,
+    And in the glare of torches saw and read
+    Gray faces, like the legions of the dead,
+    Silent about the walls, and waiting there.
+      But in the fragrant chamber Helen the fair
+    Lay close in arms, and Paris slept, his head
+    Upon her bosom, deep as any dead.
+
+      Sudden there smote the blast of a great horn,
+    Single, long-held and shuddering, and far-borne;
+    And then a deathless silence. Paris stirred
+    On that soft pillow, and listened while they heard
+    Many men running frantically, with feet
+    That slapt the stones, and voices in the street
+    Of question and call--"Oh, who are ye that run?
+    What of the night?" "O peace!" And some lost one
+    Wailed like a woman, and her a man did curse,
+    And there were scuffling, prayers, and then worse--
+    A silence. But the running ended not
+    While Paris lay alistening with a knot
+    Of Helen's loose hair twisting round his finger.
+    "O love," he murmured low, "I may not linger.
+    The street's awake. Alas, thou art too kind
+    To be a warrior's bride." Sighing, she twined
+    Her arm about his neck and toucht his face,
+    And pressed it gently back to its warm place
+    Of pillowing. And Paris kissed her breast
+    And slept; but her heart's riot gave no rest
+    As quaking there she lay, awaiting doom.
+      Then afar off rose clamour, and the room
+    Was fanned with sudden light and sudden dark,
+    As on a summer night in a great park
+    Blazed forth you see each tuft of grass or mound,
+    Anon the drowning blackness, while the sound
+    Of Zeus's thunder hardens every close:
+    So here the chamber glared, then dipt, and rose
+    That far confus�d tumult, and now and then
+    The scurrying feet of passion-driven men.
+      Thrilling she waited with sick certainty
+    Of doom inexorable, while the struck city
+    Fought its death-grapple, and the windy height
+    Of Pergamos became a shambles. White
+    The holy shrines stared on a field of blood,
+    And with blank eyes the emptied temples stood
+    While murder raved before them, and below
+    And all about the city ran the woe
+    Of women for their children. Then the flame
+    Burst in the citadel, and overcame
+    The darkness, and the time seemed of broad day.
+    And Helen stared unwinking where she lay
+    Pillowing Paris.
+                      Now glad and long and shrill
+    The second trumpet sounds. They have the hill--
+    High Troy is down, is down! Starting, he wakes
+    And turns him in her arms. His face she takes
+    In her two hands and turns it up to hers.
+    Nothing she says, nothing she does, nor stirs
+    From her still scrutiny, nor so much as blinks
+    Her eyes, deep-searching, of whose blue he drinks,
+    And fond believes her all his own, while she
+    Marvels that aught of his she e'er could be
+    In times bygone. But now he is on fire
+    Again, and urges on her his desire,
+    And loses all the sense of present needs
+    For him in burning Troy, where Priam bleeds
+    Head-smitten, trodden on his palace-floor,
+    And white Kassandra yieldeth up her flower
+    To Aias' lust, and of the Dardan race
+    Survive he only, renegade disgrace,
+    He only and Aineias the wise prince.
+      But now is crying fear abroad and wins
+    The very household of the shameful lover;
+    Now are the streets alive, for worse in cover
+    Like a trapt rat to die than fight the odds
+    Under the sky. Now women shriek to the Gods,
+    And men run witlessly, and in and out
+    The Greeks press, burning, slaying, and the rout
+    Screameth to Heaven. As at sea the mews
+    Pack, their wings battling, when some fresh wrack strews
+    The tideway, and in greater haste to stop
+    Others from prey, will let their morsel drop,
+    And all the while make harsh lament--so here
+    The avid spoilers bickered in their fear
+    To be man[oe]uvred out of robbery,
+    And tore the spoil, and mangled shamefully
+    Bodies of men to strip them, and in haste
+    To forestall ravishers left the victims chaste.
+    Ares, the yelling God, and At� white
+    Swept like a snow-storm over Troy that night;
+    And towers rockt, and in the naked glare
+    Of fire the smoke climbed to the upper air;
+    And clamour was as of the dead broke loose.
+      But Menelaus his stern way pursues,
+    And to the wicked house with chosen band
+    Cometh, his good sword naked in his hand;
+    And now, while Paris loves and holds her fast
+    In arms, the third horn sounds a shattering blast,
+    Long-held, triumphant; and about the door
+    Gathers the household, to cry, to pray, to implore,
+    And at the last break in and scream the truth--
+    "The Greeks! The Greeks! Save yourselves!"
+                                                Then in sooth
+    Starts Paris out of bed, and as he goes
+    Sees in the eyes of Helen all she knows
+    And all believes; and with his utter loss
+    Of her rises the man in him that was
+    Ere luxury had entered blood and bone
+    Of him. No word he said, but let one groan,
+    And turned his dying eyes to hers, and read
+    Therein his fate, that to her he was dead,
+    Long dead and cold in grave. Whereat he past
+    Out of the door, and met his end at last
+    As man, not minion.
+                        But the woman fair
+    Lay on her face, half buried in her hair,
+    Naked and prone beneath her saving sin,
+    Not yet enheartened new life to begin.
+
+
+ENVOY
+
+    But thou didst rise, Maid Helen, as from sleep,
+    A final tryst to keep
+    With thy true lover, in whose hands thy life
+    Lay, as in arms; his wife
+    In heart as well as deed; his wife, his friend,
+    His soul's fount and its end!
+    For such it is, the marriage of true minds,
+    Each in each sanction finds;
+    So if her beauty lift her out of thought
+    Whither man's to be brought
+    To worship her perfection on his knees,
+    So in his strength she sees
+    Self glorified, and two make one clear orb
+    Whereinto all rays absorb
+    Which stream from God and unto God return.--
+    So, as he fared, I yearn
+    To be, and serve my years of pain and loss
+    'Neath my walled Ilios,
+    With my eyes ever fixt to where, a star,
+    Thou and thy sisters are,
+    Helen and Beatrice, with thee embraced,
+    Hands in thy hands, and arms about thy waist.
+
+_1911-12._
+
+
+
+
+HYPSIPYLE
+
+
+    Queen of the shadows, Maid and Wife,
+    Twifold in essence, as in life,
+    The lamp of Death, the star of Birth,
+    Half cradled and half mourned by Earth,
+    By Hell half won, half lost! aid me
+    To sing thy fond Hypsipyle,
+    Thy bosom's mate who, unafraid,
+    Renounced for thee what part she had
+    In sun and wind upon the hill,
+    In dawn about the mere, in still
+    Woodlands, in kiss of lapping wave,
+    In laughter, in love--all this she gave!--
+    And shared thy dream-life, visited
+    The sunless country of the dead,
+    There to abide with thee, their Queen,
+    In that gray region, shadow-seen
+    By them that cast no shadows, yet
+    Themselves are shadows. Nor forget,
+    Kor�, her love made manifest
+    To thee, familiar of her breast
+    And partner of her whispering mouth.
+
+      Thee too, Our Lady of the South,
+    Uranian Kypris, I invoke,
+    Regent of starry space, with stroke
+    Of splendid wing, in whose white wake
+    Stream those who, filled with thee, forsake
+    Their clinging shroudy clots, and rise,
+    Lover and loved, to thy pure skies,
+    To thy blue realm! O lady, touch
+    My lips with rue, for she loved much.
+
+      What poet in what cloistered nook,
+    Indenting in what roll of a book
+    His rhymes, can voice the tides of love?
+    Nay, thrilling lark, nay, moaning dove,
+    The nightingale's full-charg�d throat
+    That cheereth now, and now doth gloat,
+    And now recordeth bitter-sweet
+    Longing, too wise to image it:
+    These be your minstrels, lovers! Choose
+    From their winged choir your urgent Muse;
+    Let her your speechless joys relate
+    Which men with words sophisticate,
+    Striving by reasons make appear
+    To head what heart proclaims so clear
+    To heart; as if by wit to wis
+    What mouth to mouth tells in a kiss,
+    Or in their syllogisms dry
+    Freeze a swift glance's cogency.
+    Nay, but the heart's so music-fraught,
+    Music is all in love, words naught.
+    One heart's a rote, with music stored
+    Though mute; but two hearts make a chord
+    Of piercing music. One alone
+    Is nothing: two make the full tone.
+
+
+I
+
+      On Enna's uplands, on a lea
+    Between the mountains and the sea,
+    Shadowed anon by wandering cloud,
+    Or flickering wings of birds a-crowd,
+    And now all golden in the sun,
+    See Kor�, see her maidens run
+    Hither and thither through those hours
+    Of dawn among the wide-eyed flowers,
+    While gentian, crocus, asphodel
+    (With rosy star in each white bell),
+    Anemone, blood-red with rings
+    Of paler fire, that plant that swings
+    A crimson cluster in the wind
+    They pluck, or sit anon to bind
+    Of these earth-stars a coronet
+    For their smooth-tress�d Queen, who yet
+    Strays with her darling interlaced,
+    Hypsipyle the grave, the chaste--
+    Her whose gray shadow-life with his
+    Who singeth now for ever is.
+      She, little slim thing, Kor�'s mate,
+    Child-faced, gray-eyed, of sober gait,
+    Of burning mind and passion pent
+    To image-making, ever went
+    Where wonned her Mistress; for those two
+    By their hearts' grace together grew,
+    The one to need, the one to give
+    (As women must if they would live,
+    Who substance win by waste of self
+    And only spend to hoard their pelf:
+    "O heart, take all of mine!" "O heart,
+    That which thou tak'st of thee is part--
+    No robbery therefore: mine is thine,
+    Take then!"): so she and Proserpine
+    Intercommunion'd each bright day,
+    And when night fell together lay
+    Cradled in arms, or cheek to cheek
+    Whispered the darkness out. Thou meek
+    And gentle vision! let me tell
+    Thy beauties o'er I love so well:
+    Thy sweet low bosom's rise and fall,
+    Pulsing thy heart's clear madrigal;
+    Or how the blue beam from thine eyes
+    Imageth all love's urgencies;
+    Thy lips' frail fragrance, as of flowers
+    Remembered in penurious hours
+    Of winter-exile; of thy brow,
+    Not written as thy breast of snow
+    With love's faint charact'ry, for his wing
+    Leaves not the heart long! Last I sing
+    Thy thin quick fingers, in whose pleaching
+    Lieth all healing, all good teaching--
+    Wherewith, touching my discontent,
+    I know how thou art eloquent!
+      Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle!
+    Now may that serve to comfort me,
+    While I, O Maiden dedicate,
+    Seek voice for singing thy gray Fate!
+
+      Now, as they went, one heart in two,
+    Brusht to the knees by flowers, by dew
+    Anointed, by the wind caressed,
+    By the light kissed on eyes and breast,
+    'Twas Kor� talked; Hypsipyle
+    Listened, with eyes far-set, for she
+    Of speech was frugal, voicing low
+    And rare her heart's deep underflow--
+    Content to lie, like fallow sweet
+    For rain or sun to cherish it,
+    Or scattered seed substance to find
+    In her deep-funded, quiet mind.
+    And thus the Goddess: "Blest art thou,
+    Hypsipyle, who canst not know
+    Until the hour strikes what must come
+    To pass! But I foresee the doom
+    And stay to meet it. Even here
+    The place, and now the hour!" Then fear
+    Took her who spake so fearless, cold
+    Threaded her thronging veins--behold!
+    A hand on either shoulder stirs
+    That slim, sweet body close to hers,
+    And need fires need till, lip with lip,
+    They seal and sign their fellowship,
+    While Kor�, godhead all forgot,
+    Clings whispering, "Child, leave me not
+    Whenas to darkness and the dead
+    I go!" And clear the answer sped
+    From warm mouth murmuring kiss and cheer,
+    "Never I leave thee, O my dear!"
+    Thereafter stand they beatingly,
+    Not speaking; and the hour draws nigh.
+
+      And all the land shows passing fair,
+    Fair the broad sea, the living air,
+    The misty mountain-sides, the lake
+    Flecked blue and purple! To forsake
+    These, and those bright flower-gatherers
+    Scattered about this land of theirs,
+    That stoop or run, that kneel to pick,
+    That cry each other to come quick
+    And see new treasure, unseen yet!
+    Remembered joy--ah, how forget!
+
+      But mark how all must come to pass
+    As was foreknowledged. In the grass
+    Whereas the Goddess and her mate
+    Stood, one and other, prompt for fate--
+    Listless the first and heavy-eyed,
+    Astrain the second--she espied
+    That strange white flower, unseen before,
+    With chalice pale, which thin stalk bore
+    And swung, as hanging by a hair,
+    So fine it seemed afloat in air,
+    Unlinkt and wafted for the feast
+    Of some blest mystic, without priest
+    Or acolyte to tender it:
+    Whereto the maid did stoop and fit
+    Her hand about its silken cup
+    To close it, that her mouth might sup
+    The honey-drop within. The bloom
+    Saw Kor� then, and knew her doom
+    Foretold in it; and stood in trance
+    Fix�d and still. No nigromance
+    Used she, but read the fate it bore
+    In seedless womb and petals frore.
+    Chill blew the wind, waiting stood She,
+    Waiting her mate, Hypsipyle.
+
+      Then in clear sky the thunder tolled
+    Sudden, and all the mountains rolled
+    The dreadful summons round, and still
+    Lay all the lands, only the rill
+    Made tinkling music. Once more drave
+    Peal upon peal--and lo! a grave
+    Yawned in the Earth, and gushing smoke
+    Belched out, as driven, and hung, and broke
+    With sullen puff; like tongues the flame
+    Leapt following. Thence A�doneus came,
+    Swart-bearded king, with iron crown'd,
+    In iron mailed, his chariot bound
+    About with iron, holding back
+    Amain two steeds of glistering black
+    And eyeballs white-rimmed fearfully,
+    And nostrils red, and crests flying free;
+    Who held them pawing at the verge,
+    Tossing their spume up, as the surge
+    Flung high against some seaward bluff.
+    Nothing he spake, or smooth or gruff,
+    But drave his errand, gazing down
+    Upon the Maid, whose blown back gown
+    Revealed her maiden. Still and proud
+    Stood she among her nymphs, unbowed
+    Her comely head, undimmed her eye,
+    Inseparate her lips and dry,
+    Facing his challenge of her state,
+    Neither denying, nor desperate,
+    Pleading no mercy, seeing none,
+    Her wild heart masked in face of stone.
+    But they, her bevy, clustered thick
+    As huddled sheep, set their eyes quick,
+    And held each other, hand or waist,
+    Paling or flushing as fear raced
+    Thronging their veins--they knew not, they,
+    The gathered fates that broke this day,
+
+      And all the land seemed passing fair
+    To one who knew, and waited there.
+
+    "Goddess and Maid," then said the King,
+    "Long have I sought this day should bring
+    An end of torment. Know me thou
+    God postulant, with whom below
+    A world awaits her queen, while here
+    I seek and find one without peer;
+    Nor deem her heedless nor unschooled
+    In what in Heaven is writ and ruled.
+    Decreed of old my bride-right was,
+    Decreed thy Mother's pain and loss,
+    Decreed thy loathing, and decreed
+    That which thou shunnest to be thy need;
+    For thou shalt love me, Lady, yet,
+    Though little liking now, and fret
+    Of jealous care shall grave thy heart
+    And draw thee back when time's to part--
+    If fond Demeter have her will
+    Against thine own."
+
+                        The Maid stood still
+    And guarded watched, and her proud eyes'
+    Scrutiny bade his own advise
+    Whether indeed their solemn stare
+    Saw Destiny and read it there
+    Beyond her suitor, or within
+    Her own heart heard the message ring.
+    Awhile she gazed: her stern aspect,
+    Young and yet fraught with Godhead, checkt
+    Both Him who claimed, and her who'd cling,
+    And them who wondered. "O great King,"
+    She said, and mournful was her crying
+    As when night-winds set pine-trees sighing,
+    "King of the folk beyond the tide
+    Of sleep, behold thy chosen bride
+    Not shunning thee, nor seeking. Take
+    That which Gods neither mar nor make,
+    But only They, the Three, who spin
+    The threads which hem and mesh us in,
+    Both Gods and men, till she who peers
+    The longest cuts them with her shears.
+    Take, take, A�doneus, and take her,
+    My fosterling."
+                    Then He, "O star
+    Of Earth, O Beacon of my days,
+    Light of my nights, whose beamy rays
+    Shall pierce the foggy cerement
+    Wherein my dead grope and lament
+    Beyond all loss the loss of light,
+    Come! and be pleasant in my sight
+    This thy beloved. Perchance she too
+    Shall find a suitor come to woo;
+    For love men leave not with their bones--
+    That is the soul's, and half atones
+    And half makes bitterer their loss,
+    Remembering what their fortune was."
+      Trembling Hypsipyle uplift
+    Her eyes towards the hills, where swift
+    The shadows flew, but no more fleet
+    Than often she with flying feet
+    And flying raiment, she with these
+    Her mates, whom now estranged she sees--
+    As if the shadow-world had spread
+    About her now, and she was dead--
+    Her mates no more! cut off by fear
+    From these two fearless ones. A tear
+    Welled up and hovered, hung a gem
+    Upon her eyelid's dusky hem,
+    As raindrops linkt and strung arow
+    Broider with stars the winter bough.
+    This was her requiem and farewell
+    To them, thus rang she her own knell;
+    Nor more gave she, nor more asked they,
+    But took and went the fairy way.
+      For thus with unshed tears made blind
+    Went she: thus go the fairy kind
+    Whither fate driveth; not as we
+    Who fight with it, and deem us free
+    Therefore, and after pine, or strain
+    Against our prison bars in vain.
+    For to them Fate is Lord of Life
+    And Death, and idle is a strife
+    With such a master. They not know
+    Life past, life coming, but life now;
+    Nor back look they to long, nor forth
+    To hope, but sup the minute's worth
+    With draught so quick and keen that each
+    Moment gives more than we could reach
+    In all our term of three-score years,
+    Whereof full score we give to fears
+    Of losing them, and other score
+    Dreaming how fill the twenty more.
+      Now is the hour, Bride of the Night!
+    The chariot turns, the great steeds fight
+    The rocky entry; flies the dust
+    Behind the wheels at each fierce thrust
+    Of giant shoulder, at each lunge
+    Of giant haunch. Down, down they plunge
+    Into the dark, with rioting mane,
+    And the earth's door shuts-to again.
+    Now fly, ye Oreads, strain your arms,
+    Let eyes and hair voice your alarms--
+    Hair blown back, mouths astretch for fear,
+    Strained eyeballs--cry that Mother dear
+    Her daughter's rape; fly like the gale
+    That down the valleys drives the hail
+    In scurrying sheets, and lays the corn
+    Flat, which when man of woman born
+    Seeth, he bows him to the grass,
+    Whispering in hush, _The Oreads pass_.
+    (In shock he knows ye, and in mirth,
+    Since he is kindred of that earth
+    Which bore ye in her secret stress,
+    Images of her loveliness,
+    To her dear paramour the Wind.)
+    Follow me now that car behind.
+
+
+II
+
+      O ye that know the fairy throng,
+    And heed their secret under-song;
+    In flower or leaf's still ecstasy
+    Of birth and bud their passion see,
+    In wind or calm, in driving rain
+    Or frozen snow discern them strain
+    To utter and to be; who lie
+    At dawn in dewy brakes to spy
+    The rapture of their flying feet--
+    Follow me now those coursers fleet,
+    Sucked in their wake, down ruining
+    Through channelled night, where only sing
+    The shrill gusts streaming through the hair
+    Of them who sway and bend them there,
+    And peer in vain with shielded eyes
+    To rend the dark. Clinging it lies,
+    Thick as wet gossamer that shrouds
+    October brushwoods, or low clouds
+    That from the mountain tops roll down
+    Into the lowland vales, to drown
+    Men's voices and to choke their breath
+    And make a silence like to death.
+    But this was hot and dry; it came
+    And smote them, like the gush of flame
+    Fanned in a smithy, that outpours
+    And floods with fire the open doors.
+      Downward their course was, swift as flight
+    Of meteor flaring through the night,
+    Steady and dreadful, with no sound
+    Of wheels or hoofs upon the ground,
+    Nor jolt, nor jar; for once past through
+    Earth's portals, steeds and chariot flew
+    On wings invisible and strong
+    And even-oaring, such as throng
+    The nights when birds of passage sweep
+    O'er cities and the folk asleep:
+    Such was their awful flight. Afar
+    Showed Hades glimmering like a star
+    Seen red through fog: and as they sped
+    To that, the frontiers of the dead
+    Revealed their sullen leagues and bare,
+    And sad forms flitting here and there,
+    Or clustered, waiting who might come
+    Their empty ways with news of home.
+    Yet all one course at length must hold,
+    Or late or soon, and all be tolled
+    By Charon in his dark-prowed boat.
+    Thither was swept the chariot
+    And crossed dry-wheeled the coiling flood
+    Of Styx, and o'er the willow wood
+    And slim gray poplars which do hem
+    The further shore, Hell's diadem--
+    So by the tower foursquare and great
+    Where King A�doneus keeps his state
+    And rules his bodyless thralls they stand.
+
+      Dark ridge and hollow showed the land
+    Fold over fold, like waves of soot
+    Fixt in an anguish of pursuit
+    For evermore, so far as eye
+    Could range; and all was hot and dry
+    As furnace is which all about
+    Etna scorcheth in days of drouth,
+    And showeth dun and sinister
+    That fair isle linked to main so fair.
+    Nor tree nor herbage grew, nor sang
+    Water among the rocks: hard rang
+    The heel on metal, or on crust
+    Grew tender, or went soft in dust;
+    Neither for beast nor bird nor snake
+    Was harbourage; nor could such slake
+    Their thirst, nor from the bitter heat
+    Hide, since the sun not furnished it;
+    But airless, shadowless and dense
+    The land lay swooning, dead to sense
+    Beneath that vault of stuprous black,
+    Motionless hanging, without wrack
+    Of cloud to break and pass, nor rent
+    To hint the blue. Like the foul tent
+    A foul night makes, it sagged; for stars
+    Showed hopeless faces, with two scars
+    In each, their eyes' immortal woe,
+    Ever to seek and never know:
+    In all that still immensity
+    These only moved--these and the sea,
+    Which dun and sullen heaved, with surge
+    And swell unseen, save at the verge
+    Where fainted off the black to gray
+    And showed such light as on a day
+    Of sun's eclipse men tremble at.
+
+      Here the dead people moved or sat,
+    Casting no shadow, hailing none
+    Boldly; but in fierce undertone
+    They plied each other, or on-sped
+    Their way with signal of the head
+    For answer, or arms desperate
+    Flung up, or shrug disconsolate.
+    And this the quest of every one:
+    "What hope have ye?" And answer, "None."
+    Never passed shadow shadow but
+    That answer got to question put.
+    In that they lived, in that, alas!
+    Lovely and hapless, Thou must pass
+    Thy days, with this for added lot--
+    Aching, to nurse things unforgot.
+
+      Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle!
+    The Oread choir, the Oread glee:
+    The nimble air of quickening hills,
+    The sweet dawn light that floods and fills
+    The hollowed valleys; the dawn wind
+    That bids the world wake, and on blind
+    Eyelids of sleeping mortals lays
+    Cool palms that urge them see and praise
+    The Day-God coming with the sun
+    To hearten toil! He warned you run
+    And hide your beauties deep in brake
+    Of fern or briar, or reed of lake,
+    Or in wet crevice of the rock,
+    There to abide until the clock
+    You reckon by, with shadowy hands,
+    Lay benediction on the lands
+    And landsmen, and the eve-jar's croak
+    Summon ye, lightfoot fairy folk,
+    To your activity full tide
+    Over the empty earth and wide.
+    Here be your food, fair nymph, and coy
+    Of mortal ken--remember'd joy!
+
+      Remember'd joy! Ah, stormy nights,
+    Ah, the mad revel when wind fights
+    With wind, and slantwise comes the rain
+    And shatters at the window-pane,
+    To wake the hind, who little knows
+    Whose fingers drum those passionate blows,
+    Nor what swift indwellers of air
+    Ye be who hide in forms so fair
+    Your wayward motions, cruel to us,
+    While lovely, and dispiteous!
+    Ah, nights of flying scud and rout
+    When scared the slim young moon rides out
+    In her lagoon of open sky,
+    Or older, marks your revelry
+    As calm and large she oars above
+    Your drifting lives of ruth or love.
+    Boon were those nights of dusted gold
+    And glint of fireflies! Boon the cold
+    And witching frost! All's one, all's one
+    To thee, whose nights and days go on
+    Now in one span of changeless dusk
+    On one earth, crackling like the husk
+    Of the dropt mast in winter wood:
+    Remember'd joy--'tis all thy food,
+    Hypsipyle, to whose fond sprite
+    I vow my praise while I have light.
+
+      Dumbly she wandered there, as pale
+    With lack of light, with form as frail
+    As those poor hollow congeners
+    Whose searching eyes encountered hers,
+    Petitioning as mute as she
+    Some grain of hope, where none might be,
+    Daring not yet to voice their moan
+    To her whose case was not their own;
+    For where they go like breath in a shell
+    That wails, my love goes quick in Hell.
+
+      Alas, for her, the sweet and slim!
+    Slowly she pines; her eyes grow dim
+    With seeking; her smooth, sudden breasts
+    Hang languidly; those little nests
+    For kisses which her dimples were,
+    In cheeks graved hollow now by care
+    Vanish, and sharply thrusts her chin,
+    And sharp her bones of arm and shin.
+    Reproach she looks, about, above,
+    Denied her light, denied her love,
+    Denied for what she sacrificed,
+    Doomed to be fruitless agonist.
+    (O God, and I must see her fade,
+    Must see and anguish--in my shade!)
+      Nor help nor comfort gat she now
+    From her whose need called forth her vow;
+    For close in arms Queen Kor� dwelt
+    In that great tower A�doneus built
+    To cherish her; deep in his bed,
+    Loved as the Gods love whom they wed;
+    Turned from pale maiden to pale wife,
+    Pale now with love's insatiate strife
+    First to appease, and then renew
+    The wild desire to mingle two
+    Natures, to long, to seek, to shun,
+    To have, to give, to make two one
+    That must be two if they would each
+    Learn all the lore that love can teach.
+    So strove the mistress, while the maid
+    Went alien among the dead,
+    Unspoken, speaking none, but watcht
+    By them who knew themselves outmatcht
+    By her, translated whole, nor guessed
+    What miseries gnawed within that breast,
+    Which could be toucht, which could give meat
+    To babe; which was not eye-deceit
+    As theirs, poor phantoms. So went she
+    Grudged but unscathed beside the sea,
+    Or sat alone by that sad strand
+    Nursing her worn cheek in her hand;
+    And did not mark, as day on day
+    Lengthened the arch of changeless gray,
+    How she was shadowed, how to her
+    Stretcht arms another prisoner;
+    Nor knew herself desirable
+    By any thankless guest of Hell--
+    Withal each phantom seemed no less
+    Whole-natured to her heedlessness.
+
+      Midway her round of solitude
+    She used to haunt a dead sea-wood
+    Where among boulders lifeless trees
+    Stuck rigid fingers to the breeze--
+    That stream of faint hot air that flits
+    Aimless at noon. 'Tis there she sits
+    Hour after hour, and as a dove
+    Croons when her breast is ripe for love,
+    So sings this exile, quiet, sad chants
+    Of love, yet knows not what she wants;
+    And singing there in undertone,
+    Is one day answered by the moan
+    Of hidden mourner; but no fear
+    Hath she for sound so true, though near;
+    Nay, but sings out her elegy,
+    Which, like an echo, answers he.
+    Again she sings; he suits her mood,
+    Nor breaks upon her solitude:
+    So she, choragus, calls the tune,
+    And as she leads he follows soon.
+    As bird with bird vies in the brake,
+    She sings no note he will not take--
+    As when she pleads, "Ah, my lost love,
+    The night is dark thou art not of,"
+    Quick cometh answering the phrase,
+    "O love, let all our nights be days!"
+    This, rapt, with beating heart, she heeds
+    And follows, "Sweet love, my heart bleeds!
+    Come, stay the wound thyself didst give";
+    Then he, "I come to bid thee live."
+    And so they carol, and her heart
+    Swells to believe his counterpart,
+    And stroph� striketh clear, which he
+    Caps with his brave antistrophe;
+    And as a maiden waxes bold,
+    And opens what should not be told
+    When all her auditory she sees
+    Within her mirror, so to trees
+    And rocks, and sullen sounding main
+    She empties all her passioned pain;
+    And "love, love, love," her burden is,
+    And "I am starving for thee," his.
+    Moved, melted, all on fire she stands,
+    Holding abroad her quivering hands,
+    Raises her sweet eyes faint with tears
+    And dares to seek him whom she hears;
+    And from her parted lips a sigh
+    Stealeth, as knowing he is nigh
+    And her fate on her--then she'd shun
+    That which she seeks; but the thing's done.
+
+      Hollow-voiced, dim, spake her a shade,
+    "O thou that comest, nymph or maid--
+    If nymph, then maiden, since for aye
+    Virgin is immortality,
+    Nor love can change what Death cannot--
+    Look on me by love new-begot;
+    Look on me, child new-born, nor start
+    To see my form who knowest my heart;
+    For it is thine. O Mother and Wife,
+    Take then my love--thou gavest it life!"
+
+      So spake one close: to whom she lent
+    The wonder of her eyes' content--
+    That lucent gray, as if moonlight
+    Shone through a sapphire in the night--
+    And saw him faintly imaged, rare
+    As wisp of cloud on hillside bare,
+    A filamental form, a wraith
+    Shaped like that man who in the faith
+    Of one puts all his hope: who stood
+    Trembling in her near neighbourhood,
+    A thing of haunted eyes, of slim
+    And youthful seeming; yet not dim,
+    Yet not unmanly in his fashion
+    Of speech, nor impotent of passion--
+    The which his tones gave earnest of
+    And his asp�ct of hopeless love;
+    Who, drawing nearer, came to stand
+    So close beside her that one hand
+    Lit on her shoulder--yet no touch
+    She felt: "O maiden overmuch,"
+    He grieved, "O body far too sweet
+    For such as I, frail counterfeit
+    Of man, who yet was once a man,
+    Cut off before the midmost span
+    Of mortal life was but half run,
+    Or ere to love he had found one
+    Like thee--yet happy in that fate,
+    That waiting, he is fortunate:
+    For better far in Hell to fare
+    With thee than commerce otherwhere,
+    Sharing the snug and fat outlook
+    Of bed and board and ingle-nook
+    With earth-bound woman, earth-born child.
+    Nay, but high love is free and wild
+    And centreth not in mortal things;
+    But to the soul giveth he wings,
+    And with the soul strikes partnership,
+    So may two let corruption slip
+    And breasting level, with far eyes
+    Lifted, seek haven in the skies,
+    Untrammel'd by the earthly mesh.
+    O thou," said he, "of fairy flesh,
+    Immortal prisoner, take of me
+    Love! 'tis my heritage in fee;
+    For I am very part thereof,
+    And share the godhead."
+                            So his love
+    Pled he with tones in love well-skilled
+    Which on her bosom beat and thrilled,
+    And pierced. No word nor look she had
+    To voice her heart, or sad or glad.
+    Rapt stood she, wooed by eager word
+    And by her need, whose cry she heard
+    Above his crying; but she guessed
+    She was desired, beset, possessed
+    Already, handfasted to sight,
+    And yielding so, her heart she plight.
+
+      Thus was her mating: of the eyes
+    And ears, and her love half surmise,
+    Detected by her burning face
+    Which saw, not felt, his fierce embrace.
+    For on her own she knew no hand
+    When caging it he seemed to stand,
+    And round her waist felt not the warm
+    Sheltered peace of the belting arm
+    She saw him clasp withal. When rained
+    His words upon her, or eyes strained
+    As though her inmost shrine to pierce
+    Where hid her heart of hearts, her ears
+    Conceived, although her body sweet
+    Might never feel a young life beat
+    And leap within it. Ah, what cry
+    That mistress e'er heard poet sigh
+    Could voice thy beauty? Or what chant
+    Of music be thy ministrant?
+    Since thou art Music, poesy
+    Must both thy spouse and increase be!
+
+      In the hot dust, where lizards crouch
+    And pant, he made her bridal couch;
+    Thither down drew her to his side
+    And, phantom, taught her to be bride
+    With words so ardent, looks so hot
+    She needs must feel what she had not,
+    Guess herself in beleaguered bed
+    And throb response. Thus she was wed.
+    As she whom Zeus loved in a cloud,
+    So lay she in her lover's shroud,
+    And o'er her members crept the chill
+    We know when mist creeps up a hill
+    Out of the vale at eve. As grows
+    The ivy, rooting as it goes,
+    In such a quick close envelope
+    She lay aswoon, nor guessed the scope
+    Nor tether of his hot intent,
+    Nor what to that inert she lent,
+    Save when at last with half-turned head
+    And glimmering eyes, encompass�d
+    She saw herself, a bride possest
+    By ghostly bridegroom, held and prest
+    To unfelt bosom, saw his mouth
+    Against her own, which to his drouth
+    Gave no allay that she could sense,
+    Nor took of her sweet recompense.
+    So moved by pity, stirred by rue,
+    Out of their onslaught young love grew.
+    Love that with delicate tongues of fire
+    Can kindle hearts inflamed desire
+    In her for him who needed it;
+    And so she claimed and by eyes' wit
+    Had what she would: and now made war,
+    Being, as all sweet women are,
+    Prudes till Love calls them, and then fierce
+    In love's high calling. Thus with her ears
+    She fed on love, and to her eyes
+    Lent deeds of passionate emprise--
+    Till at the last, the shadowy strife
+    Ended, she owned herself all wife.
+
+      High mating of the mind! O love,
+    Since this must be, on this she throve!
+    Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle,
+    Since this must be, O love, let be!
+
+_1911._
+
+
+
+
+OREITHYIA
+
+
+    Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried
+    To stormy Thrace from Athens where you tarried
+    Down by Ilissus all a blowy day
+    Among the asphodels, how rapt away
+    Thither, and in what frozen bed wert married?
+
+    "I was a King's tall daughter still unwed,
+    Slim and desirable my locks to shed
+    Free from the fillet. He my maiden belt
+    Undid with busy fingers hid but felt,
+    And made me wife upon no marriage bed.
+
+    "As idly there I lay alone he came
+    And blew upon my side, and beat a flame
+    Into my cheeks, and kindled both my eyes.
+    I suffered him who took no bodily guise:
+    The light clouds know whether I was to blame.
+
+    "Into my mouth he blew an amorous breath;
+    I panted, but lay still, as quiet as death.
+    The whispering planes and sighing grasses know
+    Whether it was the wind that loved me so:
+    I know not--only this, 'O love,' he saith,
+
+    "'O long beset with love, and overloved,
+    O easy saint, untempted and unproved,
+    O walking stilly virgin ways in hiding,
+    Come out, thou art too choice for such abiding!
+    She never valued ease who never roved.
+
+    "'Thou mayst not see thy lover, but he now
+    Is here, and claimeth thy low moonlit brow,
+    Thy wonderful eyes, and lips that part and pout,
+    And polished throat that like a flower shoots out
+    From thy dark vesture folded and crossed low.'
+
+    "With that he had his way and went his way;
+    For Gods have mastery, and a maiden's nay
+    Grows faint ere it is whispered all. I sped
+    Homeward with startled face and tiptoe tread,
+    And up the stair, and in my chamber lay.
+
+    "Crouching I lay and quaked, and heard the wind
+    Wail round the house like a mad thing confined,
+    And had no rest; turn wheresoe'er I would
+    This urgent lover stormed my solitude
+    And beat against the haven of my mind.
+
+    "And over all a clamour and dis-ease
+    Filled earth and air, and shuddered in my knees
+    So that I could not stand, but by the wall
+    Leaned pitifully breathing. Still his call
+    Volleyed against the house and tore the trees.
+
+    "Then out my turret-window as I might
+    I leaned my body to the blind wet night;
+    That eager lover leapt me, circled round,
+    Wreathed, folded, held me prisoner, wrapt and bound
+    In manacles of terror and delight.
+
+    "That night he sealed me to him, and I went
+    Thenceforth his leman, submiss and content;
+    So from the hall and feast, whenas I heard
+    His clear voice call, I flitted like a bird
+    That beats the brake, and garnered what he lent.
+
+    "I was no maid that was no wife; my days
+    Went by in dreams whose lights are golden haze
+    And skies are crimson. Laughing not, nor crying,
+    I strayed all witless with my loose hair flying,
+    Bearing that load that women think their praise.
+
+    "And felt my breasts grow heavy with that food
+    That women laugh to feel and think it good;
+    But I went shamefast, hanging down my head,
+    With girdle all too strait to serve my stead,
+    And bore an unguessed burden in my blood.
+
+    "There was a winter night he came again
+    And shook the window, till cried out my pain
+    Unto him, saying, 'Lord, I dare not live!
+    Lord, I must die of that which thou didst give!
+    Pity me, Lord!' and fell. The winter rain
+
+    "Beat at the casement, burst it, and the wind
+    Filled all the room, and swept me white and blind
+    Into the night. I heard the sound of seas
+    Beleaguer earth, I heard the roaring trees
+    Singing together. We left them far behind.
+
+    "And so he bore me into stormy Thrace,
+    Me and my load, and kissed back to my face
+    The sweet new blood of youth, and to my limbs
+    The wine of life; and there I bore him twins,
+    Zethes and Cala�s, in a rock-bound place."
+
+    Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried
+    To stormy Thrace, think you of how you tarried
+    And let him woo and wed? "Ah, no, for now
+    He's kissed all Athens from my open brow.
+    I am the Wind's wife, wooed and won and married."
+
+_1897._
+
+
+
+
+CLYTI�
+
+
+    Hearken, O passers, what thing
+    Fortuned in Hellas. A maid,
+    Lissom and white as the roe,
+    Lived recess'd in a glade.
+    Clyti�, Hamadryad,
+    She was called that I sing--
+    Flower so fair, so frail, that to bring her a woe,
+    Surely a pitiful thing!
+
+    A wild bright creature of trees,
+    Brooks, and the sun among leaves,
+    Clyti�, grown to be maid:
+    Ah, she had eyes like the sea's
+    Iris of green and blue!
+    White as sea-foam her brows,
+    And her hair reedy and gold:
+    So she grew and waxt supple and fit to be spouse
+    In a king's palace of old.
+
+    All in a kirtle of green,
+    With her tangle of red-gold hair,
+    In the live heart of an oak,
+    Clyti�, harbouring there,
+    Thron�d there as a queen,
+    Clyti� wondering woke:
+    Ah, child, what set thee too high for thy sweet demesne,
+    And who ponder'd the doleful stroke?
+
+    For the child that was maiden grown,
+    The queen of the forest places,
+    Clyti�, Hamadryad,
+    Tired of the joy she had,
+    And the kingdom that was her own;
+    And tired of the quick wood-races,
+    And joy of herself in the pool when she wonder'd down,
+    And tired of her budded graces.
+
+    And the child lookt up to the Sun
+    And the burning track of his car
+    In the broad serene above her:
+    "O King Sun, be thou my lover,
+    For my beauty is just begun.
+    I am fresh and fair as a star;
+    Come, lie where the lilies are:
+    Behold, I am fair and dainty and white all over,
+    And I waste in the wood unknown!"
+
+    Rose-flusht, daring, she strain'd
+    Her young arms up, and she voiced
+    The wild desire of her heart.
+    The woodland heard her, the faun,
+    The satyr, and things that start,
+    Peering, heard her; the dove, crooning, complain'd
+    In the pine-tree by the lawn.
+    Only the runnel rejoiced
+    In his rushy hollow apart
+    To see her beauty flash up
+    White and red as the dawn.
+
+    Sorrow, ye passers-by,
+    The quick lift of her word,
+    The crimson blush of her pride!
+    Heard her the heavens' lord
+    In his flaming seat in the sky:
+    "Overbold of her years that will not be denied;
+    She would be the Sun-God's bride!"
+    His brow it was like the flat of a sword,
+    And levin the glance of his side.
+
+    And he bent unto her, and his mouth
+    Burnt her like coals of fire;
+    He gazed with passionate eyes,
+    Like flame that kindles and dries,
+    And his breath suckt hers as the white rage of the South
+    Draws life; his desire
+    Was like to a tiger's drouth.
+    What shall the slim maiden avail?
+    Alas, and alas for her youth!
+
+    Tremble, O maids, that would set
+    Your love-longing to the Sun!
+    For Clyti� mourn, and take heed
+    How she loved her king and did bleed
+    Ere kissing had yet begun.
+    For lo! one shaft from his terrible eyes she met,
+    And it burnt to her soul, and anon
+    She paled, and the fever-fret
+    Did bite to her bones; and wan
+    She fell to rueing the deed.
+
+    Mark ye, maidens, and cower!
+    Lo, for an end of breath,
+    Clyti�, hardy and frail,
+    Anguisht after her death.
+    For the Sun-flower droops and is pale
+    When her king hideth his power,
+    And ever draggeth the woe of her piteous tale,
+    As a woman that laboureth
+    Yet never reacheth the hour:
+    So Clyti� yearns to the Sun, for her wraith
+    Moans in the bow'd sunflower.
+
+    Clyti�, Hamadryad,
+    Called was she that I sing:
+    Flower so fair and frail that to work her this woe,
+    Surely a pitiful thing!
+
+_1894._
+
+
+
+
+LAI OF GOBERTZ[1]
+
+
+    Of courteous Limozin wight,
+    Gobertz, I will indite:
+    From Poicebot had he his right
+          Of gentlehood;
+    Made monk in his own despite
+    In San L�onart the white,
+    Withal to sing and to write
+          _Coblas_ he could.
+
+    Learning had he, and rare
+    Music, and _gai saber_:
+    No monk with him to compare
+          In that monast'ry.
+    Full lusty he was to bear
+    Cowl and chaplet of hair
+    God willeth monks for to wear
+          For sanctity.
+
+    There in dortoir as he lay,
+    To this Gobertz, by my fay,
+    Came fair women to play
+          In his sleep;
+    Then he had old to pray,
+    Fresh and silken came they,
+    With eyen saucy and gray
+          That set him weep.
+
+    May was the month, and soft
+    The singing nights; up aloft
+    The quarter moon swam and scoffed
+          His unease.
+    Rose this Gobertz, and doffed
+    His habit, and left that croft,
+    Crying _Eleison_ oft
+          At Venus' knees.
+
+    Heartly the road and the town
+    Maul�on, over the down,
+    Sought he, and the renown
+          Of Savaric;
+    To that good knight he knelt down,
+    Asking of him in bown
+    Almesse of laurel crown
+          For his music.
+
+    Fair him Savaric spake,
+    "If _coblas_ you know to make,
+    Song and music to wake
+          For your part,
+    Horse and lute shall you take
+    Of _Jongleur_, lightly forsake
+    Cloister for woodland brake
+          With good heart."
+
+    Down the high month of May
+    Now rideth Gobertz his way
+    To Aix, to Puy, to Alais,
+          To Albi the old;
+    In Toulouse mindeth to stay
+    With Count Simon the Gay,
+    There to abide what day
+          Love shall hold.
+
+    Shrill riseth his song:
+    _Cobla_, _lai_, or _tenzon_,
+    None can render him wrong
+          In that _meinie_--
+    Love alone, that erelong
+    Showed him in all that throng
+    Of ladies Tibors the young,
+          None but she.
+
+    She was high-hearted and fair,
+    Low-breasted, with hair
+    Gilded, and eyes of vair
+          In burning face:
+    On her Gobertz astare,
+    Looking, stood quaking there
+    To see so debonnair
+          Hold her place.
+
+    Proud _donzela_ and free,
+    To clip nor to kiss had she
+    Tal�nt, nor for minstrelsy
+          Was she fain;
+    Mistress never would be,
+    Nor master have; but her fee
+    She vowed to sweet Chastity,
+          Her suzerain.
+
+    Then this Gobertz anon
+    Returneth to Maul�on,
+    To Savaric maketh moan
+          On his knees.
+    Other pray'r hath he none
+    Save this, "Sir, let me begone
+    Whence I came, since fordone
+          My expertise."
+
+    Quod Savaric, "Hast thou sped
+    So ill in _amors_?" Answer�d
+    This Gobertz, "By my head,
+          She scorneth me."
+    "_Hauberc_ and arms then, instead
+    Of lute and begarlanded
+    Poll, take you," he said,
+          "For errantry."
+
+    Now rides he out, a dubbed knight,
+    The Spanish road, for to fight
+    Paynimry; day and night
+          Urgeth he;
+    In Saragoza the bright,
+    And Pampluna with might
+    Seeketh he what respite
+          For grief there be.
+
+    War-dimmed grew his gear,
+    Grim his visage; in fear
+    Listened Mahound his cheer
+          Deep in Hell.
+    Fled his legions to hear
+    Gobertz the knight draw near.
+    Now he closeth the year
+          In Compostell.
+
+    Offering there hath he made
+    Saint James, candles him paid,
+    Gold on the shrine hath laid;
+          Now Gobertz
+    Is for Toulouse, where that maid
+    Tibors wonned unafraid
+    Of Love and his accolade
+          That breaketh hearts.
+
+    He rode north and by east,
+    Nor rider spared he nor beast,
+    Nor tempered spur till at least
+          Forth of Spain;
+    Not for mass-bell nor priest,
+    For fast-day nor yet for feast
+    Stayed he, till voyage ceased
+          In Aquitaine.
+
+    Now remaineth to tell
+    What this Gobertz befell
+    When that he sought hostel
+          In his land.
+    Dined he well, drank he well,
+    Envy then had somedeal
+    With women free in _bordel_
+          For to spend.
+
+    In poor _alberc_ goeth he
+    Where bought pleasure may be,
+    Careless proffereth fee
+          For his bliss.
+    O Gobertz, look to thee.
+    Such a sight shalt thou see
+    Will make the red blood to flee
+          Thy heart, ywis.
+
+    Fair woman they bring him in
+    Shamefast in her burning sin,
+    All afire is his skin
+          _Par amors_.
+    Look not of her look to win,
+    Dare not lift up her chin,
+    Gobertz; in that soiled fond thing
+          Lo, Tibors!
+
+    "O love, O love, out, alas!
+    That it should come to this pass,
+    And thou be even as I was
+          In green youth,
+    Whenas delight and solace
+    Served I with wantonness,
+    And burned anon like the grass
+          To this ruth!"
+
+    But then lift she her sad eyes,
+    Gray like wet morning skies,
+    That wait the sun to arise,
+          Tears to amend.
+    "Gobertz, _amic_," so she cries,
+    "By Jesus' agonies
+    Hither come I by lies
+          Of false friend.
+
+    "Sir Richart de Laund he hight,
+    Who fair promised me plight
+    Of word and ring, on a night
+          Of no fame;
+    So then evilly bright
+    Had his will and delight
+    Of me, and fled unrequite
+          For my shame!
+
+    "Alas, and now to my thought
+    Flieth the woe that I wrought
+    Thee, Gobertz, that distraught
+          Thou didst fare.
+    Now a vile thing of nought
+    Fare I that once was so haught
+    And free, and could not be taught
+          By thy care."
+
+    But Gobertz seeth no less
+    Her honour and her sweetness,
+    Soon her small hand to kiss
+          Taketh he,
+    Saying, "Now for that stress
+    Drave thee here thou shalt bless
+    God, for so ending this
+          Thy penury."
+
+    Yet she would bid him away,
+    Seeking her sooth to say,
+    In what woful array
+          She was cast.
+    "Nay," said he, "but, sweet may,
+    Here must we bide until day:
+    Then to church and to pray
+          Go we fast."
+
+    Now then to all his tal�nt,
+    Seeing how he was bent,
+    Him the comfort she lent
+          Of her mind.
+    Cried Gobertz, well content,
+    "If love by dreariment
+    Cometh, that was well spent,
+          As I find."
+
+    Thereafter somewhat they slept,
+    When to his arms she had crept
+    For comfort, and freely wept
+          Sin away.
+    Up betimes then he leapt,
+    Calling her name: forth she stept
+    Meek, disposed, to accept
+          What he say.
+
+    By hill road taketh he her
+    To the gray nuns of Beaucaire,
+    There to shred off her hair
+          And take veil.
+    Himself to cloister will fare
+    Monk to be, with good care
+    For their two souls. May his pray'r
+          Them avail!
+
+_1911._
+
+[1] I owe the substance of this _lai_ to my friend Ezra Pound, who
+unearthed it, {psamath� eilymena poll�}, in some Proven�al repertory.
+
+
+
+
+THE SAINTS' MAYING
+
+
+    Since green earth is awake
+    Let us now pastime take,
+    Not serving wantonness
+    Too well, nor niggardness,
+    Which monks of men would make.
+
+    But clothed like earth in green,
+    With jocund hearts and clean,
+    We will take hands and go
+    Singing where quietly blow
+    The flowers of Spring's demesne.
+
+    The cuckoo haileth loud
+    The open sky; no cloud
+    Doth fleck the earth's blue tent;
+    The land laughs, well content
+    To put off winter shroud.
+
+    Now, since 'tis Easter Day,
+    All Christians may have play;
+    The young Saints, all agaze
+    For Christ in Heaven's maze,
+    May laugh who wont to pray.
+
+    Then welcome to our round
+    They light on homely ground:--
+    Agnes, Saint Cecily,
+    Agatha, Dorothy,
+    Margaret, Hildegonde;
+
+    Next come with Barbara
+    Lucy and Ursula;
+    And last, queen of the Nine,
+    Clear-eyed Saint Catherine
+    Joyful arrayeth her.
+
+    Then chooseth each her lad,
+    And after frolic had
+    Of dance and carolling
+    And playing in a ring,
+    Seek all the woodland shade.
+
+    And there for each his lass
+    Her man a nosegay has,
+    Which better than word spoken
+    Might stand to be her token
+    And emblem of her grace.
+
+    For Cecily, who bent
+    Her slim white neck and went
+    To Heaven a virgin still,
+    The nodding daffodil,
+    That bends but is not shent.
+
+    Lucy, whose wounded eyes
+    Opened in Heaven star-wise,
+    The lady-smock, whose light
+    Doth prank the grass with white,
+    Taketh for badge and prize.
+
+    Because for Lord Christ's hest
+    Men shore thy warm bright breast,
+    Agatha, see thy part
+    Showed in the burning heart
+    Of the white crocus best.
+
+    What fate was Barbara's
+    Shut in the tower of brass,
+    We figure and hold up
+    Within the stiff king-cup
+    That crowns the meadow grass.
+
+    Agnes, than whose King Death
+    Stayed no more delicate breath
+    On earth, we give for dower
+    Wood-sorrel, that frail flower
+    That Spring first quickeneth.
+
+    Dorothy, whose shrill voice
+    Bade Heathendom rejoice,
+    The sweet-breath'd cowslip hath;
+    And Margaret, who in death
+    Saw Heaven, her pearly choice.
+
+    Then she of virgin brood
+    Whom Prince of Britain woo'd,
+    Ursula, takes by favour
+    The hyacinth whose savour
+    Enskies the sunny wood.
+
+    Hildegonde, whose spirit high
+    The Cross did not deny,
+    Yet blusht to feel the shame,
+    Anemones must claim,
+    Whose roses early die.
+
+    Last, she who gave in pledge
+    Her neck to the wheel's edge,
+    Taketh the fresh primrose
+    Which (even as she her foes)
+    Redeems the wintry hedge.
+
+    So garlanded, entwined,
+    Each as may prompt her mind,
+    The Saints renew for Earth
+    And Heaven such seemly mirth
+    As God once had design'd.
+
+    And when the day is done,
+    And veil'd the goodly Sun,
+    Each man his maid by right
+    Doth kiss and bid Good-night;
+    And home goes every one.
+
+    The maids to Heaven do hie
+    To serve God soberly;
+    The lads, their loves in Heaven,
+    What lowly work is given
+    They do, to win the sky.
+
+_1896._
+
+
+
+
+THE ARGIVE WOMEN[2]
+
+ CHTHONO�          MYRTILLA
+ RHODOPE           PASIPHASSA
+ GORGO             SITYS
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SCENE
+
+The women's house in the House of Paris in Troy.
+
+TIME.--The Tenth year of the War.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ _Helen's women are lying alone in the twilight
+     hour. Chthono� presently rises and throws a
+     little incense upon the altar flame. Then she
+     begins to speak to the Image of Aphrodite in
+     a low and tired voice._
+
+
+                CHTHONO�
+
+    Goddess of burning and little rest,
+    By the hand swaying on thy breast,
+    By glancing eye and slow sweet smile
+    Tell me what long look or what guile
+    Of thine it was that like a spear
+    Pierced her heart, who caged me here
+    In this close house, to be with her
+    Mistress at once and prisoner!
+      Far from earth and her pleasant ways
+    I lie, whose nights are as my days
+    In this dim house, where on the wall
+    I watch the shadows rise and fall
+    And know not what is reckt or done
+    By men and horses out in the sun,
+    Nor heed their traffic, nor their cheer
+    As forth they go or back, but hear
+    The fountain plash into the pond,
+    The brooding doves, and sighs of fond
+    Lovers whose lips yearn as they sever
+    For longer joy, joy such as never
+    Hath man but in the mind. But what
+    Men do without, that I know not
+    Who see them but as shadows thrown
+    Upon a screen. I see them blown
+    Like clouds of flies about the plain
+    Where the winds sweep them and make vain
+    Their panoplies. They hem the verge
+    Of this high wall to guard us--urge
+    Galloping horses into war
+    And meet in shock of battle, far
+    Below us and our dreams: withal
+    Ten years have past us in this thrall
+    Since Helen came with eyes agleam
+    To Troy, and trod the ways of dream.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Men came about us, crying, "The Greeks!
+    Ships out at sea with high-held peaks
+    Like questing birds!" But I lay still
+    Kissing, nor turned.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+                          So I, until
+    The herald broke into my sleep,
+    Crying Agamemnon on the deep
+    With ships from high Mykenai. Then
+    I minded he was King of Men--
+    But not of women in the arms
+    They loved.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+                I heard their shrill alarms
+    Faint and far off, like an old fame.
+    Below this guarded house men came--
+    Chariots and horses clasht; they cried
+    King Agamemnon in his pride,
+    Or Hector, or young Diomede;
+    But I was kissing, could not heed
+    Aught save the eyes that held mine bound.
+    Anon a hush--anon the sound
+    Of hooves resistless, pounding--a cry,
+    "Achilles! Save yourselves!" But I--
+    Clinging I lay, and sighed in sign
+    That love must weary at last, even mine--
+    Even mine, Sweetheart!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                            Who watcht when flared
+    Lord Hector like a meteor, dared
+    The high stockade and fired the ships?
+    I watcht his lips who had had my lips.
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    And when he slew Menoikios' son,
+    Sister, what then?
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                        My cheek was wan
+    For lack of kissing--so I blew
+    On slumbering lids to draw anew
+    The eyes of him who had loved me well,
+    But now was faint.
+
+
+                CHTHONO�
+
+                        O Kypris, tell
+    The deeds of men, not lovers!
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+                                  Here
+    Came one all palsied in his fear,
+    Chattering and white, to Paris abed,
+    Flusht in his sleep--told Hector dead,
+    Dead and dishonoured, while he slept.
+    He sighed and turned. But Helen wept.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Not I. I turned and felt warm draught
+    Of breath upon my cheek, and laught
+    Softly, and snuggling, slept.
+
+
+                CHTHONO�
+
+                                  Fie, fie!
+    Goddess, drugged in thy dreams we lie,
+    Logs, not women, logs in the sun!
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    Thou art sated. So fretteth One,
+    The very fount of Love's sweet well,
+    The chord of Love made visible,
+    Sickened of her own loveliness,
+    Haggard as hawk too long in jess,
+    Aching for flight.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+                        Recall the bout
+    When Paris armed him and went out
+    Into the lists, and all men thronged
+    To see----
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+                Lord Paris and him he wronged
+    Fight for her, who should have her! We stood
+    Upon the walls, and she with her hood
+    Close to her cheek. But I saw the flicker
+    In her blue eyes!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                      But I was quicker,
+    And saw the man she looked upon,
+    And after what her blue eyes shone
+    Like cyanus in morning light.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Husband and lover she saw fight,
+    Man to man, with death between.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    Hatred coucht, as long and lean
+    As a lone wolf, on her man's crest--
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    And bit the Trojan!
+
+
+                CHTHONO�
+
+                        Thine was the rest,
+    Goddess! And Helen lit the fire,
+    With her disdain, of his desire.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Her eyes burned like the frosty stars
+    Of winter midnight.
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                        His the scars!
+    Bitten in his wax-pale cheek.
+
+
+                CHTHONO�
+
+    Nay, in his heart----
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+                          Nay, in his bleak
+    And writhen smile you see it!
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+                                  Nay!
+    In his sick soul.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+                      Let him go his way!
+    Hear my thought of a happier thing--
+    Sparta's trees in flood of spring
+    Where Eurotas' banks abrim
+    Drown the reeds, and foam-clots swim
+    Like a scattered brood of duck!
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Flowers anod! White flowers to pluck,
+    Stiffened in the foamy curds!
+    Ah, the green thickets quick with birds!
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    Calling Itys! Itys! Itys!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    She calls not here--her house it is
+    In Sparta!
+
+
+                RHODOPE (_with a sob_)
+
+                Peace!
+
+
+                CHTHONO�
+
+                        From my heart a cry--
+    Send me back, Goddess, ere I die
+    To those dear places and clean things--
+    To see my people, feel the wings
+    Of the gray night fold over me,
+    And touch my mother's knees, and be
+    Her child, as long ago I was
+    Before I lay burning in Ilios!
+
+                [_They hide their faces in their knees.
+                      Then one by one they sing._]
+
+    Let me sing an old sweet air,
+    Mother of Argos, to Thee,
+    For hope in my heart is fair
+    As light on the hills seen from afar at sea;
+    And my weary eyes turn there
+    As to the haven where my soul would be.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    I will arise and make choice
+    The house of my tumbled breast,
+    For she cometh, I hear the voice
+    Of her wings of healing, and she shall be my guest;
+    And my joys shall be her joys,
+    And my home her home, O wind of the South West!
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    As a bird that listens and thrills,
+    Hidden deep in the night,
+    For the sound of the little rills
+    That run musically towards the light;
+    As a hart to the high hills
+    Turneth his dying eyes, my soul takes flight.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Ah, to be folded deep
+    In the shade of Taygetus,
+    In my mother's arms to sleep
+    Even as a child when I lay harboured thus!
+    Oh, that I were as thy sheep,
+    Lacedaemon, my land, cradle and nurse of us!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    In Argos they sow the grain,
+    In Troy blood is their sowing;
+    There a green mantle covers the plain
+    Where the sweet green corn and sweet short grass are growing;
+    But here passion and pain--
+    Blood and dust upon earth, and a hot wind blowing.
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    To the hold on the far red hill
+    From the hold on the wide green lea,
+    Over the running water, follow who will
+    Therapnae's hawk with the dove of Amyklae.
+    But I would lie husht and still,
+    And feel the new grass growing quick over me!
+
+          [_The scene grows dark as they sit.
+              Their eyes are full of tears.
+              Presently one looks up, listening,
+              then another, then another. They
+              are all alert._]
+
+
+                CHTHONO�
+
+    Who prayeth peace? I feel her peace
+    Steal through me as a quiet air
+    Enters the house with sweet increase
+    Of light to healing, praise to prayer!
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    What do I know of guiltiness
+    When she is here, and with grave eyes
+    Seeketh the ways of quietness
+    And lampeth them?
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+                      Arise, arise!
+
+                      [_They all stand waiting._]
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Hark! Her footfall like the dew--
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    As a flower by frost made sere
+    Long before the sun breaks through,
+    Feeleth him, I know her near.
+
+                    [_Helen stands in the doorway._]
+
+
+                CHTHONO�
+
+    This is she, the source of light,
+    Source of light and end of it,
+    Argive Helen, slim and sweet,
+    For whose bosom and delight,
+    For whose eyes, those wells of peace,
+    Paris wrought, as well he might,
+    Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    Starry wonder that she was,
+    Caged like sea-bird in his arms,
+    See her passion thrill, then pass
+    From him who, doting on her charms,
+    So became abominable.
+    Watch her bosom dip and swell,
+    See her nostrils fan and curve
+    At his touch who loved not well,
+    But loved too much, who broke the spell;
+    Watch her proud head stiffen and swerve.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Upon the wall with claspt white hands
+    See her vigil keep intent,
+    Argive Helen, lo! she stands
+    Looking seaward where the fires
+    Hem the shore innumerable;
+    Sign of that avenging host,
+    All Achaia's chivalry,
+    Past the tongue of man to tell,
+    Peers and kindred of her sires
+    Come to win back Helen lost.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    There to her in that gray hour,
+    That gray hour before the sun,
+    Cometh he she waiteth for,
+    Menelaus like a ghost,
+    Like a dry leaf tempest-tost,
+    Stalking restless, her reproach.
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    There alone, those two, long severed been,
+    Eye each other, one wild heart between.
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    "O thou ruinous face,
+    O thou fatally fair,
+    O the pity of thee!
+    What dost thou there,
+    Watching the madness of me?"
+
+
+                CHTHONO�
+
+    Him seemed her eyes were pools of dark
+    To drown him, yet no word she spake;
+    But gazing, grave as a lonely house,
+    All her wonder thrilled to wake.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    "By thy roses and snow,
+    By thy sun-litten hair,
+    By thy low bosom and slow
+    Pondered kisses, O hear!
+
+    "By thy glimmering eyes,
+    By thy burning cheek,
+    By thy murmuring sighs,
+    Speak, Helen, O speak!
+
+    "Ruinous Face, O Ruinous Face,
+    Art thou come so early," he said,
+    "So early forth from the wicked bed?"
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Him she pondered, grave and still,
+    Stirring not from her safe place:
+    He marked the glow, he felt the thrill,
+    He saw the dawn new in her face.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Within her low voice wailed the tone
+    Of one who grieves and prays for death:
+    "Lord, I am come to be alone,
+    Alone here with my sorrow," she saith.
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    "False wife, what pity was thine
+    For hearth and altar, for man and child?
+    What is thy sorrow worth unto mine?"
+    She rocked, moaning, "I was beguiled!"
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece
+    By her begun, the slim, the sweet,
+    Ended by her in final peace
+    Of him who loved her first of all;
+    Nor ever swerved from his high passion,
+    But through misery and shame
+    Saw her spirit like a flame
+    Eloquent of her sacred fashion--
+    Hers whose eyes are homes of light,
+    To which she tends, from which she came.
+
+_1912._
+
+[2] _Helen Redeemed_, the first poem in this book, was originally
+conceived as a drama. Here is a scene from it, the first after the
+Prologue, which would have been spoken by Odysseus. The action of the
+play would have begun with the entry of Helen.
+
+
+
+
+GNATHO
+
+
+    Gnatho, Satyr, homing at dusk,
+    Trotting home like a tired dog,
+    By mountain slopes 'twixt the junipers
+    And flamed oleanders near the sea,
+    Found a girl-child asleep in a fleece,
+    Frail as wax, golden and rose;
+    Whereat at first he skipt aside
+    And stayed him, nosing and peering, whereto
+    Next he crept, softly breathing,
+    Blinking his fear. None was there
+    To guard; the sun had dipt in the sea,
+    Faint fire empurpled the flow
+    Of heaving water; no speck, no hint
+    Of oar or wing on the main, on the deep
+    Sky, empty as a great shell,
+    Fainting in its own glory. This thing,
+    This rare breath, this miracle--
+    Alone with him in the world! His
+    To wonder, fall to, with craning eyes
+    Fearfully daring; next, since it moved not,
+    Stooping, to handle, to stroke, to peer upon
+    Closely, nosing its tender length,
+    Doglike snuffing--at last to kiss
+    In reverence wonderful, lightlier far
+    Than thistledown falls, brushing the Earth.
+    But the child awoke and, watching him, cried not,
+    Cruddled visage, choppy hands,
+    Blinking eyes, red-litten, astare,
+    Horns and feet--nay, crowed and strained
+    To reach this wonder.
+                          As one a glass
+    Light as foam, hued like the foam,
+    A breath-bubble of fire, will carry,
+    He in arms lifted his freight,
+    Looking wonderfully upon it
+    With scarce a breath, and humbleness
+    To be so brute ebbed to the flood
+    Of pride in his new assur�d worth--
+    Trusted so, who could be vile?
+
+    So to his cave in the wood he bore her,
+    Fleeting swift as a fear thro' the dark trees.
+
+    There in the silence of tall trees,
+    Under the soaring shafts,
+    Far beneath the canopied leafage,
+    In the forest whisper, the thick silences;
+    Or on the wastes
+    Of sheltered mountains where the spires
+    Of solemn cypress frame the descent
+    Upon the blue, and open to sea--
+    Here grew Ianthe maiden slim
+    With none to spy but this gnarled man-brute;
+    Most fair, most hid, like a wood-flower
+    Slim for lack of light; so she grew
+    In flowering line of limb
+    And flower of face, retired and shy,
+    Urged by the bland air; unknown,
+    Lonely and lovely, husbanding
+    Her great possessions--hers now,
+    Another's when he cared to claim them.
+    For thus went life: to lead the herds
+    Of pricking deer she saw the great stags
+    Battle in empty glades, then mate;
+    Thus on the mountains chose the bears,
+    And in the woods she heard the wolves
+    Anguishing in their loves
+    Thro' the dense nights, far in the forest.
+    And so collected went she, and sure
+    Her time would come and with it her master.
+
+    But Gnatho watcht her under his brows
+    When she lay heedless, spilling beauty--
+    How ever lovelier, suppler, sleeker,
+    How more desirable, how near;
+    How rightly his, how surely his--
+    Then gnaw'd his cheek and turn'd his head.
+
+    For unsuspect, some dim forbidding
+    Rose within him and knockt at his heart
+    And said, Not thine, but for reverence.
+    And some wild horror desperate drove him,
+    Suing a pardon from unknown Gods
+    For untold trespass, to seek the sea,
+    Upon whose shore, to whose cool breathing
+    He'd stretch his arms, broken with strife
+    Of self and self; and all that water
+    Steadfast lapt and surged. Came tears
+    To furrow his cheeks, came strength to return
+    To her, and bear with longer breath
+    Her sweet familiarities, blind
+    Obedience to nascent blind desire--
+    Till again he lookt and burn'd again.
+
+    Thus his black ferment boil'd. O' nights
+    He'd dream and revel frenziedly
+    As with the love-stung nymphs. Awake,
+    In a chill sweat, he'd tear at himself,
+    Claw at his flesh and leap in the brook,
+    Drench the red embers of his vice
+    Into a mass abhorred. Clean then,
+    He'd seek his bed and pass unscath'd
+    The bower of fern where the sleek limbs
+    Of white Ianthe, mesht in her hair,
+    Lay lax in sleep. But Gnatho now
+    Saw only God, as on some still peak
+    Snowy and lonely under the stars
+    We look, and see God in all that calm.
+
+    One night of glamour, under a moon
+    That seemed to steep the air with gold,
+    They two sat stilly and watcht the sea
+    Tremulously heaving over a path
+    Of light like a river of molten gold.
+    Warm blew the breeze to land; she lean'd
+    Her idle head, idly played
+    Her fingers in his belt, and he
+    Embracing held her, yielding, subdued;
+    Sideways saw the curve of her cheek,
+    Downcast lashes, droopt lip
+    Which seem'd to court his pleasure--
+                                          Then
+    On waves of fire came racing his needs
+    With zest of rage to possess and tear
+    That which his frenzy, maskt as love,
+    Courted: so he lean'd to her ear,
+    Thrilled in torrents hoarse his case--
+    "Love, I burn, I burn!
+    Slake me, love!" He raved in whisper.
+    And she lookt up with her wide full eyes,
+    Saying, "My love!" and yielded herself.
+
+    Deep night settled on hill and plain,
+    The moon went out, the concourse of stars
+    Lay strewn above, and with golden eyes
+    Peered on them lockt. Far and faint
+    The great stags belled; far and faint
+    Quested the wolves; the leopards' howling
+    Lent desolation to night; and low
+    The night-jar purr'd. At sea one light
+    Swayed restlessly, and on the rocks
+    Sounded the tireless lapping deep.
+    Lockt they lay thro' all the silences.
+
+      Dawn stole in with whimper of rain
+    And a wailing wind from the sea--
+    Gray sea, gray dawn and scurrying clouds
+    And scud of rain. The fisher boat,
+    The sands, the headlands fringed with broom
+    And tamarisk were blotted.
+                                Alone,
+    Caged in the mist of earth
+    That beat his torment back to himself,
+    So that in vain he sought for the Gods,
+    And lifted up hands in vain
+    To witness this white wreck prone and still--
+    Gnatho the Satyr blinkt on his work.
+
+_1898-1912._
+
+
+
+
+TO THE GODS OF THE COUNTRY
+
+
+    Sun and Moon, shine upon me;
+      Make glad my days and clear my nights!
+
+    O Earth, whose child I am,
+      Grant me thy patience!
+
+    O Heaven, whose heir I may be,
+      Keep quick my hope!
+
+    Your steadfastness I need, O Hills;
+      O Rain, thy kindness!
+
+    Snow, keep me pure;
+      O Fire, teach me thy pride!
+
+    From you, ye Winds, I ask your blitheness!
+
+_1909._
+
+
+
+
+FOURTEEN SONNETS
+
+1896
+
+
+ALMA SDEGNOSA
+
+    Not that dull spleen which serves i' the world for scorn,
+      Is hers I watch from far off, worshipping
+      As in remote Chaldaea the ancient king
+    Adored the star that heralded the morn.
+    Her proud content she bears as a flag is borne
+      Tincted the hue royal; or as a wing
+      It lifts her soaring, near the daylight spring,
+    Whence, if she lift, our days must pass forlorn.
+
+    The pure deriving of her spirit-state
+    Is so remote from men and their believing,
+    They shrink when she is cold, and estimate
+    That hardness which is but a God's dismay:
+    As when the Heaven-sent sprite thro' Hell sped cleaving,
+    Only the gross air checkt him on his way.
+
+
+THE WINDS' POSSESSION
+
+    When winds blow high and leaves begin to fall,
+      And the wan sunlight flits before the blast;
+    When fields are brown and crops are garnered all,
+      And rooks, like mastered ships, drift wide and fast;
+    Maid Artemis, that feeleth her young blood
+      Leap like a freshet river for the sea,
+    Speedeth abroad with hair blown in a flood
+      To snuff the salt west wind and wanton free.
+
+    Then would you know how brave she is, how high
+    Her ancestry, how kindred to the wind,
+    Mark but her flashing feet, her ravisht eye
+    That takes the boist'rous weather and feels it kind:
+    And hear her eager voice, how tuned it is
+    To Autumn's clarion shrill for Artemis.
+
+
+ASPETTO REALE
+
+    That hour when thou and Grief were first acquainted
+      Thou wrotest, "Come, for I have lookt on death."
+      Piteous I held my indeterminate breath
+    And sought thee out, and saw how he had painted
+    Thine eyes with rings of black; yet never fainted
+      Thy radiant immortality underneath
+      Such stress of dark; but then, as one that saith,
+    "I know Love liveth," sat on by death untainted.
+
+    O to whom Grief too poignant was and dry
+    To sow in thee a fountain crop of tears!
+    O youth, O pride, set too remote and high
+    For touch of solace that gives grace to men!
+    Thy life must be our death, thy hopes our fears:
+    We weep, thou lookest strangely--we know thee then!
+
+
+KIN CONFESSED
+
+    Long loving, all our love was husbanded
+      Until one morning on the brown hillside,
+      One misty Autumn morn when Sun did hide
+    His radiance, yet was felt. No words we said,
+      But in one flash transfigured, glorified,
+    All her heart's tumult beating white and red,
+      She fell prone on her face and hid her wide
+    Over-brimmed eyes in dewy fern.
+                                    I prayed,
+    Then spake, "In us two now is manifest
+    That throbbing kindred whereof thou art graft
+    And I the grafted, in this holy place."
+    She, turning half, with sober shame confest
+    Discovery, then hid her rosy face.
+    I read her wilding heart, and my heart laught.
+
+
+QUEL GIORNO PI� ...
+
+    That day--it was the last of many days,
+      Nor could we know when such days might be given
+    Again--we read how Dante trod the ways
+      Of utmost Hell, and how his heart was riven
+      By sad Francesca, whose sin was forgiven
+    So far that, on her Paolo fixing gaze,
+      She supt on his again, and thought it Heaven,
+    She knew her gentler fate and felt it praise.
+
+    We read that lovers' tale; each lookt at each;
+    But one was fearless, innocent of guile;
+    So did the other learn what she could teach:
+    We read no more, we kiss'd not, but a smile
+    Of proud possession flasht, hover'd a while
+    'Twixt soul and soul. There was no need for speech.
+
+
+ABSENCE
+
+    When she had left us but a little while
+      Methought I sensed her spirit here and there
+      About my house: upon the empty stair
+    Her robe brusht softly; o'er her chamber still
+    There lay her fragrant presence to beguile
+      Numb heart, dead heart. I knelt before her chair,
+      And praying felt her hand laid on my hair,
+    Felt her sweet breath, and guess'd her wistful smile.
+
+    Then thro' my tears I lookt about the room,
+    But she was gone. I heard my heart beat fast;
+    The street was silent; I could not see her now.
+    Sorrow and I took up our load, and past
+    To where our station was with heads bent low,
+    And autumn's death-moan shiver'd thro' the gloom.
+
+
+PRESENCE
+
+    When she had left us but a little while,
+      I still could hear the ringing of her voice,
+    Still see athwart the dusk her shy half-smile
+      And that sweet trust wherein I most rejoice.
+
+    Then in her self-same tones I heard, "Go thou,
+      Set to that work appointed thee to do,
+    Remembering I am with thee here and now,
+      Watchful as ever. See, my eyes shine true!"
+
+    I lookt, and saw the concourse of clear stars,
+      Steadfast, of limpid candour, and could discover
+    Her soul look on me thro' the prison-bars
+      Which slunk like sin from such an honest Lover:
+
+    And thro' the vigil-pauses of that night
+    She beam'd on me; and my soul felt her light.
+
+
+DREAM ANGUISH
+
+    My thought of thee is tortured in my sleep--
+      Sometimes thou art near beside me, but a cloud
+    Doth grudge me thy pale face, and rise to creep
+      Slowly about thee, to lap thee in a shroud;
+    And I, as standing by my dead, to weep
+      Desirous, cannot weep, nor cry aloud.
+      Or we must face the clamouring of a crowd
+    Hissing our shame; and I who ought to keep
+      Thine honour safe and my betrayed heart proud,
+    Knowing thee true, must watch a chill doubt leap
+      The tired faith of thee, and thy head bow'd,
+    Nor budge while the gross world holdeth thee cheap!
+
+    Or there are frost-bound meetings, and reproach
+    At parting, furtive snatches full of fear;
+    Love grown a pain; we bleed to kiss, and kiss
+    Because we bleed for love; the time doth broach
+    Shame, and shame teareth at us till we tear
+    Our hearts to shreds--yet wilder love for this!
+
+
+HYMNIA-BEATRIX
+
+    Before you pass and leave me gaunt and chill
+      Alone to do what I have joyed in doing
+    In your glad sight, suffer me, nor take ill
+      If I confess you prize and me pursuing.
+      As the rapt Tuscan lifted up his eyes
+    Whither his Lady led, and lived with her,
+      Strong in her strength, and in her wisdom wise,
+    Love-taught with song to be her thurifer;
+      So I, that may no nearer stand than he
+    To minister about the holy place,
+    Am well content to watch my Heaven in thee
+    And read my Credo in thy sacred face.
+      For even as Beatrix Dante's wreath did bind,
+    So, Hymnia, hast thou imparadised my mind.
+
+
+LUX E TENEBRIS
+
+    I thank all Gods that I can let thee go,
+      Lady, without one thought, one base desire
+      To tarnish that clear vision I gained by fire,
+    One stain in me I would not have thee know.
+    That is great might indeed that moves me so
+      To look upon thy Form, and yet aspire
+      To look not there, rather than I should mire
+    That wing�d Spirit that haunts and guards thy brow.
+
+    So now I see thee go, secure in this
+    That what I have is thee, that whole of thee
+    Whereof thy fair infashioning is sign:
+    For I see Honour, Love, and Wholesomeness,
+    And striving ever to reach them, and to be
+    As they, I keep thee still; for they are thine.
+
+
+DUTY
+
+    Oh, I am weak to serve thee as I ought;
+      My shroud of flesh obscures thy deity,
+      So thy sweet Spirit that should embolden me
+    To shake my wings out wide, serves me for nought,
+    But receives tarnish, vile dishonour, wrought
+      By that thou earnest to bless--O agony
+      And unendurable shame! that, loving thee,
+    I dare not love, fearing my poisonous thought!
+
+      Man is too vile for any such high grace,
+    For that he seeks to honour he can but mar;
+      So had I rather shun thy starry face
+    And fly the exultation to know thee near--
+    For if one glance from me wrought thee a scar
+    'Twould not be death, but life that I should fear.
+
+
+WAGES
+
+    Sometimes the spirit that never leaves me quite
+      Taps at my heart when thou art in the way,
+      Saying, Now thy Queen cometh: therefore pray,
+    Lest she should see thee vile, and at the sight
+    Shiver and fly back piteous to the light
+      That wanes when she is absent. Then, as I may,
+      I wash my soil�d hands and muttering, say,
+    Lord, make me clean; robe Thou me in Thy white!
+
+      So for a brief space, clad in ecstasy,
+    Pure, disembodied, I fall to kiss thy feet,
+    And sense thy glory throbbing round about;
+    Whereafter, rising, I hold thee in a sweet
+    And gentle converse that lifts me up to be,
+    When thou art gone, strange to the gross world's rout.
+
+
+EYE-SERVICE
+
+    Meseems thine eyes are two still-folded lakes
+      Wherein deep water reflects the guardian sky,
+      Searching wherein I see how Heaven is nigh
+    And our broad Earth at peace. So my Love takes
+    My soul's thin hands and, chafing them, she makes
+      My life's blood lusty and my life's hope high
+      For the strong lips and eyes of Poesy,
+    To hold the world well squandered for their sakes.
+
+    I looked thee full this day: thine unveiled eyes
+      Rayed their swift-searching magic forth; and then
+      I felt all strength that love can put in men
+    Whenas they know that loveliness is wise.
+    For love can be content with no less prize,
+      To lift us up beyond our mortal ken.
+
+
+CLOISTER THOUGHTS
+
+(AT WESTMINSTER)
+
+    Within these long gray shadows many dead
+      Lie waiting: we wait with them. Do you believe
+      That at the last the threadbare soul will give
+    All his shifts over, and stand dishevell�d,
+    Naked in truth? Then we shall hear it said,
+      "Ye two have waited long, daring to live
+      Grimly through days tormented; now reprieve
+    Awaiteth you with all these ancient dead!"
+
+    The slope sun letteth down thro' our dark bars
+    His ladder from the skies. Hand fast in hand,
+    With quiet hearts and footsteps quiet and slow,
+    Like children venturous in an unknown land
+    We will come to the fields whose flowers are stars,
+    And kneeling ask, "Lord, wilt Thou crown us now?"
+
+
+
+
+THE CHAMBER IDYLL
+
+
+    The blue night falleth, the moon
+    Is over the hill; make fast,
+    Fasten the latch, I am tired: come soon,
+    Come! I would sleep at last
+    In your bosom, my love, my love!
+
+    The airy chamber above
+    Has the lattice ajar, that night
+    May breathe upon you and me, my love,
+    And the moon bless our marriage-rite--
+    Come, lassy, to bed, to bed!
+
+    The roof-thatch overhead
+    Shall cover the stars' bright eyes;
+    The fleecy quilt shall be coverlid
+    For your meek virginities,
+    And your wedding, my bride, my bride!
+
+    See, we are side to side,
+    Virgin in deed and name--
+    Come, for love will not be denied,
+    Tarry not, have no shame:
+    Are we not man and bride?
+
+_1894._
+
+
+
+
+EPIGRAMMATA
+
+1910
+
+
+THE OLD HOUSE
+
+    Mossy gray stands the House, four-square to the wind,
+    Embosomed in the hills. The garden old
+    Of yew and box and fishpond speaks her mind,
+    Sweet-ordered, quaint, recluse, fold within fold
+    Of quietness; but true and choice and kind--
+    A sober casket for a heart of gold.
+
+
+BLUE IRIS
+
+    Blue is the Adrian sea, and darkly blue
+    The �gean; and the shafted sun thro' them,
+    That fishes grope to, gives the beamy hue
+    Rayed from her iris's deep diadem.
+
+
+THE ROSEBUD
+
+    In June I brought her roses, and she cupt
+    One slim bud in her hand and cherisht it,
+    And put it to her mouth. Rose and she supt
+    Each other's sweetness; but the flower was lit
+    By her kind eyes, and glowed. Then in her breast
+    She laid it blushing, warm and doubly blest.
+
+
+SPRING ON THE DOWN
+
+    When Spring blows o'er the land, and sunlight flies
+    Across the hills, we take the upland way.
+    I have her waist, the wooing wind her eyes
+    And lips and cheeks. His kissing makes her gay
+    As flowers. "Thou hast two lovers, O my dear,"
+    Say I; and she, "He takes what thou dost fear."
+
+
+SNOWY NIGHT
+
+    The snow lies deep, ice-fringes hem the thatch;
+    I knock my shoes, my Love lifts me the latch,
+    Shows me her eyes--O frozen stars, they shine
+    Kindly! I clasp her. Quick! her lips are mine.
+
+
+EVENING MOOD
+
+    Late, when the sun was smouldering down the west,
+    She took my arm and laid her cheek to me;
+    The fainting twilight held her, and I guess'd
+    All she would tell, but could not let me see--
+    Wonder and joy, the rising of her breast,
+    And confidence, and still expectancy.
+
+
+THE PARTING
+
+    Breathless was she and would not have us part:
+    "Adieu, my Saint," I said, "'tis come to this."
+    But she leaned to me, one hand at her heart,
+    And all her soul sighed trembling in a kiss.
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION OF A BOOK
+
+
+    To the Fountain of my long Dream,
+    To the Chalice of all my Sorrow,
+    To the Lamp held up, and the Stream
+    Of Light that beacons the Morrow;
+
+    To the Bow, the Quiver and Dart,
+    To the Bridle-rein, to the Yoke
+    Proudly upborne, to the Heart
+    On Fire, to the Mercy-stroke;
+
+    To Apollo herding his Cattle,
+    To Proserpina grave in Dis;
+    To the high Head in the Battle,
+    And the Crown--I consecrate this.
+
+_1911._
+
+
+
+
+_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.
+
+
+
+
+ BY MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+ THE AGONISTS
+
+ A TRILOGY OF GOD AND MAN
+
+ MINOS KING OF CRETE, ARIADNE IN NAXOS,
+ THE DEATH OF HIPPOLYTUS
+
+ _Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net._
+
+_SPECTATOR._--"The three plays have throughout a high level of dramatic
+interest, and they have moments of great tragic beauty.... It is not a
+book of sporadic beauties, for its most remarkable quality is its unity
+of interest and effect. The chorus has many passages of lyrical charm
+... but it is the great story which moves us most deeply, the stress of
+dramatic and logical sequence, so that we have no time to notice the art
+of it all. This is a high tribute to Mr. Hewlett's technical skill. At
+its best the irregular verse has a sharp freshness which the more
+orthodox metres could scarcely give."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The poetry is full of music, yet refreshingly free
+from monotony, and in passages when swift broken phrases are of the
+essence of the atmosphere the effect is splendidly dramatic and austere.
+Mr. Hewlett is to be congratulated upon a high success in a field of the
+worthiest enterprise."
+
+_OBSERVER._--"There is no single passage that can fail to charm when
+read aloud, woven with magic of rhythm, and music of phrase. It is a
+great heroic subject, nobly conceived, and finely and thoughtfully
+executed."
+
+_BLACK AND WHITE._--"_The Agonists_ is more than fine verse; it is
+literature impregnated with the purest fragrance of the classic spirit."
+
+_DAILY EXPRESS._--"There is real drama in _The Agonists_, and there is
+much splendid beauty."
+
+_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"Of the beauty of a great deal of the poetry it is
+difficult to speak too highly."
+
+_STANDARD._--"The imaginative grasp of these dramas, as well as their
+lyric charm, is unquestionable, and so also is the rare skill with which
+the strife of elemental passions is described and the action of the
+relentless laws which made men of old regard life as the sport of the
+gods."
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+BY MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+_Crown 8vo. 6s. each._
+
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS: A ROMANCE.
+
+_SPECTATOR._--"_The Forest Lovers_ is no mere literary _tour de force_,
+but an uncommonly attractive romance, the charm of which is greatly
+enhanced by the author's excellent style."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"Mr. Maurice Hewlett's _The Forest Lovers_ stands
+out with conspicuous success.... There are few books of this season
+which achieve their aim so simply and whole-heartedly as Mr. Hewlett's
+ingenious and enthralling romance."
+
+
+THE SONG OF RENNY.
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"Mr. Hewlett has produced a remarkable series of
+historical novels, and _The Song of Renny_ is one of the best of
+them.... An admirable romance, full of 'go' and colour and good temper."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"Mr. Hewlett is mounted upon his Pegasus again,
+riding full tilt against a rushing wind, with the moonlight of
+imagination playing glorious tricks upon all the marvellous sights
+around him."
+
+
+THE QUEEN'S QUAIR: OR, THE SIX YEARS' TRAGEDY.
+
+_ATHEN�UM._--"A fine book, fine not only for its extraordinary wealth of
+incidental beauties, but also for the consistency of conception and the
+tolerant humanity with which its main theme is put before you."
+
+_WESTMINSTER GAZETTE._--"That Mr. Maurice Hewlett would give us a
+flaming, wonderful picture of Queen Mary was a foregone conclusion."
+
+
+RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.
+
+Mr. FREDERIC HARRISON in _THE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW_.--"Such historic
+imagination, such glowing colour, such crashing speed, set forth in such
+pregnant form, carry me away spell-bound."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The story carries us along as though throughout we
+were galloping on strong horses. There is a rush and fervour about it
+all which sweeps us off our feet till the end is reached, and the tale
+is done. It is very clever, very spirited."
+
+
+LITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY.
+
+_DAILY CHRONICLE._--"And even such as fail to understand, will very
+certainly enjoy--enjoy the sometimes gay and sometimes biting humour,
+the deft delineation, the fine quality of colour, the delicately-flavoured
+phrasing."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The most finished studies which have appeared since
+some of the essays of Walter Pater."
+
+
+OPEN COUNTRY: A COMEDY WITH A STING.
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"_Open Country_ is a beautiful bit of work, a work
+that is inspired through and through with a genuine love for what is
+pure and beautiful. Mr. Hewlett's main figures have not only a wonderful
+charm in themselves, but they are noble, simple, and true-hearted
+creatures. Sanchia, the heroine, is a divine creation."
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"_Open Country_ is an important book and a fine
+novel."
+
+
+REST HARROW: A COMEDY OF RESOLUTION.
+
+_DAILY NEWS._--"_Rest Harrow_ has not only the effect of providing an
+�sthetically logical conclusion to the motives of _Open Country_, but it
+throws back a radiant retrospective influence, enhancing the value of
+what has preceded it.... In many ways the best piece of work Mr. Hewlett
+has done."
+
+_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"The present book certainly sustains the charm of
+_Open Country_ without any faltering of dramatic movement."
+
+
+THE STOOPING LADY.
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"A wondrously beautiful piece of fiction, gallant
+and romantic, a high treat for lovers of good reading."
+
+_WORLD._--"A rarely picturesque and beautiful production."
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"A story which fascinates him who reads."
+
+
+MRS. LANCELOT: A COMEDY OF ASSUMPTIONS.
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The story, as a whole, sustains a lofty level of
+creative vigour, and is dignified, moreover, with something of the epic
+flavour, as the old order is seen breaking up under the advance of new
+ideas and revolutionary enthusiasms.... Among the best books that the
+present age is likely to produce."
+
+_DAILY GRAPHIC._--"The best work of its kind since Meredith."
+
+
+FOND ADVENTURES: TALES OF THE YOUTH OF THE WORLD.
+
+_SPECTATOR._--"The materials for romance provided by this period (the
+Renaissance) are inexhaustibly rich, and Mr. Maurice Hewlett is
+admirably equipped for the task of reconstituting many of its phases."
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"The present volume is a rich mine of beauty. It
+contains four fine romantic tales."
+
+
+NEW CANTERBURY TALES.
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+ NEW TWO-SHILLING EDITION
+
+ OF
+
+ THE NOVELS OF
+ MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+ In Cloth binding. Crown 8vo. 2s. net each.
+
+
+1. THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+2. THE QUEEN'S QUAIR.
+
+3. LITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY.
+
+4. RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.
+
+5. THE STOOPING LADY.
+
+6. FOND ADVENTURES.
+
+7. NEW CANTERBURY TALES.
+
+8. HALFWAY HOUSE.
+
+9. OPEN COUNTRY: A COMEDY WITH A STING.
+
+10. REST HARROW: A COMEDY OF RESOLUTION.
+
+
+_ATHEN�UM._--"The Two-shilling Series deserves exceptional praise for
+its handiness and excellent type."
+
+_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"An enterprise to be welcomed by all lovers of
+good literature."
+
+_DAILY MAIL._--"This cheap and handsome edition is very welcome."
+
+_WORLD._--"Extremely attractive edition.... Notable examples of what can
+nowadays be achieved in the way of handsome book-production at
+surprisingly moderate prices."
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+BY MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+
+A MASQUE OF DEAD FLORENTINES.
+
+    WHEREIN SOME OF DEATH'S CHOICEST PIECES, AND THE GREAT GAME THAT HE
+    PLAYED THEREWITH, ARE FRUITFULLY SET FORTH. 4to. 10s. net.
+
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+    With 16 Illustrations in Colour by A. S. HARTRICK. 8vo. 5s. net.
+
+
+LETTERS TO SANCHIA UPON THINGS AS THEY ARE.
+
+    EXTRACTED FROM THE CORRESPONDENCE OF MR. JOHN MAXWELL SENHOUSE.
+    Crown 8vo. 1s. 6d. net.
+
+
+THE ROAD IN TUSCANY: A COMMENTARY.
+
+    Illustrated by JOSEPH PENNELL. Extra Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. net.
+
+_TIMES._--"Its vividness is extraordinary; there is no one quite like
+Mr. Hewlett for seizing all the colour and character of a place in half
+a dozen words.... An admirable book.... Mr. Pennell's profuse
+illustrations to this book are very attractive."
+
+
+EARTHWORK OUT OF TUSCANY.
+
+    BEING IMPRESSIONS AND TRANSLATIONS OF MAURICE HEWLETT. Globe 8vo.
+    4s. net.
+
+_OBSERVER._--"This re-issue of Mr. Hewlett's beautiful book comes to us
+as one of the pleasant Eversley Series--a form in which it may be hoped,
+for the sake of the reading world, that it is to make many new friends."
+
+
+_Pott 8vo. Cloth. 7d. net each._
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+THE STOOPING LADY.
+
+
+_Medium 8vo. Sewed. 6d. each._
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.
+
+THE QUEEN'S QUAIR.
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+COMPLETE EDITIONS OF THE POETS.
+
+_Uniform Edition. In Green Cloth. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. each._
+
+
+THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.
+
+With a Portrait engraved on Steel by G. J. STODART.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF MATTHEW ARNOLD.
+
+With a Portrait engraved on Steel by G. J. STODART.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+With Introduction by THOMAS HUGHES, and a Portrait.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+
+Edited by Professor DOWDEN. With a Portrait.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
+
+Edited, with a Biographical Introduction, by J. DYKES CAMPBELL. Portrait
+as Frontispiece.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+With Introduction by JOHN MORLEY, and a Portrait.
+
+
+THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF T. E. BROWN.
+
+With a Portrait; and an Introduction by W. E. HENLEY.
+
+
+THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.
+
+With Introduction, Memoir, and Notes, by W. M. ROSSETTI.
+
+
+THE DYNASTS. An Epic-Drama of the War with Napoleon.
+
+By THOMAS HARDY. Three Parts in One Vol.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE BAB BALLADS, with which are included Songs of a Savoyard.
+
+By Sir W. S. GILBERT. Sixth Edition. Illustrated.
+
+
+THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS.
+
+With 20 Illustrations on Steel by CRUIKSHANK, LEECH, and BARHAM.
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Helen Redeemed and Other Poems, by Maurice Hewlett
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN REDEEMED AND OTHER POEMS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22803-8.txt or 22803-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/8/0/22803/
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/22803-8.zip b/22803-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a7c6371
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-8.zip
diff --git a/22803-h.zip b/22803-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dbeae0e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-h.zip
diff --git a/22803-h/22803-h.htm b/22803-h/22803-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3955845
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-h/22803-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,6349 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Helen Redeemed and Other Poems, by Maurice Hewlett
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css">
+/*<![CDATA[  XML blockout */
+<!--
+    p {margin-top: .75em;
+       text-align: justify;
+       margin-bottom: .75em;}
+
+    h4 {text-align: center;
+         clear: both;}
+
+    h1 {text-align: center;
+        margin-bottom: 3em;
+         clear: both;}
+
+    h2 {text-align: center;
+        margin-bottom: 2em;
+         clear: both;}
+
+    h3 {text-align: center;
+        margin-top: 3em;
+         clear: both;}
+
+    hr { width: 33%;
+         margin-top: 2em;
+         margin-bottom: 2em;
+         margin-left: auto;
+         margin-right: auto;
+         clear: both;}
+
+    table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;}
+    .td1   {font-variant: small-caps; text-align: left;}
+    .td4   {font-variant: small-caps; text-align: right;}
+    .td2   {text-align: right; width: 10%;}
+    .td3   {font-variant: small-caps; text-align: left; padding-left: 2em;}
+
+    body{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+
+    .pagenum  {position: absolute;
+               left: 94%;
+               font-size: smaller;
+               font-style: normal;
+               text-align: right;}
+
+    .blockquot{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+
+    .footnote         {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;}
+    .footnote .label  {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;}
+    .fnanchor         {vertical-align: 0.25em; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;}
+
+    .poem             {text-align: left;}
+    .poem br          {display: none;}
+    .poem .stanza     {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+    .poem span.i0     {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i2     {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i3     {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i4     {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+
+    .trans1     {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;}
+
+    a:link    {text-decoration:none;}
+    a:visited {text-decoration:none;}
+
+    ul        {list-style-type: decimal; font-size: larger;}
+    li        {padding-top:0.5em;}
+
+    .poem span.i10     {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i12     {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i14     {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i16     {display: block; margin-left: 16em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i18     {display: block; margin-left: 18em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i6     {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i8     {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+
+    .head1   {text-align: center; font-weight: bold;}
+    .pub1    {margin-top: 3em; text-align: center;}
+    .cpoem15 {width: 16em; margin: 0 auto;}
+    .cpoem17 {width: 18em; margin: 0 auto;}
+    .cpoem20 {width: 21em; margin: 0 auto;}
+    .cpoem22 {width: 23em; margin: 0 auto;}
+    .cpoem25 {width: 26em; margin: 0 auto;}
+    .blocky  {padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em; font-style: italic;}
+    .center  {text-align: center;}
+    .rgt     {text-align: right; margin-top: 4em;}
+    .smcap   {font-variant: small-caps;}
+    .head2   {font-size: x-large; text-align: center;}
+    .block1  {font-size: smaller; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-indent: 2em;}
+    .block2  {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;}
+    .head3   {font-size: x-large; margin-top: 1em; text-indent: -2em;}
+    .head4   {font-size: larger; margin-top: 1.25em; margin-bottom: .5em;}
+    .ad1     {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;}
+
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Helen Redeemed and Other Poems, by Maurice Hewlett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Helen Redeemed and Other Poems
+
+Author: Maurice Hewlett
+
+Release Date: September 29, 2007 [EBook #22803]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN REDEEMED AND OTHER POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1><big>HELEN REDEEMED</big><br /><br />
+
+AND OTHER POEMS</h1>
+
+
+<p class="head1">BY</p>
+
+<h2>MAURICE HEWLETT</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center"><span title="D&ocirc;ron Er&ocirc;s Aid&ecirc;">&#916;&#8182;&#961;&#959;&#957; &#7964;&#961;&#969;&#962; &#7944;&#8147;&#948;&#8131;</span></p>
+
+
+
+<p class="pub1">MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED<br />
+ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON<br />
+1913</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="trans1"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br />
+Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Archaic spellings have been retained.
+All Greek words have mouse-hover transliterations, <span title="D&ocirc;ron">&#916;&#8182;&#961;&#959;&#957;</span>, and appear as originally printed.
+
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p>
+<h2>DEDICATION</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem15"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Love owes tribute unto Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Being but a flower of breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ev'n as thy fair body is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moment's figure of the bliss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dwelling in the mind of God<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When He called thee from the sod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a crocus up to start,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gray-eyed with a golden heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of earth, and point our sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thy eternal home of light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here on earth is all we know:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To let our love as steadfast blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Open-hearted to the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Folded down when our day's done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As thy flower that bids it be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flower of thy charity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not ours to boast or pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breath from us shall outlive clay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis not thine, thou Pitiful,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Set me task beyond my rule.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet as young men carve on trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lovely names, and find in these<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Solace in the after time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So to have hid thee in my rhyme<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall be comfort when I take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lonely road. Then, for my sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keep thou this my graven sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, that I may not all die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Open it, and hear it tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here was one who loved thee well.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>October 6, 1912.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="width: 50%;">
+<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td1">Helen Redeemed</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">Hypsipyle</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">Oreithyia</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">Clyti&eacute;</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">Lai of Gobertz</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">The Saints' Maying</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">The Argive Women</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">Gnatho</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">To the Gods of the Country</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2">Fourteen Sonnets&mdash;</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Alma sdegnosa</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">The Winds' Possession</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Aspetto reale</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Kin Confessed</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Quel giorno pi&ugrave;</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Absence</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Presence</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Dream Anguish</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Hymnia-Beatrix</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Lux e Tenebris</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Duty</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_208">208</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Wages</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Eye-Service</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Cloister Thoughts</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">The Chamber Idyll</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1" colspan="2">Epigrammata&mdash;</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">The Old House</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Blue Iris</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">The Rosebud</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Spring on the Down</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Snowy Night</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">Evening Mood</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td3">The Parting</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="td1">Dedication of a Book</td><td class="td2"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>
+<h2>NOTE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem20">Three of the Poems here published have
+appeared in book form already, in the
+Volume called <i>Songs and Meditations</i>,
+long out of print.</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+<h2>HELEN REDEEMED</h2>
+
+
+<h3>PROEM</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sing of the end of Troy, and of that flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of passion by the blood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of heroes consecrate, by poet's craft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hallowed, if that thin waft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of godhead blown upon thee stretch thy song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To span such store of strong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And splendid vision of immortal themes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Late harvested in dreams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Albeit long years laid up in tilth. Most meet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou sing that slim and sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair woman for whose bosom and delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Paris, as well he might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wrought all the woe, and held her to his cost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Troy's, and won and lost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perforce; for who could look on her or feel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her near and not dare steal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One hour of her, or hope to hold in bars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such wonder of the stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Undimmed? As soon expect to cage the rose<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of dawn which comes and goes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fitful, or leash the shadows of the hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or music of upland rills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Helen's beauty and not tarnish it<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With thy poor market wit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adept to hue the wanton in the wild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Defile the undefiled!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet by the oath thou swearedst, standing high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where piled rocks testify<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The holy dust, and from Therapnai's hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the rippling wold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Didst look upon Amyklai's, where sunrise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First dawned in Helen's eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take up thy tale, good poet, strain thine art<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sing her rendered heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Given last to him who loved her first, nor swerved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From loving, but was nerved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see through years of robbery and shame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her spirit, a clear flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eloquent of her birthright. Tell his peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hers who at last found ease<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In white-arm'd Her&eacute;, holy husbander<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of purer fire than e'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wife gave Kypris. Helen, and Thee sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In whom her beauties ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair body of fair mind fair acolyte,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Star of my day and night!<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>18th September 1912.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>FIRST STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>THE DEATH OF ACHILLES</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where Simoeis and Xanthos, holy streams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flow brimming on the level, and chance gleams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Betray far Ida through a rended cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hint the awful home of Zeus, whose shroud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thunder is&mdash;'twixt Ida and the main<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold gray Ilios, Priam's fee, the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About her like a carpet; from whose height<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The watchman, ten years watching, every night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Counteth the beacon fires and sees no less<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their number as the years wax and duress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of hunger thins the townsmen day by day&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More than the Greeks kill plague and famine slay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Here in their wind-swept city, ten long years<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beset and in this tenth in blood and tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And havocry to fall, old Priam's sons<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Guard still their gods, their wives and little ones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Guard Helen still, for whose fair womanhood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sin was done, woe wrought, and all the blood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Danaan and Dardan in their pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shed; nor yet so the end, for Her&eacute; cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shrill on the heights more vengeance on wrong done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Greek or Trojan paid it. Late or soon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By sword or bitter arrow they went hence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each with their goodliest paying one man's offence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goodliest in Troy fell Hector; back to Greek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then swung the doomstroke, and to Dis the bleak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must pass great Hector's slayer. Zeus on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hidden from men, held up the scales; the sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Told Thetis that her son must go the way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sent Queen Hecuba's&mdash;himself must pay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Himself though young, splendid Achilles' self,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The price of manslaying, with blood for pelf.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A grief immortal took her, and she grieved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in sea-cave, whereover restless heaved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wine-dark ocean&mdash;silently, not moving,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tearless, a god. O Gods, however loving,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That is a lonely grief that must go dry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About the graves where the beloved lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And knows too much to doubt if death ends all<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleasure in strength of limb, joy musical,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mother-love, maiden-love, which never more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must the dead look for on the further shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Acheron, and past the willow-wood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Proserpine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">But when he understood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Achilles, that his end was near at hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Darkling he heard the news, and on the strand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond the ships he stood awhile, then cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Sea-God that high-hearted and clear-eyed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He might go down; and this for utmost grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He asked, that not by battle might his face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be marred, nor fighting might some Dardan best<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him who had conquered ever. For the rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fate, which had given, might take, as fate should be.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So prayed he, and Poseidon out of the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There where the deep blue into sand doth fade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the long wave rolls in, a bar of jade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sent him a portent in that sea-blue bird<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swifter than light, the halcyon; and men heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The trumpet of his praise: "Shaker of Earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hail to thee! Now I fare to death in mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As to a banquet!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">So when day was come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lightly arose the prince to meet his doom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kissed Brise&iuml;s where she lay abed<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And never more by hers might rest his head:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Farewell, my dear, farewell, my joy," said he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Farewell to all delights 'twixt thee and me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For now I take a road whose harsh alarms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forbid so sweet a burden to my arms."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then his clean limbs his weeping squires bedight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all the mail Hephaistos served his might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Withal, of breastplate shining like the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon flood-water, three-topped helm whereon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gleamed the gold basilisk, and goodly greaves.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These bore he without word; but when from sheaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of spears they picked the great ash Pelian<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poseidon gave to Peleus, God to a man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For no man's man&egrave;ge else&mdash;than all men's fear:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Dry and cold fighting for thee this day, my spear,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quoth he. And so when one the golden shield<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Immortal, daedal, for no one else to wield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cast o'er his head, he frowned: "On thy bright face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let me see who shall dare a dint," he says,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stood in thought full-armed; thereafter poured<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Libation at the tent-door to the Lord<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of earth and sky, and prayed, saying: "O Thou<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">That hauntest dark Dodona, hear me now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since that the shadowing arm of Time is flung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far over me, but cloudeth me full young.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scatheless I vow them. Let one Trojan cast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His spear and loose my spirit. Rage is past<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though I go forth my most provocative<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adventure: 'tis not I that seek. Receive<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My prayer Thou as I have earned it&mdash;lo,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dying I stand, and hail Thee as I go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord of the &AElig;gis, wonderful, most great!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which done, he took his stand, and bid his mate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urge on the steeds; and all the Achaian host<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Followed him, not with outcry or loud boast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of deeds to do or done, but silent, grim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As to a shambles&mdash;so they followed him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eyeing that nodding crest and swaying spear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shake with the chariot. Solemn thus they near<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Trojan walls, slow-moving, as by a Fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Driven; and thus before the Skaian Gate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stands he in pomp of dreadful calm, to die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As once in dreadful haste to slay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">Thereby<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The walls were thick with men, and in the towers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Women stood gazing, clustered close as flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That blur the rocks in some high mountain pass<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With delicate hues; but like the gray hill-grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which the wind sweepeth, till in waves of light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It tideth backwards&mdash;so all gray or white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed they, as sudden surges moved them cloak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their heads, or bare their faces. And none spoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among them, for there stood not woman there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But mourned her dead, or sensed not in the air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her pendent doom of death, or worse than death.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frail as flowers were their faces, and all breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came short and quick, as on this dreadful show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Staring, they pondered it done far below<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on a stage where the thin players seem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unkith to them who watch, the stuff of dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor else about the plain showed living thing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save high in the blue where sailed on outspread wing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A vulture bird intent, with mighty span<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of pinion.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the hush spake the dead man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hollow-voiced, terrible: "Ye tribes of Troy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here stand I out for death, and ye for joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of killing as ye will, by cast of spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By bowshot or with sword. If any peer<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Hector or Sarpedon care the bout<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which they both tried aforetime let him out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With speed, and bring his many against one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fearing no treachery, for there shall be none<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To aid me, God nor man; nor yet will I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stir finger in the business, but will die<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By murder sooner than in battle fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under some Trojan hand."<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">Breathless stood all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not moving out; but Paris on the roof<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his high house, where snug he sat aloof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drew taut the bowstring home, and notched a shaft,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soft whistling to himself, what time with craft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of peering eyes and narrow twisted face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sought an aim.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Swift from her hiding-place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came burning Helen then, in her blue eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A fire unquenchable, but cold as ice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That scorcheth ere it strike a mortal chill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the heart. "Darest thou...?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">Smiling still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He heeded not her warning, nor he read<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The terror of her eyes, but drew and sped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A screaming arrow, deadly, swerving not&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then stood to watch the ruin he had wrought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He heard the sob of breath o'er all the host<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of hushing men; he marked, but then he lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blood-spurt at the shaft-head; for the crest<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Upheaved, the shoulders stiffen'd, ere to the breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bent down the head, as though the glazing sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curious would mark the death-spot. Still upright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood he; but as a tree that on the side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Ida yields to axe her soaring pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lightlier waves her leafy crown, and swings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From side to side&mdash;so on his crest the wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Erect seemed shaking upwards, and to sag<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spear's point, and the burden'd head to wag<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before the stricken body felt the stroke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the strong knees grew lax, or the heart broke.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Breathless they waited; then the failing man<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stiffened anew his neck, and changed and wan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looked for the last time in the face of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seemed to dare the Gods such might to slay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As this, the sanguine splendid thing he was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Withal now gray of face and pinched. Alas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For pride of life! Now he had heard his knell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His spirit passed, and crashing down he fell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mighty Achilles, and struck the earth, and lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A huddled mass, a bulk of bronze and clay<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Bestuck with gilt and glitter, like a toy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There dropt a forest hush on watching Troy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the plain and watching ranks of men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from a tower some woman keened him then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With long thin cry that wavered in the air&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As once before one wailed her Hector there.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>SECOND STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>MENELAUS' DREAM: HELEN ON THE WALL</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">So he who wore his honour like a wreath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About his brows went the dark way of death;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which being done, that deed of ruth and doom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gave breath to Troy; but on the Achaians gloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Settled like pall of cloud upon a land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That swoons beneath it. Desperate they scanned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each other, saying: "Now we are left by God,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the huts behind the wall abode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heeding not Diomede, Idomeneus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor keen Odysseus, nor that friend of Zeus<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mykenai's king, nor that robbed Menelaus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor bowman Teukros, Nestor wise, nor Aias&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Huge Aias, cursed in death! Peleides bare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Himself with pride, but he went raving there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For in the high assembly Thetis made<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">In honour of her son, to waft his shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In peace to Hades' house, after the fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twice a man's height for him who did suspire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twice a man's heart and render it to Heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who gave it, after offerings paid and given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And games of men and horses, she brought forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His regal arms for hero of most worth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the broad Danaan host, who was adjudged<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Odysseus by all voices. Aias grudged<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The vote and wandered brooding, drawn apart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From his room-fellows, seeding in his heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Envy, which biting inwards did corrode<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His mettle, and his ill blood plied the goad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his brain, until the wretch made mad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went muttering his wrongs, ill-trimmed, ill-clad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sightless and careless, with slack mouth awry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And working tongue, and danger in the eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oft would stare at Heaven and laugh his scorn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O fools, think not to trick me!" then forlorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would gaze about green earth or out to sea:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"This is the end of man in his degree"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus would he moralise in those bare lands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hopeless brows and tossing up of hands&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To sow in sweat and see another reap!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, pitying himself, he'd fall to weep<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">His desolation, scorned by Gods, by men<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slighted; but in a flash he'd rage again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shake his naked sword at unseen foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dare them bring Odysseus to his blows:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or let the man but flaunt himself in arms...!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So threatening God knows what of savage harms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On him the oxen patient in the marsh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knee-deep in rushes, gazed to hear his harsh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Outcry; and them his madness taught for Greeks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So on their dumb immensity he wreaks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His vengeance, driving in the press with shout<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of "Aias! Aias!" hurtling, carving out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A way with mighty swordstroke, cut and thrust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And makes a shambles in his witless lust;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the midst, bloodshot, with blank wild eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stands frothing at the lips, and after lies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All reeking in his madman's battlefield,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sleeps nightlong. But with the dawn's revealed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pity of his folly; then he sees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Himself at his fool's work. With shaking knees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He stands amid his slaughter, and his own<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adds to the wreck, plunging without a groan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his planted sword. So Aias died<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lonely; and he who, never from his side<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Removed, had shared his fame, the Lokrian,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Abode the fate foreordered in the plan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which the Blind Women ignorantly weave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But think not on the dead, who die and leave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A memory more fragrant than their deeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to the remnant rather and their needs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give thought with me. What comfort in their swords<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have they, robbed of the might of two such lords<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Peleus' son and Telamon's? What art<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can drive the blood back to the stricken heart?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like huddled sheep cowed obstinate, as dull<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As oxen impotent the wain to pull<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of a rut, which, failing at first lunge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Answer not voice nor goad, but sideways plunge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or backward urge with lowered heads, or stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dumb monuments of sufferance&mdash;so unmanned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Achaians brooded, nor their chiefs had care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To drive them forth, since they too knew despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And neither saw in battle nor retreat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A way of honour.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And the plain grew sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again with living green; the spring o' the year<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Came in with flush of flower and bird-call clear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Nature, for whom nothing wrought is vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of shed blood caused grass to spring amain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seemed with tender irony to flout<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man's folly and pain when twixt dead spears sprang out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crocus-point and pied the plain with fires<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More gracious than his beacons; and from pyres<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of burnt dead men the asphodel uprose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like fleecy clouds flushed with the morning rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A holy pall to hide his folly and pain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thus upon earth hope fell like a new rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by and by the pent folk within walls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Took heart and ploughed the glebe and from the stalls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Led out their kine to pasture. Goats and sheep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cropt at their ease, and herd-boys now did keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Watch, where before stood arm&egrave;d sentinels;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And battle-grounds were musical with bells<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of feeding beasts. Afar, high-beacht, the ships<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loomed through the tender mist, their prows&mdash;like lips<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of thirsty birds which, lacking water, cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Salvation out of Heaven&mdash;flung on high:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which marking, Ilios deemed her worst of road<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was travelled, and held Paris for a God<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who winged the shaft that brought them all this peace.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">He in their love went sunning, took his ease<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In house and hall, at council or at feast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless of what was greatest or what least<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all his deeds, so only by his side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She lay, the blush-rose Helen, stolen bride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lovely harbour of his arms. But she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thrall, now her own thralldom plain could see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sick of dalliance, loathed herself, and him<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who had beguiled her. Now through eyes made dim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With tears she looked towards the salt sea-beach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where stood the ships, and sought for sign in each<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If it might be her people's, and so hers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poor alien!&mdash;Argive now herself she avers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And proudly slave of Paris and no wife:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Minion she calls herself; and when to strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of love he claims her, secret her heart surges<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back to her lord; and when to kiss he urges,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And when to play he woos her with soft words,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Secret her fond heart calleth, like a bird's,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Towards that honoured mate who honoured her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making her wife indeed, not paramour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mother, and sharer of his hearth and all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His gear. Thus every night: and on the wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She watches every dawn for what dawn brings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the strong spirit of her took new wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And left her lovely body in the arms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him who doted, conning o'er her charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And witless held a shell; but forth as light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the first sigh of dawn her spirit took flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across the dusky plain to where fires gleamed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And muffled guards stood sentry; and it streamed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the hut, and hovered like a wraith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A presence felt, not seen, as when gray Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems to the dying man a bedside guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to the watchers cannot be exprest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So hovered Helen in a dream, and yearned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the sleeper as he moaned and turned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Renewing his day's torment in his sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who presently starts up and sighing deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Searches the entry, if haply in the skies<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The day begin to stir. Lo there, her eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like waning stars! Lo there, her pale sad face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Becurtained in loose hair! Now he can trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Athwart that gleaming moon her mouth's droopt bow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tell all truth about her, and her woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dreadful store of knowledge. As one shockt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To worse than death lookt she, with horror lockt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behind her tremulous tragic-moving lips:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O love, O love," saith he, and saying, slips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of the bed: "Who hath dared do thee wrong?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No answer hath she, but she looks him long<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deep, and looking, fades. He sleeps no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But up and down he pads the beaten floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all that day his heart's wild crying hears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And can thank God for gracious dew of tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tender thoughts of her, not thoughts of shame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So came the next night, and with night she came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dream-Helen; and he knew then he must go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whence she had come. His need would have it so&mdash;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And her need. Never must she call in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now takes he way alone over the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where dark yet hovers like a catafalque<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all life swoons, and only dead thing walk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uneasy sprites denied a resting space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That shudder as they flit from place to place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like bats of flaggy wing that make night blink<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With endless quest: so do those dead, men think,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who fall and are unserved by funeral rite.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These passes he, and nears the walls of might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which Godhead built for proud Laomedon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And knows the house of Paris built thereon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Terraced and set with gadding vines and trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever falling water, for the ease<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that sweet indweller he held in store.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thither he turns him quaking, but before<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him dares not look, lest he should see her there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aglimmer through the dusk and, unaware,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Discover her fill some mere homely part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Intolerably familiar to his heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deeply there enshrined and glorified,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laid up with bygone bliss. Yet on he hied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Being called, and ever closer on he came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if no wrong nor misery nor shame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could harder be than not to see her&mdash;Nay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even if within that smooth thief's arms she lay<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Besmothered in his kisses&mdash;rather so<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had he stood stabbed to see, than on to go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His round of lonely exile!<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Now he stands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath her house, and on his spear his hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rest, and upon his hands he grounds his chin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And motionless abides till day come in;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pure of his vice, that he might ease her woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not brand her with his own. Not yet the glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of false dawn throbbed, nor yet the silent town<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood washt in light, clear-printed to the crown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the cold upper air. Dark loomed the walls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ghostly the trees, and still shuddered the calls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of owl to owl from unseen towers. Afar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A dog barked. High and hidden in the haar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which blew in from the sea a heron cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honk! and he heard his wings, but not espied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The heavy flight. Slow, slow the orb was filled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With light, and with the light his heart was thrilled<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With opening music, faint, expectant, sharp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the first chords one picks out from the harp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To prelude paean. Venturing all, he lift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His eyes, and there encurtained in a drift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sea-blue mantle close-drawn, he espies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Helen above him watching, her grave eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon him fixt, blue homes of mystery<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unfathomable, eternal as the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as unresting.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">So in that still place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that still hour stood those two face to face.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THIRD STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>MENELAUS SPEAKS WITH HELEN</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem25"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But when he had her there, sharp root of ill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To him and his, safeguarded from him still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Too sweet to be forgotten, too much marred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By usage to be what she seemed, bescarred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behandled, too much lost and too much won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mock image making horrible the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That once had shown her pure for his demesne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still revealed her lovely, and unclean&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despair turned into stone what had been kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bitter surged his griefs, to flood his mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O ruinous face," said he, "O evil head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Art thou so early from the wicked bed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So prompt to slough the snugness of thy vice?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is it that in luxury thou art nice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Become, and dalliest?" Low her head she hung<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And moved her lips. As when the night is young<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hollow wind presages storm, his moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came wailing at her. "Ten years here, alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in that time to have seen thee thrice!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i16">But she:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Often and often have I chanced to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lord pass."<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">His heart leapt, as leaps the child<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enwombed: "Hast thou&mdash;?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">Faintly her quick eyes smiled:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"At this time my house sleepeth, but I wake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So have time to myself when I can take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">New air, and old thought."<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">As a man who skills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To read high hope out of dark oracles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So gleamed his eyes; so fierce and quick said he:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Lady, O God! Now would that I could be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside thee there, breathing thy breath, thy thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gathering!" Silent stood she, memory-fraught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor looked his way. But he must know her soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So harpt upon her heart. "Is this the whole<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou wouldst have me think, that thou com'st here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone to be?"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+<span class="i6">She blushed and dared to peer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Downward. "Is it so wonderful," she said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"If I desire it?" He: "Nay, by my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not so; but wonderful I think it is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In any man to suffer it." The hiss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of passion stript all vesture from his tones<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And showed the King man naked to the bones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man naked to the body's utterance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She turned her head, but felt his burning glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scorch, and his words leap up. "Dost thou desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I leave thee then? Answer me that."<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">"Nay, sire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not so." And he: "Bid me to stay while sleeps<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy house," he said, "so stay I." Her eyes' deeps<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flooded his soul and drowned him in despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Despair and rage. "Behold now, ten years' wear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between us and our love! Now if I cast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My spear and rove the snow-mound of thy breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were that a marvel?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Long she lookt and grave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pondering his face and searching. "Not so brave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lord as that would prove him. Nay, and I know<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">He would not do it." And the truth was so;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And well he knew the reason: better she.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet for a little in that vacancy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of silence and unshadowing light they stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those long-divided, speechless. His first mood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With bitter grudge was choked, but hers was mild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As fearing his. At last she named the child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Asking, Was all well? Short he told her, Yes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The child was well. She fingered in her dress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And watched her hand at play there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">"Here," she said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"There is no child," and sighed. Into his dead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wasted heart there leaped a flame and caught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hollow eyes. "Rememberest thou naught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing regrettest, nothing holdst in grief<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all our joy together ere that thief<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came rifling in?" For all her answer she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lookt long upon him, long and earnestly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And misty grew her eyes, and slowly filled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slowly the great tears brimmed, and slowly rilled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adown her cheeks. So presently she hid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those wells of grief, and hung her lovely head;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And he had no more words, but only a cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At heart too deep for utterance, and too high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For tears.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And now came Paris from the house<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the sun, rosy and amorous,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when the sun himself from the sea-rim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lifteth, and gloweth on the earth grown dim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With waiting; and he piped a low clear call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As mellow as the thrush's at the fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of day from some near thicket. At whose sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rose up caught Helen and blushing turned her round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To face him; but in going, ere she met<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The prince, her hand along the parapet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She trailed, palm out, for sign to who below<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rent at himself, nor had the wit to know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that dumb signal eloquence, and hope<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therein beyond his sick heart's utmost scope.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Throbbing he stood as when a quick-blown peat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now white, now red, burns inly&mdash;O wild heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O ravenous race of men, who'd barter Space<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Time for one short snatch of instant grace!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Withal, next day, drawn by his dear desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When as the young green burned like emerald fire<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">In the cold light, back to the tryst he came;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But she was sooner there, and called his name<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Softly as cooing dove her bosom's mate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And showed her eyes to him, which half sedate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be so sought revealed her, half in doubt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest he should deem her bold to meet the bout<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With too much readiness. But high he flaunted<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her name towards the sky. "Thou God-enchanted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou miracle of dawn, thou Heart of the Rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hail thou!" On his own eloquence he grows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lover he proclaims. "O love," he saith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I would not leave thee for a moment's breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor once these ten long years had left thy side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had it been possible to stay!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">She sighed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She wondered o'er his face, she looked her fill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Museful, still doubting, smiling half, athrill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All virgin to his praise. "O wonderful,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She said, "Such store of love for one so foul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As I am now!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">O fatal hot-and-cold,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">O love, whose iris wings not long can hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The upper air! Sudden her thought smote hot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On him. "Thou sayest! True it is, God wot!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warm from his bed, and tears for thy unworth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warm from his bed, and tears to meet my mirth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then back to his bed ere yet thy tears be dry!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She heard not, but she knew his agony<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of burning vision, and kept back her tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until his pity moved in tune with hers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Towards herself. But he from thunderous brows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frowned on. "No more I see thee by this house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except to slay thee when the hour decree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An end to this vile nest of cuckoldry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And holy vows made hateful, save thou speak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To each my question sooth. Keep dry thy cheek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From tears, hide up thy beauty with thy grief&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or let him have his joy of them, thy thief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What time he may. Answer me thou, or vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till thine hour strike to look for me again."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With hanging head and quiet hanging hands,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With lip atremble, as caught in fault she stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scarce might he hear her whispered message:<br /></span>
+<span class="i18">"Ask,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord, and I answer thee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Strung to his task:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Tell me now all," he said, "from that far day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whenas embracing thee, I stood to pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And poured forth wine unto the thirsty earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Zeus and to Poseidon, in whose girth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lie sea and land; to Gaia next, their spouse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And next to Her&eacute;, mistress of my house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Traitress, and thine, for grace upon my faring:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thou wert by to hear me, false arm bearing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon my shoulder, glowing, lying cheek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Next unto mine. Ay, and thou prayedst, with meek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair seeming, prosperous send-off and return.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell me what then, tell all, and let me learn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With what pretence that dog-souled slaked his thirst<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In thy sweet liquor. Tell me that the first."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then Helen lifted up her head, and beamed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clear light upon him from her eyes, which seemed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That blue which, lying on the white sea-bed<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And gazing up, the sunbeam overhead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would show, with green entinctured, and the warp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inwoven of golden shafts, blended yet sharp;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that a glory mild and radiant<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Transfigured them. Upon him fell aslant<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That lovely light, while in her cheeks the hue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of throbbing dawn came sudden. So he knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her best before she spoke; for when she spoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was as if the nightingale should croak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In April midst the first young leaves, so bleak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So harsh she schooled her throat, that it should speak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dry matter and hard logic&mdash;as if she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were careful lest self-pity urged a plea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which was not hers to make; or as one faint<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And desperate lays down all his argument<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like bricks upon a field, let who will make<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A house of them; so drily Helen spake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a flat voice. "Thou hadst been nine days gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came my lord Alexandros, Priam's son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hailed me in the hall whereas I sat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And claimed his guest-right, which not wondering at<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I gave as fitting was. Then came the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I was beguiled. What more is there to say?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fixt on her fingers playing on the wall<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Her eyes were. But the King said: "Tell me all.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou wert beguiled: by his desire beguiled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or by thine own?" She shook her head and smiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Most sadly, pitying herself. "Who knoweth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ways of Love, whence cometh, whither goeth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The heart's low whimper? This I know, he loved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me then, and pleasured only where I moved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About the house. And I had pleasure too<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To know of me he had it. Then we knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The day at hand when he must take the road<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leave me; and its eve we close abode<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the house, and spake not. But I wept."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She stayed, and whispering down her next word crept:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I was beguiled, beguiled." And then her lip<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She bit, and rueful showed her partnership<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sinful dealing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">But he, in his esteem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bleeding and raw, urged on. "To Kranai's deme<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He took thee then?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Speechless she bent her head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Towards her tender breasts whereon, soft shed<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">As upon low quiet hills, the dawn light played,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And limned their gentle curves or sank in shade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So gazing, stood she silent, but the King<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urged on. "From thence to Ilios, thou willing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He took thee?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Then, "I was beguiled," again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She said; and he, who felt a worthier strain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stir in his gall compassion, and uplift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him out of knowledge, saw a blessed rift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his dark horizon, as tow'rds night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The low clouds break and shafted shows the light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ten years beguiled!" he said, "but now it seems<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art&mdash;&mdash;" She shook her head. "Nay, now come dreams;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, now I think, remember, now I see."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"What callest thou to mind?" "Hermione,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She said, "our child, and Sparta my own land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the honour that lay to my hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had I but chosen it, as now I would"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sudden hid her face up in her hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her courage ebbed in grief, all hardness drowned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In bitter weeping.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Noble pity crowned<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The greater man in him; so for a space<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They wept together, she for loss; for grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of gain wept he. "No more," he said, "my sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell me no more."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">"Ah, hear the whole of it<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before my hour is gone," she cried. But he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Groaning, "I dare not stay here lest I see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him take thee again."<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Both hands to fold her breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She shook her head; like as the sun through mist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shone triumph in her eyes. "Have no more fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him or any&mdash;&mdash;" Then, hearing a stir<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the house, her finger toucht her lip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And one fixt look she gave of fellowship<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Assured&mdash;then turned and quickly went her way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his light vanisht with her for that day.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>FOURTH STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>THE APOLOGY OF HELEN</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem25"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">O singing heart, O twice-undaunted lover!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O ever to be blest, twice blest moreover!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twice over win the world in one girl's eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twice over lift her name up to the skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twice to hope all things, so to be twice born&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he lives not who cannot front the morn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saying, "This day I live as never yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lived striving man on earth!" What if the fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of loss and ten years' agonizing snow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy hairs or leave their tracery on thy brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each line beslotted by the demon hounds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hunting thee down o' nights? Laugh at thy wounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laugh at thy eld, strong lover, whose blood flows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clear from the fountain, singing as it goes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"She loves, and so I live and shall not die!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love on, love her: 'tis immortality."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Once more before the sun he greeted her:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She glowed her joy; her mood was calm and clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As mellow evening's whenas, like a priest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rain has absolved the world, and golden mist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hangs over all like benediction.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her proud eyes sat triumph on a throne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To know herself beloved, her lover by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So near the consummation. Womanly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She dallied with the moment when, all wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his breast she'd lie and cast her life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cast body, soul and spirit in one gest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Supreme of giving. Glorying in his quest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her, now let her hide what he must glean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But not know yet. Ah, sweet to feel his keen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long eye-search, like the touch of eager fingers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sweet to thrill beneath such hot blush-bringers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fence with such a swordsman hazardous<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sweet. "Belov'd, thou art glad of me!" Then thus<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Antiphonal to him she breathes, "Thou sayest!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"I see thy light and hail it!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">"Thou begayest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My poor light."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">"Knowest thou not that thou art loved?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"And am I loved then?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">"If thou'ldst have it proved,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Look in my eyes. Would thine were open book!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Palimpsest I," she said, and would not look.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But he was grappling now with truth, would have it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What though it cost him all his gain. She gave it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looking him along. "O lady mine," he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Now are my clouds dispers&eacute;d every shred;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thou art mine; I think thou lovest me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speak, is that true?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">She could not, or may be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She would not hold her gaze, but let it fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And watched her fingers idling on the wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so remained; but urged to it by the spell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He cast, she whispered down, "I cannot tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thee here, and thus apart"&mdash;which when he had<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In its full import drove him well-nigh mad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With longing. "Call me and I come!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">But fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flamed in her eyes: "No, no, 'tis death! He's here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At hand. 'Tis death for thee, and worse than death&mdash;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She ended so&mdash;"for both of us."<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">And breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Failed him, for well he knew now what she meant,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And sighed his thanks to Gods beneficent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thereafter in sweet use of lovers' talk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In boon spring weather, whenas lovers walk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Handfasted through the meadows pied, and wet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With dew from flower and leaf, these lovers met&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two bodies separate, one wild heart between,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Day after day, these two long-severed been;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of this mating of the eye and tongue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There grew desire passionate and strong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For body's mating and its testimony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hearts' intimacy, perfect, full and free.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Helen for her heart's ease did deny<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her girdled Goddess of the beamy eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saying, "Come you down, Mistress of sleek loves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And panting nights: your service of bought doves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And honey-hearted wine may cost too dear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What hast thou done for me since first my ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With thy sly music thou didst sign and seal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Apprentice to thy mystery, teach me feel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy fierce divinity in the trembling touch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of open lips? Served I not thee too much<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Kranai and in Sparta my demesne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Too much in wide-wayed Ilios, Eastern Queen?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, but it was too much a thousandfold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For what was I but leman bought and sold?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">"For woman craved what mercy hath man brought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What face a woman for a woman sought?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What mercy or what face? And what saith she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hunted, scorn&eacute;d wretch? Boast that she be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Coveted, hankered, spat on? One to gloat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rest to snarl without! If man play goat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What must she play? Her glory is it to draw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On greedy eye, sting greedy lip and paw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And find the crown of her desire therein?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath she no rarer bliss than all this sin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is she for dandling, kissing, hidden up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For hungry hands to stroke or lips to sup?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath she then nothing of her own, no mirth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In honesty, nor eyes to worship worth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor pride except in that which makes men dogs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor loathing for the vice wherein, like logs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That float beneath the sun, lie fair women<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Submiss, inert receptacles for sin?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is this her all? Hath she no heart, nor care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therefor? No womb, nor hope therein to bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fruit of her heart's insurgence? Is her face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are these her breasts for fondling, not to grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her heart's high honour, swell to nurture it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That it too grow? Hath she no mother-wit,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor sense for living things and innocent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor leap of joy for this good world's content<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sun and wind, of flower and leaf, and song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of bird, or shout of children as they throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The world of mated men and women? Nay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Persuade me not, O Kypris; but I say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Evil hath been the lore which thou hast taught&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For many have loved my face, and many sought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My breast, and thought it joy supping thereat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweetness and dear delight; but out of that<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What hath there come to them, to me and all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mine but hot shame? Not milk, but bitter gall."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">So in her high passion she rent herself<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rocked, or hid her face upon the shelf<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the grim wall, lest he should see the whole<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inexpiable sorrow of her soul.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he by pity pure made bountiful<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lent her excuse, by every means to lull<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her agony. Said he, "Of mortals who<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can e'er withstand the way she wills them to,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kypris the forceful Goddess? Nay, dear child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou wert constrained."<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">She said, "I was beguiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clung to him until the day-dawn broke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I could read as in the roll of a book<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His open heart. And then my own heart reeled<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">To know him craven, dog, not man, revealed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A panting drudge of lust, who held me here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caged vessel. Nay, come close. I loved him dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Too dear, I know; but never till he came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had known the leap of joy, the fire of flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the heart he gave me, Paris the bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose memory was music and his sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fragrance, whose nearness made my footfall dance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose touch was fever, and his burning glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faintness and blindness; in whose light my life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Centred; who was the sun, and I, false wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The foolish flower that turns whereso he wheels<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the broad earth's canopy, and steals<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Colour from his strong beam, but at the last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whenas the night comes and the day is past<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Droops, burnt at the heart. So loved I him, and so<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waxed bold to dare the deed that brought this woe."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And there she changed, and bitter was her cry:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ah, lord, far better had it been to die<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere I had cast this pain on thee, and shame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On me, and wrought such outrage on our name.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Natheless I live&mdash;&mdash;"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+<span class="i10">"Ay, and give life!" he said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Yet this thing more I'd have thee tell&mdash;what led<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy thought to me? From him, what turned thy troth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such troth as there could be?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">She cried, "The oath!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The oath ye sware before the Lords of Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sacrifice, the pledges taken and given<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When thou and Paris met upon the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the host sat down to watch you twain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do battle, which should have me. For my part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They took me forth to watch; as in the mart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heifer feels the giver of the feast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pinch in her flank, and hears the chaffer twist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This way and that for so much fat or lean&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even so was I, a queen, child of a queen."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She bit her lip until the blood ran free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in her eyes he markt deep injury<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scald as the salt tears welled; but "Listen yet,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She said: "Ye fought, and Paris fell beset<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under thy spurning heel, yet felt no whit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bitterness as I must come to it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For she, his Goddess, hid him up in mists<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brought him beat and broken from the lists<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here to his chamber. But I stood and burned,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Shameful to be by one lost, by one earned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A prize for games, a slave, a bandied thing&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since as the oath was made so must I swing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From bed to bed. But while I stood and wept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Melted in fruitless sorrow, up she crept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For me, his Goddess, gliding like a snake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who wreathed her arms and whispering me go make<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The nuptial couch, 'What oath binds love?' did say.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loathing him, I must go. He had his way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As well he might who paid that goodly price,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honour, truth, courage, all, to have his vice:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The which forsook him when those fair things fled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For though my body hath lain in his bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart abhors it. And now in truth I wis<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lord's true heart is where my own heart is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The two together welded and made whole;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I will go to him and give my soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shamed and faded body to his nod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To spurn or take; and he shall be my God."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whereat made virgin, as all women are<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By love's white purging fire which leaves no scar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where all was soiled and seamed before the torch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Eros toucht the heart, and the keen scorch<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Lickt up the foul misuse of vase so fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As woman's body, Helen flusht and fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaned from the wall a fire-hued seraph's face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in one rapt long look gave and took Grace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deep in her eyes he saw the light divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quick in him ran fierce joy of it like wine:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light unto light made answer, as a flag<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Answers when men tell tidings from one crag<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto another, and from peak to peak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The good news flashes. Scarcely could he speak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Measurable words, so high his wild thought whirled:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Bride, Goddess, Helen, O Wonder of the World,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall I come for thee?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Her tender words came soft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As dropping rose petals on garden croft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down from the wall's sheer height&mdash;"Come soon, come soon."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And homing to the lines those drummed his tune.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>FIFTH STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>A COUNCIL OF THE ACHAIANS:
+THE EMBASSY OF ODYSSEUS</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Now calleth he assembly of the chiefs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Princes and kings and captains, them whose griefs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ease his own like treasure had been lent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who came and sat at board within the tent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him they hailed host-father and their lord<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this adventure, in aught else abhorred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all true men. He sits above the rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fox-red Agamemnon, round his crest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The circlet of his kingship over kings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at his thigh the sword gold-hilted swings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which Zeus gave Atreus once; and in his heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That gnawing doubt which twice had checkt his start<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For high emprise, having twice egged him to it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As stout Odysseus knew who had to rue it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beside him Nestor sat, Nestor the old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White as the winter moon, with logic cold<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Instilled, as if the blood in him had fled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his veins clear spirit ran instead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which made men reasons and not fired their sprites.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And next Idomeneus of countless fights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shrewd leader of the Cretans; by his side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keen-flashing Diomedes in his pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The young, the wild in onset, whose war-shrill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Next after Peleus' son's, held all Troy still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stayed the gray crows at their ravelling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of dead men's bones. Into debate full fling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went he, adone with tapping of the foot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drumming on the board. Had but his suit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Been granted&mdash;so he said&mdash;the war were done<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Troy a name ere full three years had gone:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For as for Helen and her daintiness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Troy held a mort of women who no less<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than she could pleasure night when work was over<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And men came home ready to play the lover;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in housework would better her. Let Helen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be laid by Paris, villain, and dead villain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dead long ago if he had taken the field<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Instead of Menelaus. Then no shield<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had Kypris' golden body been, acquist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With his sword-arm already, near the wrist!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So Diomedes. Next him sat a man<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With all his woe to come, the Lokrian<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aias, son of O&iuml;leus, bearded swart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pale, with his little eyes, and legs too short<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And arms too long, a giant when he sat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dwarf else, and in the fight a tiger-cat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But mark his neighbour, mark him well: to him<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Falleth the lot to lay a charge more grim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On woman fair than even Althaia felt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like lead upon her heartstrings, when she knelt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And blew to flame the brand that held the life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her own son; or Procne with the knife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who slew and dressed her child to be a meal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To his own father. But this man's thews were steel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And steely were the nerves about his heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they had need. Mark him, and mark the part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He plays hereafter. Odysseus is his name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wily Ithacan, deathless in his fame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his substance deathless, since he goes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Immortal forth and back wherever blows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thunder of thy rhythm, O blind King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First of the tribe of them with songs to sing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fountain of storied music and its end&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For who the poet since who doth not tend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To essay thy leaping measure, or call down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy nodded approbation for his crown<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And all his wages?<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Other chiefs sat there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In order due: as Pyrrhos, very fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And young, with high bright colour, and the hue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of evening in his eyes of violet-blue&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Son of Achilles he, and new to war.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Antiklos and Teukros, best by far<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the bowmen in the host. And last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Menestheus the Athenian dikast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who led the folk from Pallas's fair home.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To them spake Menelaus, being come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into assembly last, and taken in hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spokesman's staff: "Ye princes of our land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adventurous Achaians, stout of heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Good news I bring, that now we may depart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each to his home and kindred, each to his hearth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wife and children dear and well-tilled garth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Contented with the honour he has brought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me and mine, since I have what we've sought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With bitter pain and loss. Yea, even now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath Her&eacute; crowned your strife and earned my vow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made these ten years come harvest, having drawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The veil from off those eyes than which not dawn<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Holds sweeter light nor holier, once they see.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, chieftains, Helen's heart comes back to me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fast she watches now hard by the wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the wicked house, and ere the cock shall call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another morn I have her in my arms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Redeemed for Sparta, pure of Trojan harms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whole-hearted and clean-hearted as she came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First, before Paris and his deed of shame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Threatened my house with wreck, and on his own<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have brought no joy. This night, disguised, alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I stand within the city, waiting day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then when men sleep, all in the shadowless gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Robbing the robber, I drop down with her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the wall&mdash;and lo! the end of the war!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thus great of heart and high of heart he spake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And trembling ceased. Awhile none cared to break<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The silence, like unto that breathless hush<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That holds a forest ere the great winds rush<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up from the sea-gulf, bringing furious rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like mist to drown all nature, blot the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In one great sheet of water without form.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So held the chiefs. Then Diomede brake in storm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ever the first he was to fling his spear<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the press of battle; dread his cheer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the long howling of a wolf at eve<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or clamour of the sea-birds when they grieve<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hanker the out-scouring of the net<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hidden behind the darkness and the wet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of tempest-ridden nights. "Princes," he cried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"What say ye to this wooer of his bride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For whom it seems ten nations and their best<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have fought ten years to bring her back to nest?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is this your meed of honour? Was it for this<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You flung forth fortune&mdash;to ensure him his?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he made snug at home, we seek our lands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Barer than we left them, with emptier hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And some with fewer members, shed that he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might fare as soft and trim as formerly!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not so went I adventuring, good friend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not so look I this business to have end:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, but I fight to live, not live to fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so will live by day as thou by night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sating my eyes with havoc on this race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of robbers of the hearth; see their strong place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brought level with the herbage and the weed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That where they revelled once shrew-mice may feed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And moles make palaces, and bats keep house.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And if thou art of spleen so slow to rouse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As quit thy score by thieving from a thief<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leave him scatheless else, thou art no chief<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Tydeus' son, who sees no end of strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in his own or in his foeman's life."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So he. Then Pyrrhos spake: "By that great shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein I stand, which thy false Paris made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who slew my father, think not so to have done<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Troy and Priam; for Peleides' son<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must slake the sword that cries, and still the ghost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him that haunts the ingles of this coast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Murdered and unacquit while that man's father<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Liveth."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then leapt up two, and both together<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cried, "Give us Troy to sack, give us our fill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of gold and bronze; give us to burn and kill!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Aias said, "Are there no women then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Troy, but only her? And are we men<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or virgins of Athen&eacute;?" And the dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her who served that dauntless One made gleam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His shifting eyes, and stretcht his fleshy lips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behind his beard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Then stood that prince of ships<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And shipmen, great Odysseus; with one hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He held the staff, with one he took command;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus in measured tones, with word intent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the deed, fierce but not vehement,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drave in his dreadful message. At his sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clamour died down, even as the wind at night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Falls and is husht at rising of the moon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ye chieftains of Achaia, not so soon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is strife of ten years rounded to a close,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Neither so are men seated, friends or foes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For say thus lightly we renounced the meed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of our long travail, gave so little heed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To our great dead as find in one man's joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full recompense for all we've sunk in Troy&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wives desolate, children fatherless, lands, gear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stock without master, wasting year by year;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Youth past, age creeping on, friends, brothers, sons<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lost in the void, gone where no respite runs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For sorrow, but the darkness covers all&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What name should we bequeath our sons but thrall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or what beside a name, who let go by<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ilios the rich for others' usury?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And have the blessed Gods no say in this?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think you they be won over by a kiss&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her&eacute; the Queen, she, the unwearied aid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all our striving, Pallas the war-maid?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have they not vowed, and will ye scant their hate,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Havoc on Ilios from gate to gate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for her towers abasement to the dust?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold, O King, lust shall be paid with lust,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And treachery with treachery, and for blood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blood shall be shed. Therefore let loose the flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of our pent passion; break her gates in, raze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The walls of her, cumber her pleasant ways<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With dead men; set on havoc, sate with spoil<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men ravening; get corn and wine and oil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Women to clasp in love, gold, silken things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Harness of flashing bronze, swords, meed of kings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chariots and horses swifter than the wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, coursing Ida, leaves ruin behind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of snapt tall trees: not faster shall they fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than Trojan spears once we are on the wall.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So only shall ye close this agelong strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor by redemption of a too fair wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now smiling, now averse, now hot, now cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O Menelaus, may the tale be told!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, but by slaying of Achilles' slayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the betrayal of the bed-betrayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By not withholding from the spoils of war<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men freeborn, nor from them that beaten are<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their rueful wages. Ilios must fall."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He said, and sat, and heard the acclaim of all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save of the sons of Atreus, who sat glum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One flusht, one white as parchment, and both dumb;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">One raging to be contraried, one torn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By those two passions wherewith he was born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lust for body's ease and lust of gain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then slow he rose, Mykenai's king of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gentle his voice to hear. "Laertes' son,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said, but 'twas Nestor he looked upon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wise old man who sat beside his chair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mild now who once, a lion, kept his lair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Untoucht of any, or if e'er he left it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left it for prey, and held that when he reft it<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From foe, or over friend made stronger claim:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Laertes' son," the king said, "all men's fame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reports thee just and fertile in device;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as the friend of God great is thy price<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To us of Argos; for without the Gods<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How should we look to trace the limitless roads<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That weave a criss-cross 'twixt us and our home?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go to now, some will stay and other some<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take to the sea-ways, hasty to depart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not warfaring as men fare to the mart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To best a neighbour in some chaffering bout;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But honour is the prize wherefor they go out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And having that, dishonoured are content<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To leave the foe&mdash;that is best punishment.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Natheless since men there be, Argives of worth,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Who needs must shed more blood ere they go forth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if of blood enough had not been spilt!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Devise thou with my brother if thou wilt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Noble Odysseus, seeking how compose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His honour with thy judgment. Well he knows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy singleness of heart, deep ponderer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lover of a fair wife, and sure of her.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, let this be the sum of our debate."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Content you," Menelaus said, "I wait<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon thy word, thou fosterling of Zeus."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then said Odysseus, "Be it as you choose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye sons of Atreus. Then, advised, I say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let me win into Troy as best I may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seek out the lovely lady of our land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And learn of her the watchwords, see how stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sentries, how the warders of the gates;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The strength, how much it is; what prize awaits<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To crown our long endeavour. These things learned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Back to the ships I come ere yet are burned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The watch-fires of the night, before the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath urged his steeds the course they are to run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of the golden gateways of the East."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which all agreed, and Helen's lord not least.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>SIXTH STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>HELEN AND PARIS; ODYSSEUS AND HELEN</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Like as the sweet free air, when maids the doors<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And windows open wide, wanders the floors<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the passage ways about the house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keen marshal of the sun, or serious<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cool gray light of morning 'gins to peer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere yet the household stirs, or chanticlere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calls hinds to labour but hints not the glee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor full-flood glory of the day to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When round about the hill the sun shall swim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And burn a sea-path&mdash;so demure and slim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went Helen on her business with swift feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And light, yet recollected, and her sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Secret held hid, that she was loved where need<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Called her to mate, and that she loved indeed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, sacred calm of wedlock, passion white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of lovers knit in Her&eacute;'s holy light!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">But while in early morn she wonned alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Paris slept, shrill rose her singing tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brave the light on kindled cheeks and eyes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave as her hope is, brave the flag she flies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then, as the hour drew on when the sun's rim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should burn a sheet of gold to herald him<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Ida's snowy crest, lithe as a pard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For some lord's pleasuring encaged and barred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She paced the hall soft-footed up and down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lightly and feverishly with quick frown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peered shrewdly this way, that way, like a bird<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That on the winter grass is aye deterred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His food-searching by hint of unknown snare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In thicket, holt or bush, or lawn too bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon stopped, lip to finger, while the tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beat from her heart against her shielded side&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now closely girdled went she like a maid&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then slipt to the window, where she stayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But minutes three or four; for soon she past<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out to the terrace, there to be at last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Downgazing on her glory, which her king<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reflected up in every motioning<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flux of his high passion. Only here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She triumphed, nor cared she to ask how near<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The end of Troy, nor hazarded a guess<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What deeds must do ere that could come to pass.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To her the instant homage held all joy&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what to her was Sparta, or what Troy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the bliss of that?<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Or Paris, what<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was he, who daily, nightly plained his lot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To have risked all the world and ten years loved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This woman, now to find her nothing moved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By what he had done with her, what desired<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To do? And more she chilled the less he tired,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And more he ventured less she cared recall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What was to her of nothing worth, or all:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All if the King required it of her, nought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If he who now could take it. It was bought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his by bargain: let him have it then;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But let it be for giving once again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the rubies in the world's deep heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could fetch no price beside it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">Yet apart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She brooded on the man who held her chained,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Minister to his pleasure, and disdained<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him more the more herself she must disparage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reflecting on him all her hateful carriage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So old, incredible, so flat, so stale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more to be recalled than old wife's tale;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And scorned him, saw him neither high nor low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not villain and not hero, who would go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Midway 'twixt baseness and nobility,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not be fierce, if fierceness hurt a flea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before his eyes. The man loved one thing more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than all the world, and made his mind a whore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To minister his heart's need, for a price.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All which she loathed, yet chose not to be nice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the snug-revelling wretch, her master yet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose leaguer, though she scorned it, was no fret;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But lift on wings of her exalted mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She let him touch and finger what he would,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unconscious of his being&mdash;as he saw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with a groan, whipt sharp upon the raw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his esteem, "Ah, cruel art thou turned,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would cry, "Ah, frosty fire, where I am burned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet dying bless the flame that is my bane!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With which to clasp her closer was he fain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To touch in love, and feast his eyes to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her quiver at his touch, and laugh to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The plucker of such chords of such a rote;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And laughing stoop and kiss her milky throat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then see her shut eyes hide what he had done.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Nay, shut them not upon me, nay, nor shun<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">My worship!" So he said; but she, "They fade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But are not yet so old as thou hast made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The soul thou pinnest here beneath my breasts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which you have loved too well." His hand he rests<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over one fair white bosom like a cup,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leaning, of her lips his own must sup;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But she will not, but gently doth refuse it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without a reason, save she doth not choose it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then when he flung away, she sat alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nursed her hope and sorrow, both in one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perturb&eacute;d bosom; and her fingers wove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White webs as far afield her wits did rove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perpending and perpending. So frail, so fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So faint she seemed, a wraith you had said there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A woman dead, and not in lovely flesh.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all the while she writhed within the mesh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of circumstance, and fiercely flamed her rage:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O slave, O minion, thing kept in a cage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this sleek master's handling!" So she fumed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What time her wide eyes sought all ways, or loomed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like winter lakes dark in a field of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still; nor lifted they their pall of woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Responsive to her heart, nor flashed the thrill<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">That knew, which said, "A true man loveth me still."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">That same night, as she used, fair Helen went<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the suppliants in the hall, and lent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To each who craved the bounty of her grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her gentle touch on wounds, her pitiful face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To beaten eyes' dumb eloquence, that art<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She above all could use, to stroke the heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plead compassion in bestowing it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So with her handmaids busy did she flit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From man to man, 'mid outlaws, broken blades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Robbed husbandmen, their robbers, phantoms, shades<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of what were men till hunger made them less<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than man can be and still know uprightness;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whom she spake with kindly words and cheer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In him the light of hope began to peer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glimmer in his eyes; and him she fed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nourisht, then sent homeward comforted<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little, to endure a little more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now among these, hard by the outer door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She marked a man unbent whose sturdy look<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never left hers for long, whose shepherd's hook<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seemed not a staff to prop him, whose bright eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burned steadily, as fire when the wind dies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great in the girth was he, but not so tall<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">By a full hand as many whom the wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed like gaunt channel-posts by an ebb tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Left stranded in a world of ooze. Beside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His knees she kneeled, and to his wounded feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Applied her balms; but he, from his low seat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against the wall, leaned out and in her ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whispered, but so that no one else could hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Other than my wounds are there for thy pains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lady, and deeper. One, a grievous, drains<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The great heart of a king, and one is fresh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though ten years old, in the sweet innocent flesh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a young child."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Nothing said she, but stoopt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The closer to her task. He thought she droopt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her head, he knew she trembled, that her shoulder<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twitcht as she wrought her task; so he grew bolder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saying, "But thou art pitiful! I know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou wilt wash their wounds."<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">She whispered "Oh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be sure of me!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Then he, "Let us have speech<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Secret together out of range or reach<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of prying ears, if such a chance may be."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then she said, "Towards morning look for me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, when the city sleeps, before the sun."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So till the glimmer of dawn this hardy one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keepeth the watch in Paris' house. All night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With hard unwinking eyes he sat upright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While all about the sleepers lay, like stones<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Littered upon a hill-top, save that moans,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sighings and "Gods, have pity!" showed that they<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By night rehearsed the miseries of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by bread lived not but by hope deferred.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grimly he suffered till such time he heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Helen's light foot and faint and gray in the mist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Descried her slim veiled outline, saw her twist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slip between the sleepers on the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Atiptoe coming, swift, with scarce a sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not faltering in fear. No fear she had.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From head to foot a sea-blue mantle clad<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her lovely shape, from which her pale keen face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shone like the moon in frosty sky. No case<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was his to waver, for her eyes spake true<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Heaven upon the world. Him then she drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To follow her, out of the house, to where<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ilex trees stood darkly, and the air<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Struck sharp and chill before the dawn's first breath.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There stood a little altar underneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An image: Artemis the quick deerslayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High-girdled and barekneed; to Whom in prayer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First bowed, then stood erect with lifted hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Palms upward, Helen. "Lady of open lands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lakes and windy heights," prayed she, "so do<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me as to Amphion's wife when blew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind of thy high anger, and she stared<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On sudden death that not one dear life spared<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all she had&mdash;so do to me if false<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I prove unto this Argive!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Then the walls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gates of Ilios she traced in the sand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And told him of the watch-towers, and how manned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gates at night; and where the treasure was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And where the houses of the chiefs. But as<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She faltered in the tale, "Show now," said he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Where Priam's golden palace is."<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">But she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said, "Nay, not that; for since the day of shame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That brought me in, no word or look of blame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath he cast on me. Nay, when Hector died<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the city turned on me and cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My name, as to an outcast dog men fling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Howling and scorn, not one word said the King.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when they hissed me in the shrines of the Gods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And women egged their children on with nods<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To foul the house-wall, or in passing spat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Towards it, he, the old King, came and sat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Daily with me, and often on my hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would lay a gentle hand. Him thou shalt spare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For my sake who betray him."<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">Odysseus said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Well, thou shalt speak no more of him. His bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is not of thy making, nor mine, but his<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who hath thee here a cageling, thy Paris.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him he begat as well as Hector. Now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let Priam look to reap what he did sow."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But when glad light brimmed o'er the cup of earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shrill birds called forth men to grief or mirth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As might afford their labour under the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Helen advised how best to get him gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fetched a roll of cord, the which made fast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About a stanchion, about him next she cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About and about until the whole was round<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">His body, and the end to his arm she bound:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then showed him in the wall where best foothold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might be, and watcht him down as fold by fold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He paid the cable out; and as he paid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So did she twist it, till the coil was made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As it had been at first. Then watcht she him<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stride o'er the plain until he twinkled dim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sank into the mist.<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">That day came not<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">King Menelaus to the trysting spot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ere Odysseus left her she had ta'en<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A crocus flower which on her breast had lain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And toucht it with her lips. "Give this," said she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To my good lord who hath seen the flower in me."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>SEVENTH STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>THEY BUILD THE HORSE AND ENTER IN</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">What weariness of wind and wave and foam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was to be for Odysseus ere his home<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of scrub and crag and scanty pasturage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He saw again! What stress of pilgrimage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through roaring waterways and cities of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What sojourn among folk beyond the ken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of mortal seafarers in homelier seas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More trodden lands! Sure, none had earned his ease<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As he, that windless morning when he drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Near silent Ithaca, gray in misty blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wondered on the old familiar scene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which was to him as it had never been<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aforetime. Say, had he but had inkling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in this hour all that long wandering<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his was self-ensured, had he been bold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To plan and carry what must now be told<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this too hardy champion? Solve it you<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose chronicling is over. Mine's to do.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All day until the setting of the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Devising how to use what he had won<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Odysseus stood; for nothing within walls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was hid, he knew the very trumpet-calls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherewith they turned the guard out, and the cries<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sentries used to hearten or advise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The city in the watches of the night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once in, no hope for Ilios; but his plight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No better stood for that, since no way in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could he conceive, nor entry hope to win<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For any force enough to seize the gate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And open for the host.<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">But then some Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or, some men say, Athen&eacute; the gray-eyed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever his friend, never far from his side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prompted him look about him. Then he heeds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A stork set motionless in the dry reeds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That lift their withered arms, a skeleton host,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long after winter and her aching frost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are gone, and rattle in the spring's soft breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dry bones, as if to daunt the budding trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And warn them of the summer's wrath to come.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still sat the bird, as fast asleep or numb<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With cold, her head half-buried in her breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With close-shut eyes: a dead bird on the nest,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Arrow-shot&mdash;for behold! a wound she bore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mid-breast, which stooping to, to see the more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, forth from it came busy, one by one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light-moving ants! So she to her death had gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These many days; and there where she lost life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her carrion shell with it again was rife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So teems the earth, that ere our clay be rotten<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">New hosts sweep clean the hearth, our deeds forgotten.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But stooping still, Odysseus saw her not<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor her brisk tenantry; afar his thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after it his vision, crossed the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lit on Ilios, dim and lapt in rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Piled up like blocks which Titans rear to mark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where hero of their breed sits stiff and stark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spear in dead hand, and dead chin on dead knees;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And "Ha," cried he, "proud hinderer of our ease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now hold I thee within my hollowed hand!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Straightway returning, Troy's destruction planned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sends for one Epeios, craftsman good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bids him frame him out a horse in wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Big-bellied as a ship of sixty oars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such as men use for traffic, not in wars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor piracy, but roomy, deep in the hold,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Where men may shelter if needs be from cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or sleep between their watches. "Scant not you,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said, "your timber not your sweat. Drive through<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This horse for me, Epeios, as if we<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Awaited it to give the word for sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Hellas and our wives and children dear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this is true, without it we stay here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another ten-year shift, if by main force<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We would take Troy, but ten days with my horse."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So to their task Epeios and his teams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went valiantly, and heaved and hauled great beams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of timber from far Ida, and hacked amain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rought the framework out. Then to it again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They went with adzes and their smoothing tools,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And made all shapely; next bored for their dools<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With augurs, and made good stock on to stock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With mortise and with dovetail. Last, they lock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The frames with clamps, the nether to the upper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And body forth a horse from crest to crupper<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In outline.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Now their ribbing must be shaped<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With axe to take the round, first rought, then scraped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With adzes, then deep-mortised in the frame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bear the weight of so much mass, whose fame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When all was won, the Earth herself might quake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Supporting on her broad breast. Now they take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Planks sawn and smoothed, and set them over steam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of cauldrons to be supple. These to the beam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above they rivet fast, and bend them down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till from the belly more they seem to have grown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than in it to be ended, so well sunk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And grooved they be. There's for the horse's trunk.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But as for head and legs, these from the block<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Epeios carved, and fixed them on the stock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With long pins spigotted and clamps of steel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then the tail, downsweeping to the heel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He carved and rivetted in place. Yet more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He did; for cunningly he made a door<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the belly of him, in a part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Nature lends her aid to sculptor's art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And few would have the thought to look for it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or eyes so keen to find, if they'd the wit.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Greatly stood he, hogmaned, with wrinkled n&eacute;ck<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wrying jaw, as though upon the check<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One rode him. On three legs he stood, with one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pawing the air, as if his course to run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was overdue. Almost you heard the champ<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clatter of the bit, almost the stamp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scrape of hoof; almost his fretful crest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He seemed to toss on high. So much confest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wondering host. "But where's the man to ride?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They askt. Odysseus said, "He'll go inside.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet there shall seem a rider&mdash;nay, let two<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bespan so brave a back," Epeios anew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He spurred, and had his horsemen as he would,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two noble youths, star-frontletted, but nude<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of clothing, and unarmed, who sat as though<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Centaurs not men, and with their knees did show<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The road to travel. Next Odysseus bid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Gild thou me him, Epeios"; which he did,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And burnisht after, till he blazed afar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like that great image which men hail for a star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of omen holy, image without peer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chryselephantine Athen&eacute; with her spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shining o'er Athens; to which their course they set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When homeward faring through the seaways wet<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">From Poros or from Nauplia, or some<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the Eub&#339;an gulf, or where the foam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Washes the feet of Sounion, on whose brow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a white crown the shafts burn even now.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Such was the shaping of the Horse of Wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bane of Ilios.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Ordered now they stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Midway between the ships and Troy, and cast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lots, who should go in from first to last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the chieftains chosen. And the lot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leapt out of Diomede, so in he got<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sat up in the neck. Next Aias went,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clasping his shins and blinking as he bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Working the ridges of his villainous brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like puzzled, patient monkey on a bough<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That peers with bald, far-seeing eyes, whose scope<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And steadfastness seem there to mock our hope;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Next Antiklos, and next Meriones<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Cretan; next good Teukros. After these<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went Pyrrhos, Agamemnon, King of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Menestheus and Idomeneus, and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">King Menelaus; and Odysseus last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Entered the desperate doorway, and made fast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And all the Achaian remnant, seeing their best<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To this great venture finally addrest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood awed in silence; but Nestor the old<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Bade bring the victims, and these on the wold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sight of Troy he slew, and so uplift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The smoke of fire, and bloodsmoke, as a gift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Acceptable to Him he hailed by name<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kronion, sky-dweller, who giveth fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord of the thunder; to Her&eacute; next, and Her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Maid of War and holy harbinger<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Father Zeus, who bears the &AElig;gis dread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shakes it when the storm peals overhead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lightning splits the firmament with fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor yet forgat Poseidon, dark-haired sire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the seas, and of great Ocean's flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The girdler of the world. So back with slow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pondered steps they all returned, and dark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swallowed up Troy, and Horse, and them who stark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Abode within it. And the great stars shone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out over sea and land; and speaking none,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nursing his arms, nursing within his breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His enterprise, each hero sat at rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ignorant of the world of day and night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or whether he should live to see the light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or see it but to perish in this cage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only Odysseus felt his heart engage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blithelier for the peril. He was stuff<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thrives by daring, nor can dare enough.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Three days, three nights before the Skaian Gate<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Sat they within their ambush, apt for fate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Three days, three nights, the Trojans swarmed the walls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And towers or held high council in their halls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What this portended, this o'erweening mass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reared up so high no man stretching could pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hand over the crupper, of such girth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of haunch, to span the pair no man on earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could compass with both arms. But most their eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were for the riders who in godlike guise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went naked into battle, as Gods use,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Untrammel'd by our shifts of shields and shoes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if we dread the earth whereof we are.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sons of God, these: for bore not each a star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ablaze upon his forelock? Lo, they say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kastor and Polydeukes, who but they,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come in to save their sister at the last,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And war for Troy, and root King Priam fast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his demesne, him and his heirs for ever!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now call they soothsayers to make endeavour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With engines of their craft to read the thing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But others urge them hale it to the King&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Let him dispose," they say, "of it and us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And order as he will, from Pergamos<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To heave it o'er the sheer and bring to wreck;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Or burn with fire; or harbour to bedeck<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The temple of some God: of three ways one.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here it cannot abide to flout the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With arrogant flash for every beam of his."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Herewith agreed the men of mysteries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Raking the bloodsick earth to have the truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And getting what they lookt for, as in sooth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A man will do. So then they all fell to't<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hale with cords and lever foot by foot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The portent; and as frenzy frenzy breeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what one has another thinks he needs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So to a straining twenty other score<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lent hands, and ever from the concourse more<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of them, who hauled as if Troy's life depended<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On hastening forward that wherein it ended.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So came the Horse to Troy, so was filled up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With retribution that sweet loving-cup<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Paris had drunk to Helen overseas&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cup which whoso drains must taste the lees.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>EIGHTH STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>THE HORSE IN TROY; THE PASSION OF KASSANDRA</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">High over Troy the windy citadel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pergamos, towereth, where is the cell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And precinct of Athen&eacute;. There, till reived,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They kept the Pallium, sacred and still grieved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By all who held the city consecrate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Her, as first it was, till she learned hate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For what had once been lovely, and let in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The golden Aphrodit&eacute;, and sweet sin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To ensnare Prince Paris and send him awooing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A too-fair wife, to be his own undoing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Troy's and all the line's of Dardanos,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That traced from Zeus to him, from him to Tros,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Tros to Ilos, to Laomedon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who begat Priam as his second son.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But out of Troy Assarakos too came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From whom came Kapys; and from him the fame<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of good Anchises, with whom Kypris lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In love and got Aineias. He, that day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of dreadful wrath, safe only out did come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And builded great Troy's line in greater Rome.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now to the forecourt flock the Trojan folk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To view the portent. Now they bring to yoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Priam's white horses, that the stricken king<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Himself may see the wonder-working thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Himself invoke with his frail trembling voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The good Twin Brethren for his aid and Troy's.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So presently before it Priam stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Father and King of Troy, with feeble hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mild pale eyes wherein Grief like a ghost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sits; and about him all he has not lost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all his children gather, with grief-worn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Andromach&eacute; and her first, and last, born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The boy Astyanax. And there apart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wise Aineias stands, of steadfast heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But not acceptable&mdash;for some old grudge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inherited&mdash;Aineias, silent judge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of folly, as he had been since the sin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Paris knelled the last days to begin.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he himself, that Paris, came not out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But kept his house in these his days of doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uncertain of his footing, being of those<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">On whom the faintest breath of censure blows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chill as the wind that from the frozen North<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Palsies the fount o' the blood. He dared not forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest men should see&mdash;and how not see? he thought&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Helen held him lightlier than she ought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But Helen came there, gentle as of old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Self-held, sufficient to herself, not bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not modest nor immodest, taking none<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For judge or jury of what she may have done;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But doing all she was to do, sedate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Intent upon it and deliberate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As she had been at first, so was she now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When she had put behind her her old vow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And had no pride but thinking of her new.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But she was lovelier, of more burning hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in her eyes there shone, for who could see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A flickering light, half scare and half of glee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which made those iris'd orbs to wax and wane<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like to the light of April days, when rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sun contend the sovereignty. She kept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the King, and only closer crept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To let him feel her there when some harsh word<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or look made her heart waver. Many she heard,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And much she saw, but knew the King her friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him only since great Hector met his end.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And while so pensive and demure she stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With one thin hand just peeping at her hood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The which close-folded her from head to knee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her heart within her bosom hailed her&mdash;"Free!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free from thy thralldom, free to save, to give,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To love, be loved again, and die to live!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So she&mdash;yet who had said, to see her there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweet-faced woman, blue-eyed, still and fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As windless dawn in some quiet mountain place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To such a music let her passion race?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Now hath the King his witless welcome paid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now invoked the gods, and the cold shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which once was Hector; now, being upheld<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By two his sons, with shaking hands of eld<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The knees of those two carved and gilded youths<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He touches while he prays, and praying soothes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crying heart of Helen. But not so<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kassandra views him pray, that well of woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kassandra, she whom Loxias deceived<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With gift to see, and not to be believed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To read within the heart of Time all truth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see men blindly blunder, to have ruth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To burn, to cry, "Out, haro!" and be a mock&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, and to know within this gross wood-block<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fate of all her kindred, and her own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unthinkable! Now with her terror blown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her face, to blanch it like a sheet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now with bare frozen eyes which only greet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The viewless neighbours of our world she strips<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The veil and shrieketh Troy's apocalypse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Woe to thee, Ilios! The fire, the fire! And rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rain like to blood and tears to drown the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cover all the earth up in a shroud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One great death-clout for thee, Ilios the proud!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Touch not, handle not&mdash;&mdash;" Outraged then she turned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Helen&mdash;"O thou, for whom Troy shall be burned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O ruinous face, O breasts made hard with gall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now are ye satisfied? Ye shall have all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Priam's sons and daughters, all his race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gone quick to death, hailing thee, ruinous face!"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Her tragic mask she turned upon all men:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The lion shall have Troy, to make his den<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within her pleasant courts, in Priam's high seat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall blink the vulture, sated of his meat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the temples emptied of their Gods<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bats shall make quick the night, and panting toads<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make day a loathing to the light it brings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Listen! Listen! they flock out; heed their wings.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Gods flee forth of this accurs&egrave;d haunt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leave the memory of it an old chant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A nursery song, an idle tale that's told<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To children when your own sons are grown old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Argive bonds, and have no other joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than whispering to their offspring tales of Troy."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whereat she laught&mdash;O bitter sound to hear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And struggled with herself, and grinned with fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And misery lest even now her fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should catch her and she be believed too late.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Is't possible, O Gods! Are ye so doomed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As not to know this Horse a mare, enwombed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of men and swords? Know ye not there unseen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Argive princes wait their dam shall yean?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon creeps Sparta forth, to find his balm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that vile woman; forth with itching palm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mykenai creeps, snuffing what may be won<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By filching; forth Pyrrhos the braggart's son<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That dared do violence to Hector dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But while he lived called Gods to serve his stead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth Aias like a beast, to mangle me&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These things ye will not credit, but I see."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then once again, and last, she turned her switch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Helen, hissing, "Out upon thee, witch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smooth-handed traitress, speak thy secrets out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That we may know thee, how thou goest about<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caressing, with a hand that hides a knife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That which shall prove false paramour, false wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair as the sun is fair that smiles and slays"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then, "O ruinous face, O ruinous face!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But nothing more, for sudden all was gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spent by her passion. Muttering, faint and wan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down to the earth she sank, and to and fro<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rocking, drew close her hood, and shrouded so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her wild voice drowning, died in moans away.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">But Helen stood bright-eyed as glancing day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Near by the Horse, and with a straying hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did stroke it here and there, and listening stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaning her head towards its gilded flank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And strain to hear men's breath behind the plank;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she had whispered if she dared some word<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of promise; but afraid to be o'erheard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaned her head close and toucht it with her cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then drew again to Priam, schooled and meek.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Menelaus felt her touch, and mum<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sat on, nursing his mighty throw to come;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Aias started, with some cry uncouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And vile, but fast Odysseus o'er his mouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clapt hand, and checkt his foul perseverance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To seek in every deed his own essence.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Now when the ways were darkened, and the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sank red to sea, and homeward all had gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save that distraught Kassandra, who still served<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The temple whence the Goddess long had swerved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Athen&eacute;, hating Troy and loving them<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Who craved to snatch and make a diadem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Priam's regal crown for other brows&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She, though foredoomed she knew, held to her vows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And duly paid the thankless evening rite&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There came to Paris' house late in the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">De&iuml;phobus his brother, young and trim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For speech with fair-tressed Helen, for whose slim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And budded grace long had he sighed in vain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And found her in full hall, and showed his pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And need of her. To whom when she draws close<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In hot and urgent crying words he shows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His case, hers now, that here she tarry not<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest evil hap more dread than she can wot:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"For this," he says, "is Troy's extremest hour."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when to that she bowed her head, the power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his high vision made him vehement:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Dark sets the sun," he cried, "and day is spent";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But she said, "Nay, the sun will rise with day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I shall bathe in light, lift hands and pray."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Thou lift up hands, bound down to a new lord!"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">He mocked; then whispered, "Lady, with a sword<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I cut thy bonds if so thou wilt."<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">Apart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She moved: "No sword, but a cry of the heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall loose me."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Then he said, "Hear what I cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From my heart unto thine: fly, Helen, fly!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereat she shook her head and sighed, "Even so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brother, I fly where thou canst never go.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far go I, out of ken of thee and thy peers."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He knew not what she would, but said, "Thy fears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are of the Gods and holy dooms and Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But mine the present menace in the gate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This I would save thee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">"I fear it not," said she,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"But wait it here."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">He cried, "Here shalt thou see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy Spartan, and his bitter sword-point feel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against thy bosom."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">"I bare it to the steel,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saith she. He then, "If ever man deserved thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By service, I am he, who'd die to serve thee."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Glowing she heard him, being quickly moved<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By kindness, loving ever where she was loved.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But now her heart was fain for rest; the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Called her to sleep and dreams. So with a light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gentle hand upon him, "Brother, farewell,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She said, "I stay the issue, and foretell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honour therein at least."<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Then at the door<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She kissed him. And she saw his face no more.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>NINTH STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>THE GODS FORSAKE TROY</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Now Dawn came weeping forth, and on the crest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Ida faced a chill wind from the West.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth from the gray sea wrack-laden it blew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And howled among the towers, and stronger grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As crept unseen the sun his path of light.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then she who in the temple all that night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had kept her rueful watch, the prophetess<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kassandra, peering sharply, heard the press<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rush of flight above her, and with sick<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Foreboding waited; and the air grew thick<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With flying shapes immortal overhead.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As in late Autumn, when the leaves are shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dismal flit about the empty ways,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And country folk provide against dark days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heap the woodstack, and their stores repair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attent you know the quickening of the air,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And closer yet the swish and sweep and swing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wings innumerable, emulous to bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The birds to broader skies and kindlier sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And know indeed that winter is begun&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So seeing first, then hearing, she knew the hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was come when Troy must fall, and not a tower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be left to front the morrow. And she covered<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her head and mourned, while one by one they hovered<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above their shrines, then flockt and faced the dawn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">First, in her car of shell and amber, drawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By clustering doves with burnisht wings, a-throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Passes Queen Aphrodit&eacute;, and her song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is sweet and sharp: "I gave my sacred zone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To warm thy bosom, Helen which by none<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That live by labour and in tears are born<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sighing go their ways, has e'er been worn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It kindled in thine eyes the lovelight, showed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy burning self in his. Thy body glowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With beauty like to mine: mine thy love-laughter<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy cooing in the night, thy deep sleep after,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy rapture of the morning, love renewed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the shadowed day to sit and brood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On what has been and what should be again:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou wilt not? Nay, I proffer not in vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My gifts, for I am all or will be nought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, where I am can be no other thought."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thus to the wooded heights of Ida she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was drawn, hid in that pearly galaxy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of snow-white pigeons.<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Next upon the height<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Pergamos uplift a beam of light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That for its core enshrined a naked youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Golden and fierce. She knew the God sans ruth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him who had given woeful prescience to her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Apollo, once her lover and her wooer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who stood as one stands glorying in his grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And strength, full in the sun, though on her place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the temple court no sun at all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shone, nor as yet upon the topmost wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was any tinge of him, but all showed gray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sodden in the wind and blown sea-spray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not to him dared she lift her voice in prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor scarce her eyes to see him.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+<span class="i14">To him there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came swift a spirit in shape of virgin slim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With snooded hair and kirtle belted trim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Short to the knee; and in her face the gale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had blown bright sanguine colour. Free and hale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She was; and in her hand she held a bow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unstrung, and o'er her shoulders there did go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A baldrick that made sharp the cleft betwixt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her sudden breasts&mdash;to that a quiver fixt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showing gold arrow-points. No God there is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Heaven more swift than Delian Artemis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The young, the pure health-giver of the Earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who loveth all things born, and brings to birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after slays with merciful sudden death&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In whom is gladness all and wholesome breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to whom all the praise of him who writes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">These two she saw like meteorites<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flare down the wind and burn afar, then fade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Leto next, a mother grave and staid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drave out her chariot, which two winged stags drew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swift following, robed in gown of inky blue,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And hooded; and her hand which held the hood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gleamed like a patch of snow left in a wood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where hyacinths bring down to earth the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And in her wake a winging company,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dense as the cloud of gulls which from a rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At sea lifts up in myriads, if the knock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of oars assail their peace, she saw, and mourned<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The household gods. For outward they too turned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spirits of the streams and water-brooks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nymphs who haunt the pastures, or in nooks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of woodlands dwell. There like a lag of geese<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flew in long straying lines the Oreades<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in wild dunes and commons have their haunt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There sped the Hamadryads; there aslant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As from the sea, but wheeling ere they crost<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their sisters, thronged the river-nymphs, a host;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now the Gods of homestead and the hearth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like sad-faced mourning women, left the garth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where each had dwelt since Troy was stablish&eacute;d,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And been the holy influence over bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And board and daily work under the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nightlong slumber when day's work was done:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They rose, and like a driven mist of rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forsook the doomed high city and the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drifted eastaway; and as they went<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaviness spread o'er Ilios like a tent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And past not off, but brooded all day long.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But ever coursed new spirits to the throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That packt the ways of Heaven. From the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From mere and holt and hollow rose amain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The haunters of the silence; from the streams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wells of water, from the country demes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From plough and pasture, bottom, ridge and crest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rustic Gods rose up and joined the rest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a long wisp of cloud from out his banks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Streamed Xanthos, that swift river, to the ranks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of flying shapes; and driven by that same mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That urged him to it came Simoeis behind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And other Gods and other, of stream and tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hill and vale&mdash;for nothing there can be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On earth or under Heaven, but hath in it<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Essence whereby alone its form may hit<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Our apprehension, channelled in the sense<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which feedeth us, that we through vision dense<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See Gods as trees walking, or in the wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That singeth in the bents guess what's behind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its wailing music.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And now the unearthly flock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Emptying every water, wood, bare rock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pasture, beset Ida, and their wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beat o'er the forest which about her springs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And makes a sea of verdure, whence she lifts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her soaring peaks to bathe them in the drifts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of cloud, and rare reveal them unto men&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Zeus there hath his dwelling, out of ken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of men alike and gods. But now the brows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The breasting summits, still eternal snows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the faces of the mountain held<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A concourse like in number to the field<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Heaven upon some breathless summer night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Printed with myriad stars, some burning bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some massed in galaxy, a cloudy scar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And others faint, as infinitely far.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There rankt the Gods of Heaven, Earth, and Sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brethren of them now hastening from the fee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of stricken Priam. Out of his deep cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Zeus flamed his levin, and his thunder loud<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Volleyed his welcome. With uplifted hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Acclaiming, God's oncoming each God stands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To greet. And thus the Hierarchy at one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sits to behold the bitter business done<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which Paris by his luxury bestirred.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But in the city, like a stricken bird<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grieving her desolation and despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As voiceless and as lustreless, astare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For imminent Death, Kassandra croucht beneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her very doom, herself the bride of Death;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For in the temple's forecourt reared the mass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that which was to bring the woe to pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hidden in him both her murderers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wrung at their nails.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And slow the long day wears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While all the city broods. The chiefs keep house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or gather on the wall, or make carouse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To simulate a freedom they feel not;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at street corners men in shift or plot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whisper together, or in the market-place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gather, and peer each other in the face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Furtively, seeking comfort against care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose eyes, meeting by chance, shift otherwhere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In haste. But in the houses, behind doors<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shuttered and barred, the women scrub their floors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or ply their looms as busily: for they<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever cure care with care, and if a day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be heavy lighten it with heavier task;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for their griefs wear beauty like a mask,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And answer heart's presaging with a song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On their brave lips, and render right for wrong.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little, by outward seeming, do they know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of doom at hand, of fate or blood or woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor how their children, playing by their knees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must end this day of busyness-at-ease<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In shrieking night, with clamour for their bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a red bath, and a cold stone for a bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the staring moon.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i10">Now sinks the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blood-red into the heavy sea and dun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And forth from him, as he were stuck with swords,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great streams of light go upward. Then the lords<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of havoc and unrest prepare their storms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er the silent city, vulture forms&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eris and Enyo, Alk&eacute;, Iok&eacute;,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The biter, the sharp-bitten, the mad, the fey&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hover and light on pinnacle and tower:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gray Erinnyes, watchful for the hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Haro be the wail. And down the sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a white squall flung At&eacute; with a cry<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">That sounded like the wind in a ship's shrouds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As shrill and wild at once. The driving clouds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surging together, blotted out the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The beach&eacute;d ships, the plain with mound and tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slantwise came the sheeted rain, and fast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The darkness settled in. Kassandra cast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her mantle o'er her head, and with slow feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Entered her shrine deserted, there to greet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her fate when it should come; and merciful Sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Befriended her.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Now from his lair did creep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Odysseus forth unarmed, his sword and spear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There in the Horse, and warily to peer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spy his whereabouts the Ithacan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went doubtful. Then his dreadful work began,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As down the bare way of steep Pergamos<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the dark he sought for Paris' house.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>TENTH STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>ODYSSEUS COMES AGAIN TO PARIS' HOUSE</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">There in her cage roamed Helen light and fierce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unresting, with bright eyes and straining ears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ever stayed her steps; but first the hall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She ranged, touching the pillars; next to the wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went out and shot her gaze into the murk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereas the ships should lie; then to her work<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the great loom turned and wove a shift,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But idly, waiting always for some lift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the close-wrapping fog that might discover<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moving hosts, the spearmen of her lover&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lover and husband, master and lord of life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Coming at last to take a slave to wife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as wide-eyed she stared to feel her heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leap to her side, she felt the warm tears start,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And thankt the Goddess for the balm they brought.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet to her women, withal so highly wrought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By hope and care and waiting, she was mild<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gentle-voiced, and playful as a child<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sups the moment's joy, and nothing heeds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time past or time to come, but fills all needs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With present kindness. She would laugh and talk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take arms, suffer embraces, even walk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The terrace 'neath the eyes of all her fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seem to heed what they might show or prate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if her whole heart's heart were in this house<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not at fearful odds and perilous.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And should one speak of Paris, as to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Would that our lord might see thee go so gay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About his house!" Gently she'd bend her head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down to her breast and pluck a vagrant thread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth from her tunic's hem, and looking wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gaze at her hand which on her bosom's rise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lit like a butterfly and quivered there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now in the dusk, with Paris otherwhere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At council with the chieftains, into the hall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Helen there, was come, adventuring all,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Odysseus in the garb of countryman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A herdsman from the hills, with stain of tan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon his neck and arms, with staff and scrip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round each leg bound crosswise went a strip<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of good oxhide. Within the porch he came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And louted low, and hailed her by her name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among her maidens easy to be known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though not so tall as most, and not full blown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To shape and flush like a full-hearted rose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But like a summer wave her bosom flows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lax and most gentle, and her tired sweet face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems pious as the moon in a blue space<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of starless heaven, and in her eyes the hue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of early morning, gray through mist of blue.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not by a flaunted beauty is she guessed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Queen of them all, but by the right expressed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her calm gaze and fearless, and that hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her lips which Gods have. Nay, not cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou holy one, not cold thy lips, which say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All in a sigh, and with one word betray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The passion of thy heart! But who can wis<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fainting piercing message of thy kiss?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O blest initiate&mdash;let him live to tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy godhead, show himself thy miracle!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But when she saw him there with his head bowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And humble hands, deeply her fair face glowed,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And broad across the iris swam the black<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until her eyes showed darkling. "Friend, your lack<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell me," she said, "and what is mine to give<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is yours; but little my prerogative<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here in this house, where I am not the queen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You call me, but another name, I ween,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Serves me about the country you are of,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which Ilios gives me too, but not in love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet are we all alike in evil plight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And should be tender of each other's right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of each other's wrongdoing, and wrongs done<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon us. Have you wife and little one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hungry at home? Have you a son afield?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or do you mourn? Alas, I cannot wield<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sword you lack, nor bow nor spear afford<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To serve...."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He said, "Nay, you can sheathe the sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slack bowstring, and make spear a hunter's toy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lady, I come to end this war of Troy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In your good pleasure."<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">With her steady eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unwinking fixt, "Let you and me devise,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said she, "this happy end of bow and spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So shall we serve the land. You have my ear;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Speak then."<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">"But so," he said, "these maidens have it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we save Troy alone, or never save it."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Turning she bid them leave her with a nod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they obeyed. Swift then and like a God<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She seemed, with bright all-knowing eyes and calm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gesture of high-held head, and open palm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To greet. "Laertes' son, what news bringst thou?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Lady," he said, "the best. The hour is now.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We stand within the heaven-establisht walls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We gird the seat. Within an hour it falls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The seat divine of Dardanos and Tros,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">After our ten years' travail and great loss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of heroes not yet rested, but to rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon."<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Then she laid her hand upon her breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stay it. "Who are ye that stand here-by?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Desperate men," he said, "prepared to die<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If thou wilt have it so. Chief is there none<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside the ships but Nestor. All are gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth in the Horse. Under thy covering hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou holdest all Achaia. Here we stand,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Epeios, Pyrrhos, Antiklos, with these<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cretan Idomeneus, Meriones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aias the Lokrian, Teukros, Diomede<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the loud war-cry, next thy man indeed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Golden-haired Menelaus the robbed King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Agamemnon by him, and I who bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This news and must return to take what lot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou choosest us; for all is thine, God wot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To end or mend, to make or mar at will."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A weighty utterance, but she heard the thrill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within her heart, and listened only that&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To know her love so near. So near he sat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hidden when she that toucht the Horse's flank<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could have toucht him! "Odysseus!" her voice sank<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the low tone of the soft murmuring dove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That nests and broods, "Odysseus, heard my love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My whisper of his name when close I stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stroked the Horse?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">"I heard and understood,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said, "and Lokrian Aias would have spoken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had I not clapt a hand to his mouth&mdash;else broken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By garish day had been our house of dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And our necks too. I heard a woman scream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Near by and cry upon the Ruinous Face,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But none made answer to her."<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">Nought she says<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To that but "I am ready; let my lord<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come when he will. Humbly I wait his word."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"That word I bring," Odysseus said, "he comes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Await him here."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Her wide eyes were the homes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of long desire. "Ah, let me go with thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even as I am; from this dark house take me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Paris is abroad!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">He shook his head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Not so, but he must find thee here abed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Paris here."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">The light died out; a mask<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of panic was her face, what time her task<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stared on a field of white horror like blood:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Here! But there must be strife then!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">"Well and good,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said he.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Then she, shivering and looking small,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"And one must fall?" she said; he, "One must fall."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Reeling she turned her pincht face other way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And muttered with her lips, grown cold and gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then fawning came at him, and with her hands<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Besought him, but her voice made no demands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only her haunted eyes were quick, and prayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ah, not to fall through me!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">"By thee," he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The deed is to be done."<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">She droopt adown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her lovely head; he heard her broken moan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Have I not caused enough of blood-shedding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And enough women's tears? Is not the sting<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sharp enough of the knife within my side?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more she could.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Then he, "Think not to avoid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lot of man, who payeth the full price<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For each deed done, and riddeth vice by vice:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such is the curse upon him. The doom is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By God decreed, that for thy forfeit bliss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Sparta thou shalt pay the price in Troy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dishonour for lost honour, pain for joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By what hot thought impelled, by that alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Win back; by violence violence atone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If by chicane thou fleddest, by chicane<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Win back thy blotted footprints. Out again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all thine arts of kisses slow and long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of smiles and stroking hands, and crooning song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whenas full-fed with love thou lulledst asleep;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Renew thine eyebright glances, whisper and creep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And twine about his neck thy wreathing arms:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As we with spears so do thou with thy charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Arm thee and wait the hour of fire and smoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To purge this robbery. Paris by the stroke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him he robbed shall wash out his old cheat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In blood, and thou, woman, by new deceit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him redeem thy first. For thus God saith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Traitress, thou shalt betray thy thief to death."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He ceased, and she by misery made wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And witless, shook, and like a little child<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gazed piteous, and asked, "What must I do?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He answered, "Hold him by thee, falsely true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the King stand armed within the house<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ready to take his blood-price. Even thus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By shame alone shalt thou redeem thy shame."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And now she claspt his knee and cried his name:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Mercy! I cannot do it. Let me die<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sooner than go to him so. What, must I lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With one and other, make myself a whore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so go back to Sparta, nevermore<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">To hold my head up level with my slaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor dare to touch my child?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">Said he, "Let knaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deal knavishly till freedom they can win;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so let sinners purge themselves of sin."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then fiercely looking on her where she croucht<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fast by his knees, his whole mind he avoucht:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"How many hast thou sent the way of death<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By thy hot fault? What ghosts like wandering breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shudder and wail unhouseled on the plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shreds of Achaian honour? What hearts in pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cry the night through? What souls this very night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fare forth? Art thou alone to sup delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone to lap in pleasantness, who first<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And only, with thy lecher and his thirst,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wrought all the harm? Only for thy smooth sake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did Paris reive, and Menelaus ache,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Hector die ashamed, and Peleus' son<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stand to the arrow, and Aias Telamon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Find madness and self-murder for the crown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all his travail?" He eyed her up and down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sternly, as measuring her worth in scorn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Not thus may traffic any woman born<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While men endure cold nights and burning days,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Hunger and wretchedness."<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">She stands, she says,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Enough&mdash;I cannot answer. Tell me plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What I must do."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">"At dark," he said, "we gain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Gates and open them. A trumpet's blast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will sound the entry of the host. Hold fast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy Paris then. We storm the citadel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High Pergamos; that won, the horn will tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sack begun. But hold thou Paris bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fast in thine arms. Once more the horn shall sound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That third is doom for him. Release him then."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All blank she gazed. "Unarmed to face armed men?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Unarmed," he said, "to meet his judgment day."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Now was thick silence broken; now no way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For her to shift her task nor he his fate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keenly she heeds. "'Tis Paris at the gate!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What now? Whither away? Where wilt thou hide?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He lookt her in the face. "Here I abide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What he may do. Was it not truth I spake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That all Hellas lay in thy hand? Now take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What counsel or what comfort may avail."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Paris stood in the door and cried her Hail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Hail to thee, Rose of the World!" then saw the man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And knit his brows upon him, close to scan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His features; but Odysseus had his hood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shadowing his face. Some time the Trojan stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Judging, then said, "Thou seek'st? What seekest thou?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"A debt is owed me. I seek payment now."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So he was told; but he drew nearer yet.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I would know more of thee and of thy debt,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He said.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And then Odysseus, "This thy strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath ruined all my fields which are my life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brought murrain on my beasts, cold ash to my hearth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Emptiness to my croft. Hunger and dearth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are these enough? Who pays me?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">Then Paris,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I pay, but first will know what man it is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am to pay, and in what kind." So said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Snatching the hood, he whipt it from his head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lookt and knew the Ithacan. "Now by Zeus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Treachery here!" He swung his sword-arm loose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forth of his cloak and set hand to his sword;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">But Helen softly called him: "Hath my lord<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No word of greeting for his bondwoman?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Straightway he went to her, and left the man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And took her in his arms, and held her close.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And light of foot, Odysseus quit the house.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>ELEVENTH STAVE</h3>
+
+<h4>THE BEGUILING OF PARIS</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem25"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Now Paris tipt her chin and turned her face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upwards to his that fondly he might trace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The beauty of her budded lips, and stoop<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kiss them softly; and fingered in the loop<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That held her girdle, and closer pressed, on fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Towards her; for her words had stung desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anew; and wooing in his fond boy's way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whispered and lookt his passion; then to pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Began: "Ah, love, long strange to me, behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy winter past, and come the days of gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pleasance of the spring! For in thine eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I see his light and hail him as he flies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, cloud him not, nor veil him"&mdash;for she made<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">To turn her face, saying, "Ah, let them fade:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The soul thou prisonest here is grayer far."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But he would give no quarter now. "O star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O beacon-star, shine on me in the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I may wash me in thy bath of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Taking my fill of thee; so cleans&eacute;d all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And healed, I rise renewed to front what call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May be!" which said, with conquest in his bones<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his eyes assurance, in high tones<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He called her maids, bade take her and prepare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The couch, and her to be new-wedded there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For long had they been strangers to their bliss.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So by the altar standeth she submiss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And watchful, praying silent and intense<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To a strange-figured Goddess, to his sense<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who knew but Aphrodit&eacute;. "Love, what now?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who is thy God? What secret rite hast thou?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For grave and stern above that altar stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her&eacute; the Queen of Heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">In dry mood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She answered him, "Chaste wives to her do pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before they couch, Blest be the strife! You say<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">We are to be new-wedded. Pour with me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Libation that we love not fruitlessly."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So said, she took the well-filled cup and poured,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And prayed, saying, "O Mother, not abhorred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be this my service of thee. Count it not<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Offence, nor let my prayers be forgot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When reckoning comes of things done and not done<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By me thy child, or to me, hapless one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unloving paramour and unloved wife!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Her&eacute;, to thee for issue of the strife!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cried Paris then, and poured. So Helen went<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let her maids adorn her to his bent.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Then took he joy of her, and little guessed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or cared what she might give or get. Possest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her body by his body, but her mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Searcht terribly the issue. As one blind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Explores the dark about him in broad day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fingers in the air, so as she lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lax in his arms, her fainting eyes, aglaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For terror coming, sought escape all ways.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas for her! What way for woman fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose joy no fairer makes her than despair?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her burning lips that kisses could not cool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her beating heart that not love made so full,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The surging of her breast, her clinging hands:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here are such signs as lover understands,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But fated Paris nowise. Her soul, distraught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To save him, proved the net where he was caught.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For more she anguisht lest love be his bane<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fiercelier spurred she him, to make him fain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of that which had been ruinous to all.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But all the household gathered on the wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While these two in discordant bed were plight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And watcht the Achaian fires. No beacon-light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed by the shore, but countless, flickering, streamed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Innumerable lights, wove, dipt and gleamed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like fireflies on a night of summer heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Withal one way they moved, though many beat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across and back, and mingled with the rest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon a great glare kindled from the crest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Ida, and was answered by a blaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behind the ships, which threw up in red haze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Huge forms of prow and beak. Then from the Mound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Ilos fire shot up, from sacred ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And out the mazy glory of moving lights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One sped and flared, as of the meteorites<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In autumn some fly further, brighter courses.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A chariot! They heard the thunder of the horses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as they flew the torch left a bright wake.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus to one another woman spake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Lo, more lights race! They follow him, they near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Catch and draw level. Hark! Now you can hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tramp of men!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Says one, "That baleful sheen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is light upon their spears. The Greeks, I ween,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are coming up to rescue or requite."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But then her mate: "They mass, they fill the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With panic terror."<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">True, that all night things<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fled as they came. They heard the flickering wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of countless birds in haste, and as they flew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fled the dark away. Light waxed and grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the dead of night was vivified<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And radiant opened out the countryside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With pulsing flames of fire, which gleamed and glanced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flickered, wavered, yet never stayed advance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the sun rising high o'er Ida cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beats a sea-path in flakes of molten gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So stretcht from shore to Troy that litten stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That moved and shuddered, restless as a dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet ever nearing, till on spear and shield<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">They saw light like the moon on a drowned field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the glare of torches saw and read<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gray faces, like the legions of the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Silent about the walls, and waiting there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But in the fragrant chamber Helen the fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay close in arms, and Paris slept, his head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her bosom, deep as any dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Sudden there smote the blast of a great horn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Single, long-held and shuddering, and far-borne;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then a deathless silence. Paris stirred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On that soft pillow, and listened while they heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many men running frantically, with feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That slapt the stones, and voices in the street<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of question and call&mdash;"Oh, who are ye that run?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What of the night?" "O peace!" And some lost one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wailed like a woman, and her a man did curse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there were scuffling, prayers, and then worse&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A silence. But the running ended not<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Paris lay alistening with a knot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Helen's loose hair twisting round his finger.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">"O love," he murmured low, "I may not linger.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The street's awake. Alas, thou art too kind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be a warrior's bride." Sighing, she twined<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her arm about his neck and toucht his face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pressed it gently back to its warm place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of pillowing. And Paris kissed her breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slept; but her heart's riot gave no rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As quaking there she lay, awaiting doom.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then afar off rose clamour, and the room<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was fanned with sudden light and sudden dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on a summer night in a great park<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blazed forth you see each tuft of grass or mound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon the drowning blackness, while the sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Zeus's thunder hardens every close:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So here the chamber glared, then dipt, and rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That far confus&eacute;d tumult, and now and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The scurrying feet of passion-driven men.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thrilling she waited with sick certainty<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of doom inexorable, while the struck city<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fought its death-grapple, and the windy height<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Pergamos became a shambles. White<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The holy shrines stared on a field of blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with blank eyes the emptied temples stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While murder raved before them, and below<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And all about the city ran the woe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of women for their children. Then the flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burst in the citadel, and overcame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The darkness, and the time seemed of broad day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Helen stared unwinking where she lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pillowing Paris.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Now glad and long and shrill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The second trumpet sounds. They have the hill&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High Troy is down, is down! Starting, he wakes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And turns him in her arms. His face she takes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her two hands and turns it up to hers.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing she says, nothing she does, nor stirs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From her still scrutiny, nor so much as blinks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her eyes, deep-searching, of whose blue he drinks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fond believes her all his own, while she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Marvels that aught of his she e'er could be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In times bygone. But now he is on fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again, and urges on her his desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And loses all the sense of present needs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For him in burning Troy, where Priam bleeds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Head-smitten, trodden on his palace-floor,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And white Kassandra yieldeth up her flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Aias' lust, and of the Dardan race<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Survive he only, renegade disgrace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He only and Aineias the wise prince.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">But now is crying fear abroad and wins<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The very household of the shameful lover;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now are the streets alive, for worse in cover<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a trapt rat to die than fight the odds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the sky. Now women shriek to the Gods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And men run witlessly, and in and out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Greeks press, burning, slaying, and the rout<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Screameth to Heaven. As at sea the mews<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pack, their wings battling, when some fresh wrack strews<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The tideway, and in greater haste to stop<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Others from prey, will let their morsel drop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the while make harsh lament&mdash;so here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The avid spoilers bickered in their fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be man&#339;uvred out of robbery,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tore the spoil, and mangled shamefully<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bodies of men to strip them, and in haste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To forestall ravishers left the victims chaste.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ares, the yelling God, and At&eacute; white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swept like a snow-storm over Troy that night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And towers rockt, and in the naked glare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fire the smoke climbed to the upper air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clamour was as of the dead broke loose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But Menelaus his stern way pursues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to the wicked house with chosen band<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cometh, his good sword naked in his hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now, while Paris loves and holds her fast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In arms, the third horn sounds a shattering blast,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Long-held, triumphant; and about the door<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gathers the household, to cry, to pray, to implore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And at the last break in and scream the truth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"The Greeks! The Greeks! Save yourselves!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i18">Then in sooth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Starts Paris out of bed, and as he goes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sees in the eyes of Helen all she knows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all believes; and with his utter loss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her rises the man in him that was<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere luxury had entered blood and bone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him. No word he said, but let one groan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And turned his dying eyes to hers, and read<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therein his fate, that to her he was dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long dead and cold in grave. Whereat he past<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of the door, and met his end at last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As man, not minion.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">But the woman fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay on her face, half buried in her hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Naked and prone beneath her saving sin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not yet enheartened new life to begin.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>ENVOY</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But thou didst rise, Maid Helen, as from sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A final tryst to keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With thy true lover, in whose hands thy life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay, as in arms; his wife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In heart as well as deed; his wife, his friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His soul's fount and its end!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For such it is, the marriage of true minds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each in each sanction finds;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So if her beauty lift her out of thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whither man's to be brought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To worship her perfection on his knees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So in his strength she sees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Self glorified, and two make one clear orb<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereinto all rays absorb<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which stream from God and unto God return.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, as he fared, I yearn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be, and serve my years of pain and loss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Neath my walled Ilios,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With my eyes ever fixt to where, a star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou and thy sisters are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Helen and Beatrice, with thee embraced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hands in thy hands, and arms about thy waist.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1911-12.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+<h2>HYPSIPYLE</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Queen of the shadows, Maid and Wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twifold in essence, as in life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lamp of Death, the star of Birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half cradled and half mourned by Earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Hell half won, half lost! aid me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sing thy fond Hypsipyle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy bosom's mate who, unafraid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Renounced for thee what part she had<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sun and wind upon the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In dawn about the mere, in still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Woodlands, in kiss of lapping wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In laughter, in love&mdash;all this she gave!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shared thy dream-life, visited<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sunless country of the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There to abide with thee, their Queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that gray region, shadow-seen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By them that cast no shadows, yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Themselves are shadows. Nor forget,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kor&eacute;, her love made manifest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thee, familiar of her breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And partner of her whispering mouth.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Thee too, Our Lady of the South,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uranian Kypris, I invoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Regent of starry space, with stroke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of splendid wing, in whose white wake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stream those who, filled with thee, forsake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their clinging shroudy clots, and rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lover and loved, to thy pure skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thy blue realm! O lady, touch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My lips with rue, for she loved much.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">What poet in what cloistered nook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Indenting in what roll of a book<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His rhymes, can voice the tides of love?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, thrilling lark, nay, moaning dove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The nightingale's full-charg&eacute;d throat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That cheereth now, and now doth gloat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now recordeth bitter-sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Longing, too wise to image it:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These be your minstrels, lovers! Choose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From their winged choir your urgent Muse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let her your speechless joys relate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which men with words sophisticate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Striving by reasons make appear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To head what heart proclaims so clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To heart; as if by wit to wis<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What mouth to mouth tells in a kiss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or in their syllogisms dry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Freeze a swift glance's cogency.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, but the heart's so music-fraught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Music is all in love, words naught.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One heart's a rote, with music stored<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Though mute; but two hearts make a chord<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of piercing music. One alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is nothing: two make the full tone.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3 style="text-indent: -4em;">I</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">On Enna's uplands, on a lea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between the mountains and the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shadowed anon by wandering cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or flickering wings of birds a-crowd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now all golden in the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See Kor&eacute;, see her maidens run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hither and thither through those hours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of dawn among the wide-eyed flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While gentian, crocus, asphodel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(With rosy star in each white bell),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anemone, blood-red with rings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of paler fire, that plant that swings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A crimson cluster in the wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They pluck, or sit anon to bind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of these earth-stars a coronet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For their smooth-tress&eacute;d Queen, who yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strays with her darling interlaced,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hypsipyle the grave, the chaste&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her whose gray shadow-life with his<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who singeth now for ever is.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She, little slim thing, Kor&eacute;'s mate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Child-faced, gray-eyed, of sober gait,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of burning mind and passion pent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To image-making, ever went<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where wonned her Mistress; for those two<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">By their hearts' grace together grew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The one to need, the one to give<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(As women must if they would live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who substance win by waste of self<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And only spend to hoard their pelf:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O heart, take all of mine!" "O heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That which thou tak'st of thee is part&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No robbery therefore: mine is thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take then!"): so she and Proserpine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Intercommunion'd each bright day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when night fell together lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cradled in arms, or cheek to cheek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whispered the darkness out. Thou meek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gentle vision! let me tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy beauties o'er I love so well:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy sweet low bosom's rise and fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pulsing thy heart's clear madrigal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or how the blue beam from thine eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Imageth all love's urgencies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy lips' frail fragrance, as of flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remembered in penurious hours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of winter-exile; of thy brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not written as thy breast of snow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With love's faint charact'ry, for his wing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaves not the heart long! Last I sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy thin quick fingers, in whose pleaching<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lieth all healing, all good teaching&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherewith, touching my discontent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know how thou art eloquent!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now may that serve to comfort me,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">While I, O Maiden dedicate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seek voice for singing thy gray Fate!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Now, as they went, one heart in two,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brusht to the knees by flowers, by dew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anointed, by the wind caressed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the light kissed on eyes and breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas Kor&eacute; talked; Hypsipyle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Listened, with eyes far-set, for she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of speech was frugal, voicing low<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rare her heart's deep underflow&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Content to lie, like fallow sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For rain or sun to cherish it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or scattered seed substance to find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her deep-funded, quiet mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus the Goddess: "Blest art thou,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hypsipyle, who canst not know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until the hour strikes what must come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To pass! But I foresee the doom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stay to meet it. Even here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The place, and now the hour!" Then fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Took her who spake so fearless, cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Threaded her thronging veins&mdash;behold!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A hand on either shoulder stirs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That slim, sweet body close to hers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And need fires need till, lip with lip,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They seal and sign their fellowship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Kor&eacute;, godhead all forgot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clings whispering, "Child, leave me not<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whenas to darkness and the dead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I go!" And clear the answer sped<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">From warm mouth murmuring kiss and cheer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Never I leave thee, O my dear!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thereafter stand they beatingly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not speaking; and the hour draws nigh.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And all the land shows passing fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fair the broad sea, the living air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The misty mountain-sides, the lake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flecked blue and purple! To forsake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These, and those bright flower-gatherers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scattered about this land of theirs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stoop or run, that kneel to pick,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That cry each other to come quick<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And see new treasure, unseen yet!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remembered joy&mdash;ah, how forget!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">But mark how all must come to pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As was foreknowledged. In the grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereas the Goddess and her mate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood, one and other, prompt for fate&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Listless the first and heavy-eyed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Astrain the second&mdash;she espied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That strange white flower, unseen before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With chalice pale, which thin stalk bore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And swung, as hanging by a hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fine it seemed afloat in air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unlinkt and wafted for the feast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of some blest mystic, without priest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or acolyte to tender it:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereto the maid did stoop and fit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her hand about its silken cup<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">To close it, that her mouth might sup<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The honey-drop within. The bloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw Kor&eacute; then, and knew her doom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Foretold in it; and stood in trance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fix&eacute;d and still. No nigromance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Used she, but read the fate it bore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In seedless womb and petals frore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chill blew the wind, waiting stood She,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waiting her mate, Hypsipyle.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Then in clear sky the thunder tolled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sudden, and all the mountains rolled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dreadful summons round, and still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay all the lands, only the rill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made tinkling music. Once more drave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peal upon peal&mdash;and lo! a grave<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yawned in the Earth, and gushing smoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Belched out, as driven, and hung, and broke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sullen puff; like tongues the flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leapt following. Thence A&iuml;doneus came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swart-bearded king, with iron crown'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In iron mailed, his chariot bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About with iron, holding back<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Amain two steeds of glistering black<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And eyeballs white-rimmed fearfully,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nostrils red, and crests flying free;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who held them pawing at the verge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tossing their spume up, as the surge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flung high against some seaward bluff.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing he spake, or smooth or gruff,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But drave his errand, gazing down<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the Maid, whose blown back gown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Revealed her maiden. Still and proud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood she among her nymphs, unbowed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her comely head, undimmed her eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inseparate her lips and dry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Facing his challenge of her state,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Neither denying, nor desperate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleading no mercy, seeing none,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her wild heart masked in face of stone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But they, her bevy, clustered thick<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As huddled sheep, set their eyes quick,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And held each other, hand or waist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Paling or flushing as fear raced<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thronging their veins&mdash;they knew not, they,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gathered fates that broke this day,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And all the land seemed passing fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To one who knew, and waited there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Goddess and Maid," then said the King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Long have I sought this day should bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An end of torment. Know me thou<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God postulant, with whom below<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A world awaits her queen, while here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I seek and find one without peer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor deem her heedless nor unschooled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In what in Heaven is writ and ruled.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Decreed of old my bride-right was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Decreed thy Mother's pain and loss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Decreed thy loathing, and decreed<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">That which thou shunnest to be thy need;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thou shalt love me, Lady, yet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though little liking now, and fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of jealous care shall grave thy heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And draw thee back when time's to part&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If fond Demeter have her will<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against thine own."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">The Maid stood still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And guarded watched, and her proud eyes'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scrutiny bade his own advise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whether indeed their solemn stare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw Destiny and read it there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond her suitor, or within<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her own heart heard the message ring.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Awhile she gazed: her stern aspect,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Young and yet fraught with Godhead, checkt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both Him who claimed, and her who'd cling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And them who wondered. "O great King,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She said, and mournful was her crying<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when night-winds set pine-trees sighing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"King of the folk beyond the tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sleep, behold thy chosen bride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not shunning thee, nor seeking. Take<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That which Gods neither mar nor make,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But only They, the Three, who spin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The threads which hem and mesh us in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both Gods and men, till she who peers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The longest cuts them with her shears.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take, take, A&iuml;doneus, and take her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My fosterling."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+<span class="i6">Then He, "O star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Earth, O Beacon of my days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light of my nights, whose beamy rays<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall pierce the foggy cerement<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherein my dead grope and lament<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond all loss the loss of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come! and be pleasant in my sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This thy beloved. Perchance she too<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall find a suitor come to woo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For love men leave not with their bones&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That is the soul's, and half atones<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And half makes bitterer their loss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remembering what their fortune was."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Trembling Hypsipyle uplift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her eyes towards the hills, where swift<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shadows flew, but no more fleet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than often she with flying feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flying raiment, she with these<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her mates, whom now estranged she sees&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if the shadow-world had spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">About her now, and she was dead&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her mates no more! cut off by fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From these two fearless ones. A tear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Welled up and hovered, hung a gem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her eyelid's dusky hem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As raindrops linkt and strung arow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Broider with stars the winter bough.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This was her requiem and farewell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To them, thus rang she her own knell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor more gave she, nor more asked they,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But took and went the fairy way.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">For thus with unshed tears made blind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went she: thus go the fairy kind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whither fate driveth; not as we<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who fight with it, and deem us free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therefore, and after pine, or strain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against our prison bars in vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For to them Fate is Lord of Life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Death, and idle is a strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With such a master. They not know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Life past, life coming, but life now;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor back look they to long, nor forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hope, but sup the minute's worth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With draught so quick and keen that each<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moment gives more than we could reach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all our term of three-score years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereof full score we give to fears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of losing them, and other score<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dreaming how fill the twenty more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now is the hour, Bride of the Night!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chariot turns, the great steeds fight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rocky entry; flies the dust<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behind the wheels at each fierce thrust<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of giant shoulder, at each lunge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of giant haunch. Down, down they plunge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the dark, with rioting mane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the earth's door shuts-to again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now fly, ye Oreads, strain your arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let eyes and hair voice your alarms&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hair blown back, mouths astretch for fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strained eyeballs&mdash;cry that Mother dear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her daughter's rape; fly like the gale<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">That down the valleys drives the hail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In scurrying sheets, and lays the corn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flat, which when man of woman born<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeth, he bows him to the grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whispering in hush, <i>The Oreads pass</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(In shock he knows ye, and in mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since he is kindred of that earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which bore ye in her secret stress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Images of her loveliness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To her dear paramour the Wind.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Follow me now that car behind.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3 style="text-indent: -4em;">II</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">O ye that know the fairy throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heed their secret under-song;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In flower or leaf's still ecstasy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of birth and bud their passion see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In wind or calm, in driving rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or frozen snow discern them strain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To utter and to be; who lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At dawn in dewy brakes to spy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rapture of their flying feet&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Follow me now those coursers fleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sucked in their wake, down ruining<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through channelled night, where only sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shrill gusts streaming through the hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of them who sway and bend them there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And peer in vain with shielded eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rend the dark. Clinging it lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thick as wet gossamer that shrouds<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">October brushwoods, or low clouds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That from the mountain tops roll down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the lowland vales, to drown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men's voices and to choke their breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make a silence like to death.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But this was hot and dry; it came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And smote them, like the gush of flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fanned in a smithy, that outpours<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And floods with fire the open doors.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Downward their course was, swift as flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of meteor flaring through the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steady and dreadful, with no sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of wheels or hoofs upon the ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor jolt, nor jar; for once past through<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earth's portals, steeds and chariot flew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On wings invisible and strong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even-oaring, such as throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The nights when birds of passage sweep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er cities and the folk asleep:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such was their awful flight. Afar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed Hades glimmering like a star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seen red through fog: and as they sped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To that, the frontiers of the dead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Revealed their sullen leagues and bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sad forms flitting here and there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or clustered, waiting who might come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their empty ways with news of home.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet all one course at length must hold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or late or soon, and all be tolled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Charon in his dark-prowed boat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thither was swept the chariot<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And crossed dry-wheeled the coiling flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Styx, and o'er the willow wood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And slim gray poplars which do hem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The further shore, Hell's diadem&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So by the tower foursquare and great<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where King A&iuml;doneus keeps his state<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rules his bodyless thralls they stand.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Dark ridge and hollow showed the land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fold over fold, like waves of soot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fixt in an anguish of pursuit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For evermore, so far as eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could range; and all was hot and dry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As furnace is which all about<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Etna scorcheth in days of drouth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And showeth dun and sinister<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fair isle linked to main so fair.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor tree nor herbage grew, nor sang<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Water among the rocks: hard rang<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The heel on metal, or on crust<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grew tender, or went soft in dust;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Neither for beast nor bird nor snake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was harbourage; nor could such slake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their thirst, nor from the bitter heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hide, since the sun not furnished it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But airless, shadowless and dense<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The land lay swooning, dead to sense<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath that vault of stuprous black,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Motionless hanging, without wrack<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of cloud to break and pass, nor rent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hint the blue. Like the foul tent<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">A foul night makes, it sagged; for stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed hopeless faces, with two scars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In each, their eyes' immortal woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ever to seek and never know:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all that still immensity<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These only moved&mdash;these and the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which dun and sullen heaved, with surge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And swell unseen, save at the verge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where fainted off the black to gray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And showed such light as on a day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sun's eclipse men tremble at.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Here the dead people moved or sat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Casting no shadow, hailing none<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Boldly; but in fierce undertone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They plied each other, or on-sped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their way with signal of the head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For answer, or arms desperate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flung up, or shrug disconsolate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this the quest of every one:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"What hope have ye?" And answer, "None."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never passed shadow shadow but<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That answer got to question put.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that they lived, in that, alas!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lovely and hapless, Thou must pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy days, with this for added lot&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aching, to nurse things unforgot.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Oread choir, the Oread glee:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The nimble air of quickening hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweet dawn light that floods and fills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hollowed valleys; the dawn wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That bids the world wake, and on blind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eyelids of sleeping mortals lays<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cool palms that urge them see and praise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Day-God coming with the sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hearten toil! He warned you run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hide your beauties deep in brake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of fern or briar, or reed of lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or in wet crevice of the rock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There to abide until the clock<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You reckon by, with shadowy hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay benediction on the lands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And landsmen, and the eve-jar's croak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Summon ye, lightfoot fairy folk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To your activity full tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the empty earth and wide.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here be your food, fair nymph, and coy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of mortal ken&mdash;remember'd joy!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Remember'd joy! Ah, stormy nights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, the mad revel when wind fights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With wind, and slantwise comes the rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shatters at the window-pane,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wake the hind, who little knows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose fingers drum those passionate blows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor what swift indwellers of air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye be who hide in forms so fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your wayward motions, cruel to us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While lovely, and dispiteous!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, nights of flying scud and rout<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When scared the slim young moon rides out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her lagoon of open sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or older, marks your revelry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As calm and large she oars above<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your drifting lives of ruth or love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Boon were those nights of dusted gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glint of fireflies! Boon the cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And witching frost! All's one, all's one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To thee, whose nights and days go on<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now in one span of changeless dusk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On one earth, crackling like the husk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the dropt mast in winter wood:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remember'd joy&mdash;'tis all thy food,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hypsipyle, to whose fond sprite<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I vow my praise while I have light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Dumbly she wandered there, as pale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lack of light, with form as frail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As those poor hollow congeners<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose searching eyes encountered hers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Petitioning as mute as she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some grain of hope, where none might be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Daring not yet to voice their moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To her whose case was not their own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For where they go like breath in a shell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That wails, my love goes quick in Hell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Alas, for her, the sweet and slim!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slowly she pines; her eyes grow dim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With seeking; her smooth, sudden breasts<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Hang languidly; those little nests<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For kisses which her dimples were,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In cheeks graved hollow now by care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vanish, and sharply thrusts her chin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sharp her bones of arm and shin.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reproach she looks, about, above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Denied her light, denied her love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Denied for what she sacrificed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doomed to be fruitless agonist.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(O God, and I must see her fade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must see and anguish&mdash;in my shade!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor help nor comfort gat she now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From her whose need called forth her vow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For close in arms Queen Kor&eacute; dwelt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that great tower A&iuml;doneus built<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To cherish her; deep in his bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loved as the Gods love whom they wed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turned from pale maiden to pale wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pale now with love's insatiate strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First to appease, and then renew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wild desire to mingle two<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Natures, to long, to seek, to shun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To have, to give, to make two one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That must be two if they would each<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Learn all the lore that love can teach.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So strove the mistress, while the maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went alien among the dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unspoken, speaking none, but watcht<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By them who knew themselves outmatcht<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By her, translated whole, nor guessed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What miseries gnawed within that breast,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Which could be toucht, which could give meat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To babe; which was not eye-deceit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As theirs, poor phantoms. So went she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grudged but unscathed beside the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or sat alone by that sad strand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nursing her worn cheek in her hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And did not mark, as day on day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lengthened the arch of changeless gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How she was shadowed, how to her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretcht arms another prisoner;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor knew herself desirable<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By any thankless guest of Hell&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Withal each phantom seemed no less<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whole-natured to her heedlessness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Midway her round of solitude<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She used to haunt a dead sea-wood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where among boulders lifeless trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stuck rigid fingers to the breeze&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That stream of faint hot air that flits<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aimless at noon. 'Tis there she sits<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hour after hour, and as a dove<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Croons when her breast is ripe for love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So sings this exile, quiet, sad chants<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of love, yet knows not what she wants;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And singing there in undertone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is one day answered by the moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of hidden mourner; but no fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath she for sound so true, though near;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, but sings out her elegy,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, like an echo, answers he.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again she sings; he suits her mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor breaks upon her solitude:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So she, choragus, calls the tune,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as she leads he follows soon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As bird with bird vies in the brake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She sings no note he will not take&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when she pleads, "Ah, my lost love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The night is dark thou art not of,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quick cometh answering the phrase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O love, let all our nights be days!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This, rapt, with beating heart, she heeds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And follows, "Sweet love, my heart bleeds!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, stay the wound thyself didst give";<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then he, "I come to bid thee live."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so they carol, and her heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swells to believe his counterpart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stroph&eacute; striketh clear, which he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caps with his brave antistrophe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as a maiden waxes bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And opens what should not be told<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When all her auditory she sees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within her mirror, so to trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rocks, and sullen sounding main<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She empties all her passioned pain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And "love, love, love," her burden is,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And "I am starving for thee," his.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moved, melted, all on fire she stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holding abroad her quivering hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Raises her sweet eyes faint with tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dares to seek him whom she hears;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And from her parted lips a sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stealeth, as knowing he is nigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her fate on her&mdash;then she'd shun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That which she seeks; but the thing's done.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Hollow-voiced, dim, spake her a shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O thou that comest, nymph or maid&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If nymph, then maiden, since for aye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Virgin is immortality,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor love can change what Death cannot&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look on me by love new-begot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look on me, child new-born, nor start<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see my form who knowest my heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For it is thine. O Mother and Wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take then my love&mdash;thou gavest it life!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">So spake one close: to whom she lent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wonder of her eyes' content&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That lucent gray, as if moonlight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shone through a sapphire in the night&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And saw him faintly imaged, rare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As wisp of cloud on hillside bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A filamental form, a wraith<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shaped like that man who in the faith<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of one puts all his hope: who stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trembling in her near neighbourhood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thing of haunted eyes, of slim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And youthful seeming; yet not dim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet not unmanly in his fashion<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of speech, nor impotent of passion&mdash;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The which his tones gave earnest of<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his asp&eacute;ct of hopeless love;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, drawing nearer, came to stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So close beside her that one hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lit on her shoulder&mdash;yet no touch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She felt: "O maiden overmuch,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He grieved, "O body far too sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For such as I, frail counterfeit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of man, who yet was once a man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cut off before the midmost span<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of mortal life was but half run,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or ere to love he had found one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like thee&mdash;yet happy in that fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That waiting, he is fortunate:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For better far in Hell to fare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With thee than commerce otherwhere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sharing the snug and fat outlook<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of bed and board and ingle-nook<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With earth-bound woman, earth-born child.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, but high love is free and wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And centreth not in mortal things;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to the soul giveth he wings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with the soul strikes partnership,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So may two let corruption slip<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And breasting level, with far eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lifted, seek haven in the skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Untrammel'd by the earthly mesh.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O thou," said he, "of fairy flesh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Immortal prisoner, take of me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love! 'tis my heritage in fee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I am very part thereof,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And share the godhead."<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">So his love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pled he with tones in love well-skilled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which on her bosom beat and thrilled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pierced. No word nor look she had<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To voice her heart, or sad or glad.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rapt stood she, wooed by eager word<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by her need, whose cry she heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Above his crying; but she guessed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She was desired, beset, possessed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Already, handfasted to sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yielding so, her heart she plight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Thus was her mating: of the eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ears, and her love half surmise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Detected by her burning face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which saw, not felt, his fierce embrace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For on her own she knew no hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When caging it he seemed to stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And round her waist felt not the warm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sheltered peace of the belting arm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She saw him clasp withal. When rained<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His words upon her, or eyes strained<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As though her inmost shrine to pierce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where hid her heart of hearts, her ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conceived, although her body sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might never feel a young life beat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leap within it. Ah, what cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That mistress e'er heard poet sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could voice thy beauty? Or what chant<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of music be thy ministrant?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Since thou art Music, poesy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must both thy spouse and increase be!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">In the hot dust, where lizards crouch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pant, he made her bridal couch;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thither down drew her to his side<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, phantom, taught her to be bride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With words so ardent, looks so hot<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She needs must feel what she had not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Guess herself in beleaguered bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And throb response. Thus she was wed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As she whom Zeus loved in a cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So lay she in her lover's shroud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And o'er her members crept the chill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We know when mist creeps up a hill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of the vale at eve. As grows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The ivy, rooting as it goes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In such a quick close envelope<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She lay aswoon, nor guessed the scope<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor tether of his hot intent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor what to that inert she lent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save when at last with half-turned head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glimmering eyes, encompass&eacute;d<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She saw herself, a bride possest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By ghostly bridegroom, held and prest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To unfelt bosom, saw his mouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Against her own, which to his drouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gave no allay that she could sense,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor took of her sweet recompense.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So moved by pity, stirred by rue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of their onslaught young love grew.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Love that with delicate tongues of fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can kindle hearts inflamed desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her for him who needed it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so she claimed and by eyes' wit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had what she would: and now made war,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Being, as all sweet women are,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prudes till Love calls them, and then fierce<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In love's high calling. Thus with her ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She fed on love, and to her eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lent deeds of passionate emprise&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till at the last, the shadowy strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ended, she owned herself all wife.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">High mating of the mind! O love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since this must be, on this she throve!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since this must be, O love, let be!<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1911.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+<h2>OREITHYIA</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stormy Thrace from Athens where you tarried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down by Ilissus all a blowy day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the asphodels, how rapt away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thither, and in what frozen bed wert married?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I was a King's tall daughter still unwed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slim and desirable my locks to shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Free from the fillet. He my maiden belt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Undid with busy fingers hid but felt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And made me wife upon no marriage bed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"As idly there I lay alone he came<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And blew upon my side, and beat a flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into my cheeks, and kindled both my eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I suffered him who took no bodily guise:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The light clouds know whether I was to blame.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Into my mouth he blew an amorous breath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I panted, but lay still, as quiet as death.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The whispering planes and sighing grasses know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whether it was the wind that loved me so:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know not&mdash;only this, 'O love,' he saith,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'O long beset with love, and overloved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O easy saint, untempted and unproved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O walking stilly virgin ways in hiding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come out, thou art too choice for such abiding!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She never valued ease who never roved.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Thou mayst not see thy lover, but he now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is here, and claimeth thy low moonlit brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy wonderful eyes, and lips that part and pout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And polished throat that like a flower shoots out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From thy dark vesture folded and crossed low.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"With that he had his way and went his way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Gods have mastery, and a maiden's nay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grows faint ere it is whispered all. I sped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Homeward with startled face and tiptoe tread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And up the stair, and in my chamber lay.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Crouching I lay and quaked, and heard the wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wail round the house like a mad thing confined,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And had no rest; turn wheresoe'er I would<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This urgent lover stormed my solitude<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And beat against the haven of my mind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And over all a clamour and dis-ease<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Filled earth and air, and shuddered in my knees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that I could not stand, but by the wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaned pitifully breathing. Still his call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Volleyed against the house and tore the trees.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Then out my turret-window as I might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I leaned my body to the blind wet night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That eager lover leapt me, circled round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wreathed, folded, held me prisoner, wrapt and bound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In manacles of terror and delight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"That night he sealed me to him, and I went<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thenceforth his leman, submiss and content;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So from the hall and feast, whenas I heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His clear voice call, I flitted like a bird<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That beats the brake, and garnered what he lent.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I was no maid that was no wife; my days<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Went by in dreams whose lights are golden haze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And skies are crimson. Laughing not, nor crying,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">I strayed all witless with my loose hair flying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bearing that load that women think their praise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And felt my breasts grow heavy with that food<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That women laugh to feel and think it good;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I went shamefast, hanging down my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With girdle all too strait to serve my stead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bore an unguessed burden in my blood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There was a winter night he came again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shook the window, till cried out my pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto him, saying, 'Lord, I dare not live!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord, I must die of that which thou didst give!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pity me, Lord!' and fell. The winter rain<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Beat at the casement, burst it, and the wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Filled all the room, and swept me white and blind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the night. I heard the sound of seas<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beleaguer earth, I heard the roaring trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Singing together. We left them far behind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And so he bore me into stormy Thrace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me and my load, and kissed back to my face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweet new blood of youth, and to my limbs<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The wine of life; and there I bore him twins,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Zethes and Cala&iuml;s, in a rock-bound place."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stormy Thrace, think you of how you tarried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let him woo and wed? "Ah, no, for now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He's kissed all Athens from my open brow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am the Wind's wife, wooed and won and married."<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1897.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CLYTI&Eacute;</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hearken, O passers, what thing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fortuned in Hellas. A maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lissom and white as the roe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lived recess'd in a glade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clyti&eacute;, Hamadryad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She was called that I sing&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flower so fair, so frail, that to bring her a woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surely a pitiful thing!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A wild bright creature of trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brooks, and the sun among leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clyti&eacute;, grown to be maid:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, she had eyes like the sea's<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Iris of green and blue!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White as sea-foam her brows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And her hair reedy and gold:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So she grew and waxt supple and fit to be spouse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a king's palace of old.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All in a kirtle of green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her tangle of red-gold hair,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">In the live heart of an oak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clyti&eacute;, harbouring there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thron&eacute;d there as a queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clyti&eacute; wondering woke:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, child, what set thee too high for thy sweet demesne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And who ponder'd the doleful stroke?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For the child that was maiden grown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The queen of the forest places,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clyti&eacute;, Hamadryad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tired of the joy she had,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the kingdom that was her own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tired of the quick wood-races,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And joy of herself in the pool when she wonder'd down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tired of her budded graces.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the child lookt up to the Sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the burning track of his car<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the broad serene above her:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"O King Sun, be thou my lover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For my beauty is just begun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am fresh and fair as a star;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, lie where the lilies are:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold, I am fair and dainty and white all over,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I waste in the wood unknown!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rose-flusht, daring, she strain'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her young arms up, and she voiced<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wild desire of her heart.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The woodland heard her, the faun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The satyr, and things that start,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peering, heard her; the dove, crooning, complain'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the pine-tree by the lawn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only the runnel rejoiced<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his rushy hollow apart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see her beauty flash up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White and red as the dawn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sorrow, ye passers-by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The quick lift of her word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crimson blush of her pride!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heard her the heavens' lord<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his flaming seat in the sky:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Overbold of her years that will not be denied;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She would be the Sun-God's bride!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His brow it was like the flat of a sword,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And levin the glance of his side.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And he bent unto her, and his mouth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burnt her like coals of fire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He gazed with passionate eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like flame that kindles and dries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his breath suckt hers as the white rage of the South<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Draws life; his desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was like to a tiger's drouth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What shall the slim maiden avail?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alas, and alas for her youth!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tremble, O maids, that would set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your love-longing to the Sun!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Clyti&eacute; mourn, and take heed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How she loved her king and did bleed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere kissing had yet begun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For lo! one shaft from his terrible eyes she met,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And it burnt to her soul, and anon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She paled, and the fever-fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did bite to her bones; and wan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She fell to rueing the deed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mark ye, maidens, and cower!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, for an end of breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clyti&eacute;, hardy and frail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anguisht after her death.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the Sun-flower droops and is pale<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When her king hideth his power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ever draggeth the woe of her piteous tale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a woman that laboureth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet never reacheth the hour:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So Clyti&eacute; yearns to the Sun, for her wraith<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moans in the bow'd sunflower.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Clyti&eacute;, Hamadryad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Called was she that I sing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flower so fair and frail that to work her this woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surely a pitiful thing!<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1894.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+<h2>LAI OF GOBERTZ<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem15"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of courteous Limozin wight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gobertz, I will indite:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Poicebot had he his right<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of gentlehood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made monk in his own despite<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In San L&eacute;onart the white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Withal to sing and to write<br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>Coblas</i> he could.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Learning had he, and rare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Music, and <i>gai saber</i>:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No monk with him to compare<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In that monast'ry.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Full lusty he was to bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cowl and chaplet of hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God willeth monks for to wear<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For sanctity.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There in dortoir as he lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To this Gobertz, by my fay,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Came fair women to play<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In his sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then he had old to pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fresh and silken came they,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With eyen saucy and gray<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That set him weep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May was the month, and soft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The singing nights; up aloft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The quarter moon swam and scoffed<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His unease.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rose this Gobertz, and doffed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His habit, and left that croft,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crying <i>Eleison</i> oft<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">At Venus' knees.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Heartly the road and the town<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Maul&eacute;on, over the down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sought he, and the renown<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of Savaric;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To that good knight he knelt down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Asking of him in bown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Almesse of laurel crown<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For his music.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fair him Savaric spake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"If <i>coblas</i> you know to make,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Song and music to wake<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For your part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Horse and lute shall you take<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of <i>Jongleur</i>, lightly forsake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cloister for woodland brake<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With good heart."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down the high month of May<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now rideth Gobertz his way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Aix, to Puy, to Alais,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To Albi the old;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Toulouse mindeth to stay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Count Simon the Gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There to abide what day<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Love shall hold.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Shrill riseth his song:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Cobla</i>, <i>lai</i>, or <i>tenzon</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">None can render him wrong<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In that <i>meinie</i>&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love alone, that erelong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed him in all that throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of ladies Tibors the young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">None but she.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She was high-hearted and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Low-breasted, with hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gilded, and eyes of vair<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In burning face:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On her Gobertz astare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looking, stood quaking there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see so debonnair<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hold her place.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Proud <i>donzela</i> and free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To clip nor to kiss had she<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tal&eacute;nt, nor for minstrelsy<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Was she fain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mistress never would be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor master have; but her fee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She vowed to sweet Chastity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Her suzerain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then this Gobertz anon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Returneth to Maul&eacute;on,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Savaric maketh moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On his knees.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Other pray'r hath he none<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Save this, "Sir, let me begone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whence I came, since fordone<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">My expertise."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Quod Savaric, "Hast thou sped<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So ill in <i>amors</i>?" Answer&eacute;d<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This Gobertz, "By my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She scorneth me."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"<i>Hauberc</i> and arms then, instead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of lute and begarlanded<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poll, take you," he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">"For errantry."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now rides he out, a dubbed knight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Spanish road, for to fight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Paynimry; day and night<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Urgeth he;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">In Saragoza the bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Pampluna with might<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeketh he what respite<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For grief there be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">War-dimmed grew his gear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grim his visage; in fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Listened Mahound his cheer<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Deep in Hell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fled his legions to hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gobertz the knight draw near.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now he closeth the year<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In Compostell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Offering there hath he made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saint James, candles him paid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gold on the shrine hath laid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now Gobertz<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is for Toulouse, where that maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tibors wonned unafraid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Love and his accolade<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That breaketh hearts.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He rode north and by east,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor rider spared he nor beast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor tempered spur till at least<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Forth of Spain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not for mass-bell nor priest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For fast-day nor yet for feast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stayed he, till voyage ceased<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In Aquitaine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now remaineth to tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What this Gobertz befell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When that he sought hostel<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In his land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dined he well, drank he well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Envy then had somedeal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With women free in <i>bordel</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For to spend.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In poor <i>alberc</i> goeth he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where bought pleasure may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Careless proffereth fee<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For his bliss.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O Gobertz, look to thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such a sight shalt thou see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will make the red blood to flee<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy heart, ywis.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fair woman they bring him in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shamefast in her burning sin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All afire is his skin<br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><i>Par amors</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look not of her look to win,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dare not lift up her chin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gobertz; in that soiled fond thing<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Lo, Tibors!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O love, O love, out, alas!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That it should come to this pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou be even as I was<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In green youth,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Whenas delight and solace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Served I with wantonness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And burned anon like the grass<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To this ruth!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But then lift she her sad eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gray like wet morning skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That wait the sun to arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Tears to amend.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Gobertz, <i>amic</i>," so she cries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"By Jesus' agonies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hither come I by lies<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of false friend.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Sir Richart de Laund he hight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who fair promised me plight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of word and ring, on a night<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of no fame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So then evilly bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had his will and delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of me, and fled unrequite<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For my shame!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Alas, and now to my thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flieth the woe that I wrought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thee, Gobertz, that distraught<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thou didst fare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now a vile thing of nought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fare I that once was so haught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And free, and could not be taught<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">By thy care."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Gobertz seeth no less<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her honour and her sweetness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon her small hand to kiss<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Taketh he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saying, "Now for that stress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drave thee here thou shalt bless<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God, for so ending this<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy penury."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet she would bid him away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeking her sooth to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In what woful array<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She was cast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Nay," said he, "but, sweet may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here must we bide until day:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then to church and to pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Go we fast."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now then to all his tal&eacute;nt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeing how he was bent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him the comfort she lent<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of her mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cried Gobertz, well content,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"If love by dreariment<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cometh, that was well spent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As I find."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thereafter somewhat they slept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When to his arms she had crept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For comfort, and freely wept<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sin away.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Up betimes then he leapt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Calling her name: forth she stept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meek, disposed, to accept<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What he say.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By hill road taketh he her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the gray nuns of Beaucaire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There to shred off her hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And take veil.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Himself to cloister will fare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Monk to be, with good care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For their two souls. May his pray'r<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Them avail!<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1911.</i></p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> I owe the substance of this <i>lai</i> to my friend Ezra Pound, who
+unearthed it, <span title="psamath&ocirc; eilymena poll&ecirc;">&#968;&#945;&#956;&#8049;&#952;&#8179; &#949;&#7984;&#955;&#965;&#956;&#8051;&#957;&#945; &#960;&#959;&#955;&#955;&#8135;</span>, in some Proven&ccedil;al repertory.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE SAINTS' MAYING</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem15"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Since green earth is awake<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us now pastime take,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not serving wantonness<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Too well, nor niggardness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which monks of men would make.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But clothed like earth in green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With jocund hearts and clean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We will take hands and go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Singing where quietly blow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flowers of Spring's demesne.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The cuckoo haileth loud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The open sky; no cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth fleck the earth's blue tent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The land laughs, well content<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To put off winter shroud.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now, since 'tis Easter Day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Christians may have play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The young Saints, all agaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Christ in Heaven's maze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May laugh who wont to pray.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then welcome to our round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They light on homely ground:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Agnes, Saint Cecily,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Agatha, Dorothy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Margaret, Hildegonde;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Next come with Barbara<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lucy and Ursula;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And last, queen of the Nine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clear-eyed Saint Catherine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Joyful arrayeth her.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then chooseth each her lad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after frolic had<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of dance and carolling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And playing in a ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seek all the woodland shade.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And there for each his lass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her man a nosegay has,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which better than word spoken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might stand to be her token<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And emblem of her grace.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For Cecily, who bent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her slim white neck and went<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Heaven a virgin still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The nodding daffodil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That bends but is not shent.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lucy, whose wounded eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Opened in Heaven star-wise,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The lady-smock, whose light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth prank the grass with white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Taketh for badge and prize.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Because for Lord Christ's hest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men shore thy warm bright breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Agatha, see thy part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Showed in the burning heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the white crocus best.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What fate was Barbara's<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shut in the tower of brass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We figure and hold up<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within the stiff king-cup<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That crowns the meadow grass.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Agnes, than whose King Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stayed no more delicate breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On earth, we give for dower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wood-sorrel, that frail flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Spring first quickeneth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dorothy, whose shrill voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bade Heathendom rejoice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sweet-breath'd cowslip hath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Margaret, who in death<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw Heaven, her pearly choice.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then she of virgin brood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom Prince of Britain woo'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ursula, takes by favour<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The hyacinth whose savour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enskies the sunny wood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hildegonde, whose spirit high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Cross did not deny,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet blusht to feel the shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anemones must claim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose roses early die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Last, she who gave in pledge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her neck to the wheel's edge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Taketh the fresh primrose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which (even as she her foes)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Redeems the wintry hedge.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So garlanded, entwined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each as may prompt her mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Saints renew for Earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Heaven such seemly mirth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As God once had design'd.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when the day is done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And veil'd the goodly Sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each man his maid by right<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth kiss and bid Good-night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And home goes every one.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The maids to Heaven do hie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To serve God soberly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lads, their loves in Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What lowly work is given<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They do, to win the sky.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1896.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE ARGIVE WOMEN<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="width:35%;">
+<tr><td class="td3">Chthono&euml;</td><td class="td1">Myrtilla</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td3">Rhodope</td><td class="td1">Pasiphassa</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="td3">Gorgo</td><td class="td1">Sitys</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">The women's house in the House of Paris in Troy.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Time.</span>&mdash;The Tenth year of the War.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><p class="blocky">
+Helen's women are lying alone in the twilight
+hour. Chthono&euml; presently rises and throws a
+little incense upon the altar flame. Then she
+begins to speak to the Image of Aphrodite in
+a low and tired voice.</p></div>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Chthono&euml;</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Goddess of burning and little rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the hand swaying on thy breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By glancing eye and slow sweet smile<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell me what long look or what guile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of thine it was that like a spear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pierced her heart, who caged me here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this close house, to be with her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mistress at once and prisoner!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Far from earth and her pleasant ways<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I lie, whose nights are as my days<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this dim house, where on the wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I watch the shadows rise and fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And know not what is reckt or done<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By men and horses out in the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor heed their traffic, nor their cheer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As forth they go or back, but hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fountain plash into the pond,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The brooding doves, and sighs of fond<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lovers whose lips yearn as they sever<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For longer joy, joy such as never<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath man but in the mind. But what<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men do without, that I know not<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who see them but as shadows thrown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon a screen. I see them blown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like clouds of flies about the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the winds sweep them and make vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their panoplies. They hem the verge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this high wall to guard us&mdash;urge<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Galloping horses into war<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And meet in shock of battle, far<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Below us and our dreams: withal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ten years have past us in this thrall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since Helen came with eyes agleam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Troy, and trod the ways of dream.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Gorgo</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Men came about us, crying, "The Greeks!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ships out at sea with high-held peaks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like questing birds!" But I lay still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kissing, nor turned.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Rhodope</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">So I, until<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The herald broke into my sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crying Agamemnon on the deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With ships from high Mykenai. Then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I minded he was King of Men&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But not of women in the arms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They loved.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Myrtilla</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">I heard their shrill alarms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faint and far off, like an old fame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Below this guarded house men came&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chariots and horses clasht; they cried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">King Agamemnon in his pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Hector, or young Diomede;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I was kissing, could not heed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aught save the eyes that held mine bound.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anon a hush&mdash;anon the sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of hooves resistless, pounding&mdash;a cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Achilles! Save yourselves!" But I&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clinging I lay, and sighed in sign<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That love must weary at last, even mine&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even mine, Sweetheart!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i10">Who watcht when flared<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord Hector like a meteor, dared<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The high stockade and fired the ships?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I watcht his lips who had had my lips.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Sitys</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when he slew Menoikios' son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sister, what then?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">My cheek was wan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For lack of kissing&mdash;so I blew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On slumbering lids to draw anew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The eyes of him who had loved me well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now was faint.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Chthono&euml;</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">O Kypris, tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deeds of men, not lovers!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Rhodope</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i12">Here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came one all palsied in his fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chattering and white, to Paris abed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flusht in his sleep&mdash;told Hector dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dead and dishonoured, while he slept.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sighed and turned. But Helen wept.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Gorgo</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not I. I turned and felt warm draught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of breath upon my cheek, and laught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Softly, and snuggling, slept.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Chthono&euml;</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i12">Fie, fie!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goddess, drugged in thy dreams we lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Logs, not women, logs in the sun!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Sitys</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou art sated. So fretteth One,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The very fount of Love's sweet well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The chord of Love made visible,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sickened of her own loveliness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Haggard as hawk too long in jess,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aching for flight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Myrtilla</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Recall the bout<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Paris armed him and went out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into the lists, and all men thronged<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Sitys</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Lord Paris and him he wronged<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fight for her, who should have her! We stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the walls, and she with her hood<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Close to her cheek. But I saw the flicker<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her blue eyes!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">But I was quicker,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And saw the man she looked upon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after what her blue eyes shone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like cyanus in morning light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Gorgo</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Husband and lover she saw fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man to man, with death between.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Rhodope</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hatred coucht, as long and lean<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a lone wolf, on her man's crest&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And bit the Trojan!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Chthono&euml;</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Thine was the rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goddess! And Helen lit the fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her disdain, of his desire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Myrtilla</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Her eyes burned like the frosty stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of winter midnight.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">His the scars!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bitten in his wax-pale cheek.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Chthono&euml;</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nay, in his heart&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Sitys</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Nay, in his bleak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And writhen smile you see it!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Gorgo</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i12">Nay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his sick soul.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Rhodope</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Let him go his way!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear my thought of a happier thing&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sparta's trees in flood of spring<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Eurotas' banks abrim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drown the reeds, and foam-clots swim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a scattered brood of duck!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Myrtilla</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Flowers anod! White flowers to pluck,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stiffened in the foamy curds!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, the green thickets quick with birds!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Sitys</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Calling Itys! Itys! Itys!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She calls not here&mdash;her house it is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Sparta!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Rhodope</span> (<i>with a sob</i>)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Peace!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Chthono&euml;</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">From my heart a cry&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Send me back, Goddess, ere I die<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To those dear places and clean things&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see my people, feel the wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the gray night fold over me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And touch my mother's knees, and be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her child, as long ago I was<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before I lay burning in Ilios!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">[<i>They hide their faces in their knees.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i6"><i>Then one by one they sing.</i>]<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let me sing an old sweet air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mother of Argos, to Thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For hope in my heart is fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As light on the hills seen from afar at sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my weary eyes turn there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As to the haven where my soul would be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Rhodope</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I will arise and make choice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The house of my tumbled breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For she cometh, I hear the voice<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of her wings of healing, and she shall be my guest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my joys shall be her joys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my home her home, O wind of the South West!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Gorgo</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a bird that listens and thrills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hidden deep in the night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the sound of the little rills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That run musically towards the light;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a hart to the high hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turneth his dying eyes, my soul takes flight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Myrtilla</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, to be folded deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the shade of Taygetus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In my mother's arms to sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even as a child when I lay harboured thus!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, that I were as thy sheep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lacedaemon, my land, cradle and nurse of us!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In Argos they sow the grain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Troy blood is their sowing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There a green mantle covers the plain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the sweet green corn and sweet short grass are growing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here passion and pain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blood and dust upon earth, and a hot wind blowing.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Sitys</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To the hold on the far red hill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the hold on the wide green lea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the running water, follow who will<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Therapnae's hawk with the dove of Amyklae.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I would lie husht and still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And feel the new grass growing quick over me!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">[<i>The scene grows dark as they sit.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i6"><i>Their eyes are full of tears.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i6"><i>Presently one looks up, listening,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i6"><i>then another, then another. They</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i6"><i>are all alert.</i>]<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Chthono&euml;</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who prayeth peace? I feel her peace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steal through me as a quiet air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Enters the house with sweet increase<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of light to healing, praise to prayer!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Rhodope</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What do I know of guiltiness<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When she is here, and with grave eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeketh the ways of quietness<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lampeth them?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Gorgo</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">Arise, arise!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">[<i>They all stand waiting.</i>]<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Myrtilla</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hark! Her footfall like the dew&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a flower by frost made sere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long before the sun breaks through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Feeleth him, I know her near.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">[<i>Helen stands in the doorway.</i>]<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Chthono&euml;</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is she, the source of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Source of light and end of it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Argive Helen, slim and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For whose bosom and delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For whose eyes, those wells of peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Paris wrought, as well he might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Rhodope</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Starry wonder that she was,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caged like sea-bird in his arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See her passion thrill, then pass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From him who, doting on her charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So became abominable.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Watch her bosom dip and swell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See her nostrils fan and curve<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At his touch who loved not well,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But loved too much, who broke the spell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Watch her proud head stiffen and swerve.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Gorgo</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Upon the wall with claspt white hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See her vigil keep intent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Argive Helen, lo! she stands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looking seaward where the fires<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hem the shore innumerable;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sign of that avenging host,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Achaia's chivalry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Past the tongue of man to tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peers and kindred of her sires<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come to win back Helen lost.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Myrtilla</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There to her in that gray hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That gray hour before the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cometh he she waiteth for,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Menelaus like a ghost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a dry leaf tempest-tost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stalking restless, her reproach.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There alone, those two, long severed been,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eye each other, one wild heart between.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Sitys</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O thou ruinous face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O thou fatally fair,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">O the pity of thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What dost thou there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Watching the madness of me?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Chthono&euml;</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Him seemed her eyes were pools of dark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To drown him, yet no word she spake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But gazing, grave as a lonely house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All her wonder thrilled to wake.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Rhodope</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By thy roses and snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By thy sun-litten hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By thy low bosom and slow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pondered kisses, O hear!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"By thy glimmering eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By thy burning cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By thy murmuring sighs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speak, Helen, O speak!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ruinous Face, O Ruinous Face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Art thou come so early," he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"So early forth from the wicked bed?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Gorgo</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Him she pondered, grave and still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stirring not from her safe place:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He marked the glow, he felt the thrill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He saw the dawn new in her face.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Myrtilla</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Within her low voice wailed the tone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of one who grieves and prays for death:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Lord, I am come to be alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone here with my sorrow," she saith.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Pasiphassa</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"False wife, what pity was thine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For hearth and altar, for man and child?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is thy sorrow worth unto mine?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She rocked, moaning, "I was beguiled!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Sitys</span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By her begun, the slim, the sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ended by her in final peace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him who loved her first of all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ever swerved from his high passion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But through misery and shame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw her spirit like a flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eloquent of her sacred fashion&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hers whose eyes are homes of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To which she tends, from which she came.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1912.</i></p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>Helen Redeemed</i>, the first poem in this book, was originally
+conceived as a drama. Here is a scene from it, the first after the
+Prologue, which would have been spoken by Odysseus. The action
+of the play would have begun with the entry of Helen.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+<h2>GNATHO</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Gnatho, Satyr, homing at dusk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trotting home like a tired dog,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By mountain slopes 'twixt the junipers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flamed oleanders near the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Found a girl-child asleep in a fleece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Frail as wax, golden and rose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereat at first he skipt aside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stayed him, nosing and peering, whereto<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Next he crept, softly breathing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blinking his fear. None was there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To guard; the sun had dipt in the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faint fire empurpled the flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of heaving water; no speck, no hint<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of oar or wing on the main, on the deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sky, empty as a great shell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fainting in its own glory. This thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This rare breath, this miracle&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone with him in the world! His<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wonder, fall to, with craning eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fearfully daring; next, since it moved not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stooping, to handle, to stroke, to peer upon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Closely, nosing its tender length,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Doglike snuffing&mdash;at last to kiss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In reverence wonderful, lightlier far<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than thistledown falls, brushing the Earth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the child awoke and, watching him, cried not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cruddled visage, choppy hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blinking eyes, red-litten, astare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Horns and feet&mdash;nay, crowed and strained<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To reach this wonder.<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">As one a glass<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light as foam, hued like the foam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A breath-bubble of fire, will carry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He in arms lifted his freight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looking wonderfully upon it<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With scarce a breath, and humbleness<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be so brute ebbed to the flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of pride in his new assur&eacute;d worth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trusted so, who could be vile?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So to his cave in the wood he bore her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fleeting swift as a fear thro' the dark trees.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There in the silence of tall trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the soaring shafts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far beneath the canopied leafage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the forest whisper, the thick silences;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or on the wastes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sheltered mountains where the spires<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of solemn cypress frame the descent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the blue, and open to sea&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here grew Ianthe maiden slim<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With none to spy but this gnarled man-brute;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Most fair, most hid, like a wood-flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slim for lack of light; so she grew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In flowering line of limb<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flower of face, retired and shy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urged by the bland air; unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lonely and lovely, husbanding<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her great possessions&mdash;hers now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Another's when he cared to claim them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For thus went life: to lead the herds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of pricking deer she saw the great stags<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Battle in empty glades, then mate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus on the mountains chose the bears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the woods she heard the wolves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anguishing in their loves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thro' the dense nights, far in the forest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so collected went she, and sure<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her time would come and with it her master.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Gnatho watcht her under his brows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When she lay heedless, spilling beauty&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How ever lovelier, suppler, sleeker,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How more desirable, how near;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How rightly his, how surely his&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then gnaw'd his cheek and turn'd his head.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For unsuspect, some dim forbidding<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rose within him and knockt at his heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And said, Not thine, but for reverence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And some wild horror desperate drove him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suing a pardon from unknown Gods<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">For untold trespass, to seek the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon whose shore, to whose cool breathing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He'd stretch his arms, broken with strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of self and self; and all that water<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Steadfast lapt and surged. Came tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To furrow his cheeks, came strength to return<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To her, and bear with longer breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her sweet familiarities, blind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Obedience to nascent blind desire&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till again he lookt and burn'd again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus his black ferment boil'd. O' nights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He'd dream and revel frenziedly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As with the love-stung nymphs. Awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a chill sweat, he'd tear at himself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Claw at his flesh and leap in the brook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drench the red embers of his vice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into a mass abhorred. Clean then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He'd seek his bed and pass unscath'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bower of fern where the sleek limbs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of white Ianthe, mesht in her hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay lax in sleep. But Gnatho now<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saw only God, as on some still peak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Snowy and lonely under the stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We look, and see God in all that calm.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One night of glamour, under a moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That seemed to steep the air with gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They two sat stilly and watcht the sea<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Tremulously heaving over a path<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of light like a river of molten gold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Warm blew the breeze to land; she lean'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her idle head, idly played<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her fingers in his belt, and he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Embracing held her, yielding, subdued;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sideways saw the curve of her cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Downcast lashes, droopt lip<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which seem'd to court his pleasure&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i16">Then<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On waves of fire came racing his needs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With zest of rage to possess and tear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That which his frenzy, maskt as love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Courted: so he lean'd to her ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thrilled in torrents hoarse his case&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Love, I burn, I burn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slake me, love!" He raved in whisper.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she lookt up with her wide full eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Saying, "My love!" and yielded herself.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Deep night settled on hill and plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moon went out, the concourse of stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lay strewn above, and with golden eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peered on them lockt. Far and faint<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The great stags belled; far and faint<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quested the wolves; the leopards' howling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lent desolation to night; and low<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The night-jar purr'd. At sea one light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swayed restlessly, and on the rocks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sounded the tireless lapping deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lockt they lay thro' all the silences.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Dawn stole in with whimper of rain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a wailing wind from the sea&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gray sea, gray dawn and scurrying clouds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scud of rain. The fisher boat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sands, the headlands fringed with broom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tamarisk were blotted.<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">Alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Caged in the mist of earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That beat his torment back to himself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So that in vain he sought for the Gods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lifted up hands in vain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To witness this white wreck prone and still&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gnatho the Satyr blinkt on his work.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1898-1912.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+<h2>TO THE GODS OF THE COUNTRY</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sun and Moon, shine upon me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Make glad my days and clear my nights!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Earth, whose child I am,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grant me thy patience!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Heaven, whose heir I may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Keep quick my hope!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Your steadfastness I need, O Hills;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O Rain, thy kindness!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Snow, keep me pure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O Fire, teach me thy pride!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">From you, ye Winds, I ask your blitheness!<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1909.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>
+<h2 style="margin-top: 2em;">FOURTEEN SONNETS<br /><br />1896</h2>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+<h3>ALMA SDEGNOSA</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not that dull spleen which serves i' the world for scorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is hers I watch from far off, worshipping<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As in remote Chaldaea the ancient king<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Adored the star that heralded the morn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her proud content she bears as a flag is borne<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Tincted the hue royal; or as a wing<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It lifts her soaring, near the daylight spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whence, if she lift, our days must pass forlorn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The pure deriving of her spirit-state<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is so remote from men and their believing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They shrink when she is cold, and estimate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That hardness which is but a God's dismay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when the Heaven-sent sprite thro' Hell sped cleaving,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only the gross air checkt him on his way.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE WINDS' POSSESSION</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When winds blow high and leaves begin to fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the wan sunlight flits before the blast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When fields are brown and crops are garnered all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And rooks, like mastered ships, drift wide and fast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Maid Artemis, that feeleth her young blood<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Leap like a freshet river for the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Speedeth abroad with hair blown in a flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To snuff the salt west wind and wanton free.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then would you know how brave she is, how high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her ancestry, how kindred to the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mark but her flashing feet, her ravisht eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That takes the boist'rous weather and feels it kind:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hear her eager voice, how tuned it is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Autumn's clarion shrill for Artemis.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>ASPETTO REALE</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That hour when thou and Grief were first acquainted<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou wrotest, "Come, for I have lookt on death."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Piteous I held my indeterminate breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sought thee out, and saw how he had painted<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thine eyes with rings of black; yet never fainted<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy radiant immortality underneath<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Such stress of dark; but then, as one that saith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I know Love liveth," sat on by death untainted.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O to whom Grief too poignant was and dry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sow in thee a fountain crop of tears!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O youth, O pride, set too remote and high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For touch of solace that gives grace to men!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy life must be our death, thy hopes our fears:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We weep, thou lookest strangely&mdash;we know thee then!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>KIN CONFESSED</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Long loving, all our love was husbanded<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Until one morning on the brown hillside,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One misty Autumn morn when Sun did hide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His radiance, yet was felt. No words we said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But in one flash transfigured, glorified,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All her heart's tumult beating white and red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She fell prone on her face and hid her wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over-brimmed eyes in dewy fern.<br /></span>
+<span class="i14">I prayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then spake, "In us two now is manifest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That throbbing kindred whereof thou art graft<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I the grafted, in this holy place."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She, turning half, with sober shame confest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Discovery, then hid her rosy face.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I read her wilding heart, and my heart laught.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>QUEL GIORNO PI&Ugrave; ...</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That day&mdash;it was the last of many days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor could we know when such days might be given<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again&mdash;we read how Dante trod the ways<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of utmost Hell, and how his heart was riven<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By sad Francesca, whose sin was forgiven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So far that, on her Paolo fixing gaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">She supt on his again, and thought it Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She knew her gentler fate and felt it praise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We read that lovers' tale; each lookt at each;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But one was fearless, innocent of guile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So did the other learn what she could teach:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We read no more, we kiss'd not, but a smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of proud possession flasht, hover'd a while<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twixt soul and soul. There was no need for speech.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>ABSENCE</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When she had left us but a little while<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Methought I sensed her spirit here and there<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">About my house: upon the empty stair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her robe brusht softly; o'er her chamber still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There lay her fragrant presence to beguile<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Numb heart, dead heart. I knelt before her chair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And praying felt her hand laid on my hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Felt her sweet breath, and guess'd her wistful smile.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then thro' my tears I lookt about the room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But she was gone. I heard my heart beat fast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The street was silent; I could not see her now.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sorrow and I took up our load, and past<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To where our station was with heads bent low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And autumn's death-moan shiver'd thro' the gloom.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>PRESENCE</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When she had left us but a little while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I still could hear the ringing of her voice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still see athwart the dusk her shy half-smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And that sweet trust wherein I most rejoice.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then in her self-same tones I heard, "Go thou,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Set to that work appointed thee to do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Remembering I am with thee here and now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Watchful as ever. See, my eyes shine true!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I lookt, and saw the concourse of clear stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Steadfast, of limpid candour, and could discover<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her soul look on me thro' the prison-bars<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which slunk like sin from such an honest Lover:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And thro' the vigil-pauses of that night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She beam'd on me; and my soul felt her light.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>DREAM ANGUISH</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My thought of thee is tortured in my sleep&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sometimes thou art near beside me, but a cloud<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth grudge me thy pale face, and rise to creep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Slowly about thee, to lap thee in a shroud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I, as standing by my dead, to weep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Desirous, cannot weep, nor cry aloud.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or we must face the clamouring of a crowd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hissing our shame; and I who ought to keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thine honour safe and my betrayed heart proud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knowing thee true, must watch a chill doubt leap<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The tired faith of thee, and thy head bow'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor budge while the gross world holdeth thee cheap!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or there are frost-bound meetings, and reproach<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">At parting, furtive snatches full of fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love grown a pain; we bleed to kiss, and kiss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because we bleed for love; the time doth broach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shame, and shame teareth at us till we tear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our hearts to shreds&mdash;yet wilder love for this!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>HYMNIA-BEATRIX</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Before you pass and leave me gaunt and chill<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Alone to do what I have joyed in doing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In your glad sight, suffer me, nor take ill<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If I confess you prize and me pursuing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As the rapt Tuscan lifted up his eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whither his Lady led, and lived with her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Strong in her strength, and in her wisdom wise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love-taught with song to be her thurifer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So I, that may no nearer stand than he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To minister about the holy place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Am well content to watch my Heaven in thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And read my Credo in thy sacred face.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For even as Beatrix Dante's wreath did bind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, Hymnia, hast thou imparadised my mind.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>LUX E TENEBRIS</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I thank all Gods that I can let thee go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lady, without one thought, one base desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To tarnish that clear vision I gained by fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One stain in me I would not have thee know.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That is great might indeed that moves me so<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To look upon thy Form, and yet aspire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To look not there, rather than I should mire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That wing&eacute;d Spirit that haunts and guards thy brow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So now I see thee go, secure in this<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That what I have is thee, that whole of thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereof thy fair infashioning is sign:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I see Honour, Love, and Wholesomeness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And striving ever to reach them, and to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they, I keep thee still; for they are thine.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>DUTY</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, I am weak to serve thee as I ought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My shroud of flesh obscures thy deity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So thy sweet Spirit that should embolden me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To shake my wings out wide, serves me for nought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But receives tarnish, vile dishonour, wrought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By that thou earnest to bless&mdash;O agony<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And unendurable shame! that, loving thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dare not love, fearing my poisonous thought!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Man is too vile for any such high grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For that he seeks to honour he can but mar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So had I rather shun thy starry face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fly the exultation to know thee near&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For if one glance from me wrought thee a scar<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twould not be death, but life that I should fear.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>WAGES</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sometimes the spirit that never leaves me quite<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Taps at my heart when thou art in the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Saying, Now thy Queen cometh: therefore pray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest she should see thee vile, and at the sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shiver and fly back piteous to the light<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That wanes when she is absent. Then, as I may,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I wash my soil&egrave;d hands and muttering, say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lord, make me clean; robe Thou me in Thy white!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">So for a brief space, clad in ecstasy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pure, disembodied, I fall to kiss thy feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sense thy glory throbbing round about;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereafter, rising, I hold thee in a sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gentle converse that lifts me up to be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When thou art gone, strange to the gross world's rout.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>EYE-SERVICE</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Meseems thine eyes are two still-folded lakes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wherein deep water reflects the guardian sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Searching wherein I see how Heaven is nigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And our broad Earth at peace. So my Love takes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul's thin hands and, chafing them, she makes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My life's blood lusty and my life's hope high<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the strong lips and eyes of Poesy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hold the world well squandered for their sakes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I looked thee full this day: thine unveiled eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Rayed their swift-searching magic forth; and then<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I felt all strength that love can put in men<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whenas they know that loveliness is wise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For love can be content with no less prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To lift us up beyond our mortal ken.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>CLOISTER THOUGHTS</h3>
+
+<h4>(AT WESTMINSTER)</h4>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Within these long gray shadows many dead<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lie waiting: we wait with them. Do you believe<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That at the last the threadbare soul will give<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All his shifts over, and stand dishevell&egrave;d,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Naked in truth? Then we shall hear it said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Ye two have waited long, daring to live<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grimly through days tormented; now reprieve<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Awaiteth you with all these ancient dead!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The slope sun letteth down thro' our dark bars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His ladder from the skies. Hand fast in hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With quiet hearts and footsteps quiet and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like children venturous in an unknown land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We will come to the fields whose flowers are stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kneeling ask, "Lord, wilt Thou crown us now?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
+<h2>THE CHAMBER IDYLL</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem17"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The blue night falleth, the moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is over the hill; make fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fasten the latch, I am tired: come soon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come! I would sleep at last<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In your bosom, my love, my love!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The airy chamber above<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has the lattice ajar, that night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May breathe upon you and me, my love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the moon bless our marriage-rite&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, lassy, to bed, to bed!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The roof-thatch overhead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall cover the stars' bright eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fleecy quilt shall be coverlid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For your meek virginities,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And your wedding, my bride, my bride!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">See, we are side to side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Virgin in deed and name&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, for love will not be denied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tarry not, have no shame:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are we not man and bride?<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1894.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
+<h2 style="margin-top: 2em;">EPIGRAMMATA<br /><br />1910</h2>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>THE OLD HOUSE</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem22"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mossy gray stands the House, four-square to the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Embosomed in the hills. The garden old<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of yew and box and fishpond speaks her mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet-ordered, quaint, recluse, fold within fold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of quietness; but true and choice and kind&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A sober casket for a heart of gold.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>BLUE IRIS</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem17"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blue is the Adrian sea, and darkly blue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The &AElig;gean; and the shafted sun thro' them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fishes grope to, gives the beamy hue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rayed from her iris's deep diadem.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE ROSEBUD</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In June I brought her roses, and she cupt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One slim bud in her hand and cherisht it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And put it to her mouth. Rose and she supt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each other's sweetness; but the flower was lit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By her kind eyes, and glowed. Then in her breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She laid it blushing, warm and doubly blest.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>SPRING ON THE DOWN</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When Spring blows o'er the land, and sunlight flies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across the hills, we take the upland way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have her waist, the wooing wind her eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lips and cheeks. His kissing makes her gay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As flowers. "Thou hast two lovers, O my dear,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Say I; and she, "He takes what thou dost fear."<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>SNOWY NIGHT</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The snow lies deep, ice-fringes hem the thatch;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I knock my shoes, my Love lifts me the latch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shows me her eyes&mdash;O frozen stars, they shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kindly! I clasp her. Quick! her lips are mine.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>EVENING MOOD</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Late, when the sun was smouldering down the west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She took my arm and laid her cheek to me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fainting twilight held her, and I guess'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All she would tell, but could not let me see&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wonder and joy, the rising of her breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And confidence, and still expectancy.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></div></div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>THE PARTING</h3>
+
+<div class="cpoem20"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Breathless was she and would not have us part:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Adieu, my Saint," I said, "'tis come to this."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But she leaned to me, one hand at her heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all her soul sighed trembling in a kiss.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+<h2>DEDICATION OF A BOOK</h2>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem15"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To the Fountain of my long Dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the Chalice of all my Sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the Lamp held up, and the Stream<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Light that beacons the Morrow;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To the Bow, the Quiver and Dart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the Bridle-rein, to the Yoke<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proudly upborne, to the Heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Fire, to the Mercy-stroke;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To Apollo herding his Cattle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Proserpina grave in Dis;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the high Head in the Battle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the Crown&mdash;I consecrate this.<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p><i>1911.</i></p>
+
+
+
+
+<p class="rgt"><i>Printed by</i> R. &amp; R. <span class="smcap">Clark, Limited</span>, <i>Edinburgh</i>.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+<p class="head2"><b>BY MAURICE HEWLETT</b><br /><br />
+
+<big>THE AGONISTS</big><br /><br />
+
+A TRILOGY OF GOD AND MAN<br /><br />
+
+<small>MINOS KING OF CRETE, ARIADNE IN NAXOS,<br />
+THE DEATH OF HIPPOLYTUS</small></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net.</i></p>
+
+<div class="block1"><p><i>SPECTATOR.</i>&mdash;"The three plays have throughout a high level of
+dramatic interest, and they have moments of great tragic beauty.... It
+is not a book of sporadic beauties, for its most remarkable quality is its
+unity of interest and effect. The chorus has many passages of lyrical
+charm ... but it is the great story which moves us most deeply, the
+stress of dramatic and logical sequence, so that we have no time to notice
+the art of it all. This is a high tribute to Mr. Hewlett's technical skill.
+At its best the irregular verse has a sharp freshness which the more
+orthodox metres could scarcely give."</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY TELEGRAPH.</i>&mdash;"The poetry is full of music, yet refreshingly
+free from monotony, and in passages when swift broken phrases are
+of the essence of the atmosphere the effect is splendidly dramatic and
+austere. Mr. Hewlett is to be congratulated upon a high success in a
+field of the worthiest enterprise."</p>
+
+<p><i>OBSERVER.</i>&mdash;"There is no single passage that can fail to charm
+when read aloud, woven with magic of rhythm, and music of phrase. It
+is a great heroic subject, nobly conceived, and finely and thoughtfully
+executed."</p>
+
+<p><i>BLACK AND WHITE.</i>&mdash;"<i>The Agonists</i> is more than fine verse;
+it is literature impregnated with the purest fragrance of the classic spirit."</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY EXPRESS.</i>&mdash;"There is real drama in <i>The Agonists</i>, and there
+is much splendid beauty."</p>
+
+<p><i>PALL MALL GAZETTE.</i>&mdash;"Of the beauty of a great deal of the
+poetry it is difficult to speak too highly."</p>
+
+<p><i>STANDARD.</i>&mdash;"The imaginative grasp of these dramas, as well as
+their lyric charm, is unquestionable, and so also is the rare skill with
+which the strife of elemental passions is described and the action of the
+relentless laws which made men of old regard life as the sport of the gods."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="pub1">MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span>, LONDON.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="head2"><b>BY MAURICE HEWLETT</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 6s. each.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="block1">
+<p class="head3"><b>THE FOREST LOVERS:</b> <span class="smcap">A Romance</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>SPECTATOR.</i>&mdash;"<i>The Forest Lovers</i> is no mere literary <i>tour de force</i>, but an
+uncommonly attractive romance, the charm of which is greatly enhanced by the
+author's excellent style."</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY TELEGRAPH.</i>&mdash;"Mr. Maurice Hewlett's <i>The Forest Lovers</i> stands
+out with conspicuous success.... There are few books of this season which achieve
+their aim so simply and whole-heartedly as Mr. Hewlett's ingenious and enthralling
+romance."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>THE SONG OF RENNY.</b></p>
+
+<p><i>EVENING STANDARD.</i>&mdash;"Mr. Hewlett has produced a remarkable series of
+historical novels, and <i>The Song of Renny</i> is one of the best of them.... An admirable
+romance, full of 'go' and colour and good temper."</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY TELEGRAPH.</i>&mdash;"Mr. Hewlett is mounted upon his Pegasus again,
+riding full tilt against a rushing wind, with the moonlight of imagination playing
+glorious tricks upon all the marvellous sights around him."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>THE QUEEN'S QUAIR:</b> <span class="smcap">or, The Six Years' Tragedy</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>ATHEN&AElig;UM.</i>&mdash;"A fine book, fine not only for its extraordinary wealth of
+incidental beauties, but also for the consistency of conception and the tolerant
+humanity with which its main theme is put before you."</p>
+
+<p><i>WESTMINSTER GAZETTE.</i>&mdash;"That Mr. Maurice Hewlett would give us a
+flaming, wonderful picture of Queen Mary was a foregone conclusion."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.</b></p>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Frederic Harrison</span> in <i>THE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW</i>.&mdash;"Such
+historic imagination, such glowing colour, such crashing speed, set forth in such
+pregnant form, carry me away spell-bound."</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY TELEGRAPH.</i>&mdash;"The story carries us along as though throughout
+we were galloping on strong horses. There is a rush and fervour about it all which
+sweeps us off our feet till the end is reached, and the tale is done. It is very clever,
+very spirited."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>LITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY.</b></p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY CHRONICLE.</i>&mdash;"And even such as fail to understand, will very
+certainly enjoy&mdash;enjoy the sometimes gay and sometimes biting humour, the deft
+delineation, the fine quality of colour, the delicately-flavoured phrasing."</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY TELEGRAPH.</i>&mdash;"The most finished studies which have appeared
+since some of the essays of Walter Pater."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>OPEN COUNTRY:</b> <span class="smcap">A Comedy With a Sting</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY TELEGRAPH.</i>&mdash;"<i>Open Country</i> is a beautiful bit of work, a work
+that is inspired through and through with a genuine love for what is pure and
+beautiful. Mr. Hewlett's main figures have not only a wonderful charm in themselves,
+but they are noble, simple, and true-hearted creatures. Sanchia, the
+heroine, is a divine creation."</p>
+
+<p><i>EVENING STANDARD.</i>&mdash;"<i>Open Country</i> is an important book and a fine
+novel."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>REST HARROW:</b> <span class="smcap">A Comedy of Resolution</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY NEWS.</i>&mdash;"<i>Rest Harrow</i> has not only the effect of providing an
+&aelig;sthetically logical conclusion to the motives of <i>Open Country</i>, but it throws
+back a radiant retrospective influence, enhancing the value of what has preceded
+it.... In many ways the best piece of work Mr. Hewlett has done."</p>
+
+<p><i>PALL MALL GAZETTE.</i>&mdash;"The present book certainly sustains the charm
+of <i>Open Country</i> without any faltering of dramatic movement."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>THE STOOPING LADY.</b></p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY TELEGRAPH.</i>&mdash;"A wondrously beautiful piece of fiction, gallant and
+romantic, a high treat for lovers of good reading."</p>
+
+<p><i>WORLD.</i>&mdash;"A rarely picturesque and beautiful production."</p>
+
+<p><i>EVENING STANDARD.</i>&mdash;"A story which fascinates him who reads."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>MRS. LANCELOT:</b> <span class="smcap">A Comedy of Assumptions</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY TELEGRAPH.</i>&mdash;"The story, as a whole, sustains a lofty level of
+creative vigour, and is dignified, moreover, with something of the epic flavour, as
+the old order is seen breaking up under the advance of new ideas and revolutionary
+enthusiasms.... Among the best books that the present age is likely to produce."</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY GRAPHIC.</i>&mdash;"The best work of its kind since Meredith."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>FOND ADVENTURES:</b> <span class="smcap">Tales of the Youth of the World</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>SPECTATOR.</i>&mdash;"The materials for romance provided by this period (the
+Renaissance) are inexhaustibly rich, and Mr. Maurice Hewlett is admirably
+equipped for the task of reconstituting many of its phases."</p>
+
+<p><i>EVENING STANDARD.</i>&mdash;"The present volume is a rich mine of beauty.
+It contains four fine romantic tales."</p>
+
+
+<p class="head3"><b>NEW CANTERBURY TALES.</b></p></div>
+
+
+<p class="pub1">MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span>, LONDON.</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p class="head2"><b>NEW TWO-SHILLING EDITION</b><br /><br />
+<small><small>OF</small></small><br /><br />
+<big>THE NOVELS OF<br />
+MAURICE HEWLETT</big></p>
+
+<p class="center">In Cloth binding. Crown 8vo. 2s. net each.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem25">
+
+<ul><li>THE FOREST LOVERS.</li>
+
+<li>THE QUEEN'S QUAIR.</li>
+
+<li>LITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY.</li>
+
+<li>RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.</li>
+
+<li>THE STOOPING LADY.</li>
+
+<li>FOND ADVENTURES.</li>
+
+<li>NEW CANTERBURY TALES.</li>
+
+<li>HALFWAY HOUSE.</li>
+
+<li>OPEN COUNTRY: <span class="smcap">A Comedy With a Sting</span>.</li>
+
+<li>REST HARROW: <span class="smcap">A Comedy of Resolution</span>.</li>
+</ul></div>
+
+<div class="block1"><p><i>ATHEN&AElig;UM.</i>&mdash;"The Two-shilling Series deserves exceptional
+praise for its handiness and excellent type."</p>
+
+<p><i>PALL MALL GAZETTE.</i>&mdash;"An enterprise to be welcomed by all
+lovers of good literature."</p>
+
+<p><i>DAILY MAIL.</i>&mdash;"This cheap and handsome edition is very welcome."</p>
+
+<p><i>WORLD.</i>&mdash;"Extremely attractive edition.... Notable examples
+of what can nowadays be achieved in the way of handsome book-production
+at surprisingly moderate prices."</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="pub1">MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span>, LONDON.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p class="head2"><b>BY MAURICE HEWLETT</b></p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="head4">A MASQUE OF DEAD FLORENTINES.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Wherein some of Death's Choicest Pieces,
+and the Great Game that he played therewith, are
+fruitfully set forth.</span> 4to. 10s. net.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="head4">THE FOREST LOVERS.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>With 16 Illustrations in Colour by <span class="smcap">A. S. Hartrick</span>. 8vo. 5s. net.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="head4">LETTERS TO SANCHIA UPON THINGS AS THEY ARE.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Extracted from the Correspondence
+of Mr. John Maxwell Senhouse.</span>
+Crown 8vo. 1s. 6d. net.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="head4">THE ROAD IN TUSCANY: <span class="smcap">A Commentary</span>.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Joseph Pennell</span>. Extra Crown 8vo.
+8s. 6d. net.</p></div>
+
+<p><small><i>TIMES.</i>&mdash;"Its vividness is extraordinary; there is no one quite like Mr.
+Hewlett for seizing all the colour and character of a place in half a dozen words....
+An admirable book.... Mr. Pennell's profuse illustrations to this book are
+very attractive."</small></p>
+
+
+<p class="head4">EARTHWORK OUT OF TUSCANY.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Being
+Impressions and Translations of Maurice
+Hewlett</span>. Globe 8vo. 4s. net.</p></div>
+
+<p><small><i>OBSERVER.</i>&mdash;"This re-issue of Mr. Hewlett's beautiful book comes to us as
+one of the pleasant Eversley Series&mdash;a form in which it may be hoped, for the sake of
+the reading world, that it is to make many new friends."</small></p>
+
+
+<p class="center" style="margin-top: 2em;"><i>Pott 8vo. Cloth. 7d. net each.</i></p>
+
+<p><big>THE FOREST LOVERS.</big></p>
+
+<p><big>THE STOOPING LADY.</big></p>
+
+
+<p class="center" style="margin-top: 2em;"><i>Medium 8vo. Sewed. 6d. each.</i></p>
+
+<p><big>THE FOREST LOVERS.</big></p>
+
+<p><big>RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.</big></p>
+
+<p><big>THE QUEEN'S QUAIR.</big></p></div>
+
+
+<p class="pub1">MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span>, LONDON.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p class="head2"><b>COMPLETE EDITIONS OF THE POETS.</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Uniform Edition. In Green Cloth. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. each.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="block2"><p class="ad1">THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.
+<br />With a Portrait engraved on Steel by <span class="smcap">G. J. Stodart</span>.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ad1">THE POETICAL WORKS OF MATTHEW ARNOLD.
+<br />With a Portrait engraved on Steel by <span class="smcap">G. J. Stodart</span>.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ad1">THE POETICAL WORKS OF JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+<br />With Introduction by <span class="smcap">Thomas Hughes</span>, and a Portrait.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ad1">THE POETICAL WORKS OF PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+<br />Edited by Professor <span class="smcap">Dowden</span>. With a Portrait.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ad1">THE POETICAL WORKS OF SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
+<br />Edited, with a Biographical Introduction, by <span class="smcap">J. Dykes Campbell</span>.
+Portrait as Frontispiece.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ad1">THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+<br />With Introduction by <span class="smcap">John Morley</span>, and a Portrait.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ad1">THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF T. E. BROWN.
+<br />With a Portrait; and an Introduction by <span class="smcap">W. E. Henley</span>.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ad1">THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.
+<br />With Introduction, Memoir, and Notes, by <span class="smcap">W. M. Rossetti</span>.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ad1">THE DYNASTS. An Epic-Drama of the War with Napoleon.
+<br />By <span class="smcap">Thomas Hardy</span>. Three Parts in One Vol.</p>
+
+<p class="ad1" style="margin-top: 1.5em;">THE BAB BALLADS, with which are included Songs of a Savoyard.
+<br />By Sir <span class="smcap">W. S. Gilbert</span>. Sixth Edition. Illustrated.</p>
+
+
+<p class="ad1">THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS.
+<br />With 20 Illustrations on Steel by <span class="smcap">Cruikshank</span>, <span class="smcap">Leech</span>, and
+<span class="smcap">Barham</span>.</p></div>
+
+
+<p class="pub1">MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span>, LONDON.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Helen Redeemed and Other Poems, by Maurice Hewlett
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN REDEEMED AND OTHER POEMS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22803-h.htm or 22803-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/8/0/22803/
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/22803-page-images/f001.png b/22803-page-images/f001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9371087
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/f001.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/f002.png b/22803-page-images/f002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c076a90
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/f002.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/f003.png b/22803-page-images/f003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2611a95
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/f003.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/f004.png b/22803-page-images/f004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..48aa3eb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/f004.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/f005.png b/22803-page-images/f005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e57066b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/f005.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p001.png b/22803-page-images/p001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..292dbe3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p001.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p002.png b/22803-page-images/p002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..37f3bdd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p002.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p003.png b/22803-page-images/p003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..14c75b0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p003.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p004.png b/22803-page-images/p004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c16b77
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p004.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p005.png b/22803-page-images/p005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..21db079
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p005.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p006.png b/22803-page-images/p006.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..03d1d49
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p006.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p007.png b/22803-page-images/p007.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5ef0dba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p007.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p008.png b/22803-page-images/p008.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9999247
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p008.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p009.png b/22803-page-images/p009.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b2c98dc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p009.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p010.png b/22803-page-images/p010.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d7c9b0d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p010.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p011.png b/22803-page-images/p011.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bcd230e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p011.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p012.png b/22803-page-images/p012.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5761c0f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p012.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p013.png b/22803-page-images/p013.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..36d6c01
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p013.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p014.png b/22803-page-images/p014.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..675abd4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p014.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p015.png b/22803-page-images/p015.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..39dc9cf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p015.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p016.png b/22803-page-images/p016.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1261411
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p016.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p017.png b/22803-page-images/p017.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..58fff30
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p017.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p018.png b/22803-page-images/p018.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..33c192f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p018.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p019.png b/22803-page-images/p019.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5094a0e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p019.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p020.png b/22803-page-images/p020.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9afb55d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p020.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p021.png b/22803-page-images/p021.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..39c6eec
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p021.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p022.png b/22803-page-images/p022.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2bac685
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p022.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p023.png b/22803-page-images/p023.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6f08837
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p023.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p024.png b/22803-page-images/p024.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..baa0f7f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p024.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p025.png b/22803-page-images/p025.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..890102e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p025.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p026.png b/22803-page-images/p026.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e54697d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p026.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p027.png b/22803-page-images/p027.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e0d661d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p027.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p028.png b/22803-page-images/p028.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..97556df
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p028.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p029.png b/22803-page-images/p029.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c04a4a7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p029.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p030.png b/22803-page-images/p030.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c931d16
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p030.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p031.png b/22803-page-images/p031.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0183c2d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p031.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p032.png b/22803-page-images/p032.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f035ac5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p032.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p033.png b/22803-page-images/p033.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e09550b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p033.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p034.png b/22803-page-images/p034.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d0281c7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p034.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p035.png b/22803-page-images/p035.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2e8ffa3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p035.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p036.png b/22803-page-images/p036.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..663a9f2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p036.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p037.png b/22803-page-images/p037.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d295a1e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p037.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p038.png b/22803-page-images/p038.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e9196c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p038.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p039.png b/22803-page-images/p039.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..29de332
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p039.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p040.png b/22803-page-images/p040.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..391726f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p040.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p041.png b/22803-page-images/p041.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..614dfaa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p041.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p042.png b/22803-page-images/p042.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8621de4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p042.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p043.png b/22803-page-images/p043.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8baac26
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p043.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p044.png b/22803-page-images/p044.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bdcfa18
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p044.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p045.png b/22803-page-images/p045.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a913e8d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p045.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p046.png b/22803-page-images/p046.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..706e490
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p046.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p047.png b/22803-page-images/p047.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..55674f2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p047.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p048.png b/22803-page-images/p048.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..16f181b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p048.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p049.png b/22803-page-images/p049.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d113461
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p049.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p050.png b/22803-page-images/p050.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..72599a7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p050.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p051.png b/22803-page-images/p051.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0d06848
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p051.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p052.png b/22803-page-images/p052.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3dfdc38
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p052.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p053.png b/22803-page-images/p053.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b59557b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p053.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p054.png b/22803-page-images/p054.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f0384cd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p054.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p055.png b/22803-page-images/p055.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8113787
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p055.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p056.png b/22803-page-images/p056.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bfa5d7c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p056.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p057.png b/22803-page-images/p057.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a0d80ce
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p057.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p058.png b/22803-page-images/p058.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e8a46da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p058.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p059.png b/22803-page-images/p059.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ff2f18f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p059.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p060.png b/22803-page-images/p060.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ca46953
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p060.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p061.png b/22803-page-images/p061.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8af89eb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p061.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p062.png b/22803-page-images/p062.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c08591e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p062.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p063.png b/22803-page-images/p063.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7ff2822
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p063.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p064.png b/22803-page-images/p064.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..38d8a4b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p064.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p065.png b/22803-page-images/p065.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d606e64
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p065.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p066.png b/22803-page-images/p066.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9512e44
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p066.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p067.png b/22803-page-images/p067.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e157214
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p067.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p068.png b/22803-page-images/p068.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0ee8007
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p068.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p069.png b/22803-page-images/p069.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1be6400
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p069.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p070.png b/22803-page-images/p070.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..56bf897
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p070.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p071.png b/22803-page-images/p071.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..10674e7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p071.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p072.png b/22803-page-images/p072.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..36527a7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p072.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p073.png b/22803-page-images/p073.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5b2a4bb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p073.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p074.png b/22803-page-images/p074.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c48cea2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p074.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p075.png b/22803-page-images/p075.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3acc74d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p075.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p076.png b/22803-page-images/p076.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ae3411a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p076.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p077.png b/22803-page-images/p077.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e7422c0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p077.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p078.png b/22803-page-images/p078.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a71fac6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p078.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p079.png b/22803-page-images/p079.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..82ee4ae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p079.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p080.png b/22803-page-images/p080.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9769b6a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p080.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p081.png b/22803-page-images/p081.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f001ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p081.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p082.png b/22803-page-images/p082.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e0d7cd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p082.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p083.png b/22803-page-images/p083.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2243442
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p083.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p084.png b/22803-page-images/p084.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2721f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p084.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p085.png b/22803-page-images/p085.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a3e6ee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p085.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p086.png b/22803-page-images/p086.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0716eb4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p086.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p087.png b/22803-page-images/p087.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..068a8ae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p087.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p088.png b/22803-page-images/p088.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2f17ba9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p088.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p089.png b/22803-page-images/p089.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..547a8e8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p089.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p090.png b/22803-page-images/p090.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..71f10dd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p090.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p091.png b/22803-page-images/p091.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..909324b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p091.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p092.png b/22803-page-images/p092.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4bf7a63
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p092.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p093.png b/22803-page-images/p093.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b2415ca
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p093.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p094.png b/22803-page-images/p094.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..878b93e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p094.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p095.png b/22803-page-images/p095.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c33bded
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p095.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p096.png b/22803-page-images/p096.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6db1db4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p096.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p097.png b/22803-page-images/p097.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dd42e1e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p097.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p098.png b/22803-page-images/p098.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..abab12c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p098.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p099.png b/22803-page-images/p099.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..81aaf64
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p099.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p100.png b/22803-page-images/p100.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..67b8df8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p100.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p101.png b/22803-page-images/p101.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..742e063
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p101.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p102.png b/22803-page-images/p102.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1572ceb
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p102.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p103.png b/22803-page-images/p103.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4bf998e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p103.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p104.png b/22803-page-images/p104.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5ca6cb3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p104.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p105.png b/22803-page-images/p105.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..13fa54e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p105.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p106.png b/22803-page-images/p106.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ceb33d3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p106.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p107.png b/22803-page-images/p107.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e2c4fe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p107.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p108.png b/22803-page-images/p108.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6734d19
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p108.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p109.png b/22803-page-images/p109.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c382ed4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p109.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p110.png b/22803-page-images/p110.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..28621e5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p110.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p111.png b/22803-page-images/p111.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6d92cc1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p111.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p112.png b/22803-page-images/p112.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c13fbf4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p112.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p113.png b/22803-page-images/p113.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5e504cd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p113.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p114.png b/22803-page-images/p114.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e78b91
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p114.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p115.png b/22803-page-images/p115.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..56b02c8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p115.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p116.png b/22803-page-images/p116.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe85549
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p116.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p117.png b/22803-page-images/p117.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a061abd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p117.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p118.png b/22803-page-images/p118.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fde46fa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p118.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p119.png b/22803-page-images/p119.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4066e9f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p119.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p120.png b/22803-page-images/p120.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ec259f4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p120.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p121.png b/22803-page-images/p121.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bc893c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p121.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p122.png b/22803-page-images/p122.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2967fe4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p122.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p123.png b/22803-page-images/p123.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7ba00f4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p123.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p124.png b/22803-page-images/p124.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1a80783
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p124.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p125.png b/22803-page-images/p125.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..baf01ce
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p125.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p126.png b/22803-page-images/p126.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d57f9d9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p126.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p127.png b/22803-page-images/p127.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3abba32
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p127.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p128.png b/22803-page-images/p128.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..71326ad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p128.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p129.png b/22803-page-images/p129.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e3abc47
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p129.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p130.png b/22803-page-images/p130.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e98a4cc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p130.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p131.png b/22803-page-images/p131.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c2e0d2a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p131.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p132.png b/22803-page-images/p132.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1e62065
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p132.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p133.png b/22803-page-images/p133.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f012f88
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p133.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p134.png b/22803-page-images/p134.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4af3053
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p134.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p135.png b/22803-page-images/p135.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..82f8028
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p135.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p136.png b/22803-page-images/p136.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5331bfa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p136.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p137.png b/22803-page-images/p137.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..12167c8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p137.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p138.png b/22803-page-images/p138.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..17e1903
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p138.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p139.png b/22803-page-images/p139.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..633fbfc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p139.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p140.png b/22803-page-images/p140.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1ec9ac3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p140.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p141.png b/22803-page-images/p141.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..48cd97c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p141.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p142.png b/22803-page-images/p142.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5896447
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p142.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p143.png b/22803-page-images/p143.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..63e7bae
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p143.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p144.png b/22803-page-images/p144.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3263402
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p144.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p145.png b/22803-page-images/p145.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2ab18b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p145.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p146.png b/22803-page-images/p146.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..91d409c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p146.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p147.png b/22803-page-images/p147.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4859b89
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p147.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p148.png b/22803-page-images/p148.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f758840
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p148.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p149.png b/22803-page-images/p149.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1a2adb4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p149.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p150.png b/22803-page-images/p150.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..277a095
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p150.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p151.png b/22803-page-images/p151.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c8d5d9d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p151.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p152.png b/22803-page-images/p152.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..74b3eda
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p152.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p153.png b/22803-page-images/p153.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7d82ef0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p153.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p154.png b/22803-page-images/p154.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2991ac4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p154.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p155.png b/22803-page-images/p155.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..85f95c0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p155.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p156.png b/22803-page-images/p156.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d9772ce
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p156.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p157.png b/22803-page-images/p157.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e6f6da8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p157.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p158.png b/22803-page-images/p158.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aa6d066
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p158.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p159.png b/22803-page-images/p159.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..967f061
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p159.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p160.png b/22803-page-images/p160.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..41f27d5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p160.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p161.png b/22803-page-images/p161.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5a23d21
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p161.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p162.png b/22803-page-images/p162.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..609c826
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p162.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p163.png b/22803-page-images/p163.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fce1cb2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p163.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p164.png b/22803-page-images/p164.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..987d765
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p164.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p165.png b/22803-page-images/p165.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4c1dacf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p165.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p166.png b/22803-page-images/p166.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e30d2b5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p166.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p167.png b/22803-page-images/p167.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..94323aa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p167.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p168.png b/22803-page-images/p168.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f1bf348
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p168.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p169.png b/22803-page-images/p169.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6f47900
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p169.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p170.png b/22803-page-images/p170.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b190390
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p170.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p171.png b/22803-page-images/p171.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aff9a4e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p171.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p172.png b/22803-page-images/p172.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da61fac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p172.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p173.png b/22803-page-images/p173.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e4eae52
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p173.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p174.png b/22803-page-images/p174.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..03f54ac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p174.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p175.png b/22803-page-images/p175.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..35b1dff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p175.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p176.png b/22803-page-images/p176.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5c05872
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p176.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p177.png b/22803-page-images/p177.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c652cb1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p177.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p178.png b/22803-page-images/p178.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b907d96
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p178.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p179.png b/22803-page-images/p179.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7d3040b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p179.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p180.png b/22803-page-images/p180.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..475b183
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p180.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p181.png b/22803-page-images/p181.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..445ccc1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p181.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p182.png b/22803-page-images/p182.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bfacb16
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p182.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p183.png b/22803-page-images/p183.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b90e44c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p183.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p184.png b/22803-page-images/p184.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..71b43fe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p184.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p185.png b/22803-page-images/p185.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..487fdf8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p185.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p186.png b/22803-page-images/p186.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..576706e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p186.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p187.png b/22803-page-images/p187.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a25c992
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p187.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p188.png b/22803-page-images/p188.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ba2f627
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p188.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p189.png b/22803-page-images/p189.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..47107c4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p189.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p190.png b/22803-page-images/p190.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..093f83b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p190.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p191.png b/22803-page-images/p191.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5b0d7c6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p191.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p192.png b/22803-page-images/p192.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..94f3429
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p192.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p193.png b/22803-page-images/p193.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b1146a6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p193.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p194.png b/22803-page-images/p194.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6f30b46
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p194.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p195.png b/22803-page-images/p195.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6179a05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p195.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p196.png b/22803-page-images/p196.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dffaa52
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p196.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p197.png b/22803-page-images/p197.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fc2a92d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p197.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p198.png b/22803-page-images/p198.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..62e6754
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p198.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p199.png b/22803-page-images/p199.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9f6d6d4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p199.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p200.png b/22803-page-images/p200.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3dcc660
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p200.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p201.png b/22803-page-images/p201.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da89ba0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p201.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p202.png b/22803-page-images/p202.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f222716
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p202.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p203.png b/22803-page-images/p203.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b6b6baf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p203.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p204.png b/22803-page-images/p204.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b9920e8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p204.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p205.png b/22803-page-images/p205.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8786be8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p205.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p206.png b/22803-page-images/p206.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7ccd847
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p206.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p207.png b/22803-page-images/p207.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0602a12
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p207.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p208.png b/22803-page-images/p208.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b149191
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p208.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p209.png b/22803-page-images/p209.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4030996
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p209.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p210.png b/22803-page-images/p210.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..81f5efd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p210.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p211.png b/22803-page-images/p211.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dc0b01f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p211.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p212.png b/22803-page-images/p212.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..807518e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p212.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p213.png b/22803-page-images/p213.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e345966
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p213.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p215.png b/22803-page-images/p215.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b911800
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p215.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p217.png b/22803-page-images/p217.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..98ac823
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p217.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p218.png b/22803-page-images/p218.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4050fb3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p218.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p219.png b/22803-page-images/p219.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2323029
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p219.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p220.png b/22803-page-images/p220.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ac71046
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p220.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p221.png b/22803-page-images/p221.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b4d66b7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p221.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/p222.png b/22803-page-images/p222.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd51d12
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/p222.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/q001.png b/22803-page-images/q001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c4a586c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/q001.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/q002.png b/22803-page-images/q002.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0238939
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/q002.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/q003.png b/22803-page-images/q003.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c6eb558
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/q003.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/q004.png b/22803-page-images/q004.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3b211fc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/q004.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/q005.png b/22803-page-images/q005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..75a4152
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/q005.png
diff --git a/22803-page-images/q006.png b/22803-page-images/q006.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..95346be
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803-page-images/q006.png
diff --git a/22803.txt b/22803.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1ea2ade
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6093 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Helen Redeemed and Other Poems, by Maurice Hewlett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Helen Redeemed and Other Poems
+
+Author: Maurice Hewlett
+
+Release Date: September 29, 2007 [EBook #22803]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN REDEEMED AND OTHER POEMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ HELEN REDEEMED
+
+ AND OTHER POEMS
+
+
+ BY
+ MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+
+ {Doron Eros Aide}
+
+
+
+ MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
+ ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
+ 1913
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Archaic
+spellings have been retained. Greek words have been transliterated and
+are shown between {braces}. The oe ligature has been transcribed as
+[oe].
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+    Love owes tribute unto Death,
+    Being but a flower of breath,
+    Ev'n as thy fair body is
+    Moment's figure of the bliss
+    Dwelling in the mind of God
+    When He called thee from the sod,
+    Like a crocus up to start,
+    Gray-eyed with a golden heart,
+    Out of earth, and point our sight
+    To thy eternal home of light.
+
+    Here on earth is all we know:
+    To let our love as steadfast blow,
+    Open-hearted to the sun,
+    Folded down when our day's done,
+    As thy flower that bids it be
+    Flower of thy charity.
+    'Tis not ours to boast or pray
+    Breath from us shall outlive clay;
+    'Tis not thine, thou Pitiful,
+    Set me task beyond my rule.
+
+    Yet as young men carve on trees
+    Lovely names, and find in these
+    Solace in the after time,
+    So to have hid thee in my rhyme
+    Shall be comfort when I take
+    The lonely road. Then, for my sake,
+    Keep thou this my graven sigh,
+    And, that I may not all die,
+    Open it, and hear it tell,
+    Here was one who loved thee well.
+
+_October 6, 1912._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                         PAGE
+
+ HELEN REDEEMED                             1
+ HYPSIPYLE                                123
+ OREITHYIA                                149
+ CLYTIE                                   155
+ LAI OF GOBERTZ                           159
+ THE SAINTS' MAYING                       169
+ THE ARGIVE WOMEN                         173
+ GNATHO                                   187
+ TO THE GODS OF THE COUNTRY               193
+ FOURTEEN SONNETS--
+     ALMA SDEGNOSA                        197
+     THE WINDS' POSSESSION                198
+     ASPETTO REALE                        199
+     KIN CONFESSED                        200
+     QUEL GIORNO PIU                      201
+     ABSENCE                              202
+     PRESENCE                             203
+     DREAM ANGUISH                        204
+     HYMNIA-BEATRIX                       206
+     LUX E TENEBRIS                       207
+     DUTY                                 208
+     WAGES                                209
+     EYE-SERVICE                          210
+     CLOISTER THOUGHTS                    211
+ THE CHAMBER IDYLL                        213
+ EPIGRAMMATA--
+     THE OLD HOUSE                        217
+     BLUE IRIS                            217
+     THE ROSEBUD                          218
+     SPRING ON THE DOWN                   218
+     SNOWY NIGHT                          219
+     EVENING MOOD                         219
+     THE PARTING                          220
+ DEDICATION OF A BOOK                     221
+
+
+
+
+NOTE
+
+
+Three of the Poems here published have appeared in book form already, in
+the Volume called _Songs and Meditations_, long out of print.
+
+
+
+
+HELEN REDEEMED
+
+
+PROEM
+
+    Sing of the end of Troy, and of that flood
+    Of passion by the blood
+    Of heroes consecrate, by poet's craft
+    Hallowed, if that thin waft
+    Of godhead blown upon thee stretch thy song
+    To span such store of strong
+    And splendid vision of immortal themes
+    Late harvested in dreams,
+    Albeit long years laid up in tilth. Most meet
+    Thou sing that slim and sweet
+    Fair woman for whose bosom and delight
+    Paris, as well he might,
+    Wrought all the woe, and held her to his cost
+    And Troy's, and won and lost
+    Perforce; for who could look on her or feel
+    Her near and not dare steal
+    One hour of her, or hope to hold in bars
+    Such wonder of the stars
+    Undimmed? As soon expect to cage the rose
+    Of dawn which comes and goes
+    Fitful, or leash the shadows of the hills,
+    Or music of upland rills
+    As Helen's beauty and not tarnish it
+    With thy poor market wit,
+    Adept to hue the wanton in the wild,
+    Defile the undefiled!
+    Yet by the oath thou swearedst, standing high
+    Where piled rocks testify
+    The holy dust, and from Therapnai's hold
+    Over the rippling wold
+    Didst look upon Amyklai's, where sunrise
+    First dawned in Helen's eyes,
+    Take up thy tale, good poet, strain thine art
+    To sing her rendered heart,
+    Given last to him who loved her first, nor swerved
+    From loving, but was nerved
+    To see through years of robbery and shame
+    Her spirit, a clear flame,
+    Eloquent of her birthright. Tell his peace,
+    And hers who at last found ease
+    In white-arm'd Here, holy husbander
+    Of purer fire than e'er
+    To wife gave Kypris. Helen, and Thee sing
+    In whom her beauties ring,
+    Fair body of fair mind fair acolyte,
+    Star of my day and night!
+
+_18th September 1912._
+
+
+FIRST STAVE
+
+THE DEATH OF ACHILLES
+
+    Where Simoeis and Xanthos, holy streams,
+    Flow brimming on the level, and chance gleams
+    Betray far Ida through a rended cloud
+    And hint the awful home of Zeus, whose shroud
+    The thunder is--'twixt Ida and the main
+    Behold gray Ilios, Priam's fee, the plain
+    About her like a carpet; from whose height
+    The watchman, ten years watching, every night
+    Counteth the beacon fires and sees no less
+    Their number as the years wax and duress
+    Of hunger thins the townsmen day by day--
+    More than the Greeks kill plague and famine slay.
+      Here in their wind-swept city, ten long years
+    Beset and in this tenth in blood and tears
+    And havocry to fall, old Priam's sons
+    Guard still their gods, their wives and little ones,
+    Guard Helen still, for whose fair womanhood
+    The sin was done, woe wrought, and all the blood
+    Of Danaan and Dardan in their pride
+    Shed; nor yet so the end, for Here cried
+    Shrill on the heights more vengeance on wrong done,
+    And Greek or Trojan paid it. Late or soon
+    By sword or bitter arrow they went hence,
+    Each with their goodliest paying one man's offence.
+    Goodliest in Troy fell Hector; back to Greek
+    Then swung the doomstroke, and to Dis the bleak
+    Must pass great Hector's slayer. Zeus on high,
+    Hidden from men, held up the scales; the sky
+    Told Thetis that her son must go the way
+    He sent Queen Hecuba's--himself must pay,
+    Himself though young, splendid Achilles' self,
+    The price of manslaying, with blood for pelf.
+      A grief immortal took her, and she grieved
+    Deep in sea-cave, whereover restless heaved
+    The wine-dark ocean--silently, not moving,
+    Tearless, a god. O Gods, however loving,
+    That is a lonely grief that must go dry
+    About the graves where the beloved lie,
+    And knows too much to doubt if death ends all
+    Pleasure in strength of limb, joy musical,
+    Mother-love, maiden-love, which never more
+    Must the dead look for on the further shore
+    Of Acheron, and past the willow-wood
+    Of Proserpine!
+                    But when he understood,
+    Achilles, that his end was near at hand,
+    Darkling he heard the news, and on the strand
+    Beyond the ships he stood awhile, then cried
+    The Sea-God that high-hearted and clear-eyed
+    He might go down; and this for utmost grace
+    He asked, that not by battle might his face
+    Be marred, nor fighting might some Dardan best
+    Him who had conquered ever. For the rest,
+    Fate, which had given, might take, as fate should be.
+    So prayed he, and Poseidon out of the sea,
+    There where the deep blue into sand doth fade
+    And the long wave rolls in, a bar of jade,
+    Sent him a portent in that sea-blue bird
+    Swifter than light, the halcyon; and men heard
+    The trumpet of his praise: "Shaker of Earth,
+    Hail to thee! Now I fare to death in mirth,
+    As to a banquet!"
+                      So when day was come
+    Lightly arose the prince to meet his doom,
+    And kissed Briseis where she lay abed
+    And never more by hers might rest his head:
+    "Farewell, my dear, farewell, my joy," said he;
+    "Farewell to all delights 'twixt thee and me!
+    For now I take a road whose harsh alarms
+    Forbid so sweet a burden to my arms."
+    Then his clean limbs his weeping squires bedight
+    In all the mail Hephaistos served his might
+    Withal, of breastplate shining like the sun
+    Upon flood-water, three-topped helm whereon
+    Gleamed the gold basilisk, and goodly greaves.
+    These bore he without word; but when from sheaves
+    Of spears they picked the great ash Pelian
+    Poseidon gave to Peleus, God to a man,
+    For no man's manege else--than all men's fear:
+    "Dry and cold fighting for thee this day, my spear,"
+    Quoth he. And so when one the golden shield
+    Immortal, daedal, for no one else to wield,
+    Cast o'er his head, he frowned: "On thy bright face
+    Let me see who shall dare a dint," he says,
+    And stood in thought full-armed; thereafter poured
+    Libation at the tent-door to the Lord
+    Of earth and sky, and prayed, saying: "O Thou
+    That hauntest dark Dodona, hear me now,
+    Since that the shadowing arm of Time is flung
+    Far over me, but cloudeth me full young.
+    Scatheless I vow them. Let one Trojan cast
+    His spear and loose my spirit. Rage is past
+    Though I go forth my most provocative
+    Adventure: 'tis not I that seek. Receive
+    My prayer Thou as I have earned it--lo,
+    Dying I stand, and hail Thee as I go
+    Lord of the AEgis, wonderful, most great!"
+      Which done, he took his stand, and bid his mate
+    Urge on the steeds; and all the Achaian host
+    Followed him, not with outcry or loud boast
+    Of deeds to do or done, but silent, grim
+    As to a shambles--so they followed him,
+    Eyeing that nodding crest and swaying spear
+    Shake with the chariot. Solemn thus they near
+    The Trojan walls, slow-moving, as by a Fate
+    Driven; and thus before the Skaian Gate
+    Stands he in pomp of dreadful calm, to die,
+    As once in dreadful haste to slay.
+                                        Thereby
+    The walls were thick with men, and in the towers
+    Women stood gazing, clustered close as flowers
+    That blur the rocks in some high mountain pass
+    With delicate hues; but like the gray hill-grass
+    Which the wind sweepeth, till in waves of light
+    It tideth backwards--so all gray or white
+    Showed they, as sudden surges moved them cloak
+    Their heads, or bare their faces. And none spoke
+    Among them, for there stood not woman there
+    But mourned her dead, or sensed not in the air
+    Her pendent doom of death, or worse than death.
+    Frail as flowers were their faces, and all breath
+    Came short and quick, as on this dreadful show
+    Staring, they pondered it done far below
+    As on a stage where the thin players seem
+    Unkith to them who watch, the stuff of dream.
+    Nor else about the plain showed living thing
+    Save high in the blue where sailed on outspread wing
+    A vulture bird intent, with mighty span
+    Of pinion.
+                In the hush spake the dead man,
+    Hollow-voiced, terrible: "Ye tribes of Troy,
+    Here stand I out for death, and ye for joy
+    Of killing as ye will, by cast of spear,
+    By bowshot or with sword. If any peer
+    Of Hector or Sarpedon care the bout
+    Which they both tried aforetime let him out
+    With speed, and bring his many against one,
+    Fearing no treachery, for there shall be none
+    To aid me, God nor man; nor yet will I
+    Stir finger in the business, but will die
+    By murder sooner than in battle fall
+    Under some Trojan hand."
+                              Breathless stood all,
+    Not moving out; but Paris on the roof
+    Of his high house, where snug he sat aloof,
+    Drew taut the bowstring home, and notched a shaft,
+    Soft whistling to himself, what time with craft
+    Of peering eyes and narrow twisted face
+    He sought an aim.
+                      Swift from her hiding-place
+    Came burning Helen then, in her blue eyes
+    A fire unquenchable, but cold as ice
+    That scorcheth ere it strike a mortal chill
+    Upon the heart. "Darest thou...?"
+                                      Smiling still,
+    He heeded not her warning, nor he read
+    The terror of her eyes, but drew and sped
+    A screaming arrow, deadly, swerving not--
+    Then stood to watch the ruin he had wrought.
+      He heard the sob of breath o'er all the host
+    Of hushing men; he marked, but then he lost,
+    The blood-spurt at the shaft-head; for the crest
+    Upheaved, the shoulders stiffen'd, ere to the breast
+    Bent down the head, as though the glazing sight
+    Curious would mark the death-spot. Still upright
+    Stood he; but as a tree that on the side
+    Of Ida yields to axe her soaring pride
+    And lightlier waves her leafy crown, and swings
+    From side to side--so on his crest the wings
+    Erect seemed shaking upwards, and to sag
+    The spear's point, and the burden'd head to wag
+    Before the stricken body felt the stroke,
+    Or the strong knees grew lax, or the heart broke.
+      Breathless they waited; then the failing man
+    Stiffened anew his neck, and changed and wan
+    Looked for the last time in the face of day,
+    And seemed to dare the Gods such might to slay
+    As this, the sanguine splendid thing he was,
+    Withal now gray of face and pinched. Alas,
+    For pride of life! Now he had heard his knell.
+    His spirit passed, and crashing down he fell,
+    Mighty Achilles, and struck the earth, and lay
+    A huddled mass, a bulk of bronze and clay
+    Bestuck with gilt and glitter, like a toy.
+    There dropt a forest hush on watching Troy,
+    Upon the plain and watching ranks of men;
+    And from a tower some woman keened him then
+    With long thin cry that wavered in the air--
+    As once before one wailed her Hector there.
+
+
+SECOND STAVE
+
+MENELAUS' DREAM: HELEN ON THE WALL
+
+      So he who wore his honour like a wreath
+    About his brows went the dark way of death;
+    Which being done, that deed of ruth and doom
+    Gave breath to Troy; but on the Achaians gloom
+    Settled like pall of cloud upon a land
+    That swoons beneath it. Desperate they scanned
+    Each other, saying: "Now we are left by God,"
+    And in the huts behind the wall abode,
+    Heeding not Diomede, Idomeneus,
+    Nor keen Odysseus, nor that friend of Zeus
+    Mykenai's king, nor that robbed Menelaus,
+    Nor bowman Teukros, Nestor wise, nor Aias--
+    Huge Aias, cursed in death! Peleides bare
+    Himself with pride, but he went raving there.
+    For in the high assembly Thetis made
+    In honour of her son, to waft his shade
+    In peace to Hades' house, after the fire
+    Twice a man's height for him who did suspire
+    Twice a man's heart and render it to Heaven
+    Who gave it, after offerings paid and given,
+    And games of men and horses, she brought forth
+    His regal arms for hero of most worth
+    In the broad Danaan host, who was adjudged
+    Odysseus by all voices. Aias grudged
+    The vote and wandered brooding, drawn apart
+    From his room-fellows, seeding in his heart
+    Envy, which biting inwards did corrode
+    His mettle, and his ill blood plied the goad
+    Upon his brain, until the wretch made mad
+    Went muttering his wrongs, ill-trimmed, ill-clad,
+    Sightless and careless, with slack mouth awry,
+    And working tongue, and danger in the eye;
+    And oft would stare at Heaven and laugh his scorn:
+    "O fools, think not to trick me!" then forlorn
+    Would gaze about green earth or out to sea:
+    "This is the end of man in his degree"--
+    Thus would he moralise in those bare lands
+    With hopeless brows and tossing up of hands--
+    "To sow in sweat and see another reap!"
+    Then, pitying himself, he'd fall to weep
+    His desolation, scorned by Gods, by men
+    Slighted; but in a flash he'd rage again
+    And shake his naked sword at unseen foes,
+    And dare them bring Odysseus to his blows:
+    Or let the man but flaunt himself in arms...!
+      So threatening God knows what of savage harms,
+    On him the oxen patient in the marsh,
+    Knee-deep in rushes, gazed to hear his harsh
+    Outcry; and them his madness taught for Greeks,
+    So on their dumb immensity he wreaks
+    His vengeance, driving in the press with shout
+    Of "Aias! Aias!" hurtling, carving out
+    A way with mighty swordstroke, cut and thrust,
+    And makes a shambles in his witless lust;
+    And in the midst, bloodshot, with blank wild eyes
+    Stands frothing at the lips, and after lies
+    All reeking in his madman's battlefield,
+    And sleeps nightlong. But with the dawn's revealed
+    The pity of his folly; then he sees
+    Himself at his fool's work. With shaking knees
+    He stands amid his slaughter, and his own
+    Adds to the wreck, plunging without a groan
+    Upon his planted sword. So Aias died
+    Lonely; and he who, never from his side
+    Removed, had shared his fame, the Lokrian,
+    Abode the fate foreordered in the plan
+    Which the Blind Women ignorantly weave.
+
+      But think not on the dead, who die and leave
+    A memory more fragrant than their deeds,
+    But to the remnant rather and their needs
+    Give thought with me. What comfort in their swords
+    Have they, robbed of the might of two such lords
+    As Peleus' son and Telamon's? What art
+    Can drive the blood back to the stricken heart?
+    Like huddled sheep cowed obstinate, as dull
+    As oxen impotent the wain to pull
+    Out of a rut, which, failing at first lunge,
+    Answer not voice nor goad, but sideways plunge
+    Or backward urge with lowered heads, or stand
+    Dumb monuments of sufferance--so unmanned
+    The Achaians brooded, nor their chiefs had care
+    To drive them forth, since they too knew despair,
+    And neither saw in battle nor retreat
+    A way of honour.
+                      And the plain grew sweet
+    Again with living green; the spring o' the year
+    Came in with flush of flower and bird-call clear;
+    And Nature, for whom nothing wrought is vain,
+    Out of shed blood caused grass to spring amain,
+    And seemed with tender irony to flout
+    Man's folly and pain when twixt dead spears sprang out
+    The crocus-point and pied the plain with fires
+    More gracious than his beacons; and from pyres
+    Of burnt dead men the asphodel uprose
+    Like fleecy clouds flushed with the morning rose,
+    A holy pall to hide his folly and pain.
+      Thus upon earth hope fell like a new rain,
+    And by and by the pent folk within walls
+    Took heart and ploughed the glebe and from the stalls
+    Led out their kine to pasture. Goats and sheep
+    Cropt at their ease, and herd-boys now did keep
+    Watch, where before stood armed sentinels;
+    And battle-grounds were musical with bells
+    Of feeding beasts. Afar, high-beacht, the ships
+    Loomed through the tender mist, their prows--like lips
+    Of thirsty birds which, lacking water, cry
+    Salvation out of Heaven--flung on high:
+    Which marking, Ilios deemed her worst of road
+    Was travelled, and held Paris for a God
+    Who winged the shaft that brought them all this peace.
+
+      He in their love went sunning, took his ease
+    In house and hall, at council or at feast,
+    Careless of what was greatest or what least
+    Of all his deeds, so only by his side
+    She lay, the blush-rose Helen, stolen bride,
+    The lovely harbour of his arms. But she,
+    A thrall, now her own thralldom plain could see,
+    And sick of dalliance, loathed herself, and him
+    Who had beguiled her. Now through eyes made dim
+    With tears she looked towards the salt sea-beach
+    Where stood the ships, and sought for sign in each
+    If it might be her people's, and so hers,
+    Poor alien!--Argive now herself she avers
+    And proudly slave of Paris and no wife:
+    Minion she calls herself; and when to strife
+    Of love he claims her, secret her heart surges
+    Back to her lord; and when to kiss he urges,
+    And when to play he woos her with soft words,
+    Secret her fond heart calleth, like a bird's,
+    Towards that honoured mate who honoured her,
+    Making her wife indeed, not paramour,
+    Mother, and sharer of his hearth and all
+    His gear. Thus every night: and on the wall
+    She watches every dawn for what dawn brings.
+      And the strong spirit of her took new wings
+    And left her lovely body in the arms
+    Of him who doted, conning o'er her charms,
+    And witless held a shell; but forth as light
+    As the first sigh of dawn her spirit took flight
+    Across the dusky plain to where fires gleamed
+    And muffled guards stood sentry; and it streamed
+    Within the hut, and hovered like a wraith,
+    A presence felt, not seen, as when gray Death
+    Seems to the dying man a bedside guest,
+    But to the watchers cannot be exprest.
+    So hovered Helen in a dream, and yearned
+    Over the sleeper as he moaned and turned,
+    Renewing his day's torment in his sleep;
+    Who presently starts up and sighing deep,
+    Searches the entry, if haply in the skies
+    The day begin to stir. Lo there, her eyes
+    Like waning stars! Lo there, her pale sad face
+    Becurtained in loose hair! Now he can trace
+    Athwart that gleaming moon her mouth's droopt bow
+    To tell all truth about her, and her woe
+    And dreadful store of knowledge. As one shockt
+    To worse than death lookt she, with horror lockt
+    Behind her tremulous tragic-moving lips:
+    "O love, O love," saith he, and saying, slips
+    Out of the bed: "Who hath dared do thee wrong?"
+    No answer hath she, but she looks him long
+    And deep, and looking, fades. He sleeps no more,
+    But up and down he pads the beaten floor,
+    And all that day his heart's wild crying hears,
+    And can thank God for gracious dew of tears
+    And tender thoughts of her, not thoughts of shame.
+    So came the next night, and with night she came,
+    Dream-Helen; and he knew then he must go
+    Whence she had come. His need would have it so--
+    And her need. Never must she call in vain.
+      Now takes he way alone over the plain
+    Where dark yet hovers like a catafalque
+    And all life swoons, and only dead thing walk,
+    Uneasy sprites denied a resting space,
+    That shudder as they flit from place to place,
+    Like bats of flaggy wing that make night blink
+    With endless quest: so do those dead, men think,
+    Who fall and are unserved by funeral rite.
+    These passes he, and nears the walls of might
+    Which Godhead built for proud Laomedon,
+    And knows the house of Paris built thereon,
+    Terraced and set with gadding vines and trees
+    And ever falling water, for the ease
+    Of that sweet indweller he held in store.
+    Thither he turns him quaking, but before
+    Him dares not look, lest he should see her there
+    Aglimmer through the dusk and, unaware,
+    Discover her fill some mere homely part
+    Intolerably familiar to his heart,
+    And deeply there enshrined and glorified,
+    Laid up with bygone bliss. Yet on he hied,
+    Being called, and ever closer on he came
+    As if no wrong nor misery nor shame
+    Could harder be than not to see her--Nay,
+    Even if within that smooth thief's arms she lay
+    Besmothered in his kisses--rather so
+    Had he stood stabbed to see, than on to go
+    His round of lonely exile!
+                                Now he stands
+    Beneath her house, and on his spear his hands
+    Rest, and upon his hands he grounds his chin,
+    And motionless abides till day come in;
+    Pure of his vice, that he might ease her woe,
+    Not brand her with his own. Not yet the glow
+    Of false dawn throbbed, nor yet the silent town
+    Stood washt in light, clear-printed to the crown
+    In the cold upper air. Dark loomed the walls,
+    Ghostly the trees, and still shuddered the calls
+    Of owl to owl from unseen towers. Afar
+    A dog barked. High and hidden in the haar
+    Which blew in from the sea a heron cried
+    Honk! and he heard his wings, but not espied
+    The heavy flight. Slow, slow the orb was filled
+    With light, and with the light his heart was thrilled
+    With opening music, faint, expectant, sharp
+    As the first chords one picks out from the harp
+    To prelude paean. Venturing all, he lift
+    His eyes, and there encurtained in a drift
+    Of sea-blue mantle close-drawn, he espies
+    Helen above him watching, her grave eyes
+    Upon him fixt, blue homes of mystery
+    Unfathomable, eternal as the sea,
+    And as unresting.
+                      So in that still place,
+    In that still hour stood those two face to face.
+
+
+THIRD STAVE
+
+MENELAUS SPEAKS WITH HELEN
+
+      But when he had her there, sharp root of ill
+    To him and his, safeguarded from him still,
+    Too sweet to be forgotten, too much marred
+    By usage to be what she seemed, bescarred,
+    Behandled, too much lost and too much won,
+    Mock image making horrible the sun
+    That once had shown her pure for his demesne,
+    And still revealed her lovely, and unclean--
+    Despair turned into stone what had been kind,
+    And bitter surged his griefs, to flood his mind.
+    "O ruinous face," said he, "O evil head,
+    Art thou so early from the wicked bed?
+    So prompt to slough the snugness of thy vice?
+    Or is it that in luxury thou art nice
+    Become, and dalliest?" Low her head she hung
+    And moved her lips. As when the night is young
+    The hollow wind presages storm, his moan
+    Came wailing at her. "Ten years here, alone,
+    And in that time to have seen thee thrice!"
+                                                But she:
+    "Often and often have I chanced to see
+    My lord pass."
+                    His heart leapt, as leaps the child
+    Enwombed: "Hast thou--?"
+                              Faintly her quick eyes smiled:
+    "At this time my house sleepeth, but I wake;
+    So have time to myself when I can take
+    New air, and old thought."
+                                As a man who skills
+    To read high hope out of dark oracles,
+    So gleamed his eyes; so fierce and quick said he:
+    "Lady, O God! Now would that I could be
+    Beside thee there, breathing thy breath, thy thought
+    Gathering!" Silent stood she, memory-fraught,
+    Nor looked his way. But he must know her soul,
+    So harpt upon her heart. "Is this the whole
+    That thou wouldst have me think, that thou com'st here
+    Alone to be?"
+                  She blushed and dared to peer
+    Downward. "Is it so wonderful," she said,
+    "If I desire it?" He: "Nay, by my head,
+    Not so; but wonderful I think it is
+    In any man to suffer it." The hiss
+    Of passion stript all vesture from his tones
+    And showed the King man naked to the bones,
+    Man naked to the body's utterance.
+      She turned her head, but felt his burning glance
+    Scorch, and his words leap up. "Dost thou desire
+    I leave thee then? Answer me that."
+                                        "Nay, sire,
+    Not so." And he: "Bid me to stay while sleeps
+    Thy house," he said, "so stay I." Her eyes' deeps
+    Flooded his soul and drowned him in despair,
+    Despair and rage. "Behold now, ten years' wear
+    Between us and our love! Now if I cast
+    My spear and rove the snow-mound of thy breast,
+    Were that a marvel?"
+                          Long she lookt and grave,
+    Pondering his face and searching. "Not so brave
+    My lord as that would prove him. Nay, and I know
+    He would not do it." And the truth was so;
+    And well he knew the reason: better she.
+      Yet for a little in that vacancy
+    Of silence and unshadowing light they stood,
+    Those long-divided, speechless. His first mood
+    With bitter grudge was choked, but hers was mild,
+    As fearing his. At last she named the child,
+    Asking, Was all well? Short he told her, Yes,
+    The child was well. She fingered in her dress
+    And watched her hand at play there.
+                                        "Here," she said,
+    "There is no child," and sighed. Into his dead
+    And wasted heart there leaped a flame and caught
+    His hollow eyes. "Rememberest thou naught,
+    Nothing regrettest, nothing holdst in grief
+    Of all our joy together ere that thief
+    Came rifling in?" For all her answer she
+    Lookt long upon him, long and earnestly;
+    And misty grew her eyes, and slowly filled.
+    Slowly the great tears brimmed, and slowly rilled
+    Adown her cheeks. So presently she hid
+    Those wells of grief, and hung her lovely head;
+    And he had no more words, but only a cry
+    At heart too deep for utterance, and too high
+    For tears.
+
+      And now came Paris from the house
+    Into the sun, rosy and amorous,
+    As when the sun himself from the sea-rim
+    Lifteth, and gloweth on the earth grown dim
+    With waiting; and he piped a low clear call
+    As mellow as the thrush's at the fall
+    Of day from some near thicket. At whose sound
+    Rose up caught Helen and blushing turned her round
+    To face him; but in going, ere she met
+    The prince, her hand along the parapet
+    She trailed, palm out, for sign to who below
+    Rent at himself, nor had the wit to know
+    In that dumb signal eloquence, and hope
+    Therein beyond his sick heart's utmost scope.
+    Throbbing he stood as when a quick-blown peat,
+    Now white, now red, burns inly--O wild heat,
+    O ravenous race of men, who'd barter Space
+    And Time for one short snatch of instant grace!
+      Withal, next day, drawn by his dear desire,
+    When as the young green burned like emerald fire
+    In the cold light, back to the tryst he came;
+    But she was sooner there, and called his name
+    Softly as cooing dove her bosom's mate;
+    And showed her eyes to him, which half sedate
+    To be so sought revealed her, half in doubt
+    Lest he should deem her bold to meet the bout
+    With too much readiness. But high he flaunted
+    Her name towards the sky. "Thou God-enchanted,
+    Thou miracle of dawn, thou Heart of the Rose,
+    Hail thou!" On his own eloquence he grows
+    The lover he proclaims. "O love," he saith,
+    "I would not leave thee for a moment's breath,
+    Nor once these ten long years had left thy side
+    Had it been possible to stay!"
+                                    She sighed,
+    She wondered o'er his face, she looked her fill,
+    Museful, still doubting, smiling half, athrill,
+    All virgin to his praise. "O wonderful,"
+    She said, "Such store of love for one so foul
+    As I am now!"
+                  O fatal hot-and-cold,
+    O love, whose iris wings not long can hold
+    The upper air! Sudden her thought smote hot
+    On him. "Thou sayest! True it is, God wot!
+    Warm from his bed, and tears for thy unworth;
+    Warm from his bed, and tears to meet my mirth;
+    Then back to his bed ere yet thy tears be dry!"
+      She heard not, but she knew his agony
+    Of burning vision, and kept back her tears
+    Until his pity moved in tune with hers
+    Towards herself. But he from thunderous brows
+    Frowned on. "No more I see thee by this house,
+    Except to slay thee when the hour decree
+    An end to this vile nest of cuckoldry
+    And holy vows made hateful, save thou speak
+    To each my question sooth. Keep dry thy cheek
+    From tears, hide up thy beauty with thy grief--
+    Or let him have his joy of them, thy thief,
+    What time he may. Answer me thou, or vain
+    Till thine hour strike to look for me again."
+      With hanging head and quiet hanging hands,
+    With lip atremble, as caught in fault she stands,
+    Scarce might he hear her whispered message:
+                                                "Ask,
+    Lord, and I answer thee."
+                              Strung to his task:
+    "Tell me now all," he said, "from that far day
+    Whenas embracing thee, I stood to pray,
+    And poured forth wine unto the thirsty earth
+    To Zeus and to Poseidon, in whose girth
+    Lie sea and land; to Gaia next, their spouse,
+    And next to Here, mistress of my house,
+    Traitress, and thine, for grace upon my faring:
+    For thou wert by to hear me, false arm bearing
+    Upon my shoulder, glowing, lying cheek
+    Next unto mine. Ay, and thou prayedst, with meek
+    Fair seeming, prosperous send-off and return.
+    Tell me what then, tell all, and let me learn
+    With what pretence that dog-souled slaked his thirst
+    In thy sweet liquor. Tell me that the first."
+      Then Helen lifted up her head, and beamed
+    Clear light upon him from her eyes, which seemed
+    That blue which, lying on the white sea-bed
+    And gazing up, the sunbeam overhead
+    Would show, with green entinctured, and the warp
+    Inwoven of golden shafts, blended yet sharp;
+    So that a glory mild and radiant
+    Transfigured them. Upon him fell aslant
+    That lovely light, while in her cheeks the hue
+    Of throbbing dawn came sudden. So he knew
+    Her best before she spoke; for when she spoke
+    It was as if the nightingale should croak
+    In April midst the first young leaves, so bleak,
+    So harsh she schooled her throat, that it should speak
+    Dry matter and hard logic--as if she
+    Were careful lest self-pity urged a plea
+    Which was not hers to make; or as one faint
+    And desperate lays down all his argument
+    Like bricks upon a field, let who will make
+    A house of them; so drily Helen spake
+    With a flat voice. "Thou hadst been nine days gone,
+    Came my lord Alexandros, Priam's son,
+    And hailed me in the hall whereas I sat,
+    And claimed his guest-right, which not wondering at
+    I gave as fitting was. Then came the day
+    I was beguiled. What more is there to say?"
+      Fixt on her fingers playing on the wall
+    Her eyes were. But the King said: "Tell me all.
+    Thou wert beguiled: by his desire beguiled,
+    Or by thine own?" She shook her head and smiled
+    Most sadly, pitying herself. "Who knoweth
+    The ways of Love, whence cometh, whither goeth
+    The heart's low whimper? This I know, he loved
+    Me then, and pleasured only where I moved
+    About the house. And I had pleasure too
+    To know of me he had it. Then we knew
+    The day at hand when he must take the road
+    And leave me; and its eve we close abode
+    Within the house, and spake not. But I wept."
+    She stayed, and whispering down her next word crept:
+    "I was beguiled, beguiled." And then her lip
+    She bit, and rueful showed her partnership
+    In sinful dealing.
+                        But he, in his esteem
+    Bleeding and raw, urged on. "To Kranai's deme
+    He took thee then?"
+                        Speechless she bent her head
+    Towards her tender breasts whereon, soft shed
+    As upon low quiet hills, the dawn light played,
+    And limned their gentle curves or sank in shade.
+    So gazing, stood she silent, but the King
+    Urged on. "From thence to Ilios, thou willing,
+    He took thee?"
+                    Then, "I was beguiled," again
+    She said; and he, who felt a worthier strain
+    Stir in his gall compassion, and uplift
+    Him out of knowledge, saw a blessed rift
+    Upon his dark horizon, as tow'rds night
+    The low clouds break and shafted shows the light.
+    "Ten years beguiled!" he said, "but now it seems
+    Thou art----" She shook her head. "Nay, now come dreams;
+    Nay, now I think, remember, now I see."
+      "What callest thou to mind?" "Hermione,"
+    She said, "our child, and Sparta my own land,
+    And all the honour that lay to my hand
+    Had I but chosen it, as now I would"--
+    And sudden hid her face up in her hood,
+    Her courage ebbed in grief, all hardness drowned
+    In bitter weeping.
+                        Noble pity crowned
+    The greater man in him; so for a space
+    They wept together, she for loss; for grace
+    Of gain wept he. "No more," he said, "my sweet,
+    Tell me no more."
+                      "Ah, hear the whole of it
+    Before my hour is gone," she cried. But he
+    Groaning, "I dare not stay here lest I see
+    Him take thee again."
+                          Both hands to fold her breast,
+    She shook her head; like as the sun through mist
+    Shone triumph in her eyes. "Have no more fear
+    Of him or any----" Then, hearing a stir
+    Within the house, her finger toucht her lip,
+    And one fixt look she gave of fellowship
+    Assured--then turned and quickly went her way;
+    And his light vanisht with her for that day.
+
+
+FOURTH STAVE
+
+THE APOLOGY OF HELEN
+
+      O singing heart, O twice-undaunted lover!
+    O ever to be blest, twice blest moreover!
+    Twice over win the world in one girl's eyes,
+    Twice over lift her name up to the skies;
+    Twice to hope all things, so to be twice born--
+    For he lives not who cannot front the morn
+    Saying, "This day I live as never yet
+    Lived striving man on earth!" What if the fret
+    Of loss and ten years' agonizing snow
+    Thy hairs or leave their tracery on thy brow,
+    Each line beslotted by the demon hounds
+    Hunting thee down o' nights? Laugh at thy wounds,
+    Laugh at thy eld, strong lover, whose blood flows
+    Clear from the fountain, singing as it goes,
+    "She loves, and so I live and shall not die!
+    Love on, love her: 'tis immortality."
+      Once more before the sun he greeted her:
+    She glowed her joy; her mood was calm and clear
+    As mellow evening's whenas, like a priest,
+    Rain has absolved the world, and golden mist
+    Hangs over all like benediction.
+    In her proud eyes sat triumph on a throne,
+    To know herself beloved, her lover by,
+    So near the consummation. Womanly
+    She dallied with the moment when, all wife,
+    Upon his breast she'd lie and cast her life,
+    Cast body, soul and spirit in one gest
+    Supreme of giving. Glorying in his quest
+    Of her, now let her hide what he must glean,
+    But not know yet. Ah, sweet to feel his keen
+    Long eye-search, like the touch of eager fingers,
+    And sweet to thrill beneath such hot blush-bringers;
+    To fence with such a swordsman hazardous
+    And sweet. "Belov'd, thou art glad of me!" Then thus
+    Antiphonal to him she breathes, "Thou sayest!"
+      "I see thy light and hail it!"
+                                      "Thou begayest
+    My poor light."
+                    "Knowest thou not that thou art loved?"
+      "And am I loved then?"
+                              "If thou'ldst have it proved,
+    Look in my eyes. Would thine were open book!"
+      "Palimpsest I," she said, and would not look.
+      But he was grappling now with truth, would have it,
+    What though it cost him all his gain. She gave it,
+    Looking him along. "O lady mine," he said,
+    "Now are my clouds dispersed every shred;
+    For thou art mine; I think thou lovest me.
+    Speak, is that true?"
+                          She could not, or may be
+    She would not hold her gaze, but let it fall,
+    And watched her fingers idling on the wall,
+    And so remained; but urged to it by the spell
+    He cast, she whispered down, "I cannot tell
+    Thee here, and thus apart"--which when he had
+    In its full import drove him well-nigh mad
+    With longing. "Call me and I come!"
+                                        But fear
+    Flamed in her eyes: "No, no, 'tis death! He's here
+    At hand. 'Tis death for thee, and worse than death--"
+    She ended so--"for both of us."
+                                    And breath
+    Failed him, for well he knew now what she meant,
+    And sighed his thanks to Gods beneficent.
+      Thereafter in sweet use of lovers' talk,
+    In boon spring weather, whenas lovers walk
+    Handfasted through the meadows pied, and wet
+    With dew from flower and leaf, these lovers met--
+    Two bodies separate, one wild heart between,
+    Day after day, these two long-severed been;
+    And of this mating of the eye and tongue
+    There grew desire passionate and strong
+    For body's mating and its testimony,
+    Hearts' intimacy, perfect, full and free.
+      And Helen for her heart's ease did deny
+    Her girdled Goddess of the beamy eye,
+    Saying, "Come you down, Mistress of sleek loves
+    And panting nights: your service of bought doves
+    And honey-hearted wine may cost too dear.
+    What hast thou done for me since first my ear
+    With thy sly music thou didst sign and seal
+    Apprentice to thy mystery, teach me feel
+    Thy fierce divinity in the trembling touch
+    Of open lips? Served I not thee too much
+    In Kranai and in Sparta my demesne,
+    Too much in wide-wayed Ilios, Eastern Queen?
+    Yes, but it was too much a thousandfold,
+    For what was I but leman bought and sold?
+      "For woman craved what mercy hath man brought,
+    What face a woman for a woman sought?
+    What mercy or what face? And what saith she,
+    The hunted, scorned wretch? Boast that she be
+    Coveted, hankered, spat on? One to gloat,
+    The rest to snarl without! If man play goat,
+    What must she play? Her glory is it to draw
+    On greedy eye, sting greedy lip and paw,
+    And find the crown of her desire therein?
+    Hath she no rarer bliss than all this sin,
+    Is she for dandling, kissing, hidden up
+    For hungry hands to stroke or lips to sup?
+    Hath she then nothing of her own, no mirth
+    In honesty, nor eyes to worship worth,
+    Nor pride except in that which makes men dogs,
+    Nor loathing for the vice wherein, like logs
+    That float beneath the sun, lie fair women
+    Submiss, inert receptacles for sin?
+    Is this her all? Hath she no heart, nor care
+    Therefor? No womb, nor hope therein to bear
+    Fruit of her heart's insurgence? Is her face,
+    Are these her breasts for fondling, not to grace
+    Her heart's high honour, swell to nurture it,
+    That it too grow? Hath she no mother-wit,
+    Nor sense for living things and innocent,
+    Nor leap of joy for this good world's content
+    Of sun and wind, of flower and leaf, and song
+    Of bird, or shout of children as they throng
+    The world of mated men and women? Nay,
+    Persuade me not, O Kypris; but I say
+    Evil hath been the lore which thou hast taught--
+    For many have loved my face, and many sought
+    My breast, and thought it joy supping thereat
+    Sweetness and dear delight; but out of that
+    What hath there come to them, to me and all
+    Mine but hot shame? Not milk, but bitter gall."
+
+      So in her high passion she rent herself
+    And rocked, or hid her face upon the shelf
+    Of the grim wall, lest he should see the whole
+    Inexpiable sorrow of her soul.
+    But he by pity pure made bountiful
+    Lent her excuse, by every means to lull
+    Her agony. Said he, "Of mortals who
+    Can e'er withstand the way she wills them to,
+    Kypris the forceful Goddess? Nay, dear child,
+    Thou wert constrained."
+                            She said, "I was beguiled
+    And clung to him until the day-dawn broke
+    When I could read as in the roll of a book
+    His open heart. And then my own heart reeled
+    To know him craven, dog, not man, revealed
+    A panting drudge of lust, who held me here
+    Caged vessel. Nay, come close. I loved him dear,
+    Too dear, I know; but never till he came
+    Had known the leap of joy, the fire of flame
+    Upon the heart he gave me, Paris the bright,
+    Whose memory was music and his sight
+    Fragrance, whose nearness made my footfall dance,
+    Whose touch was fever, and his burning glance
+    Faintness and blindness; in whose light my life
+    Centred; who was the sun, and I, false wife,
+    The foolish flower that turns whereso he wheels
+    Over the broad earth's canopy, and steals
+    Colour from his strong beam, but at the last
+    Whenas the night comes and the day is past
+    Droops, burnt at the heart. So loved I him, and so
+    Waxed bold to dare the deed that brought this woe."
+      And there she changed, and bitter was her cry:
+    "Ah, lord, far better had it been to die
+    Ere I had cast this pain on thee, and shame
+    On me, and wrought such outrage on our name.
+    Natheless I live----"
+                          "Ay, and give life!" he said;
+    "Yet this thing more I'd have thee tell--what led
+    Thy thought to me? From him, what turned thy troth--
+    Such troth as there could be?"
+                                    She cried, "The oath!
+    The oath ye sware before the Lords of Heaven,
+    The sacrifice, the pledges taken and given
+    When thou and Paris met upon the plain,
+    And all the host sat down to watch you twain
+    Do battle, which should have me. For my part,
+    They took me forth to watch; as in the mart
+    A heifer feels the giver of the feast
+    Pinch in her flank, and hears the chaffer twist
+    This way and that for so much fat or lean--
+    Even so was I, a queen, child of a queen."
+      She bit her lip until the blood ran free,
+    And in her eyes he markt deep injury
+    Scald as the salt tears welled; but "Listen yet,"
+    She said: "Ye fought, and Paris fell beset
+    Under thy spurning heel, yet felt no whit
+    The bitterness as I must come to it;
+    For she, his Goddess, hid him up in mists
+    And brought him beat and broken from the lists
+    Here to his chamber. But I stood and burned,
+    Shameful to be by one lost, by one earned,
+    A prize for games, a slave, a bandied thing--
+    Since as the oath was made so must I swing
+    From bed to bed. But while I stood and wept,
+    Melted in fruitless sorrow, up she crept
+    For me, his Goddess, gliding like a snake,
+    Who wreathed her arms and whispering me go make
+    The nuptial couch, 'What oath binds love?' did say.
+    Loathing him, I must go. He had his way,
+    As well he might who paid that goodly price,
+    Honour, truth, courage, all, to have his vice:
+    The which forsook him when those fair things fled;
+    For though my body hath lain in his bed,
+    My heart abhors it. And now in truth I wis
+    My lord's true heart is where my own heart is,
+    The two together welded and made whole;
+    And I will go to him and give my soul
+    And shamed and faded body to his nod,
+    To spurn or take; and he shall be my God."
+      Whereat made virgin, as all women are
+    By love's white purging fire which leaves no scar
+    Where all was soiled and seamed before the torch
+    Of Eros toucht the heart, and the keen scorch
+    Lickt up the foul misuse of vase so fair
+    As woman's body, Helen flusht and fair
+    Leaned from the wall a fire-hued seraph's face
+    And in one rapt long look gave and took Grace.
+    Deep in her eyes he saw the light divine,
+    Quick in him ran fierce joy of it like wine:
+    Light unto light made answer, as a flag
+    Answers when men tell tidings from one crag
+    Unto another, and from peak to peak
+    The good news flashes. Scarcely could he speak
+    Measurable words, so high his wild thought whirled:
+    "Bride, Goddess, Helen, O Wonder of the World,
+    Shall I come for thee?"
+                            Her tender words came soft
+    As dropping rose petals on garden croft
+    Down from the wall's sheer height--"Come soon, come soon."
+    And homing to the lines those drummed his tune.
+
+
+FIFTH STAVE
+
+A COUNCIL OF THE ACHAIANS: THE EMBASSY OF ODYSSEUS
+
+      Now calleth he assembly of the chiefs,
+    Princes and kings and captains, them whose griefs
+    To ease his own like treasure had been lent;
+    Who came and sat at board within the tent
+    Of him they hailed host-father and their lord
+    For this adventure, in aught else abhorred
+    Of all true men. He sits above the rest,
+    The fox-red Agamemnon, round his crest
+    The circlet of his kingship over kings,
+    And at his thigh the sword gold-hilted swings
+    Which Zeus gave Atreus once; and in his heart
+    That gnawing doubt which twice had checkt his start
+    For high emprise, having twice egged him to it,
+    As stout Odysseus knew who had to rue it.
+      Beside him Nestor sat, Nestor the old,
+    White as the winter moon, with logic cold
+    Instilled, as if the blood in him had fled
+    And in his veins clear spirit ran instead,
+    Which made men reasons and not fired their sprites.
+    And next Idomeneus of countless fights,
+    Shrewd leader of the Cretans; by his side
+    Keen-flashing Diomedes in his pride,
+    The young, the wild in onset, whose war-shrill,
+    Next after Peleus' son's, held all Troy still,
+    And stayed the gray crows at their ravelling
+    Of dead men's bones. Into debate full fling
+    Went he, adone with tapping of the foot
+    And drumming on the board. Had but his suit
+    Been granted--so he said--the war were done
+    And Troy a name ere full three years had gone:
+    For as for Helen and her daintiness,
+    Troy held a mort of women who no less
+    Than she could pleasure night when work was over
+    And men came home ready to play the lover;
+    And in housework would better her. Let Helen
+    Be laid by Paris, villain, and dead villain--
+    Dead long ago if he had taken the field
+    Instead of Menelaus. Then no shield
+    Had Kypris' golden body been, acquist
+    With his sword-arm already, near the wrist!
+      So Diomedes. Next him sat a man
+    With all his woe to come, the Lokrian
+    Aias, son of Oileus, bearded swart,
+    Pale, with his little eyes, and legs too short
+    And arms too long, a giant when he sat,
+    Dwarf else, and in the fight a tiger-cat.
+    But mark his neighbour, mark him well: to him
+    Falleth the lot to lay a charge more grim
+    On woman fair than even Althaia felt
+    Like lead upon her heartstrings, when she knelt
+    And blew to flame the brand that held the life
+    Of her own son; or Procne with the knife,
+    Who slew and dressed her child to be a meal
+    To his own father. But this man's thews were steel,
+    And steely were the nerves about his heart,
+    As they had need. Mark him, and mark the part
+    He plays hereafter. Odysseus is his name,
+    The wily Ithacan, deathless in his fame
+    And in his substance deathless, since he goes
+    Immortal forth and back wherever blows
+    The thunder of thy rhythm, O blind King,
+    First of the tribe of them with songs to sing,
+    Fountain of storied music and its end--
+    For who the poet since who doth not tend
+    To essay thy leaping measure, or call down
+    Thy nodded approbation for his crown
+    And all his wages?
+                        Other chiefs sat there
+    In order due: as Pyrrhos, very fair
+    And young, with high bright colour, and the hue
+    Of evening in his eyes of violet-blue--
+    Son of Achilles he, and new to war.
+    Then Antiklos and Teukros, best by far
+    Of all the bowmen in the host. And last
+    Menestheus the Athenian dikast,
+    Who led the folk from Pallas's fair home.
+      To them spake Menelaus, being come
+    Into assembly last, and taken in hand
+    The spokesman's staff: "Ye princes of our land,
+    Adventurous Achaians, stout of heart,
+    Good news I bring, that now we may depart
+    Each to his home and kindred, each to his hearth
+    And wife and children dear and well-tilled garth,
+    Contented with the honour he has brought
+    To me and mine, since I have what we've sought
+    With bitter pain and loss. Yea, even now
+    Hath Here crowned your strife and earned my vow
+    Made these ten years come harvest, having drawn
+    The veil from off those eyes than which not dawn
+    Holds sweeter light nor holier, once they see.
+    Yea, chieftains, Helen's heart comes back to me;
+    And fast she watches now hard by the wall
+    Of the wicked house, and ere the cock shall call
+    Another morn I have her in my arms
+    Redeemed for Sparta, pure of Trojan harms,
+    Whole-hearted and clean-hearted as she came
+    First, before Paris and his deed of shame
+    Threatened my house with wreck, and on his own
+    Have brought no joy. This night, disguised, alone,
+    I stand within the city, waiting day;
+    Then when men sleep, all in the shadowless gray,
+    Robbing the robber, I drop down with her
+    Over the wall--and lo! the end of the war!"
+      Thus great of heart and high of heart he spake,
+    And trembling ceased. Awhile none cared to break
+    The silence, like unto that breathless hush
+    That holds a forest ere the great winds rush
+    Up from the sea-gulf, bringing furious rain
+    Like mist to drown all nature, blot the plain
+    In one great sheet of water without form.
+    So held the chiefs. Then Diomede brake in storm.
+      Ever the first he was to fling his spear
+    Into the press of battle; dread his cheer,
+    Like the long howling of a wolf at eve
+    Or clamour of the sea-birds when they grieve
+    And hanker the out-scouring of the net
+    Hidden behind the darkness and the wet
+    Of tempest-ridden nights. "Princes," he cried,
+    "What say ye to this wooer of his bride,
+    For whom it seems ten nations and their best
+    Have fought ten years to bring her back to nest?
+    Is this your meed of honour? Was it for this
+    You flung forth fortune--to ensure him his?
+    And he made snug at home, we seek our lands
+    Barer than we left them, with emptier hands,
+    And some with fewer members, shed that he
+    Might fare as soft and trim as formerly!
+    Not so went I adventuring, good friend;
+    Not so look I this business to have end:
+    Nay, but I fight to live, not live to fight,
+    And so will live by day as thou by night,
+    Sating my eyes with havoc on this race
+    Of robbers of the hearth; see their strong place
+    Brought level with the herbage and the weed,
+    That where they revelled once shrew-mice may feed,
+    And moles make palaces, and bats keep house.
+    And if thou art of spleen so slow to rouse
+    As quit thy score by thieving from a thief
+    And leave him scatheless else, thou art no chief
+    For Tydeus' son, who sees no end of strife
+    But in his own or in his foeman's life."
+      So he. Then Pyrrhos spake: "By that great shade
+    Wherein I stand, which thy false Paris made
+    Who slew my father, think not so to have done
+    With Troy and Priam; for Peleides' son
+    Must slake the sword that cries, and still the ghost
+    Of him that haunts the ingles of this coast,
+    Murdered and unacquit while that man's father
+    Liveth."
+      Then leapt up two, and both together
+    Cried, "Give us Troy to sack, give us our fill
+    Of gold and bronze; give us to burn and kill!"
+    And Aias said, "Are there no women then
+    In Troy, but only her? And are we men
+    Or virgins of Athene?" And the dream
+    Of her who served that dauntless One made gleam
+    His shifting eyes, and stretcht his fleshy lips
+    Behind his beard.
+                      Then stood that prince of ships
+    And shipmen, great Odysseus; with one hand
+    He held the staff, with one he took command;
+    And thus in measured tones, with word intent
+    Upon the deed, fierce but not vehement,
+    Drave in his dreadful message. At his sight
+    Clamour died down, even as the wind at night
+    Falls and is husht at rising of the moon.
+    "Ye chieftains of Achaia, not so soon
+    Is strife of ten years rounded to a close,
+    Neither so are men seated, friends or foes.
+    For say thus lightly we renounced the meed
+    Of our long travail, gave so little heed
+    To our great dead as find in one man's joy
+    Full recompense for all we've sunk in Troy--
+    Wives desolate, children fatherless, lands, gear,
+    Stock without master, wasting year by year;
+    Youth past, age creeping on, friends, brothers, sons
+    Lost in the void, gone where no respite runs
+    For sorrow, but the darkness covers all--
+    What name should we bequeath our sons but thrall,
+    Or what beside a name, who let go by
+    Ilios the rich for others' usury?
+    And have the blessed Gods no say in this?
+    Think you they be won over by a kiss--
+    Here the Queen, she, the unwearied aid
+    Of all our striving, Pallas the war-maid?
+    Have they not vowed, and will ye scant their hate,
+    Havoc on Ilios from gate to gate,
+    And for her towers abasement to the dust?
+    Behold, O King, lust shall be paid with lust,
+    And treachery with treachery, and for blood
+    Blood shall be shed. Therefore let loose the flood
+    Of our pent passion; break her gates in, raze
+    The walls of her, cumber her pleasant ways
+    With dead men; set on havoc, sate with spoil
+    Men ravening; get corn and wine and oil,
+    Women to clasp in love, gold, silken things,
+    Harness of flashing bronze, swords, meed of kings,
+    Chariots and horses swifter than the wind
+    Which, coursing Ida, leaves ruin behind
+    Of snapt tall trees: not faster shall they fall
+    Than Trojan spears once we are on the wall.
+    So only shall ye close this agelong strife,
+    Nor by redemption of a too fair wife,
+    Now smiling, now averse, now hot, now cold,
+    O Menelaus, may the tale be told!
+    Nay, but by slaying of Achilles' slayer,
+    By the betrayal of the bed-betrayer,
+    By not withholding from the spoils of war
+    Men freeborn, nor from them that beaten are
+    Their rueful wages. Ilios must fall."
+      He said, and sat, and heard the acclaim of all,
+    Save of the sons of Atreus, who sat glum,
+    One flusht, one white as parchment, and both dumb;
+    One raging to be contraried, one torn
+    By those two passions wherewith he was born,
+    The lust for body's ease and lust of gain.
+      Then slow he rose, Mykenai's king of men,
+    Gentle his voice to hear. "Laertes' son,"
+    He said, but 'twas Nestor he looked upon,
+    The wise old man who sat beside his chair,
+    Mild now who once, a lion, kept his lair
+    Untoucht of any, or if e'er he left it,
+    Left it for prey, and held that when he reft it
+    From foe, or over friend made stronger claim:
+    "Laertes' son," the king said, "all men's fame
+    Reports thee just and fertile in device;
+    And as the friend of God great is thy price
+    To us of Argos; for without the Gods
+    How should we look to trace the limitless roads
+    That weave a criss-cross 'twixt us and our home?
+    Go to now, some will stay and other some
+    Take to the sea-ways, hasty to depart,
+    Not warfaring as men fare to the mart,
+    To best a neighbour in some chaffering bout;
+    But honour is the prize wherefor they go out,
+    And having that, dishonoured are content
+    To leave the foe--that is best punishment.
+    Natheless since men there be, Argives of worth,
+    Who needs must shed more blood ere they go forth--
+    As if of blood enough had not been spilt!--
+    Devise thou with my brother if thou wilt,
+    Noble Odysseus, seeking how compose
+    His honour with thy judgment. Well he knows
+    Thy singleness of heart, deep ponderer,
+    Lover of a fair wife, and sure of her.
+    Come, let this be the sum of our debate."
+      "Content you," Menelaus said, "I wait
+    Upon thy word, thou fosterling of Zeus."
+      Then said Odysseus, "Be it as you choose,
+    Ye sons of Atreus. Then, advised, I say
+    Let me win into Troy as best I may,
+    Seek out the lovely lady of our land
+    And learn of her the watchwords, see how stand
+    The sentries, how the warders of the gates;
+    The strength, how much it is; what prize awaits
+    To crown our long endeavour. These things learned,
+    Back to the ships I come ere yet are burned
+    The watch-fires of the night, before the sun
+    Hath urged his steeds the course they are to run
+    Out of the golden gateways of the East."
+      Which all agreed, and Helen's lord not least.
+
+
+SIXTH STAVE
+
+HELEN AND PARIS; ODYSSEUS AND HELEN
+
+      Like as the sweet free air, when maids the doors
+    And windows open wide, wanders the floors
+    And all the passage ways about the house,
+    Keen marshal of the sun, or serious
+    The cool gray light of morning 'gins to peer
+    Ere yet the household stirs, or chanticlere
+    Calls hinds to labour but hints not the glee
+    Nor full-flood glory of the day to be
+    When round about the hill the sun shall swim
+    And burn a sea-path--so demure and slim
+    Went Helen on her business with swift feet
+    And light, yet recollected, and her sweet
+    Secret held hid, that she was loved where need
+    Called her to mate, and that she loved indeed--
+    Ah, sacred calm of wedlock, passion white
+    Of lovers knit in Here's holy light!
+      But while in early morn she wonned alone
+    And Paris slept, shrill rose her singing tone,
+    And brave the light on kindled cheeks and eyes:
+    Brave as her hope is, brave the flag she flies.
+      Then, as the hour drew on when the sun's rim
+    Should burn a sheet of gold to herald him
+    On Ida's snowy crest, lithe as a pard
+    For some lord's pleasuring encaged and barred
+    She paced the hall soft-footed up and down,
+    Lightly and feverishly with quick frown
+    Peered shrewdly this way, that way, like a bird
+    That on the winter grass is aye deterred
+    His food-searching by hint of unknown snare
+    In thicket, holt or bush, or lawn too bare;
+    Anon stopped, lip to finger, while the tide
+    Beat from her heart against her shielded side--
+    Now closely girdled went she like a maid--
+    And then slipt to the window, where she stayed
+    But minutes three or four; for soon she past
+    Out to the terrace, there to be at last
+    Downgazing on her glory, which her king
+    Reflected up in every motioning
+    And flux of his high passion. Only here
+    She triumphed, nor cared she to ask how near
+    The end of Troy, nor hazarded a guess
+    What deeds must do ere that could come to pass.
+    To her the instant homage held all joy--
+    And what to her was Sparta, or what Troy
+    Beside the bliss of that?
+                              Or Paris, what
+    Was he, who daily, nightly plained his lot
+    To have risked all the world and ten years loved
+    This woman, now to find her nothing moved
+    By what he had done with her, what desired
+    To do? And more she chilled the less he tired,
+    And more he ventured less she cared recall
+    What was to her of nothing worth, or all:
+    All if the King required it of her, nought
+    If he who now could take it. It was bought,
+    And his by bargain: let him have it then;
+    But let it be for giving once again,
+    And all the rubies in the world's deep heart
+    Could fetch no price beside it.
+                                    Yet apart
+    She brooded on the man who held her chained,
+    Minister to his pleasure, and disdained
+    Him more the more herself she must disparage,
+    Reflecting on him all her hateful carriage,
+    So old, incredible, so flat, so stale,
+    No more to be recalled than old wife's tale;
+    And scorned him, saw him neither high nor low,
+    Not villain and not hero, who would go
+    Midway 'twixt baseness and nobility,
+    And not be fierce, if fierceness hurt a flea
+    Before his eyes. The man loved one thing more
+    Than all the world, and made his mind a whore
+    To minister his heart's need, for a price.
+      All which she loathed, yet chose not to be nice
+    With the snug-revelling wretch, her master yet,
+    Whose leaguer, though she scorned it, was no fret;
+    But lift on wings of her exalted mood,
+    She let him touch and finger what he would,
+    Unconscious of his being--as he saw,
+    And with a groan, whipt sharp upon the raw
+    Of his esteem, "Ah, cruel art thou turned,"
+    Would cry, "Ah, frosty fire, where I am burned,
+    Yet dying bless the flame that is my bane!"
+    With which to clasp her closer was he fain,
+    To touch in love, and feast his eyes to see
+    Her quiver at his touch, and laugh to be
+    The plucker of such chords of such a rote;
+    And laughing stoop and kiss her milky throat,
+    Then see her shut eyes hide what he had done.
+    "Nay, shut them not upon me, nay, nor shun
+    My worship!" So he said; but she, "They fade,
+    But are not yet so old as thou hast made
+    The soul thou pinnest here beneath my breasts
+    Which you have loved too well." His hand he rests
+    Over one fair white bosom like a cup,
+    And leaning, of her lips his own must sup;
+    But she will not, but gently doth refuse it,
+    Without a reason, save she doth not choose it.
+      Then when he flung away, she sat alone
+    And nursed her hope and sorrow, both in one
+    Perturbed bosom; and her fingers wove
+    White webs as far afield her wits did rove
+    Perpending and perpending. So frail, so fair,
+    So faint she seemed, a wraith you had said there,
+    A woman dead, and not in lovely flesh.
+    But all the while she writhed within the mesh
+    Of circumstance, and fiercely flamed her rage:
+    "O slave, O minion, thing kept in a cage
+    For this sleek master's handling!" So she fumed
+    What time her wide eyes sought all ways, or loomed
+    Like winter lakes dark in a field of snow,
+    And still; nor lifted they their pall of woe
+    Responsive to her heart, nor flashed the thrill
+    That knew, which said, "A true man loveth me still."
+
+      That same night, as she used, fair Helen went
+    Among the suppliants in the hall, and lent
+    To each who craved the bounty of her grace,
+    Her gentle touch on wounds, her pitiful face
+    To beaten eyes' dumb eloquence, that art
+    She above all could use, to stroke the heart
+    And plead compassion in bestowing it.
+    So with her handmaids busy did she flit
+    From man to man, 'mid outlaws, broken blades,
+    Robbed husbandmen, their robbers, phantoms, shades
+    Of what were men till hunger made them less
+    Than man can be and still know uprightness;
+    And whom she spake with kindly words and cheer
+    In him the light of hope began to peer
+    And glimmer in his eyes; and him she fed
+    And nourisht, then sent homeward comforted
+    A little, to endure a little more.
+      Now among these, hard by the outer door,
+    She marked a man unbent whose sturdy look
+    Never left hers for long, whose shepherd's hook
+    Seemed not a staff to prop him, whose bright eyes
+    Burned steadily, as fire when the wind dies.
+    Great in the girth was he, but not so tall
+    By a full hand as many whom the wall
+    Showed like gaunt channel-posts by an ebb tide
+    Left stranded in a world of ooze. Beside
+    His knees she kneeled, and to his wounded feet
+    Applied her balms; but he, from his low seat
+    Against the wall, leaned out and in her ear
+    Whispered, but so that no one else could hear,
+    "Other than my wounds are there for thy pains,
+    Lady, and deeper. One, a grievous, drains
+    The great heart of a king, and one is fresh,
+    Though ten years old, in the sweet innocent flesh
+    Of a young child."
+                        Nothing said she, but stoopt
+    The closer to her task. He thought she droopt
+    Her head, he knew she trembled, that her shoulder
+    Twitcht as she wrought her task; so he grew bolder,
+    Saying, "But thou art pitiful! I know
+    That thou wilt wash their wounds."
+                                        She whispered "Oh,
+    Be sure of me!"
+                    Then he, "Let us have speech
+    Secret together out of range or reach
+    Of prying ears, if such a chance may be."
+      Then she said, "Towards morning look for me
+    Here, when the city sleeps, before the sun."
+      So till the glimmer of dawn this hardy one
+    Keepeth the watch in Paris' house. All night
+    With hard unwinking eyes he sat upright,
+    While all about the sleepers lay, like stones
+    Littered upon a hill-top, save that moans,
+    Sighings and "Gods, have pity!" showed that they
+    By night rehearsed the miseries of day,
+    And by bread lived not but by hope deferred.
+      Grimly he suffered till such time he heard
+    Helen's light foot and faint and gray in the mist
+    Descried her slim veiled outline, saw her twist
+    And slip between the sleepers on the ground,
+    Atiptoe coming, swift, with scarce a sound,
+    Not faltering in fear. No fear she had.
+    From head to foot a sea-blue mantle clad
+    Her lovely shape, from which her pale keen face
+    Shone like the moon in frosty sky. No case
+    Was his to waver, for her eyes spake true
+    As Heaven upon the world. Him then she drew
+    To follow her, out of the house, to where
+    The ilex trees stood darkly, and the air
+    Struck sharp and chill before the dawn's first breath.
+    There stood a little altar underneath
+    An image: Artemis the quick deerslayer,
+    High-girdled and barekneed; to Whom in prayer
+    First bowed, then stood erect with lifted hands,
+    Palms upward, Helen. "Lady of open lands
+    And lakes and windy heights," prayed she, "so do
+    To me as to Amphion's wife when blew
+    The wind of thy high anger, and she stared
+    On sudden death that not one dear life spared
+    Of all she had--so do to me if false
+    I prove unto this Argive!"
+                                Then the walls
+    And gates of Ilios she traced in the sand,
+    And told him of the watch-towers, and how manned
+    The gates at night; and where the treasure was,
+    And where the houses of the chiefs. But as
+    She faltered in the tale, "Show now," said he,
+    "Where Priam's golden palace is."
+                                      But she
+    Said, "Nay, not that; for since the day of shame
+    That brought me in, no word or look of blame
+    Hath he cast on me. Nay, when Hector died
+    And all the city turned on me and cried
+    My name, as to an outcast dog men fling
+    Howling and scorn, not one word said the King.
+    And when they hissed me in the shrines of the Gods,
+    And women egged their children on with nods
+    To foul the house-wall, or in passing spat
+    Towards it, he, the old King, came and sat
+    Daily with me, and often on my hair
+    Would lay a gentle hand. Him thou shalt spare
+    For my sake who betray him."
+                                  Odysseus said,
+    "Well, thou shalt speak no more of him. His bed
+    Is not of thy making, nor mine, but his
+    Who hath thee here a cageling, thy Paris.
+    Him he begat as well as Hector. Now
+    Let Priam look to reap what he did sow."
+      But when glad light brimmed o'er the cup of earth
+    And shrill birds called forth men to grief or mirth
+    As might afford their labour under the sun,
+    Helen advised how best to get him gone,
+    And fetched a roll of cord, the which made fast
+    About a stanchion, about him next she cast,
+    About and about until the whole was round
+    His body, and the end to his arm she bound:
+    Then showed him in the wall where best foothold
+    Might be, and watcht him down as fold by fold
+    He paid the cable out; and as he paid
+    So did she twist it, till the coil was made
+    As it had been at first. Then watcht she him
+    Stride o'er the plain until he twinkled dim
+    And sank into the mist.
+                            That day came not
+    King Menelaus to the trysting spot;
+    But ere Odysseus left her she had ta'en
+    A crocus flower which on her breast had lain,
+    And toucht it with her lips. "Give this," said she,
+    "To my good lord who hath seen the flower in me."
+
+
+SEVENTH STAVE
+
+THEY BUILD THE HORSE AND ENTER IN
+
+      What weariness of wind and wave and foam
+    Was to be for Odysseus ere his home
+    Of scrub and crag and scanty pasturage
+    He saw again! What stress of pilgrimage
+    Through roaring waterways and cities of men,
+    What sojourn among folk beyond the ken
+    Of mortal seafarers in homelier seas,
+    More trodden lands! Sure, none had earned his ease
+    As he, that windless morning when he drew
+    Near silent Ithaca, gray in misty blue,
+    And wondered on the old familiar scene,
+    Which was to him as it had never been
+    Aforetime. Say, had he but had inkling
+    That in this hour all that long wandering
+    Of his was self-ensured, had he been bold
+    To plan and carry what must now be told
+    Of this too hardy champion? Solve it you
+    Whose chronicling is over. Mine's to do.
+      All day until the setting of the sun,
+    Devising how to use what he had won
+    Odysseus stood; for nothing within walls
+    Was hid, he knew the very trumpet-calls
+    Wherewith they turned the guard out, and the cries
+    The sentries used to hearten or advise
+    The city in the watches of the night.
+    Once in, no hope for Ilios; but his plight
+    No better stood for that, since no way in
+    Could he conceive, nor entry hope to win
+    For any force enough to seize the gate
+    And open for the host.
+                            But then some Fate,
+    Or, some men say, Athene the gray-eyed,
+    Ever his friend, never far from his side,
+    Prompted him look about him. Then he heeds
+    A stork set motionless in the dry reeds
+    That lift their withered arms, a skeleton host,
+    Long after winter and her aching frost
+    Are gone, and rattle in the spring's soft breeze
+    Dry bones, as if to daunt the budding trees
+    And warn them of the summer's wrath to come.
+    Still sat the bird, as fast asleep or numb
+    With cold, her head half-buried in her breast,
+    With close-shut eyes: a dead bird on the nest,
+    Arrow-shot--for behold! a wound she bore
+    Mid-breast, which stooping to, to see the more,
+    Lo, forth from it came busy, one by one,
+    Light-moving ants! So she to her death had gone
+    These many days; and there where she lost life
+    Her carrion shell with it again was rife.
+    So teems the earth, that ere our clay be rotten
+    New hosts sweep clean the hearth, our deeds forgotten.
+      But stooping still, Odysseus saw her not
+    Nor her brisk tenantry; afar his thought,
+    And after it his vision, crossed the plain
+    And lit on Ilios, dim and lapt in rain,
+    Piled up like blocks which Titans rear to mark
+    Where hero of their breed sits stiff and stark,
+    Spear in dead hand, and dead chin on dead knees;
+    And "Ha," cried he, "proud hinderer of our ease,
+    Now hold I thee within my hollowed hand!"
+      Straightway returning, Troy's destruction planned,
+    He sends for one Epeios, craftsman good,
+    And bids him frame him out a horse in wood,
+    Big-bellied as a ship of sixty oars
+    Such as men use for traffic, not in wars,
+    Nor piracy, but roomy, deep in the hold,
+    Where men may shelter if needs be from cold,
+    Or sleep between their watches. "Scant not you,"
+    He said, "your timber not your sweat. Drive through
+    This horse for me, Epeios, as if we
+    Awaited it to give the word for sea
+    And Hellas and our wives and children dear;
+    For this is true, without it we stay here
+    Another ten-year shift, if by main force
+    We would take Troy, but ten days with my horse."
+      So to their task Epeios and his teams
+    Went valiantly, and heaved and hauled great beams
+    Of timber from far Ida, and hacked amain
+    And rought the framework out. Then to it again
+    They went with adzes and their smoothing tools,
+    And made all shapely; next bored for their dools
+    With augurs, and made good stock on to stock
+    With mortise and with dovetail. Last, they lock
+    The frames with clamps, the nether to the upper,
+    And body forth a horse from crest to crupper
+    In outline.
+                Now their ribbing must be shaped
+    With axe to take the round, first rought, then scraped
+    With adzes, then deep-mortised in the frame
+    To bear the weight of so much mass, whose fame
+    When all was won, the Earth herself might quake,
+    Supporting on her broad breast. Now they take
+    Planks sawn and smoothed, and set them over steam
+    Of cauldrons to be supple. These to the beam
+    Above they rivet fast, and bend them down
+    Till from the belly more they seem to have grown
+    Than in it to be ended, so well sunk
+    And grooved they be. There's for the horse's trunk.
+    But as for head and legs, these from the block
+    Epeios carved, and fixed them on the stock
+    With long pins spigotted and clamps of steel;
+    And then the tail, downsweeping to the heel,
+    He carved and rivetted in place. Yet more
+    He did; for cunningly he made a door
+    Beneath the belly of him, in a part
+    Where Nature lends her aid to sculptor's art,
+    And few would have the thought to look for it,
+    Or eyes so keen to find, if they'd the wit.
+      Greatly stood he, hogmaned, with wrinkled neck
+    And wrying jaw, as though upon the check
+    One rode him. On three legs he stood, with one
+    Pawing the air, as if his course to run
+    Was overdue. Almost you heard the champ
+    And clatter of the bit, almost the stamp
+    And scrape of hoof; almost his fretful crest
+    He seemed to toss on high. So much confest
+    The wondering host. "But where's the man to ride?"
+    They askt. Odysseus said, "He'll go inside.
+    Yet there shall seem a rider--nay, let two
+    Bespan so brave a back," Epeios anew
+    He spurred, and had his horsemen as he would,
+    Two noble youths, star-frontletted, but nude
+    Of clothing, and unarmed, who sat as though
+    Centaurs not men, and with their knees did show
+    The road to travel. Next Odysseus bid,
+    "Gild thou me him, Epeios"; which he did,
+    And burnisht after, till he blazed afar
+    Like that great image which men hail for a star
+    Of omen holy, image without peer,
+    Chryselephantine Athene with her spear,
+    Shining o'er Athens; to which their course they set
+    When homeward faring through the seaways wet
+    From Poros or from Nauplia, or some
+    From the Eub[oe]an gulf, or where the foam
+    Washes the feet of Sounion, on whose brow
+    Like a white crown the shafts burn even now.
+      Such was the shaping of the Horse of Wood,
+    The bane of Ilios.
+                        Ordered now they stood
+    Midway between the ships and Troy, and cast
+    The lots, who should go in from first to last
+    Of all the chieftains chosen. And the lot
+    Leapt out of Diomede, so in he got
+    And sat up in the neck. Next Aias went,
+    Clasping his shins and blinking as he bent,
+    Working the ridges of his villainous brow,
+    Like puzzled, patient monkey on a bough
+    That peers with bald, far-seeing eyes, whose scope
+    And steadfastness seem there to mock our hope;
+    Next Antiklos, and next Meriones
+    The Cretan; next good Teukros. After these
+    Went Pyrrhos, Agamemnon, King of men,
+    Menestheus and Idomeneus, and then
+    King Menelaus; and Odysseus last
+    Entered the desperate doorway, and made fast.
+      And all the Achaian remnant, seeing their best
+    To this great venture finally addrest,
+    Stood awed in silence; but Nestor the old
+    Bade bring the victims, and these on the wold
+    In sight of Troy he slew, and so uplift
+    The smoke of fire, and bloodsmoke, as a gift
+    Acceptable to Him he hailed by name
+    Kronion, sky-dweller, who giveth fame,
+    Lord of the thunder; to Here next, and Her,
+    The Maid of War and holy harbinger
+    Of Father Zeus, who bears the AEgis dread
+    And shakes it when the storm peals overhead
+    And lightning splits the firmament with fire;
+    Nor yet forgat Poseidon, dark-haired sire
+    Of all the seas, and of great Ocean's flow,
+    The girdler of the world. So back with slow
+    And pondered steps they all returned, and dark
+    Swallowed up Troy, and Horse, and them who stark
+    Abode within it. And the great stars shone
+    Out over sea and land; and speaking none,
+    Nursing his arms, nursing within his breast
+    His enterprise, each hero sat at rest
+    Ignorant of the world of day and night,
+    Or whether he should live to see the light,
+    Or see it but to perish in this cage.
+    Only Odysseus felt his heart engage
+    The blithelier for the peril. He was stuff
+    That thrives by daring, nor can dare enough.
+
+      Three days, three nights before the Skaian Gate
+    Sat they within their ambush, apt for fate;
+    Three days, three nights, the Trojans swarmed the walls
+    And towers or held high council in their halls
+    What this portended, this o'erweening mass
+    Reared up so high no man stretching could pass
+    His hand over the crupper, of such girth
+    Of haunch, to span the pair no man on earth
+    Could compass with both arms. But most their eyes
+    Were for the riders who in godlike guise
+    Went naked into battle, as Gods use,
+    Untrammel'd by our shifts of shields and shoes,
+    As if we dread the earth whereof we are.
+    Sons of God, these: for bore not each a star
+    Ablaze upon his forelock? Lo, they say,
+    Kastor and Polydeukes, who but they,
+    Come in to save their sister at the last,
+    And war for Troy, and root King Priam fast
+    In his demesne, him and his heirs for ever!
+    Now call they soothsayers to make endeavour
+    With engines of their craft to read the thing;
+    But others urge them hale it to the King--
+    "Let him dispose," they say, "of it and us,
+    And order as he will, from Pergamos
+    To heave it o'er the sheer and bring to wreck;
+    Or burn with fire; or harbour to bedeck
+    The temple of some God: of three ways one.
+    Here it cannot abide to flout the sun
+    With arrogant flash for every beam of his."
+      Herewith agreed the men of mysteries,
+    Raking the bloodsick earth to have the truth,
+    And getting what they lookt for, as in sooth
+    A man will do. So then they all fell to't
+    To hale with cords and lever foot by foot
+    The portent; and as frenzy frenzy breeds,
+    And what one has another thinks he needs,
+    So to a straining twenty other score
+    Lent hands, and ever from the concourse more
+    Of them, who hauled as if Troy's life depended
+    On hastening forward that wherein it ended.
+      So came the Horse to Troy, so was filled up
+    With retribution that sweet loving-cup
+    Paris had drunk to Helen overseas--
+    The cup which whoso drains must taste the lees.
+
+
+EIGHTH STAVE
+
+THE HORSE IN TROY; THE PASSION OF KASSANDRA
+
+      High over Troy the windy citadel,
+    Pergamos, towereth, where is the cell
+    And precinct of Athene. There, till reived,
+    They kept the Pallium, sacred and still grieved
+    By all who held the city consecrate
+    To Her, as first it was, till she learned hate
+    For what had once been lovely, and let in
+    The golden Aphrodite, and sweet sin
+    To ensnare Prince Paris and send him awooing
+    A too-fair wife, to be his own undoing
+    And Troy's and all the line's of Dardanos,
+    That traced from Zeus to him, from him to Tros,
+    From Tros to Ilos, to Laomedon,
+    Who begat Priam as his second son.
+    But out of Troy Assarakos too came,
+    From whom came Kapys; and from him the fame
+    Of good Anchises, with whom Kypris lay
+    In love and got Aineias. He, that day
+    Of dreadful wrath, safe only out did come,
+    And builded great Troy's line in greater Rome.
+      Now to the forecourt flock the Trojan folk
+    To view the portent. Now they bring to yoke
+    Priam's white horses, that the stricken king
+    Himself may see the wonder-working thing,
+    Himself invoke with his frail trembling voice
+    The good Twin Brethren for his aid and Troy's.
+    So presently before it Priam stands,
+    Father and King of Troy, with feeble hands
+    And mild pale eyes wherein Grief like a ghost
+    Sits; and about him all he has not lost
+    Of all his children gather, with grief-worn
+    Andromache and her first, and last, born,
+    The boy Astyanax. And there apart
+    The wise Aineias stands, of steadfast heart
+    But not acceptable--for some old grudge
+    Inherited--Aineias, silent judge
+    Of folly, as he had been since the sin
+    Of Paris knelled the last days to begin.
+    But he himself, that Paris, came not out,
+    But kept his house in these his days of doubt,
+    Uncertain of his footing, being of those
+    On whom the faintest breath of censure blows
+    Chill as the wind that from the frozen North
+    Palsies the fount o' the blood. He dared not forth
+    Lest men should see--and how not see? he thought--
+    That Helen held him lightlier than she ought.
+      But Helen came there, gentle as of old,
+    Self-held, sufficient to herself, not bold,
+    Not modest nor immodest, taking none
+    For judge or jury of what she may have done;
+    But doing all she was to do, sedate,
+    Intent upon it and deliberate.
+    As she had been at first, so was she now
+    When she had put behind her her old vow
+    And had no pride but thinking of her new.
+    But she was lovelier, of more burning hue,
+    And in her eyes there shone, for who could see,
+    A flickering light, half scare and half of glee,
+    Which made those iris'd orbs to wax and wane
+    Like to the light of April days, when rain
+    And sun contend the sovereignty. She kept
+    Beside the King, and only closer crept
+    To let him feel her there when some harsh word
+    Or look made her heart waver. Many she heard,
+    And much she saw, but knew the King her friend,
+    Him only since great Hector met his end.
+    And while so pensive and demure she stood,
+    With one thin hand just peeping at her hood,
+    The which close-folded her from head to knee,
+    Her heart within her bosom hailed her--"Free!
+    Free from thy thralldom, free to save, to give,
+    To love, be loved again, and die to live!"
+    So she--yet who had said, to see her there,
+    The sweet-faced woman, blue-eyed, still and fair
+    As windless dawn in some quiet mountain place,
+    To such a music let her passion race?
+
+      Now hath the King his witless welcome paid,
+    And now invoked the gods, and the cold shade
+    Which once was Hector; now, being upheld
+    By two his sons, with shaking hands of eld
+    The knees of those two carved and gilded youths
+    He touches while he prays, and praying soothes
+    The crying heart of Helen. But not so
+    Kassandra views him pray, that well of woe
+    Kassandra, she whom Loxias deceived
+    With gift to see, and not to be believed;
+    To read within the heart of Time all truth
+    And see men blindly blunder, to have ruth,
+    To burn, to cry, "Out, haro!" and be a mock--
+    Ah, and to know within this gross wood-block
+    The fate of all her kindred, and her own,
+    Unthinkable! Now with her terror blown
+    Upon her face, to blanch it like a sheet,
+    Now with bare frozen eyes which only greet
+    The viewless neighbours of our world she strips
+    The veil and shrieketh Troy's apocalypse:
+    "Woe to thee, Ilios! The fire, the fire! And rain,
+    Rain like to blood and tears to drown the plain
+    And cover all the earth up in a shroud,
+    One great death-clout for thee, Ilios the proud!
+    Touch not, handle not----" Outraged then she turned
+    To Helen--"O thou, for whom Troy shall be burned,
+    O ruinous face, O breasts made hard with gall,
+    Now are ye satisfied? Ye shall have all,
+    All Priam's sons and daughters, all his race
+    Gone quick to death, hailing thee, ruinous face!"
+      Her tragic mask she turned upon all men:
+    "The lion shall have Troy, to make his den
+    Within her pleasant courts, in Priam's high seat
+    Shall blink the vulture, sated of his meat;
+    And in the temples emptied of their Gods
+    Bats shall make quick the night, and panting toads
+    Make day a loathing to the light it brings.
+    Listen! Listen! they flock out; heed their wings.
+    The Gods flee forth of this accursed haunt,
+    And leave the memory of it an old chant,
+    A nursery song, an idle tale that's told
+    To children when your own sons are grown old
+    In Argive bonds, and have no other joy
+    Than whispering to their offspring tales of Troy."
+      Whereat she laught--O bitter sound to hear!
+    And struggled with herself, and grinned with fear
+    And misery lest even now her fate
+    Should catch her and she be believed too late.
+    "Is't possible, O Gods! Are ye so doomed
+    As not to know this Horse a mare, enwombed
+    Of men and swords? Know ye not there unseen
+    The Argive princes wait their dam shall yean?
+    Anon creeps Sparta forth, to find his balm
+    In that vile woman; forth with itching palm
+    Mykenai creeps, snuffing what may be won
+    By filching; forth Pyrrhos the braggart's son
+    That dared do violence to Hector dead,
+    But while he lived called Gods to serve his stead;
+    Forth Aias like a beast, to mangle me--
+    These things ye will not credit, but I see."
+    Then once again, and last, she turned her switch
+    On Helen, hissing, "Out upon thee, witch,
+    Smooth-handed traitress, speak thy secrets out
+    That we may know thee, how thou goest about
+    Caressing, with a hand that hides a knife,
+    That which shall prove false paramour, false wife,
+    Fair as the sun is fair that smiles and slays"--
+    And then, "O ruinous face, O ruinous face!"
+    But nothing more, for sudden all was gone,
+    Spent by her passion. Muttering, faint and wan
+    Down to the earth she sank, and to and fro
+    Rocking, drew close her hood, and shrouded so,
+    Her wild voice drowning, died in moans away.
+      But Helen stood bright-eyed as glancing day,
+    Near by the Horse, and with a straying hand
+    Did stroke it here and there, and listening stand,
+    Leaning her head towards its gilded flank,
+    And strain to hear men's breath behind the plank;
+    And she had whispered if she dared some word
+    Of promise; but afraid to be o'erheard,
+    Leaned her head close and toucht it with her cheek,
+    Then drew again to Priam, schooled and meek.
+    But Menelaus felt her touch, and mum
+    Sat on, nursing his mighty throw to come;
+    And Aias started, with some cry uncouth
+    And vile, but fast Odysseus o'er his mouth
+    Clapt hand, and checkt his foul perseverance
+    To seek in every deed his own essence.
+
+      Now when the ways were darkened, and the sun
+    Sank red to sea, and homeward all had gone
+    Save that distraught Kassandra, who still served
+    The temple whence the Goddess long had swerved,
+    Athene, hating Troy and loving them
+    Who craved to snatch and make a diadem
+    Of Priam's regal crown for other brows--
+    She, though foredoomed she knew, held to her vows,
+    And duly paid the thankless evening rite--
+    There came to Paris' house late in the night
+    Deiphobus his brother, young and trim,
+    For speech with fair-tressed Helen, for whose slim
+    And budded grace long had he sighed in vain;
+    And found her in full hall, and showed his pain
+    And need of her. To whom when she draws close
+    In hot and urgent crying words he shows
+    His case, hers now, that here she tarry not
+    Lest evil hap more dread than she can wot:
+    "For this," he says, "is Troy's extremest hour."
+    But when to that she bowed her head, the power
+    Of his high vision made him vehement:
+    "Dark sets the sun," he cried, "and day is spent";
+    But she said, "Nay, the sun will rise with day,
+    And I shall bathe in light, lift hands and pray."
+      "Thou lift up hands, bound down to a new lord!"
+    He mocked; then whispered, "Lady, with a sword
+    I cut thy bonds if so thou wilt."
+                                      Apart
+    She moved: "No sword, but a cry of the heart
+    Shall loose me."
+                      Then he said, "Hear what I cry
+    From my heart unto thine: fly, Helen, fly!"
+    Whereat she shook her head and sighed, "Even so,
+    Brother, I fly where thou canst never go.
+    Far go I, out of ken of thee and thy peers."
+      He knew not what she would, but said, "Thy fears
+    Are of the Gods and holy dooms and Fate,
+    But mine the present menace in the gate.
+    This I would save thee."
+                              "I fear it not," said she,
+    "But wait it here."
+                        He cried, "Here shalt thou see
+    Thy Spartan, and his bitter sword-point feel
+    Against thy bosom."
+                        "I bare it to the steel,"
+    Saith she. He then, "If ever man deserved thee
+    By service, I am he, who'd die to serve thee."
+      Glowing she heard him, being quickly moved
+    By kindness, loving ever where she was loved.
+    But now her heart was fain for rest; the night
+    Called her to sleep and dreams. So with a light
+    And gentle hand upon him, "Brother, farewell,"
+    She said, "I stay the issue, and foretell
+    Honour therein at least."
+                              Then at the door
+    She kissed him. And she saw his face no more.
+
+
+NINTH STAVE
+
+THE GODS FORSAKE TROY
+
+      Now Dawn came weeping forth, and on the crest
+    Of Ida faced a chill wind from the West.
+    Forth from the gray sea wrack-laden it blew
+    And howled among the towers, and stronger grew
+    As crept unseen the sun his path of light.
+    Then she who in the temple all that night
+    Had kept her rueful watch, the prophetess
+    Kassandra, peering sharply, heard the press
+    And rush of flight above her, and with sick
+    Foreboding waited; and the air grew thick
+    With flying shapes immortal overhead.
+      As in late Autumn, when the leaves are shed
+    And dismal flit about the empty ways,
+    And country folk provide against dark days,
+    And heap the woodstack, and their stores repair,
+    Attent you know the quickening of the air,
+    And closer yet the swish and sweep and swing
+    Of wings innumerable, emulous to bring
+    The birds to broader skies and kindlier sun,
+    And know indeed that winter is begun--
+    So seeing first, then hearing, she knew the hour
+    Was come when Troy must fall, and not a tower
+    Be left to front the morrow. And she covered
+    Her head and mourned, while one by one they hovered
+    Above their shrines, then flockt and faced the dawn.
+
+      First, in her car of shell and amber, drawn
+    By clustering doves with burnisht wings, a-throng,
+    Passes Queen Aphrodite, and her song
+    Is sweet and sharp: "I gave my sacred zone
+    To warm thy bosom, Helen which by none
+    That live by labour and in tears are born
+    And sighing go their ways, has e'er been worn.
+    It kindled in thine eyes the lovelight, showed
+    Thy burning self in his. Thy body glowed
+    With beauty like to mine: mine thy love-laughter
+    Thy cooing in the night, thy deep sleep after,
+    Thy rapture of the morning, love renewed;
+    And all the shadowed day to sit and brood
+    On what has been and what should be again:
+    Thou wilt not? Nay, I proffer not in vain
+    My gifts, for I am all or will be nought.
+    Lo, where I am can be no other thought."
+      Thus to the wooded heights of Ida she
+    Was drawn, hid in that pearly galaxy
+    Of snow-white pigeons.
+                            Next upon the height
+    Of Pergamos uplift a beam of light
+    That for its core enshrined a naked youth,
+    Golden and fierce. She knew the God sans ruth,
+    Him who had given woeful prescience to her,
+    Apollo, once her lover and her wooer;
+    Who stood as one stands glorying in his grace
+    And strength, full in the sun, though on her place
+    Within the temple court no sun at all
+    Shone, nor as yet upon the topmost wall
+    Was any tinge of him, but all showed gray
+    And sodden in the wind and blown sea-spray.
+    Not to him dared she lift her voice in prayer,
+    Nor scarce her eyes to see him.
+                                    To him there
+    Came swift a spirit in shape of virgin slim,
+    With snooded hair and kirtle belted trim,
+    Short to the knee; and in her face the gale
+    Had blown bright sanguine colour. Free and hale
+    She was; and in her hand she held a bow
+    Unstrung, and o'er her shoulders there did go
+    A baldrick that made sharp the cleft betwixt
+    Her sudden breasts--to that a quiver fixt,
+    Showing gold arrow-points. No God there is
+    In Heaven more swift than Delian Artemis,
+    The young, the pure health-giver of the Earth,
+    Who loveth all things born, and brings to birth,
+    And after slays with merciful sudden death--
+    In whom is gladness all and wholesome breath,
+    And to whom all the praise of him who writes,
+    Ever.
+          These two she saw like meteorites
+    Flare down the wind and burn afar, then fade.
+    And Leto next, a mother grave and staid,
+    Drave out her chariot, which two winged stags drew,
+    Swift following, robed in gown of inky blue,
+    And hooded; and her hand which held the hood
+    Gleamed like a patch of snow left in a wood
+    Where hyacinths bring down to earth the sky.
+      And in her wake a winging company,
+    Dense as the cloud of gulls which from a rock
+    At sea lifts up in myriads, if the knock
+    Of oars assail their peace, she saw, and mourned
+    The household gods. For outward they too turned,
+    The spirits of the streams and water-brooks,
+    And nymphs who haunt the pastures, or in nooks
+    Of woodlands dwell. There like a lag of geese
+    Flew in long straying lines the Oreades
+    That in wild dunes and commons have their haunt;
+    There sped the Hamadryads; there aslant,
+    As from the sea, but wheeling ere they crost
+    Their sisters, thronged the river-nymphs, a host;
+    And now the Gods of homestead and the hearth,
+    Like sad-faced mourning women, left the garth
+    Where each had dwelt since Troy was stablished,
+    And been the holy influence over bed
+    And board and daily work under the sun
+    And nightlong slumber when day's work was done:
+    They rose, and like a driven mist of rain
+    Forsook the doomed high city and the plain,
+    And drifted eastaway; and as they went
+    Heaviness spread o'er Ilios like a tent,
+    And past not off, but brooded all day long.
+
+      But ever coursed new spirits to the throng
+    That packt the ways of Heaven. From the plain,
+    From mere and holt and hollow rose amain
+    The haunters of the silence; from the streams
+    And wells of water, from the country demes,
+    From plough and pasture, bottom, ridge and crest
+    The rustic Gods rose up and joined the rest.
+    Like a long wisp of cloud from out his banks
+    Streamed Xanthos, that swift river, to the ranks
+    Of flying shapes; and driven by that same mind
+    That urged him to it came Simoeis behind,
+    And other Gods and other, of stream and tree
+    And hill and vale--for nothing there can be
+    On earth or under Heaven, but hath in it
+    Essence whereby alone its form may hit
+    Our apprehension, channelled in the sense
+    Which feedeth us, that we through vision dense
+    See Gods as trees walking, or in the wind
+    That singeth in the bents guess what's behind
+    Its wailing music.
+                        And now the unearthly flock,
+    Emptying every water, wood, bare rock
+    And pasture, beset Ida, and their wings
+    Beat o'er the forest which about her springs
+    And makes a sea of verdure, whence she lifts
+    Her soaring peaks to bathe them in the drifts
+    Of cloud, and rare reveal them unto men--
+    For Zeus there hath his dwelling, out of ken
+    Of men alike and gods. But now the brows,
+    The breasting summits, still eternal snows,
+    And all the faces of the mountain held
+    A concourse like in number to the field
+    Of Heaven upon some breathless summer night
+    Printed with myriad stars, some burning bright,
+    Some massed in galaxy, a cloudy scar,
+    And others faint, as infinitely far.
+    There rankt the Gods of Heaven, Earth, and Sea,
+    Brethren of them now hastening from the fee
+    Of stricken Priam. Out of his deep cloud
+    Zeus flamed his levin, and his thunder loud
+    Volleyed his welcome. With uplifted hands
+    Acclaiming, God's oncoming each God stands
+    To greet. And thus the Hierarchy at one
+    Sits to behold the bitter business done
+    Which Paris by his luxury bestirred.
+
+      But in the city, like a stricken bird
+    Grieving her desolation and despair,
+    As voiceless and as lustreless, astare
+    For imminent Death, Kassandra croucht beneath
+    Her very doom, herself the bride of Death;
+    For in the temple's forecourt reared the mass
+    Of that which was to bring the woe to pass,
+    And hidden in him both her murderers
+    Wrung at their nails.
+                          And slow the long day wears
+    While all the city broods. The chiefs keep house,
+    Or gather on the wall, or make carouse
+    To simulate a freedom they feel not;
+    And at street corners men in shift or plot
+    Whisper together, or in the market-place
+    Gather, and peer each other in the face
+    Furtively, seeking comfort against care;
+    Whose eyes, meeting by chance, shift otherwhere
+    In haste. But in the houses, behind doors
+    Shuttered and barred, the women scrub their floors,
+    Or ply their looms as busily: for they
+    Ever cure care with care, and if a day
+    Be heavy lighten it with heavier task;
+    And for their griefs wear beauty like a mask,
+    And answer heart's presaging with a song
+    On their brave lips, and render right for wrong.
+    Little, by outward seeming, do they know
+    Of doom at hand, of fate or blood or woe,
+    Nor how their children, playing by their knees,
+    Must end this day of busyness-at-ease
+    In shrieking night, with clamour for their bread,
+    And a red bath, and a cold stone for a bed
+    Under the staring moon.
+
+                            Now sinks the sun
+    Blood-red into the heavy sea and dun,
+    And forth from him, as he were stuck with swords,
+    Great streams of light go upward. Then the lords
+    Of havoc and unrest prepare their storms,
+    And o'er the silent city, vulture forms--
+    Eris and Enyo, Alke, Ioke,
+    The biter, the sharp-bitten, the mad, the fey--
+    Hover and light on pinnacle and tower:
+    The gray Erinnyes, watchful for the hour
+    When Haro be the wail. And down the sky
+    Like a white squall flung Ate with a cry
+    That sounded like the wind in a ship's shrouds,
+    As shrill and wild at once. The driving clouds
+    Surging together, blotted out the sea,
+    The beached ships, the plain with mound and tree,
+    And slantwise came the sheeted rain, and fast
+    The darkness settled in. Kassandra cast
+    Her mantle o'er her head, and with slow feet
+    Entered her shrine deserted, there to greet
+    Her fate when it should come; and merciful Sleep
+    Befriended her.
+                    Now from his lair did creep
+    Odysseus forth unarmed, his sword and spear
+    There in the Horse, and warily to peer
+    And spy his whereabouts the Ithacan
+    Went doubtful. Then his dreadful work began,
+    As down the bare way of steep Pergamos
+    Under the dark he sought for Paris' house.
+
+
+TENTH STAVE
+
+ODYSSEUS COMES AGAIN TO PARIS' HOUSE
+
+      There in her cage roamed Helen light and fierce,
+    Unresting, with bright eyes and straining ears,
+    Nor ever stayed her steps; but first the hall
+    She ranged, touching the pillars; next to the wall
+    Went out and shot her gaze into the murk
+    Whereas the ships should lie; then to her work
+    Upon the great loom turned and wove a shift,
+    But idly, waiting always for some lift
+    In the close-wrapping fog that might discover
+    The moving hosts, the spearmen of her lover--
+    Lover and husband, master and lord of life,
+    Coming at last to take a slave to wife.
+    And as wide-eyed she stared to feel her heart
+    Leap to her side, she felt the warm tears start,
+    And thankt the Goddess for the balm they brought.
+    Yet to her women, withal so highly wrought
+    By hope and care and waiting, she was mild
+    And gentle-voiced, and playful as a child
+    That sups the moment's joy, and nothing heeds
+    Time past or time to come, but fills all needs
+    With present kindness. She would laugh and talk,
+    Take arms, suffer embraces, even walk
+    The terrace 'neath the eyes of all her fate,
+    And seem to heed what they might show or prate,
+    As if her whole heart's heart were in this house
+    And not at fearful odds and perilous.
+    And should one speak of Paris, as to say,
+    "Would that our lord might see thee go so gay
+    About his house!" Gently she'd bend her head
+    Down to her breast and pluck a vagrant thread
+    Forth from her tunic's hem, and looking wise,
+    Gaze at her hand which on her bosom's rise
+    Lit like a butterfly and quivered there.
+      Now in the dusk, with Paris otherwhere
+    At council with the chieftains, into the hall
+    To Helen there, was come, adventuring all,
+    Odysseus in the garb of countryman,
+    A herdsman from the hills, with stain of tan
+    Upon his neck and arms, with staff and scrip,
+    And round each leg bound crosswise went a strip
+    Of good oxhide. Within the porch he came
+    And louted low, and hailed her by her name,
+    Among her maidens easy to be known,
+    Though not so tall as most, and not full blown
+    To shape and flush like a full-hearted rose;
+    But like a summer wave her bosom flows
+    Lax and most gentle, and her tired sweet face
+    Seems pious as the moon in a blue space
+    Of starless heaven, and in her eyes the hue
+    Of early morning, gray through mist of blue.
+    Not by a flaunted beauty is she guessed
+    Queen of them all, but by the right expressed
+    In her calm gaze and fearless, and that hold
+    Upon her lips which Gods have. Nay, not cold,
+    Thou holy one, not cold thy lips, which say
+    All in a sigh, and with one word betray
+    The passion of thy heart! But who can wis
+    The fainting piercing message of thy kiss?
+    O blest initiate--let him live to tell
+    Thy godhead, show himself thy miracle!
+      But when she saw him there with his head bowed
+    And humble hands, deeply her fair face glowed,
+    And broad across the iris swam the black
+    Until her eyes showed darkling. "Friend, your lack
+    Tell me," she said, "and what is mine to give
+    Is yours; but little my prerogative
+    Here in this house, where I am not the queen
+    You call me, but another name, I ween,
+    Serves me about the country you are of,
+    Which Ilios gives me too, but not in love.
+    Yet are we all alike in evil plight,
+    And should be tender of each other's right,
+    And of each other's wrongdoing, and wrongs done
+    Upon us. Have you wife and little one
+    Hungry at home? Have you a son afield?
+    Or do you mourn? Alas, I cannot wield
+    The sword you lack, nor bow nor spear afford
+    To serve...."
+      He said, "Nay, you can sheathe the sword,
+    Slack bowstring, and make spear a hunter's toy.
+    Lady, I come to end this war of Troy
+    In your good pleasure."
+                            With her steady eyes
+    Unwinking fixt, "Let you and me devise,"
+    Said she, "this happy end of bow and spear,
+    So shall we serve the land. You have my ear;
+    Speak then."
+                  "But so," he said, "these maidens have it.
+    But we save Troy alone, or never save it."
+      Turning she bid them leave her with a nod,
+    And they obeyed. Swift then and like a God
+    She seemed, with bright all-knowing eyes and calm
+    Gesture of high-held head, and open palm
+    To greet. "Laertes' son, what news bringst thou?"
+      "Lady," he said, "the best. The hour is now.
+    We stand within the heaven-establisht walls,
+    We gird the seat. Within an hour it falls,
+    The seat divine of Dardanos and Tros,
+    After our ten years' travail and great loss
+    Of heroes not yet rested, but to rest
+    Soon."
+            Then she laid her hand upon her breast
+    To stay it. "Who are ye that stand here-by?"
+      "Desperate men," he said, "prepared to die
+    If thou wilt have it so. Chief is there none
+    Beside the ships but Nestor. All are gone
+    Forth in the Horse. Under thy covering hand
+    Thou holdest all Achaia. Here we stand,
+    Epeios, Pyrrhos, Antiklos, with these
+    Cretan Idomeneus, Meriones,
+    Aias the Lokrian, Teukros, Diomede
+    Of the loud war-cry, next thy man indeed,
+    Golden-haired Menelaus the robbed King,
+    And Agamemnon by him, and I who bring
+    This news and must return to take what lot
+    Thou choosest us; for all is thine, God wot,
+    To end or mend, to make or mar at will."
+      A weighty utterance, but she heard the thrill
+    Within her heart, and listened only that--
+    To know her love so near. So near he sat
+    Hidden when she that toucht the Horse's flank
+    Could have toucht him! "Odysseus!" her voice sank
+    To the low tone of the soft murmuring dove
+    That nests and broods, "Odysseus, heard my love
+    My whisper of his name when close I stood
+    And stroked the Horse?"
+                            "I heard and understood,"
+    He said, "and Lokrian Aias would have spoken
+    Had I not clapt a hand to his mouth--else broken
+    By garish day had been our house of dream,
+    And our necks too. I heard a woman scream
+    Near by and cry upon the Ruinous Face,
+    But none made answer to her."
+                                  Nought she says
+    To that but "I am ready; let my lord
+    Come when he will. Humbly I wait his word."
+      "That word I bring," Odysseus said, "he comes.
+    Await him here."
+                      Her wide eyes were the homes
+    Of long desire. "Ah, let me go with thee
+    Even as I am; from this dark house take me
+    While Paris is abroad!"
+                            He shook his head.
+    "Not so, but he must find thee here abed--
+    And Paris here."
+                      The light died out; a mask
+    Of panic was her face, what time her task
+    Stared on a field of white horror like blood:
+    "Here! But there must be strife then!"
+                                            "Well and good,"
+    Said he.
+              Then she, shivering and looking small,
+    "And one must fall?" she said; he, "One must fall."
+      Reeling she turned her pincht face other way
+    And muttered with her lips, grown cold and gray,
+    Then fawning came at him, and with her hands
+    Besought him, but her voice made no demands,
+    Only her haunted eyes were quick, and prayed,
+    "Ah, not to fall through me!"
+                                  "By thee," he said,
+    "The deed is to be done."
+                              She droopt adown
+    Her lovely head; he heard her broken moan,
+    "Have I not caused enough of blood-shedding,
+    And enough women's tears? Is not the sting
+    Sharp enough of the knife within my side?"
+    No more she could.
+                        Then he, "Think not to avoid
+    The lot of man, who payeth the full price
+    For each deed done, and riddeth vice by vice:
+    Such is the curse upon him. The doom is
+    By God decreed, that for thy forfeit bliss
+    In Sparta thou shalt pay the price in Troy,
+    Dishonour for lost honour, pain for joy;
+    By what hot thought impelled, by that alone
+    Win back; by violence violence atone.
+    If by chicane thou fleddest, by chicane
+    Win back thy blotted footprints. Out again
+    With all thine arts of kisses slow and long,
+    Of smiles and stroking hands, and crooning song
+    Whenas full-fed with love thou lulledst asleep;
+    Renew thine eyebright glances, whisper and creep
+    And twine about his neck thy wreathing arms:
+    As we with spears so do thou with thy charms,
+    Arm thee and wait the hour of fire and smoke
+    To purge this robbery. Paris by the stroke
+    Of him he robbed shall wash out his old cheat
+    In blood, and thou, woman, by new deceit
+    Of him redeem thy first. For thus God saith,
+    Traitress, thou shalt betray thy thief to death."
+      He ceased, and she by misery made wild
+    And witless, shook, and like a little child
+    Gazed piteous, and asked, "What must I do?"
+      He answered, "Hold him by thee, falsely true,
+    Until the King stand armed within the house
+    Ready to take his blood-price. Even thus,
+    By shame alone shalt thou redeem thy shame."
+      And now she claspt his knee and cried his name:
+    "Mercy! I cannot do it. Let me die
+    Sooner than go to him so. What, must I lie
+    With one and other, make myself a whore,
+    And so go back to Sparta, nevermore
+    To hold my head up level with my slaves,
+    Nor dare to touch my child?"
+                                  Said he, "Let knaves
+    Deal knavishly till freedom they can win;
+    And so let sinners purge themselves of sin."
+    Then fiercely looking on her where she croucht
+    Fast by his knees, his whole mind he avoucht:
+    "How many hast thou sent the way of death
+    By thy hot fault? What ghosts like wandering breath
+    Shudder and wail unhouseled on the plain,
+    Shreds of Achaian honour? What hearts in pain
+    Cry the night through? What souls this very night
+    Fare forth? Art thou alone to sup delight,
+    Alone to lap in pleasantness, who first
+    And only, with thy lecher and his thirst,
+    Wrought all the harm? Only for thy smooth sake
+    Did Paris reive, and Menelaus ache,
+    And Hector die ashamed, and Peleus' son
+    Stand to the arrow, and Aias Telamon
+    Find madness and self-murder for the crown
+    Of all his travail?" He eyed her up and down
+    Sternly, as measuring her worth in scorn.
+    "Not thus may traffic any woman born
+    While men endure cold nights and burning days,
+    Hunger and wretchedness."
+                              She stands, she says,
+    "Enough--I cannot answer. Tell me plain
+    What I must do."
+                      "At dark," he said, "we gain
+    The Gates and open them. A trumpet's blast
+    Will sound the entry of the host. Hold fast
+    Thy Paris then. We storm the citadel,
+    High Pergamos; that won, the horn will tell
+    The sack begun. But hold thou Paris bound
+    Fast in thine arms. Once more the horn shall sound.
+    That third is doom for him. Release him then."
+      All blank she gazed. "Unarmed to face armed men?"
+    "Unarmed," he said, "to meet his judgment day."
+
+      Now was thick silence broken; now no way
+    For her to shift her task nor he his fate.
+    Keenly she heeds. "'Tis Paris at the gate!
+    What now? Whither away? Where wilt thou hide?"
+      He lookt her in the face. "Here I abide
+    What he may do. Was it not truth I spake
+    That all Hellas lay in thy hand? Now take
+    What counsel or what comfort may avail."
+      Paris stood in the door and cried her Hail.
+    "Hail to thee, Rose of the World!" then saw the man,
+    And knit his brows upon him, close to scan
+    His features; but Odysseus had his hood
+    Shadowing his face. Some time the Trojan stood
+    Judging, then said, "Thou seek'st? What seekest thou?"
+      "A debt is owed me. I seek payment now."
+    So he was told; but he drew nearer yet.
+    "I would know more of thee and of thy debt,"
+    He said.
+              And then Odysseus, "This thy strife
+    Hath ruined all my fields which are my life,
+    Brought murrain on my beasts, cold ash to my hearth,
+    Emptiness to my croft. Hunger and dearth,
+    Are these enough? Who pays me?"
+                                    Then Paris,
+    "I pay, but first will know what man it is
+    I am to pay, and in what kind." So said,
+    Snatching the hood, he whipt it from his head
+    And lookt and knew the Ithacan. "Now by Zeus,
+    Treachery here!" He swung his sword-arm loose
+    Forth of his cloak and set hand to his sword;
+      But Helen softly called him: "Hath my lord
+    No word of greeting for his bondwoman?"
+    Straightway he went to her, and left the man,
+    And took her in his arms, and held her close.
+    And light of foot, Odysseus quit the house.
+
+
+ELEVENTH STAVE
+
+THE BEGUILING OF PARIS
+
+      Now Paris tipt her chin and turned her face
+    Upwards to his that fondly he might trace
+    The beauty of her budded lips, and stoop
+    And kiss them softly; and fingered in the loop
+    That held her girdle, and closer pressed, on fire,
+    Towards her; for her words had stung desire
+    Anew; and wooing in his fond boy's way,
+    Whispered and lookt his passion; then to pray
+    Began: "Ah, love, long strange to me, behold
+    Thy winter past, and come the days of gold
+    And pleasance of the spring! For in thine eyes
+    I see his light and hail him as he flies!
+    Nay, cloud him not, nor veil him"--for she made
+    To turn her face, saying, "Ah, let them fade:
+    The soul thou prisonest here is grayer far."
+      But he would give no quarter now. "O star,
+    O beacon-star, shine on me in the night
+    That I may wash me in thy bath of light,
+    Taking my fill of thee; so cleansed all
+    And healed, I rise renewed to front what call
+    May be!" which said, with conquest in his bones
+    And in his eyes assurance, in high tones
+    He called her maids, bade take her and prepare
+    The couch, and her to be new-wedded there;
+    For long had they been strangers to their bliss.
+      So by the altar standeth she submiss
+    And watchful, praying silent and intense
+    To a strange-figured Goddess, to his sense
+    Who knew but Aphrodite. "Love, what now?
+    Who is thy God? What secret rite hast thou?"
+    For grave and stern above that altar stood
+    Here the Queen of Heaven.
+                              In dry mood
+    She answered him, "Chaste wives to her do pray
+    Before they couch, Blest be the strife! You say
+    We are to be new-wedded. Pour with me
+    Libation that we love not fruitlessly."
+      So said, she took the well-filled cup and poured,
+    And prayed, saying, "O Mother, not abhorred
+    Be this my service of thee. Count it not
+    Offence, nor let my prayers be forgot
+    When reckoning comes of things done and not done
+    By me thy child, or to me, hapless one,
+    Unloving paramour and unloved wife!"
+      "Here, to thee for issue of the strife!"
+    Cried Paris then, and poured. So Helen went
+    And let her maids adorn her to his bent.
+
+      Then took he joy of her, and little guessed
+    Or cared what she might give or get. Possest
+    Her body by his body, but her mind
+    Searcht terribly the issue. As one blind
+    Explores the dark about him in broad day
+    And fingers in the air, so as she lay
+    Lax in his arms, her fainting eyes, aglaze
+    For terror coming, sought escape all ways.
+    Alas for her! What way for woman fair,
+    Whose joy no fairer makes her than despair?
+    Her burning lips that kisses could not cool,
+    Her beating heart that not love made so full,
+    The surging of her breast, her clinging hands:
+    Here are such signs as lover understands,
+    But fated Paris nowise. Her soul, distraught
+    To save him, proved the net where he was caught.
+    For more she anguisht lest love be his bane
+    The fiercelier spurred she him, to make him fain
+    Of that which had been ruinous to all.
+      But all the household gathered on the wall
+    While these two in discordant bed were plight,
+    And watcht the Achaian fires. No beacon-light
+    Showed by the shore, but countless, flickering, streamed
+    Innumerable lights, wove, dipt and gleamed
+    Like fireflies on a night of summer heat,
+    Withal one way they moved, though many beat
+    Across and back, and mingled with the rest.
+    Anon a great glare kindled from the crest
+    Of Ida, and was answered by a blaze
+    Behind the ships, which threw up in red haze
+    Huge forms of prow and beak. Then from the Mound
+    Of Ilos fire shot up, from sacred ground,
+    And out the mazy glory of moving lights
+    One sped and flared, as of the meteorites
+    In autumn some fly further, brighter courses.
+    A chariot! They heard the thunder of the horses;
+    And as they flew the torch left a bright wake.
+    And thus to one another woman spake,
+    "Lo, more lights race! They follow him, they near,
+    Catch and draw level. Hark! Now you can hear
+    The tramp of men!"
+                        Says one, "That baleful sheen
+    Is light upon their spears. The Greeks, I ween,
+    Are coming up to rescue or requite."
+      But then her mate: "They mass, they fill the night
+    With panic terror."
+                        True, that all night things
+    Fled as they came. They heard the flickering wings
+    Of countless birds in haste, and as they flew
+    So fled the dark away. Light waxed and grew
+    Until the dead of night was vivified
+    And radiant opened out the countryside
+    With pulsing flames of fire, which gleamed and glanced,
+    Flickered, wavered, yet never stayed advance.
+    As the sun rising high o'er Ida cold
+    Beats a sea-path in flakes of molten gold,
+    So stretcht from shore to Troy that litten stream
+    That moved and shuddered, restless as a dream,
+    Yet ever nearing, till on spear and shield
+    They saw light like the moon on a drowned field,
+    And in the glare of torches saw and read
+    Gray faces, like the legions of the dead,
+    Silent about the walls, and waiting there.
+      But in the fragrant chamber Helen the fair
+    Lay close in arms, and Paris slept, his head
+    Upon her bosom, deep as any dead.
+
+      Sudden there smote the blast of a great horn,
+    Single, long-held and shuddering, and far-borne;
+    And then a deathless silence. Paris stirred
+    On that soft pillow, and listened while they heard
+    Many men running frantically, with feet
+    That slapt the stones, and voices in the street
+    Of question and call--"Oh, who are ye that run?
+    What of the night?" "O peace!" And some lost one
+    Wailed like a woman, and her a man did curse,
+    And there were scuffling, prayers, and then worse--
+    A silence. But the running ended not
+    While Paris lay alistening with a knot
+    Of Helen's loose hair twisting round his finger.
+    "O love," he murmured low, "I may not linger.
+    The street's awake. Alas, thou art too kind
+    To be a warrior's bride." Sighing, she twined
+    Her arm about his neck and toucht his face,
+    And pressed it gently back to its warm place
+    Of pillowing. And Paris kissed her breast
+    And slept; but her heart's riot gave no rest
+    As quaking there she lay, awaiting doom.
+      Then afar off rose clamour, and the room
+    Was fanned with sudden light and sudden dark,
+    As on a summer night in a great park
+    Blazed forth you see each tuft of grass or mound,
+    Anon the drowning blackness, while the sound
+    Of Zeus's thunder hardens every close:
+    So here the chamber glared, then dipt, and rose
+    That far confused tumult, and now and then
+    The scurrying feet of passion-driven men.
+      Thrilling she waited with sick certainty
+    Of doom inexorable, while the struck city
+    Fought its death-grapple, and the windy height
+    Of Pergamos became a shambles. White
+    The holy shrines stared on a field of blood,
+    And with blank eyes the emptied temples stood
+    While murder raved before them, and below
+    And all about the city ran the woe
+    Of women for their children. Then the flame
+    Burst in the citadel, and overcame
+    The darkness, and the time seemed of broad day.
+    And Helen stared unwinking where she lay
+    Pillowing Paris.
+                      Now glad and long and shrill
+    The second trumpet sounds. They have the hill--
+    High Troy is down, is down! Starting, he wakes
+    And turns him in her arms. His face she takes
+    In her two hands and turns it up to hers.
+    Nothing she says, nothing she does, nor stirs
+    From her still scrutiny, nor so much as blinks
+    Her eyes, deep-searching, of whose blue he drinks,
+    And fond believes her all his own, while she
+    Marvels that aught of his she e'er could be
+    In times bygone. But now he is on fire
+    Again, and urges on her his desire,
+    And loses all the sense of present needs
+    For him in burning Troy, where Priam bleeds
+    Head-smitten, trodden on his palace-floor,
+    And white Kassandra yieldeth up her flower
+    To Aias' lust, and of the Dardan race
+    Survive he only, renegade disgrace,
+    He only and Aineias the wise prince.
+      But now is crying fear abroad and wins
+    The very household of the shameful lover;
+    Now are the streets alive, for worse in cover
+    Like a trapt rat to die than fight the odds
+    Under the sky. Now women shriek to the Gods,
+    And men run witlessly, and in and out
+    The Greeks press, burning, slaying, and the rout
+    Screameth to Heaven. As at sea the mews
+    Pack, their wings battling, when some fresh wrack strews
+    The tideway, and in greater haste to stop
+    Others from prey, will let their morsel drop,
+    And all the while make harsh lament--so here
+    The avid spoilers bickered in their fear
+    To be man[oe]uvred out of robbery,
+    And tore the spoil, and mangled shamefully
+    Bodies of men to strip them, and in haste
+    To forestall ravishers left the victims chaste.
+    Ares, the yelling God, and Ate white
+    Swept like a snow-storm over Troy that night;
+    And towers rockt, and in the naked glare
+    Of fire the smoke climbed to the upper air;
+    And clamour was as of the dead broke loose.
+      But Menelaus his stern way pursues,
+    And to the wicked house with chosen band
+    Cometh, his good sword naked in his hand;
+    And now, while Paris loves and holds her fast
+    In arms, the third horn sounds a shattering blast,
+    Long-held, triumphant; and about the door
+    Gathers the household, to cry, to pray, to implore,
+    And at the last break in and scream the truth--
+    "The Greeks! The Greeks! Save yourselves!"
+                                                Then in sooth
+    Starts Paris out of bed, and as he goes
+    Sees in the eyes of Helen all she knows
+    And all believes; and with his utter loss
+    Of her rises the man in him that was
+    Ere luxury had entered blood and bone
+    Of him. No word he said, but let one groan,
+    And turned his dying eyes to hers, and read
+    Therein his fate, that to her he was dead,
+    Long dead and cold in grave. Whereat he past
+    Out of the door, and met his end at last
+    As man, not minion.
+                        But the woman fair
+    Lay on her face, half buried in her hair,
+    Naked and prone beneath her saving sin,
+    Not yet enheartened new life to begin.
+
+
+ENVOY
+
+    But thou didst rise, Maid Helen, as from sleep,
+    A final tryst to keep
+    With thy true lover, in whose hands thy life
+    Lay, as in arms; his wife
+    In heart as well as deed; his wife, his friend,
+    His soul's fount and its end!
+    For such it is, the marriage of true minds,
+    Each in each sanction finds;
+    So if her beauty lift her out of thought
+    Whither man's to be brought
+    To worship her perfection on his knees,
+    So in his strength she sees
+    Self glorified, and two make one clear orb
+    Whereinto all rays absorb
+    Which stream from God and unto God return.--
+    So, as he fared, I yearn
+    To be, and serve my years of pain and loss
+    'Neath my walled Ilios,
+    With my eyes ever fixt to where, a star,
+    Thou and thy sisters are,
+    Helen and Beatrice, with thee embraced,
+    Hands in thy hands, and arms about thy waist.
+
+_1911-12._
+
+
+
+
+HYPSIPYLE
+
+
+    Queen of the shadows, Maid and Wife,
+    Twifold in essence, as in life,
+    The lamp of Death, the star of Birth,
+    Half cradled and half mourned by Earth,
+    By Hell half won, half lost! aid me
+    To sing thy fond Hypsipyle,
+    Thy bosom's mate who, unafraid,
+    Renounced for thee what part she had
+    In sun and wind upon the hill,
+    In dawn about the mere, in still
+    Woodlands, in kiss of lapping wave,
+    In laughter, in love--all this she gave!--
+    And shared thy dream-life, visited
+    The sunless country of the dead,
+    There to abide with thee, their Queen,
+    In that gray region, shadow-seen
+    By them that cast no shadows, yet
+    Themselves are shadows. Nor forget,
+    Kore, her love made manifest
+    To thee, familiar of her breast
+    And partner of her whispering mouth.
+
+      Thee too, Our Lady of the South,
+    Uranian Kypris, I invoke,
+    Regent of starry space, with stroke
+    Of splendid wing, in whose white wake
+    Stream those who, filled with thee, forsake
+    Their clinging shroudy clots, and rise,
+    Lover and loved, to thy pure skies,
+    To thy blue realm! O lady, touch
+    My lips with rue, for she loved much.
+
+      What poet in what cloistered nook,
+    Indenting in what roll of a book
+    His rhymes, can voice the tides of love?
+    Nay, thrilling lark, nay, moaning dove,
+    The nightingale's full-charged throat
+    That cheereth now, and now doth gloat,
+    And now recordeth bitter-sweet
+    Longing, too wise to image it:
+    These be your minstrels, lovers! Choose
+    From their winged choir your urgent Muse;
+    Let her your speechless joys relate
+    Which men with words sophisticate,
+    Striving by reasons make appear
+    To head what heart proclaims so clear
+    To heart; as if by wit to wis
+    What mouth to mouth tells in a kiss,
+    Or in their syllogisms dry
+    Freeze a swift glance's cogency.
+    Nay, but the heart's so music-fraught,
+    Music is all in love, words naught.
+    One heart's a rote, with music stored
+    Though mute; but two hearts make a chord
+    Of piercing music. One alone
+    Is nothing: two make the full tone.
+
+
+I
+
+      On Enna's uplands, on a lea
+    Between the mountains and the sea,
+    Shadowed anon by wandering cloud,
+    Or flickering wings of birds a-crowd,
+    And now all golden in the sun,
+    See Kore, see her maidens run
+    Hither and thither through those hours
+    Of dawn among the wide-eyed flowers,
+    While gentian, crocus, asphodel
+    (With rosy star in each white bell),
+    Anemone, blood-red with rings
+    Of paler fire, that plant that swings
+    A crimson cluster in the wind
+    They pluck, or sit anon to bind
+    Of these earth-stars a coronet
+    For their smooth-tressed Queen, who yet
+    Strays with her darling interlaced,
+    Hypsipyle the grave, the chaste--
+    Her whose gray shadow-life with his
+    Who singeth now for ever is.
+      She, little slim thing, Kore's mate,
+    Child-faced, gray-eyed, of sober gait,
+    Of burning mind and passion pent
+    To image-making, ever went
+    Where wonned her Mistress; for those two
+    By their hearts' grace together grew,
+    The one to need, the one to give
+    (As women must if they would live,
+    Who substance win by waste of self
+    And only spend to hoard their pelf:
+    "O heart, take all of mine!" "O heart,
+    That which thou tak'st of thee is part--
+    No robbery therefore: mine is thine,
+    Take then!"): so she and Proserpine
+    Intercommunion'd each bright day,
+    And when night fell together lay
+    Cradled in arms, or cheek to cheek
+    Whispered the darkness out. Thou meek
+    And gentle vision! let me tell
+    Thy beauties o'er I love so well:
+    Thy sweet low bosom's rise and fall,
+    Pulsing thy heart's clear madrigal;
+    Or how the blue beam from thine eyes
+    Imageth all love's urgencies;
+    Thy lips' frail fragrance, as of flowers
+    Remembered in penurious hours
+    Of winter-exile; of thy brow,
+    Not written as thy breast of snow
+    With love's faint charact'ry, for his wing
+    Leaves not the heart long! Last I sing
+    Thy thin quick fingers, in whose pleaching
+    Lieth all healing, all good teaching--
+    Wherewith, touching my discontent,
+    I know how thou art eloquent!
+      Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle!
+    Now may that serve to comfort me,
+    While I, O Maiden dedicate,
+    Seek voice for singing thy gray Fate!
+
+      Now, as they went, one heart in two,
+    Brusht to the knees by flowers, by dew
+    Anointed, by the wind caressed,
+    By the light kissed on eyes and breast,
+    'Twas Kore talked; Hypsipyle
+    Listened, with eyes far-set, for she
+    Of speech was frugal, voicing low
+    And rare her heart's deep underflow--
+    Content to lie, like fallow sweet
+    For rain or sun to cherish it,
+    Or scattered seed substance to find
+    In her deep-funded, quiet mind.
+    And thus the Goddess: "Blest art thou,
+    Hypsipyle, who canst not know
+    Until the hour strikes what must come
+    To pass! But I foresee the doom
+    And stay to meet it. Even here
+    The place, and now the hour!" Then fear
+    Took her who spake so fearless, cold
+    Threaded her thronging veins--behold!
+    A hand on either shoulder stirs
+    That slim, sweet body close to hers,
+    And need fires need till, lip with lip,
+    They seal and sign their fellowship,
+    While Kore, godhead all forgot,
+    Clings whispering, "Child, leave me not
+    Whenas to darkness and the dead
+    I go!" And clear the answer sped
+    From warm mouth murmuring kiss and cheer,
+    "Never I leave thee, O my dear!"
+    Thereafter stand they beatingly,
+    Not speaking; and the hour draws nigh.
+
+      And all the land shows passing fair,
+    Fair the broad sea, the living air,
+    The misty mountain-sides, the lake
+    Flecked blue and purple! To forsake
+    These, and those bright flower-gatherers
+    Scattered about this land of theirs,
+    That stoop or run, that kneel to pick,
+    That cry each other to come quick
+    And see new treasure, unseen yet!
+    Remembered joy--ah, how forget!
+
+      But mark how all must come to pass
+    As was foreknowledged. In the grass
+    Whereas the Goddess and her mate
+    Stood, one and other, prompt for fate--
+    Listless the first and heavy-eyed,
+    Astrain the second--she espied
+    That strange white flower, unseen before,
+    With chalice pale, which thin stalk bore
+    And swung, as hanging by a hair,
+    So fine it seemed afloat in air,
+    Unlinkt and wafted for the feast
+    Of some blest mystic, without priest
+    Or acolyte to tender it:
+    Whereto the maid did stoop and fit
+    Her hand about its silken cup
+    To close it, that her mouth might sup
+    The honey-drop within. The bloom
+    Saw Kore then, and knew her doom
+    Foretold in it; and stood in trance
+    Fixed and still. No nigromance
+    Used she, but read the fate it bore
+    In seedless womb and petals frore.
+    Chill blew the wind, waiting stood She,
+    Waiting her mate, Hypsipyle.
+
+      Then in clear sky the thunder tolled
+    Sudden, and all the mountains rolled
+    The dreadful summons round, and still
+    Lay all the lands, only the rill
+    Made tinkling music. Once more drave
+    Peal upon peal--and lo! a grave
+    Yawned in the Earth, and gushing smoke
+    Belched out, as driven, and hung, and broke
+    With sullen puff; like tongues the flame
+    Leapt following. Thence Aidoneus came,
+    Swart-bearded king, with iron crown'd,
+    In iron mailed, his chariot bound
+    About with iron, holding back
+    Amain two steeds of glistering black
+    And eyeballs white-rimmed fearfully,
+    And nostrils red, and crests flying free;
+    Who held them pawing at the verge,
+    Tossing their spume up, as the surge
+    Flung high against some seaward bluff.
+    Nothing he spake, or smooth or gruff,
+    But drave his errand, gazing down
+    Upon the Maid, whose blown back gown
+    Revealed her maiden. Still and proud
+    Stood she among her nymphs, unbowed
+    Her comely head, undimmed her eye,
+    Inseparate her lips and dry,
+    Facing his challenge of her state,
+    Neither denying, nor desperate,
+    Pleading no mercy, seeing none,
+    Her wild heart masked in face of stone.
+    But they, her bevy, clustered thick
+    As huddled sheep, set their eyes quick,
+    And held each other, hand or waist,
+    Paling or flushing as fear raced
+    Thronging their veins--they knew not, they,
+    The gathered fates that broke this day,
+
+      And all the land seemed passing fair
+    To one who knew, and waited there.
+
+    "Goddess and Maid," then said the King,
+    "Long have I sought this day should bring
+    An end of torment. Know me thou
+    God postulant, with whom below
+    A world awaits her queen, while here
+    I seek and find one without peer;
+    Nor deem her heedless nor unschooled
+    In what in Heaven is writ and ruled.
+    Decreed of old my bride-right was,
+    Decreed thy Mother's pain and loss,
+    Decreed thy loathing, and decreed
+    That which thou shunnest to be thy need;
+    For thou shalt love me, Lady, yet,
+    Though little liking now, and fret
+    Of jealous care shall grave thy heart
+    And draw thee back when time's to part--
+    If fond Demeter have her will
+    Against thine own."
+
+                        The Maid stood still
+    And guarded watched, and her proud eyes'
+    Scrutiny bade his own advise
+    Whether indeed their solemn stare
+    Saw Destiny and read it there
+    Beyond her suitor, or within
+    Her own heart heard the message ring.
+    Awhile she gazed: her stern aspect,
+    Young and yet fraught with Godhead, checkt
+    Both Him who claimed, and her who'd cling,
+    And them who wondered. "O great King,"
+    She said, and mournful was her crying
+    As when night-winds set pine-trees sighing,
+    "King of the folk beyond the tide
+    Of sleep, behold thy chosen bride
+    Not shunning thee, nor seeking. Take
+    That which Gods neither mar nor make,
+    But only They, the Three, who spin
+    The threads which hem and mesh us in,
+    Both Gods and men, till she who peers
+    The longest cuts them with her shears.
+    Take, take, Aidoneus, and take her,
+    My fosterling."
+                    Then He, "O star
+    Of Earth, O Beacon of my days,
+    Light of my nights, whose beamy rays
+    Shall pierce the foggy cerement
+    Wherein my dead grope and lament
+    Beyond all loss the loss of light,
+    Come! and be pleasant in my sight
+    This thy beloved. Perchance she too
+    Shall find a suitor come to woo;
+    For love men leave not with their bones--
+    That is the soul's, and half atones
+    And half makes bitterer their loss,
+    Remembering what their fortune was."
+      Trembling Hypsipyle uplift
+    Her eyes towards the hills, where swift
+    The shadows flew, but no more fleet
+    Than often she with flying feet
+    And flying raiment, she with these
+    Her mates, whom now estranged she sees--
+    As if the shadow-world had spread
+    About her now, and she was dead--
+    Her mates no more! cut off by fear
+    From these two fearless ones. A tear
+    Welled up and hovered, hung a gem
+    Upon her eyelid's dusky hem,
+    As raindrops linkt and strung arow
+    Broider with stars the winter bough.
+    This was her requiem and farewell
+    To them, thus rang she her own knell;
+    Nor more gave she, nor more asked they,
+    But took and went the fairy way.
+      For thus with unshed tears made blind
+    Went she: thus go the fairy kind
+    Whither fate driveth; not as we
+    Who fight with it, and deem us free
+    Therefore, and after pine, or strain
+    Against our prison bars in vain.
+    For to them Fate is Lord of Life
+    And Death, and idle is a strife
+    With such a master. They not know
+    Life past, life coming, but life now;
+    Nor back look they to long, nor forth
+    To hope, but sup the minute's worth
+    With draught so quick and keen that each
+    Moment gives more than we could reach
+    In all our term of three-score years,
+    Whereof full score we give to fears
+    Of losing them, and other score
+    Dreaming how fill the twenty more.
+      Now is the hour, Bride of the Night!
+    The chariot turns, the great steeds fight
+    The rocky entry; flies the dust
+    Behind the wheels at each fierce thrust
+    Of giant shoulder, at each lunge
+    Of giant haunch. Down, down they plunge
+    Into the dark, with rioting mane,
+    And the earth's door shuts-to again.
+    Now fly, ye Oreads, strain your arms,
+    Let eyes and hair voice your alarms--
+    Hair blown back, mouths astretch for fear,
+    Strained eyeballs--cry that Mother dear
+    Her daughter's rape; fly like the gale
+    That down the valleys drives the hail
+    In scurrying sheets, and lays the corn
+    Flat, which when man of woman born
+    Seeth, he bows him to the grass,
+    Whispering in hush, _The Oreads pass_.
+    (In shock he knows ye, and in mirth,
+    Since he is kindred of that earth
+    Which bore ye in her secret stress,
+    Images of her loveliness,
+    To her dear paramour the Wind.)
+    Follow me now that car behind.
+
+
+II
+
+      O ye that know the fairy throng,
+    And heed their secret under-song;
+    In flower or leaf's still ecstasy
+    Of birth and bud their passion see,
+    In wind or calm, in driving rain
+    Or frozen snow discern them strain
+    To utter and to be; who lie
+    At dawn in dewy brakes to spy
+    The rapture of their flying feet--
+    Follow me now those coursers fleet,
+    Sucked in their wake, down ruining
+    Through channelled night, where only sing
+    The shrill gusts streaming through the hair
+    Of them who sway and bend them there,
+    And peer in vain with shielded eyes
+    To rend the dark. Clinging it lies,
+    Thick as wet gossamer that shrouds
+    October brushwoods, or low clouds
+    That from the mountain tops roll down
+    Into the lowland vales, to drown
+    Men's voices and to choke their breath
+    And make a silence like to death.
+    But this was hot and dry; it came
+    And smote them, like the gush of flame
+    Fanned in a smithy, that outpours
+    And floods with fire the open doors.
+      Downward their course was, swift as flight
+    Of meteor flaring through the night,
+    Steady and dreadful, with no sound
+    Of wheels or hoofs upon the ground,
+    Nor jolt, nor jar; for once past through
+    Earth's portals, steeds and chariot flew
+    On wings invisible and strong
+    And even-oaring, such as throng
+    The nights when birds of passage sweep
+    O'er cities and the folk asleep:
+    Such was their awful flight. Afar
+    Showed Hades glimmering like a star
+    Seen red through fog: and as they sped
+    To that, the frontiers of the dead
+    Revealed their sullen leagues and bare,
+    And sad forms flitting here and there,
+    Or clustered, waiting who might come
+    Their empty ways with news of home.
+    Yet all one course at length must hold,
+    Or late or soon, and all be tolled
+    By Charon in his dark-prowed boat.
+    Thither was swept the chariot
+    And crossed dry-wheeled the coiling flood
+    Of Styx, and o'er the willow wood
+    And slim gray poplars which do hem
+    The further shore, Hell's diadem--
+    So by the tower foursquare and great
+    Where King Aidoneus keeps his state
+    And rules his bodyless thralls they stand.
+
+      Dark ridge and hollow showed the land
+    Fold over fold, like waves of soot
+    Fixt in an anguish of pursuit
+    For evermore, so far as eye
+    Could range; and all was hot and dry
+    As furnace is which all about
+    Etna scorcheth in days of drouth,
+    And showeth dun and sinister
+    That fair isle linked to main so fair.
+    Nor tree nor herbage grew, nor sang
+    Water among the rocks: hard rang
+    The heel on metal, or on crust
+    Grew tender, or went soft in dust;
+    Neither for beast nor bird nor snake
+    Was harbourage; nor could such slake
+    Their thirst, nor from the bitter heat
+    Hide, since the sun not furnished it;
+    But airless, shadowless and dense
+    The land lay swooning, dead to sense
+    Beneath that vault of stuprous black,
+    Motionless hanging, without wrack
+    Of cloud to break and pass, nor rent
+    To hint the blue. Like the foul tent
+    A foul night makes, it sagged; for stars
+    Showed hopeless faces, with two scars
+    In each, their eyes' immortal woe,
+    Ever to seek and never know:
+    In all that still immensity
+    These only moved--these and the sea,
+    Which dun and sullen heaved, with surge
+    And swell unseen, save at the verge
+    Where fainted off the black to gray
+    And showed such light as on a day
+    Of sun's eclipse men tremble at.
+
+      Here the dead people moved or sat,
+    Casting no shadow, hailing none
+    Boldly; but in fierce undertone
+    They plied each other, or on-sped
+    Their way with signal of the head
+    For answer, or arms desperate
+    Flung up, or shrug disconsolate.
+    And this the quest of every one:
+    "What hope have ye?" And answer, "None."
+    Never passed shadow shadow but
+    That answer got to question put.
+    In that they lived, in that, alas!
+    Lovely and hapless, Thou must pass
+    Thy days, with this for added lot--
+    Aching, to nurse things unforgot.
+
+      Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle!
+    The Oread choir, the Oread glee:
+    The nimble air of quickening hills,
+    The sweet dawn light that floods and fills
+    The hollowed valleys; the dawn wind
+    That bids the world wake, and on blind
+    Eyelids of sleeping mortals lays
+    Cool palms that urge them see and praise
+    The Day-God coming with the sun
+    To hearten toil! He warned you run
+    And hide your beauties deep in brake
+    Of fern or briar, or reed of lake,
+    Or in wet crevice of the rock,
+    There to abide until the clock
+    You reckon by, with shadowy hands,
+    Lay benediction on the lands
+    And landsmen, and the eve-jar's croak
+    Summon ye, lightfoot fairy folk,
+    To your activity full tide
+    Over the empty earth and wide.
+    Here be your food, fair nymph, and coy
+    Of mortal ken--remember'd joy!
+
+      Remember'd joy! Ah, stormy nights,
+    Ah, the mad revel when wind fights
+    With wind, and slantwise comes the rain
+    And shatters at the window-pane,
+    To wake the hind, who little knows
+    Whose fingers drum those passionate blows,
+    Nor what swift indwellers of air
+    Ye be who hide in forms so fair
+    Your wayward motions, cruel to us,
+    While lovely, and dispiteous!
+    Ah, nights of flying scud and rout
+    When scared the slim young moon rides out
+    In her lagoon of open sky,
+    Or older, marks your revelry
+    As calm and large she oars above
+    Your drifting lives of ruth or love.
+    Boon were those nights of dusted gold
+    And glint of fireflies! Boon the cold
+    And witching frost! All's one, all's one
+    To thee, whose nights and days go on
+    Now in one span of changeless dusk
+    On one earth, crackling like the husk
+    Of the dropt mast in winter wood:
+    Remember'd joy--'tis all thy food,
+    Hypsipyle, to whose fond sprite
+    I vow my praise while I have light.
+
+      Dumbly she wandered there, as pale
+    With lack of light, with form as frail
+    As those poor hollow congeners
+    Whose searching eyes encountered hers,
+    Petitioning as mute as she
+    Some grain of hope, where none might be,
+    Daring not yet to voice their moan
+    To her whose case was not their own;
+    For where they go like breath in a shell
+    That wails, my love goes quick in Hell.
+
+      Alas, for her, the sweet and slim!
+    Slowly she pines; her eyes grow dim
+    With seeking; her smooth, sudden breasts
+    Hang languidly; those little nests
+    For kisses which her dimples were,
+    In cheeks graved hollow now by care
+    Vanish, and sharply thrusts her chin,
+    And sharp her bones of arm and shin.
+    Reproach she looks, about, above,
+    Denied her light, denied her love,
+    Denied for what she sacrificed,
+    Doomed to be fruitless agonist.
+    (O God, and I must see her fade,
+    Must see and anguish--in my shade!)
+      Nor help nor comfort gat she now
+    From her whose need called forth her vow;
+    For close in arms Queen Kore dwelt
+    In that great tower Aidoneus built
+    To cherish her; deep in his bed,
+    Loved as the Gods love whom they wed;
+    Turned from pale maiden to pale wife,
+    Pale now with love's insatiate strife
+    First to appease, and then renew
+    The wild desire to mingle two
+    Natures, to long, to seek, to shun,
+    To have, to give, to make two one
+    That must be two if they would each
+    Learn all the lore that love can teach.
+    So strove the mistress, while the maid
+    Went alien among the dead,
+    Unspoken, speaking none, but watcht
+    By them who knew themselves outmatcht
+    By her, translated whole, nor guessed
+    What miseries gnawed within that breast,
+    Which could be toucht, which could give meat
+    To babe; which was not eye-deceit
+    As theirs, poor phantoms. So went she
+    Grudged but unscathed beside the sea,
+    Or sat alone by that sad strand
+    Nursing her worn cheek in her hand;
+    And did not mark, as day on day
+    Lengthened the arch of changeless gray,
+    How she was shadowed, how to her
+    Stretcht arms another prisoner;
+    Nor knew herself desirable
+    By any thankless guest of Hell--
+    Withal each phantom seemed no less
+    Whole-natured to her heedlessness.
+
+      Midway her round of solitude
+    She used to haunt a dead sea-wood
+    Where among boulders lifeless trees
+    Stuck rigid fingers to the breeze--
+    That stream of faint hot air that flits
+    Aimless at noon. 'Tis there she sits
+    Hour after hour, and as a dove
+    Croons when her breast is ripe for love,
+    So sings this exile, quiet, sad chants
+    Of love, yet knows not what she wants;
+    And singing there in undertone,
+    Is one day answered by the moan
+    Of hidden mourner; but no fear
+    Hath she for sound so true, though near;
+    Nay, but sings out her elegy,
+    Which, like an echo, answers he.
+    Again she sings; he suits her mood,
+    Nor breaks upon her solitude:
+    So she, choragus, calls the tune,
+    And as she leads he follows soon.
+    As bird with bird vies in the brake,
+    She sings no note he will not take--
+    As when she pleads, "Ah, my lost love,
+    The night is dark thou art not of,"
+    Quick cometh answering the phrase,
+    "O love, let all our nights be days!"
+    This, rapt, with beating heart, she heeds
+    And follows, "Sweet love, my heart bleeds!
+    Come, stay the wound thyself didst give";
+    Then he, "I come to bid thee live."
+    And so they carol, and her heart
+    Swells to believe his counterpart,
+    And strophe striketh clear, which he
+    Caps with his brave antistrophe;
+    And as a maiden waxes bold,
+    And opens what should not be told
+    When all her auditory she sees
+    Within her mirror, so to trees
+    And rocks, and sullen sounding main
+    She empties all her passioned pain;
+    And "love, love, love," her burden is,
+    And "I am starving for thee," his.
+    Moved, melted, all on fire she stands,
+    Holding abroad her quivering hands,
+    Raises her sweet eyes faint with tears
+    And dares to seek him whom she hears;
+    And from her parted lips a sigh
+    Stealeth, as knowing he is nigh
+    And her fate on her--then she'd shun
+    That which she seeks; but the thing's done.
+
+      Hollow-voiced, dim, spake her a shade,
+    "O thou that comest, nymph or maid--
+    If nymph, then maiden, since for aye
+    Virgin is immortality,
+    Nor love can change what Death cannot--
+    Look on me by love new-begot;
+    Look on me, child new-born, nor start
+    To see my form who knowest my heart;
+    For it is thine. O Mother and Wife,
+    Take then my love--thou gavest it life!"
+
+      So spake one close: to whom she lent
+    The wonder of her eyes' content--
+    That lucent gray, as if moonlight
+    Shone through a sapphire in the night--
+    And saw him faintly imaged, rare
+    As wisp of cloud on hillside bare,
+    A filamental form, a wraith
+    Shaped like that man who in the faith
+    Of one puts all his hope: who stood
+    Trembling in her near neighbourhood,
+    A thing of haunted eyes, of slim
+    And youthful seeming; yet not dim,
+    Yet not unmanly in his fashion
+    Of speech, nor impotent of passion--
+    The which his tones gave earnest of
+    And his aspect of hopeless love;
+    Who, drawing nearer, came to stand
+    So close beside her that one hand
+    Lit on her shoulder--yet no touch
+    She felt: "O maiden overmuch,"
+    He grieved, "O body far too sweet
+    For such as I, frail counterfeit
+    Of man, who yet was once a man,
+    Cut off before the midmost span
+    Of mortal life was but half run,
+    Or ere to love he had found one
+    Like thee--yet happy in that fate,
+    That waiting, he is fortunate:
+    For better far in Hell to fare
+    With thee than commerce otherwhere,
+    Sharing the snug and fat outlook
+    Of bed and board and ingle-nook
+    With earth-bound woman, earth-born child.
+    Nay, but high love is free and wild
+    And centreth not in mortal things;
+    But to the soul giveth he wings,
+    And with the soul strikes partnership,
+    So may two let corruption slip
+    And breasting level, with far eyes
+    Lifted, seek haven in the skies,
+    Untrammel'd by the earthly mesh.
+    O thou," said he, "of fairy flesh,
+    Immortal prisoner, take of me
+    Love! 'tis my heritage in fee;
+    For I am very part thereof,
+    And share the godhead."
+                            So his love
+    Pled he with tones in love well-skilled
+    Which on her bosom beat and thrilled,
+    And pierced. No word nor look she had
+    To voice her heart, or sad or glad.
+    Rapt stood she, wooed by eager word
+    And by her need, whose cry she heard
+    Above his crying; but she guessed
+    She was desired, beset, possessed
+    Already, handfasted to sight,
+    And yielding so, her heart she plight.
+
+      Thus was her mating: of the eyes
+    And ears, and her love half surmise,
+    Detected by her burning face
+    Which saw, not felt, his fierce embrace.
+    For on her own she knew no hand
+    When caging it he seemed to stand,
+    And round her waist felt not the warm
+    Sheltered peace of the belting arm
+    She saw him clasp withal. When rained
+    His words upon her, or eyes strained
+    As though her inmost shrine to pierce
+    Where hid her heart of hearts, her ears
+    Conceived, although her body sweet
+    Might never feel a young life beat
+    And leap within it. Ah, what cry
+    That mistress e'er heard poet sigh
+    Could voice thy beauty? Or what chant
+    Of music be thy ministrant?
+    Since thou art Music, poesy
+    Must both thy spouse and increase be!
+
+      In the hot dust, where lizards crouch
+    And pant, he made her bridal couch;
+    Thither down drew her to his side
+    And, phantom, taught her to be bride
+    With words so ardent, looks so hot
+    She needs must feel what she had not,
+    Guess herself in beleaguered bed
+    And throb response. Thus she was wed.
+    As she whom Zeus loved in a cloud,
+    So lay she in her lover's shroud,
+    And o'er her members crept the chill
+    We know when mist creeps up a hill
+    Out of the vale at eve. As grows
+    The ivy, rooting as it goes,
+    In such a quick close envelope
+    She lay aswoon, nor guessed the scope
+    Nor tether of his hot intent,
+    Nor what to that inert she lent,
+    Save when at last with half-turned head
+    And glimmering eyes, encompassed
+    She saw herself, a bride possest
+    By ghostly bridegroom, held and prest
+    To unfelt bosom, saw his mouth
+    Against her own, which to his drouth
+    Gave no allay that she could sense,
+    Nor took of her sweet recompense.
+    So moved by pity, stirred by rue,
+    Out of their onslaught young love grew.
+    Love that with delicate tongues of fire
+    Can kindle hearts inflamed desire
+    In her for him who needed it;
+    And so she claimed and by eyes' wit
+    Had what she would: and now made war,
+    Being, as all sweet women are,
+    Prudes till Love calls them, and then fierce
+    In love's high calling. Thus with her ears
+    She fed on love, and to her eyes
+    Lent deeds of passionate emprise--
+    Till at the last, the shadowy strife
+    Ended, she owned herself all wife.
+
+      High mating of the mind! O love,
+    Since this must be, on this she throve!
+    Remember'd joy, Hypsipyle,
+    Since this must be, O love, let be!
+
+_1911._
+
+
+
+
+OREITHYIA
+
+
+    Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried
+    To stormy Thrace from Athens where you tarried
+    Down by Ilissus all a blowy day
+    Among the asphodels, how rapt away
+    Thither, and in what frozen bed wert married?
+
+    "I was a King's tall daughter still unwed,
+    Slim and desirable my locks to shed
+    Free from the fillet. He my maiden belt
+    Undid with busy fingers hid but felt,
+    And made me wife upon no marriage bed.
+
+    "As idly there I lay alone he came
+    And blew upon my side, and beat a flame
+    Into my cheeks, and kindled both my eyes.
+    I suffered him who took no bodily guise:
+    The light clouds know whether I was to blame.
+
+    "Into my mouth he blew an amorous breath;
+    I panted, but lay still, as quiet as death.
+    The whispering planes and sighing grasses know
+    Whether it was the wind that loved me so:
+    I know not--only this, 'O love,' he saith,
+
+    "'O long beset with love, and overloved,
+    O easy saint, untempted and unproved,
+    O walking stilly virgin ways in hiding,
+    Come out, thou art too choice for such abiding!
+    She never valued ease who never roved.
+
+    "'Thou mayst not see thy lover, but he now
+    Is here, and claimeth thy low moonlit brow,
+    Thy wonderful eyes, and lips that part and pout,
+    And polished throat that like a flower shoots out
+    From thy dark vesture folded and crossed low.'
+
+    "With that he had his way and went his way;
+    For Gods have mastery, and a maiden's nay
+    Grows faint ere it is whispered all. I sped
+    Homeward with startled face and tiptoe tread,
+    And up the stair, and in my chamber lay.
+
+    "Crouching I lay and quaked, and heard the wind
+    Wail round the house like a mad thing confined,
+    And had no rest; turn wheresoe'er I would
+    This urgent lover stormed my solitude
+    And beat against the haven of my mind.
+
+    "And over all a clamour and dis-ease
+    Filled earth and air, and shuddered in my knees
+    So that I could not stand, but by the wall
+    Leaned pitifully breathing. Still his call
+    Volleyed against the house and tore the trees.
+
+    "Then out my turret-window as I might
+    I leaned my body to the blind wet night;
+    That eager lover leapt me, circled round,
+    Wreathed, folded, held me prisoner, wrapt and bound
+    In manacles of terror and delight.
+
+    "That night he sealed me to him, and I went
+    Thenceforth his leman, submiss and content;
+    So from the hall and feast, whenas I heard
+    His clear voice call, I flitted like a bird
+    That beats the brake, and garnered what he lent.
+
+    "I was no maid that was no wife; my days
+    Went by in dreams whose lights are golden haze
+    And skies are crimson. Laughing not, nor crying,
+    I strayed all witless with my loose hair flying,
+    Bearing that load that women think their praise.
+
+    "And felt my breasts grow heavy with that food
+    That women laugh to feel and think it good;
+    But I went shamefast, hanging down my head,
+    With girdle all too strait to serve my stead,
+    And bore an unguessed burden in my blood.
+
+    "There was a winter night he came again
+    And shook the window, till cried out my pain
+    Unto him, saying, 'Lord, I dare not live!
+    Lord, I must die of that which thou didst give!
+    Pity me, Lord!' and fell. The winter rain
+
+    "Beat at the casement, burst it, and the wind
+    Filled all the room, and swept me white and blind
+    Into the night. I heard the sound of seas
+    Beleaguer earth, I heard the roaring trees
+    Singing together. We left them far behind.
+
+    "And so he bore me into stormy Thrace,
+    Me and my load, and kissed back to my face
+    The sweet new blood of youth, and to my limbs
+    The wine of life; and there I bore him twins,
+    Zethes and Calais, in a rock-bound place."
+
+    Oreithyia, by the North Wind carried
+    To stormy Thrace, think you of how you tarried
+    And let him woo and wed? "Ah, no, for now
+    He's kissed all Athens from my open brow.
+    I am the Wind's wife, wooed and won and married."
+
+_1897._
+
+
+
+
+CLYTIE
+
+
+    Hearken, O passers, what thing
+    Fortuned in Hellas. A maid,
+    Lissom and white as the roe,
+    Lived recess'd in a glade.
+    Clytie, Hamadryad,
+    She was called that I sing--
+    Flower so fair, so frail, that to bring her a woe,
+    Surely a pitiful thing!
+
+    A wild bright creature of trees,
+    Brooks, and the sun among leaves,
+    Clytie, grown to be maid:
+    Ah, she had eyes like the sea's
+    Iris of green and blue!
+    White as sea-foam her brows,
+    And her hair reedy and gold:
+    So she grew and waxt supple and fit to be spouse
+    In a king's palace of old.
+
+    All in a kirtle of green,
+    With her tangle of red-gold hair,
+    In the live heart of an oak,
+    Clytie, harbouring there,
+    Throned there as a queen,
+    Clytie wondering woke:
+    Ah, child, what set thee too high for thy sweet demesne,
+    And who ponder'd the doleful stroke?
+
+    For the child that was maiden grown,
+    The queen of the forest places,
+    Clytie, Hamadryad,
+    Tired of the joy she had,
+    And the kingdom that was her own;
+    And tired of the quick wood-races,
+    And joy of herself in the pool when she wonder'd down,
+    And tired of her budded graces.
+
+    And the child lookt up to the Sun
+    And the burning track of his car
+    In the broad serene above her:
+    "O King Sun, be thou my lover,
+    For my beauty is just begun.
+    I am fresh and fair as a star;
+    Come, lie where the lilies are:
+    Behold, I am fair and dainty and white all over,
+    And I waste in the wood unknown!"
+
+    Rose-flusht, daring, she strain'd
+    Her young arms up, and she voiced
+    The wild desire of her heart.
+    The woodland heard her, the faun,
+    The satyr, and things that start,
+    Peering, heard her; the dove, crooning, complain'd
+    In the pine-tree by the lawn.
+    Only the runnel rejoiced
+    In his rushy hollow apart
+    To see her beauty flash up
+    White and red as the dawn.
+
+    Sorrow, ye passers-by,
+    The quick lift of her word,
+    The crimson blush of her pride!
+    Heard her the heavens' lord
+    In his flaming seat in the sky:
+    "Overbold of her years that will not be denied;
+    She would be the Sun-God's bride!"
+    His brow it was like the flat of a sword,
+    And levin the glance of his side.
+
+    And he bent unto her, and his mouth
+    Burnt her like coals of fire;
+    He gazed with passionate eyes,
+    Like flame that kindles and dries,
+    And his breath suckt hers as the white rage of the South
+    Draws life; his desire
+    Was like to a tiger's drouth.
+    What shall the slim maiden avail?
+    Alas, and alas for her youth!
+
+    Tremble, O maids, that would set
+    Your love-longing to the Sun!
+    For Clytie mourn, and take heed
+    How she loved her king and did bleed
+    Ere kissing had yet begun.
+    For lo! one shaft from his terrible eyes she met,
+    And it burnt to her soul, and anon
+    She paled, and the fever-fret
+    Did bite to her bones; and wan
+    She fell to rueing the deed.
+
+    Mark ye, maidens, and cower!
+    Lo, for an end of breath,
+    Clytie, hardy and frail,
+    Anguisht after her death.
+    For the Sun-flower droops and is pale
+    When her king hideth his power,
+    And ever draggeth the woe of her piteous tale,
+    As a woman that laboureth
+    Yet never reacheth the hour:
+    So Clytie yearns to the Sun, for her wraith
+    Moans in the bow'd sunflower.
+
+    Clytie, Hamadryad,
+    Called was she that I sing:
+    Flower so fair and frail that to work her this woe,
+    Surely a pitiful thing!
+
+_1894._
+
+
+
+
+LAI OF GOBERTZ[1]
+
+
+    Of courteous Limozin wight,
+    Gobertz, I will indite:
+    From Poicebot had he his right
+          Of gentlehood;
+    Made monk in his own despite
+    In San Leonart the white,
+    Withal to sing and to write
+          _Coblas_ he could.
+
+    Learning had he, and rare
+    Music, and _gai saber_:
+    No monk with him to compare
+          In that monast'ry.
+    Full lusty he was to bear
+    Cowl and chaplet of hair
+    God willeth monks for to wear
+          For sanctity.
+
+    There in dortoir as he lay,
+    To this Gobertz, by my fay,
+    Came fair women to play
+          In his sleep;
+    Then he had old to pray,
+    Fresh and silken came they,
+    With eyen saucy and gray
+          That set him weep.
+
+    May was the month, and soft
+    The singing nights; up aloft
+    The quarter moon swam and scoffed
+          His unease.
+    Rose this Gobertz, and doffed
+    His habit, and left that croft,
+    Crying _Eleison_ oft
+          At Venus' knees.
+
+    Heartly the road and the town
+    Mauleon, over the down,
+    Sought he, and the renown
+          Of Savaric;
+    To that good knight he knelt down,
+    Asking of him in bown
+    Almesse of laurel crown
+          For his music.
+
+    Fair him Savaric spake,
+    "If _coblas_ you know to make,
+    Song and music to wake
+          For your part,
+    Horse and lute shall you take
+    Of _Jongleur_, lightly forsake
+    Cloister for woodland brake
+          With good heart."
+
+    Down the high month of May
+    Now rideth Gobertz his way
+    To Aix, to Puy, to Alais,
+          To Albi the old;
+    In Toulouse mindeth to stay
+    With Count Simon the Gay,
+    There to abide what day
+          Love shall hold.
+
+    Shrill riseth his song:
+    _Cobla_, _lai_, or _tenzon_,
+    None can render him wrong
+          In that _meinie_--
+    Love alone, that erelong
+    Showed him in all that throng
+    Of ladies Tibors the young,
+          None but she.
+
+    She was high-hearted and fair,
+    Low-breasted, with hair
+    Gilded, and eyes of vair
+          In burning face:
+    On her Gobertz astare,
+    Looking, stood quaking there
+    To see so debonnair
+          Hold her place.
+
+    Proud _donzela_ and free,
+    To clip nor to kiss had she
+    Talent, nor for minstrelsy
+          Was she fain;
+    Mistress never would be,
+    Nor master have; but her fee
+    She vowed to sweet Chastity,
+          Her suzerain.
+
+    Then this Gobertz anon
+    Returneth to Mauleon,
+    To Savaric maketh moan
+          On his knees.
+    Other pray'r hath he none
+    Save this, "Sir, let me begone
+    Whence I came, since fordone
+          My expertise."
+
+    Quod Savaric, "Hast thou sped
+    So ill in _amors_?" Answered
+    This Gobertz, "By my head,
+          She scorneth me."
+    "_Hauberc_ and arms then, instead
+    Of lute and begarlanded
+    Poll, take you," he said,
+          "For errantry."
+
+    Now rides he out, a dubbed knight,
+    The Spanish road, for to fight
+    Paynimry; day and night
+          Urgeth he;
+    In Saragoza the bright,
+    And Pampluna with might
+    Seeketh he what respite
+          For grief there be.
+
+    War-dimmed grew his gear,
+    Grim his visage; in fear
+    Listened Mahound his cheer
+          Deep in Hell.
+    Fled his legions to hear
+    Gobertz the knight draw near.
+    Now he closeth the year
+          In Compostell.
+
+    Offering there hath he made
+    Saint James, candles him paid,
+    Gold on the shrine hath laid;
+          Now Gobertz
+    Is for Toulouse, where that maid
+    Tibors wonned unafraid
+    Of Love and his accolade
+          That breaketh hearts.
+
+    He rode north and by east,
+    Nor rider spared he nor beast,
+    Nor tempered spur till at least
+          Forth of Spain;
+    Not for mass-bell nor priest,
+    For fast-day nor yet for feast
+    Stayed he, till voyage ceased
+          In Aquitaine.
+
+    Now remaineth to tell
+    What this Gobertz befell
+    When that he sought hostel
+          In his land.
+    Dined he well, drank he well,
+    Envy then had somedeal
+    With women free in _bordel_
+          For to spend.
+
+    In poor _alberc_ goeth he
+    Where bought pleasure may be,
+    Careless proffereth fee
+          For his bliss.
+    O Gobertz, look to thee.
+    Such a sight shalt thou see
+    Will make the red blood to flee
+          Thy heart, ywis.
+
+    Fair woman they bring him in
+    Shamefast in her burning sin,
+    All afire is his skin
+          _Par amors_.
+    Look not of her look to win,
+    Dare not lift up her chin,
+    Gobertz; in that soiled fond thing
+          Lo, Tibors!
+
+    "O love, O love, out, alas!
+    That it should come to this pass,
+    And thou be even as I was
+          In green youth,
+    Whenas delight and solace
+    Served I with wantonness,
+    And burned anon like the grass
+          To this ruth!"
+
+    But then lift she her sad eyes,
+    Gray like wet morning skies,
+    That wait the sun to arise,
+          Tears to amend.
+    "Gobertz, _amic_," so she cries,
+    "By Jesus' agonies
+    Hither come I by lies
+          Of false friend.
+
+    "Sir Richart de Laund he hight,
+    Who fair promised me plight
+    Of word and ring, on a night
+          Of no fame;
+    So then evilly bright
+    Had his will and delight
+    Of me, and fled unrequite
+          For my shame!
+
+    "Alas, and now to my thought
+    Flieth the woe that I wrought
+    Thee, Gobertz, that distraught
+          Thou didst fare.
+    Now a vile thing of nought
+    Fare I that once was so haught
+    And free, and could not be taught
+          By thy care."
+
+    But Gobertz seeth no less
+    Her honour and her sweetness,
+    Soon her small hand to kiss
+          Taketh he,
+    Saying, "Now for that stress
+    Drave thee here thou shalt bless
+    God, for so ending this
+          Thy penury."
+
+    Yet she would bid him away,
+    Seeking her sooth to say,
+    In what woful array
+          She was cast.
+    "Nay," said he, "but, sweet may,
+    Here must we bide until day:
+    Then to church and to pray
+          Go we fast."
+
+    Now then to all his talent,
+    Seeing how he was bent,
+    Him the comfort she lent
+          Of her mind.
+    Cried Gobertz, well content,
+    "If love by dreariment
+    Cometh, that was well spent,
+          As I find."
+
+    Thereafter somewhat they slept,
+    When to his arms she had crept
+    For comfort, and freely wept
+          Sin away.
+    Up betimes then he leapt,
+    Calling her name: forth she stept
+    Meek, disposed, to accept
+          What he say.
+
+    By hill road taketh he her
+    To the gray nuns of Beaucaire,
+    There to shred off her hair
+          And take veil.
+    Himself to cloister will fare
+    Monk to be, with good care
+    For their two souls. May his pray'r
+          Them avail!
+
+_1911._
+
+[1] I owe the substance of this _lai_ to my friend Ezra Pound, who
+unearthed it, {psamatho eilymena polle}, in some Provencal repertory.
+
+
+
+
+THE SAINTS' MAYING
+
+
+    Since green earth is awake
+    Let us now pastime take,
+    Not serving wantonness
+    Too well, nor niggardness,
+    Which monks of men would make.
+
+    But clothed like earth in green,
+    With jocund hearts and clean,
+    We will take hands and go
+    Singing where quietly blow
+    The flowers of Spring's demesne.
+
+    The cuckoo haileth loud
+    The open sky; no cloud
+    Doth fleck the earth's blue tent;
+    The land laughs, well content
+    To put off winter shroud.
+
+    Now, since 'tis Easter Day,
+    All Christians may have play;
+    The young Saints, all agaze
+    For Christ in Heaven's maze,
+    May laugh who wont to pray.
+
+    Then welcome to our round
+    They light on homely ground:--
+    Agnes, Saint Cecily,
+    Agatha, Dorothy,
+    Margaret, Hildegonde;
+
+    Next come with Barbara
+    Lucy and Ursula;
+    And last, queen of the Nine,
+    Clear-eyed Saint Catherine
+    Joyful arrayeth her.
+
+    Then chooseth each her lad,
+    And after frolic had
+    Of dance and carolling
+    And playing in a ring,
+    Seek all the woodland shade.
+
+    And there for each his lass
+    Her man a nosegay has,
+    Which better than word spoken
+    Might stand to be her token
+    And emblem of her grace.
+
+    For Cecily, who bent
+    Her slim white neck and went
+    To Heaven a virgin still,
+    The nodding daffodil,
+    That bends but is not shent.
+
+    Lucy, whose wounded eyes
+    Opened in Heaven star-wise,
+    The lady-smock, whose light
+    Doth prank the grass with white,
+    Taketh for badge and prize.
+
+    Because for Lord Christ's hest
+    Men shore thy warm bright breast,
+    Agatha, see thy part
+    Showed in the burning heart
+    Of the white crocus best.
+
+    What fate was Barbara's
+    Shut in the tower of brass,
+    We figure and hold up
+    Within the stiff king-cup
+    That crowns the meadow grass.
+
+    Agnes, than whose King Death
+    Stayed no more delicate breath
+    On earth, we give for dower
+    Wood-sorrel, that frail flower
+    That Spring first quickeneth.
+
+    Dorothy, whose shrill voice
+    Bade Heathendom rejoice,
+    The sweet-breath'd cowslip hath;
+    And Margaret, who in death
+    Saw Heaven, her pearly choice.
+
+    Then she of virgin brood
+    Whom Prince of Britain woo'd,
+    Ursula, takes by favour
+    The hyacinth whose savour
+    Enskies the sunny wood.
+
+    Hildegonde, whose spirit high
+    The Cross did not deny,
+    Yet blusht to feel the shame,
+    Anemones must claim,
+    Whose roses early die.
+
+    Last, she who gave in pledge
+    Her neck to the wheel's edge,
+    Taketh the fresh primrose
+    Which (even as she her foes)
+    Redeems the wintry hedge.
+
+    So garlanded, entwined,
+    Each as may prompt her mind,
+    The Saints renew for Earth
+    And Heaven such seemly mirth
+    As God once had design'd.
+
+    And when the day is done,
+    And veil'd the goodly Sun,
+    Each man his maid by right
+    Doth kiss and bid Good-night;
+    And home goes every one.
+
+    The maids to Heaven do hie
+    To serve God soberly;
+    The lads, their loves in Heaven,
+    What lowly work is given
+    They do, to win the sky.
+
+_1896._
+
+
+
+
+THE ARGIVE WOMEN[2]
+
+ CHTHONOE          MYRTILLA
+ RHODOPE           PASIPHASSA
+ GORGO             SITYS
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SCENE
+
+The women's house in the House of Paris in Troy.
+
+TIME.--The Tenth year of the War.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ _Helen's women are lying alone in the twilight
+     hour. Chthonoe presently rises and throws a
+     little incense upon the altar flame. Then she
+     begins to speak to the Image of Aphrodite in
+     a low and tired voice._
+
+
+                CHTHONOE
+
+    Goddess of burning and little rest,
+    By the hand swaying on thy breast,
+    By glancing eye and slow sweet smile
+    Tell me what long look or what guile
+    Of thine it was that like a spear
+    Pierced her heart, who caged me here
+    In this close house, to be with her
+    Mistress at once and prisoner!
+      Far from earth and her pleasant ways
+    I lie, whose nights are as my days
+    In this dim house, where on the wall
+    I watch the shadows rise and fall
+    And know not what is reckt or done
+    By men and horses out in the sun,
+    Nor heed their traffic, nor their cheer
+    As forth they go or back, but hear
+    The fountain plash into the pond,
+    The brooding doves, and sighs of fond
+    Lovers whose lips yearn as they sever
+    For longer joy, joy such as never
+    Hath man but in the mind. But what
+    Men do without, that I know not
+    Who see them but as shadows thrown
+    Upon a screen. I see them blown
+    Like clouds of flies about the plain
+    Where the winds sweep them and make vain
+    Their panoplies. They hem the verge
+    Of this high wall to guard us--urge
+    Galloping horses into war
+    And meet in shock of battle, far
+    Below us and our dreams: withal
+    Ten years have past us in this thrall
+    Since Helen came with eyes agleam
+    To Troy, and trod the ways of dream.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Men came about us, crying, "The Greeks!
+    Ships out at sea with high-held peaks
+    Like questing birds!" But I lay still
+    Kissing, nor turned.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+                          So I, until
+    The herald broke into my sleep,
+    Crying Agamemnon on the deep
+    With ships from high Mykenai. Then
+    I minded he was King of Men--
+    But not of women in the arms
+    They loved.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+                I heard their shrill alarms
+    Faint and far off, like an old fame.
+    Below this guarded house men came--
+    Chariots and horses clasht; they cried
+    King Agamemnon in his pride,
+    Or Hector, or young Diomede;
+    But I was kissing, could not heed
+    Aught save the eyes that held mine bound.
+    Anon a hush--anon the sound
+    Of hooves resistless, pounding--a cry,
+    "Achilles! Save yourselves!" But I--
+    Clinging I lay, and sighed in sign
+    That love must weary at last, even mine--
+    Even mine, Sweetheart!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                            Who watcht when flared
+    Lord Hector like a meteor, dared
+    The high stockade and fired the ships?
+    I watcht his lips who had had my lips.
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    And when he slew Menoikios' son,
+    Sister, what then?
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                        My cheek was wan
+    For lack of kissing--so I blew
+    On slumbering lids to draw anew
+    The eyes of him who had loved me well,
+    But now was faint.
+
+
+                CHTHONOE
+
+                        O Kypris, tell
+    The deeds of men, not lovers!
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+                                  Here
+    Came one all palsied in his fear,
+    Chattering and white, to Paris abed,
+    Flusht in his sleep--told Hector dead,
+    Dead and dishonoured, while he slept.
+    He sighed and turned. But Helen wept.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Not I. I turned and felt warm draught
+    Of breath upon my cheek, and laught
+    Softly, and snuggling, slept.
+
+
+                CHTHONOE
+
+                                  Fie, fie!
+    Goddess, drugged in thy dreams we lie,
+    Logs, not women, logs in the sun!
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    Thou art sated. So fretteth One,
+    The very fount of Love's sweet well,
+    The chord of Love made visible,
+    Sickened of her own loveliness,
+    Haggard as hawk too long in jess,
+    Aching for flight.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+                        Recall the bout
+    When Paris armed him and went out
+    Into the lists, and all men thronged
+    To see----
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+                Lord Paris and him he wronged
+    Fight for her, who should have her! We stood
+    Upon the walls, and she with her hood
+    Close to her cheek. But I saw the flicker
+    In her blue eyes!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                      But I was quicker,
+    And saw the man she looked upon,
+    And after what her blue eyes shone
+    Like cyanus in morning light.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Husband and lover she saw fight,
+    Man to man, with death between.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    Hatred coucht, as long and lean
+    As a lone wolf, on her man's crest--
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    And bit the Trojan!
+
+
+                CHTHONOE
+
+                        Thine was the rest,
+    Goddess! And Helen lit the fire,
+    With her disdain, of his desire.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Her eyes burned like the frosty stars
+    Of winter midnight.
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+                        His the scars!
+    Bitten in his wax-pale cheek.
+
+
+                CHTHONOE
+
+    Nay, in his heart----
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+                          Nay, in his bleak
+    And writhen smile you see it!
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+                                  Nay!
+    In his sick soul.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+                      Let him go his way!
+    Hear my thought of a happier thing--
+    Sparta's trees in flood of spring
+    Where Eurotas' banks abrim
+    Drown the reeds, and foam-clots swim
+    Like a scattered brood of duck!
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Flowers anod! White flowers to pluck,
+    Stiffened in the foamy curds!
+    Ah, the green thickets quick with birds!
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    Calling Itys! Itys! Itys!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    She calls not here--her house it is
+    In Sparta!
+
+
+                RHODOPE (_with a sob_)
+
+                Peace!
+
+
+                CHTHONOE
+
+                        From my heart a cry--
+    Send me back, Goddess, ere I die
+    To those dear places and clean things--
+    To see my people, feel the wings
+    Of the gray night fold over me,
+    And touch my mother's knees, and be
+    Her child, as long ago I was
+    Before I lay burning in Ilios!
+
+                [_They hide their faces in their knees.
+                      Then one by one they sing._]
+
+    Let me sing an old sweet air,
+    Mother of Argos, to Thee,
+    For hope in my heart is fair
+    As light on the hills seen from afar at sea;
+    And my weary eyes turn there
+    As to the haven where my soul would be.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    I will arise and make choice
+    The house of my tumbled breast,
+    For she cometh, I hear the voice
+    Of her wings of healing, and she shall be my guest;
+    And my joys shall be her joys,
+    And my home her home, O wind of the South West!
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    As a bird that listens and thrills,
+    Hidden deep in the night,
+    For the sound of the little rills
+    That run musically towards the light;
+    As a hart to the high hills
+    Turneth his dying eyes, my soul takes flight.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Ah, to be folded deep
+    In the shade of Taygetus,
+    In my mother's arms to sleep
+    Even as a child when I lay harboured thus!
+    Oh, that I were as thy sheep,
+    Lacedaemon, my land, cradle and nurse of us!
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    In Argos they sow the grain,
+    In Troy blood is their sowing;
+    There a green mantle covers the plain
+    Where the sweet green corn and sweet short grass are growing;
+    But here passion and pain--
+    Blood and dust upon earth, and a hot wind blowing.
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    To the hold on the far red hill
+    From the hold on the wide green lea,
+    Over the running water, follow who will
+    Therapnae's hawk with the dove of Amyklae.
+    But I would lie husht and still,
+    And feel the new grass growing quick over me!
+
+          [_The scene grows dark as they sit.
+              Their eyes are full of tears.
+              Presently one looks up, listening,
+              then another, then another. They
+              are all alert._]
+
+
+                CHTHONOE
+
+    Who prayeth peace? I feel her peace
+    Steal through me as a quiet air
+    Enters the house with sweet increase
+    Of light to healing, praise to prayer!
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    What do I know of guiltiness
+    When she is here, and with grave eyes
+    Seeketh the ways of quietness
+    And lampeth them?
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+                      Arise, arise!
+
+                      [_They all stand waiting._]
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Hark! Her footfall like the dew--
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    As a flower by frost made sere
+    Long before the sun breaks through,
+    Feeleth him, I know her near.
+
+                    [_Helen stands in the doorway._]
+
+
+                CHTHONOE
+
+    This is she, the source of light,
+    Source of light and end of it,
+    Argive Helen, slim and sweet,
+    For whose bosom and delight,
+    For whose eyes, those wells of peace,
+    Paris wrought, as well he might,
+    Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    Starry wonder that she was,
+    Caged like sea-bird in his arms,
+    See her passion thrill, then pass
+    From him who, doting on her charms,
+    So became abominable.
+    Watch her bosom dip and swell,
+    See her nostrils fan and curve
+    At his touch who loved not well,
+    But loved too much, who broke the spell;
+    Watch her proud head stiffen and swerve.
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Upon the wall with claspt white hands
+    See her vigil keep intent,
+    Argive Helen, lo! she stands
+    Looking seaward where the fires
+    Hem the shore innumerable;
+    Sign of that avenging host,
+    All Achaia's chivalry,
+    Past the tongue of man to tell,
+    Peers and kindred of her sires
+    Come to win back Helen lost.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    There to her in that gray hour,
+    That gray hour before the sun,
+    Cometh he she waiteth for,
+    Menelaus like a ghost,
+    Like a dry leaf tempest-tost,
+    Stalking restless, her reproach.
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    There alone, those two, long severed been,
+    Eye each other, one wild heart between.
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    "O thou ruinous face,
+    O thou fatally fair,
+    O the pity of thee!
+    What dost thou there,
+    Watching the madness of me?"
+
+
+                CHTHONOE
+
+    Him seemed her eyes were pools of dark
+    To drown him, yet no word she spake;
+    But gazing, grave as a lonely house,
+    All her wonder thrilled to wake.
+
+
+                RHODOPE
+
+    "By thy roses and snow,
+    By thy sun-litten hair,
+    By thy low bosom and slow
+    Pondered kisses, O hear!
+
+    "By thy glimmering eyes,
+    By thy burning cheek,
+    By thy murmuring sighs,
+    Speak, Helen, O speak!
+
+    "Ruinous Face, O Ruinous Face,
+    Art thou come so early," he said,
+    "So early forth from the wicked bed?"
+
+
+                GORGO
+
+    Him she pondered, grave and still,
+    Stirring not from her safe place:
+    He marked the glow, he felt the thrill,
+    He saw the dawn new in her face.
+
+
+                MYRTILLA
+
+    Within her low voice wailed the tone
+    Of one who grieves and prays for death:
+    "Lord, I am come to be alone,
+    Alone here with my sorrow," she saith.
+
+
+                PASIPHASSA
+
+    "False wife, what pity was thine
+    For hearth and altar, for man and child?
+    What is thy sorrow worth unto mine?"
+    She rocked, moaning, "I was beguiled!"
+
+
+                SITYS
+
+    Ten years' woe for Troy and Greece
+    By her begun, the slim, the sweet,
+    Ended by her in final peace
+    Of him who loved her first of all;
+    Nor ever swerved from his high passion,
+    But through misery and shame
+    Saw her spirit like a flame
+    Eloquent of her sacred fashion--
+    Hers whose eyes are homes of light,
+    To which she tends, from which she came.
+
+_1912._
+
+[2] _Helen Redeemed_, the first poem in this book, was originally
+conceived as a drama. Here is a scene from it, the first after the
+Prologue, which would have been spoken by Odysseus. The action of the
+play would have begun with the entry of Helen.
+
+
+
+
+GNATHO
+
+
+    Gnatho, Satyr, homing at dusk,
+    Trotting home like a tired dog,
+    By mountain slopes 'twixt the junipers
+    And flamed oleanders near the sea,
+    Found a girl-child asleep in a fleece,
+    Frail as wax, golden and rose;
+    Whereat at first he skipt aside
+    And stayed him, nosing and peering, whereto
+    Next he crept, softly breathing,
+    Blinking his fear. None was there
+    To guard; the sun had dipt in the sea,
+    Faint fire empurpled the flow
+    Of heaving water; no speck, no hint
+    Of oar or wing on the main, on the deep
+    Sky, empty as a great shell,
+    Fainting in its own glory. This thing,
+    This rare breath, this miracle--
+    Alone with him in the world! His
+    To wonder, fall to, with craning eyes
+    Fearfully daring; next, since it moved not,
+    Stooping, to handle, to stroke, to peer upon
+    Closely, nosing its tender length,
+    Doglike snuffing--at last to kiss
+    In reverence wonderful, lightlier far
+    Than thistledown falls, brushing the Earth.
+    But the child awoke and, watching him, cried not,
+    Cruddled visage, choppy hands,
+    Blinking eyes, red-litten, astare,
+    Horns and feet--nay, crowed and strained
+    To reach this wonder.
+                          As one a glass
+    Light as foam, hued like the foam,
+    A breath-bubble of fire, will carry,
+    He in arms lifted his freight,
+    Looking wonderfully upon it
+    With scarce a breath, and humbleness
+    To be so brute ebbed to the flood
+    Of pride in his new assured worth--
+    Trusted so, who could be vile?
+
+    So to his cave in the wood he bore her,
+    Fleeting swift as a fear thro' the dark trees.
+
+    There in the silence of tall trees,
+    Under the soaring shafts,
+    Far beneath the canopied leafage,
+    In the forest whisper, the thick silences;
+    Or on the wastes
+    Of sheltered mountains where the spires
+    Of solemn cypress frame the descent
+    Upon the blue, and open to sea--
+    Here grew Ianthe maiden slim
+    With none to spy but this gnarled man-brute;
+    Most fair, most hid, like a wood-flower
+    Slim for lack of light; so she grew
+    In flowering line of limb
+    And flower of face, retired and shy,
+    Urged by the bland air; unknown,
+    Lonely and lovely, husbanding
+    Her great possessions--hers now,
+    Another's when he cared to claim them.
+    For thus went life: to lead the herds
+    Of pricking deer she saw the great stags
+    Battle in empty glades, then mate;
+    Thus on the mountains chose the bears,
+    And in the woods she heard the wolves
+    Anguishing in their loves
+    Thro' the dense nights, far in the forest.
+    And so collected went she, and sure
+    Her time would come and with it her master.
+
+    But Gnatho watcht her under his brows
+    When she lay heedless, spilling beauty--
+    How ever lovelier, suppler, sleeker,
+    How more desirable, how near;
+    How rightly his, how surely his--
+    Then gnaw'd his cheek and turn'd his head.
+
+    For unsuspect, some dim forbidding
+    Rose within him and knockt at his heart
+    And said, Not thine, but for reverence.
+    And some wild horror desperate drove him,
+    Suing a pardon from unknown Gods
+    For untold trespass, to seek the sea,
+    Upon whose shore, to whose cool breathing
+    He'd stretch his arms, broken with strife
+    Of self and self; and all that water
+    Steadfast lapt and surged. Came tears
+    To furrow his cheeks, came strength to return
+    To her, and bear with longer breath
+    Her sweet familiarities, blind
+    Obedience to nascent blind desire--
+    Till again he lookt and burn'd again.
+
+    Thus his black ferment boil'd. O' nights
+    He'd dream and revel frenziedly
+    As with the love-stung nymphs. Awake,
+    In a chill sweat, he'd tear at himself,
+    Claw at his flesh and leap in the brook,
+    Drench the red embers of his vice
+    Into a mass abhorred. Clean then,
+    He'd seek his bed and pass unscath'd
+    The bower of fern where the sleek limbs
+    Of white Ianthe, mesht in her hair,
+    Lay lax in sleep. But Gnatho now
+    Saw only God, as on some still peak
+    Snowy and lonely under the stars
+    We look, and see God in all that calm.
+
+    One night of glamour, under a moon
+    That seemed to steep the air with gold,
+    They two sat stilly and watcht the sea
+    Tremulously heaving over a path
+    Of light like a river of molten gold.
+    Warm blew the breeze to land; she lean'd
+    Her idle head, idly played
+    Her fingers in his belt, and he
+    Embracing held her, yielding, subdued;
+    Sideways saw the curve of her cheek,
+    Downcast lashes, droopt lip
+    Which seem'd to court his pleasure--
+                                          Then
+    On waves of fire came racing his needs
+    With zest of rage to possess and tear
+    That which his frenzy, maskt as love,
+    Courted: so he lean'd to her ear,
+    Thrilled in torrents hoarse his case--
+    "Love, I burn, I burn!
+    Slake me, love!" He raved in whisper.
+    And she lookt up with her wide full eyes,
+    Saying, "My love!" and yielded herself.
+
+    Deep night settled on hill and plain,
+    The moon went out, the concourse of stars
+    Lay strewn above, and with golden eyes
+    Peered on them lockt. Far and faint
+    The great stags belled; far and faint
+    Quested the wolves; the leopards' howling
+    Lent desolation to night; and low
+    The night-jar purr'd. At sea one light
+    Swayed restlessly, and on the rocks
+    Sounded the tireless lapping deep.
+    Lockt they lay thro' all the silences.
+
+      Dawn stole in with whimper of rain
+    And a wailing wind from the sea--
+    Gray sea, gray dawn and scurrying clouds
+    And scud of rain. The fisher boat,
+    The sands, the headlands fringed with broom
+    And tamarisk were blotted.
+                                Alone,
+    Caged in the mist of earth
+    That beat his torment back to himself,
+    So that in vain he sought for the Gods,
+    And lifted up hands in vain
+    To witness this white wreck prone and still--
+    Gnatho the Satyr blinkt on his work.
+
+_1898-1912._
+
+
+
+
+TO THE GODS OF THE COUNTRY
+
+
+    Sun and Moon, shine upon me;
+      Make glad my days and clear my nights!
+
+    O Earth, whose child I am,
+      Grant me thy patience!
+
+    O Heaven, whose heir I may be,
+      Keep quick my hope!
+
+    Your steadfastness I need, O Hills;
+      O Rain, thy kindness!
+
+    Snow, keep me pure;
+      O Fire, teach me thy pride!
+
+    From you, ye Winds, I ask your blitheness!
+
+_1909._
+
+
+
+
+FOURTEEN SONNETS
+
+1896
+
+
+ALMA SDEGNOSA
+
+    Not that dull spleen which serves i' the world for scorn,
+      Is hers I watch from far off, worshipping
+      As in remote Chaldaea the ancient king
+    Adored the star that heralded the morn.
+    Her proud content she bears as a flag is borne
+      Tincted the hue royal; or as a wing
+      It lifts her soaring, near the daylight spring,
+    Whence, if she lift, our days must pass forlorn.
+
+    The pure deriving of her spirit-state
+    Is so remote from men and their believing,
+    They shrink when she is cold, and estimate
+    That hardness which is but a God's dismay:
+    As when the Heaven-sent sprite thro' Hell sped cleaving,
+    Only the gross air checkt him on his way.
+
+
+THE WINDS' POSSESSION
+
+    When winds blow high and leaves begin to fall,
+      And the wan sunlight flits before the blast;
+    When fields are brown and crops are garnered all,
+      And rooks, like mastered ships, drift wide and fast;
+    Maid Artemis, that feeleth her young blood
+      Leap like a freshet river for the sea,
+    Speedeth abroad with hair blown in a flood
+      To snuff the salt west wind and wanton free.
+
+    Then would you know how brave she is, how high
+    Her ancestry, how kindred to the wind,
+    Mark but her flashing feet, her ravisht eye
+    That takes the boist'rous weather and feels it kind:
+    And hear her eager voice, how tuned it is
+    To Autumn's clarion shrill for Artemis.
+
+
+ASPETTO REALE
+
+    That hour when thou and Grief were first acquainted
+      Thou wrotest, "Come, for I have lookt on death."
+      Piteous I held my indeterminate breath
+    And sought thee out, and saw how he had painted
+    Thine eyes with rings of black; yet never fainted
+      Thy radiant immortality underneath
+      Such stress of dark; but then, as one that saith,
+    "I know Love liveth," sat on by death untainted.
+
+    O to whom Grief too poignant was and dry
+    To sow in thee a fountain crop of tears!
+    O youth, O pride, set too remote and high
+    For touch of solace that gives grace to men!
+    Thy life must be our death, thy hopes our fears:
+    We weep, thou lookest strangely--we know thee then!
+
+
+KIN CONFESSED
+
+    Long loving, all our love was husbanded
+      Until one morning on the brown hillside,
+      One misty Autumn morn when Sun did hide
+    His radiance, yet was felt. No words we said,
+      But in one flash transfigured, glorified,
+    All her heart's tumult beating white and red,
+      She fell prone on her face and hid her wide
+    Over-brimmed eyes in dewy fern.
+                                    I prayed,
+    Then spake, "In us two now is manifest
+    That throbbing kindred whereof thou art graft
+    And I the grafted, in this holy place."
+    She, turning half, with sober shame confest
+    Discovery, then hid her rosy face.
+    I read her wilding heart, and my heart laught.
+
+
+QUEL GIORNO PIU ...
+
+    That day--it was the last of many days,
+      Nor could we know when such days might be given
+    Again--we read how Dante trod the ways
+      Of utmost Hell, and how his heart was riven
+      By sad Francesca, whose sin was forgiven
+    So far that, on her Paolo fixing gaze,
+      She supt on his again, and thought it Heaven,
+    She knew her gentler fate and felt it praise.
+
+    We read that lovers' tale; each lookt at each;
+    But one was fearless, innocent of guile;
+    So did the other learn what she could teach:
+    We read no more, we kiss'd not, but a smile
+    Of proud possession flasht, hover'd a while
+    'Twixt soul and soul. There was no need for speech.
+
+
+ABSENCE
+
+    When she had left us but a little while
+      Methought I sensed her spirit here and there
+      About my house: upon the empty stair
+    Her robe brusht softly; o'er her chamber still
+    There lay her fragrant presence to beguile
+      Numb heart, dead heart. I knelt before her chair,
+      And praying felt her hand laid on my hair,
+    Felt her sweet breath, and guess'd her wistful smile.
+
+    Then thro' my tears I lookt about the room,
+    But she was gone. I heard my heart beat fast;
+    The street was silent; I could not see her now.
+    Sorrow and I took up our load, and past
+    To where our station was with heads bent low,
+    And autumn's death-moan shiver'd thro' the gloom.
+
+
+PRESENCE
+
+    When she had left us but a little while,
+      I still could hear the ringing of her voice,
+    Still see athwart the dusk her shy half-smile
+      And that sweet trust wherein I most rejoice.
+
+    Then in her self-same tones I heard, "Go thou,
+      Set to that work appointed thee to do,
+    Remembering I am with thee here and now,
+      Watchful as ever. See, my eyes shine true!"
+
+    I lookt, and saw the concourse of clear stars,
+      Steadfast, of limpid candour, and could discover
+    Her soul look on me thro' the prison-bars
+      Which slunk like sin from such an honest Lover:
+
+    And thro' the vigil-pauses of that night
+    She beam'd on me; and my soul felt her light.
+
+
+DREAM ANGUISH
+
+    My thought of thee is tortured in my sleep--
+      Sometimes thou art near beside me, but a cloud
+    Doth grudge me thy pale face, and rise to creep
+      Slowly about thee, to lap thee in a shroud;
+    And I, as standing by my dead, to weep
+      Desirous, cannot weep, nor cry aloud.
+      Or we must face the clamouring of a crowd
+    Hissing our shame; and I who ought to keep
+      Thine honour safe and my betrayed heart proud,
+    Knowing thee true, must watch a chill doubt leap
+      The tired faith of thee, and thy head bow'd,
+    Nor budge while the gross world holdeth thee cheap!
+
+    Or there are frost-bound meetings, and reproach
+    At parting, furtive snatches full of fear;
+    Love grown a pain; we bleed to kiss, and kiss
+    Because we bleed for love; the time doth broach
+    Shame, and shame teareth at us till we tear
+    Our hearts to shreds--yet wilder love for this!
+
+
+HYMNIA-BEATRIX
+
+    Before you pass and leave me gaunt and chill
+      Alone to do what I have joyed in doing
+    In your glad sight, suffer me, nor take ill
+      If I confess you prize and me pursuing.
+      As the rapt Tuscan lifted up his eyes
+    Whither his Lady led, and lived with her,
+      Strong in her strength, and in her wisdom wise,
+    Love-taught with song to be her thurifer;
+      So I, that may no nearer stand than he
+    To minister about the holy place,
+    Am well content to watch my Heaven in thee
+    And read my Credo in thy sacred face.
+      For even as Beatrix Dante's wreath did bind,
+    So, Hymnia, hast thou imparadised my mind.
+
+
+LUX E TENEBRIS
+
+    I thank all Gods that I can let thee go,
+      Lady, without one thought, one base desire
+      To tarnish that clear vision I gained by fire,
+    One stain in me I would not have thee know.
+    That is great might indeed that moves me so
+      To look upon thy Form, and yet aspire
+      To look not there, rather than I should mire
+    That winged Spirit that haunts and guards thy brow.
+
+    So now I see thee go, secure in this
+    That what I have is thee, that whole of thee
+    Whereof thy fair infashioning is sign:
+    For I see Honour, Love, and Wholesomeness,
+    And striving ever to reach them, and to be
+    As they, I keep thee still; for they are thine.
+
+
+DUTY
+
+    Oh, I am weak to serve thee as I ought;
+      My shroud of flesh obscures thy deity,
+      So thy sweet Spirit that should embolden me
+    To shake my wings out wide, serves me for nought,
+    But receives tarnish, vile dishonour, wrought
+      By that thou earnest to bless--O agony
+      And unendurable shame! that, loving thee,
+    I dare not love, fearing my poisonous thought!
+
+      Man is too vile for any such high grace,
+    For that he seeks to honour he can but mar;
+      So had I rather shun thy starry face
+    And fly the exultation to know thee near--
+    For if one glance from me wrought thee a scar
+    'Twould not be death, but life that I should fear.
+
+
+WAGES
+
+    Sometimes the spirit that never leaves me quite
+      Taps at my heart when thou art in the way,
+      Saying, Now thy Queen cometh: therefore pray,
+    Lest she should see thee vile, and at the sight
+    Shiver and fly back piteous to the light
+      That wanes when she is absent. Then, as I may,
+      I wash my soiled hands and muttering, say,
+    Lord, make me clean; robe Thou me in Thy white!
+
+      So for a brief space, clad in ecstasy,
+    Pure, disembodied, I fall to kiss thy feet,
+    And sense thy glory throbbing round about;
+    Whereafter, rising, I hold thee in a sweet
+    And gentle converse that lifts me up to be,
+    When thou art gone, strange to the gross world's rout.
+
+
+EYE-SERVICE
+
+    Meseems thine eyes are two still-folded lakes
+      Wherein deep water reflects the guardian sky,
+      Searching wherein I see how Heaven is nigh
+    And our broad Earth at peace. So my Love takes
+    My soul's thin hands and, chafing them, she makes
+      My life's blood lusty and my life's hope high
+      For the strong lips and eyes of Poesy,
+    To hold the world well squandered for their sakes.
+
+    I looked thee full this day: thine unveiled eyes
+      Rayed their swift-searching magic forth; and then
+      I felt all strength that love can put in men
+    Whenas they know that loveliness is wise.
+    For love can be content with no less prize,
+      To lift us up beyond our mortal ken.
+
+
+CLOISTER THOUGHTS
+
+(AT WESTMINSTER)
+
+    Within these long gray shadows many dead
+      Lie waiting: we wait with them. Do you believe
+      That at the last the threadbare soul will give
+    All his shifts over, and stand dishevelled,
+    Naked in truth? Then we shall hear it said,
+      "Ye two have waited long, daring to live
+      Grimly through days tormented; now reprieve
+    Awaiteth you with all these ancient dead!"
+
+    The slope sun letteth down thro' our dark bars
+    His ladder from the skies. Hand fast in hand,
+    With quiet hearts and footsteps quiet and slow,
+    Like children venturous in an unknown land
+    We will come to the fields whose flowers are stars,
+    And kneeling ask, "Lord, wilt Thou crown us now?"
+
+
+
+
+THE CHAMBER IDYLL
+
+
+    The blue night falleth, the moon
+    Is over the hill; make fast,
+    Fasten the latch, I am tired: come soon,
+    Come! I would sleep at last
+    In your bosom, my love, my love!
+
+    The airy chamber above
+    Has the lattice ajar, that night
+    May breathe upon you and me, my love,
+    And the moon bless our marriage-rite--
+    Come, lassy, to bed, to bed!
+
+    The roof-thatch overhead
+    Shall cover the stars' bright eyes;
+    The fleecy quilt shall be coverlid
+    For your meek virginities,
+    And your wedding, my bride, my bride!
+
+    See, we are side to side,
+    Virgin in deed and name--
+    Come, for love will not be denied,
+    Tarry not, have no shame:
+    Are we not man and bride?
+
+_1894._
+
+
+
+
+EPIGRAMMATA
+
+1910
+
+
+THE OLD HOUSE
+
+    Mossy gray stands the House, four-square to the wind,
+    Embosomed in the hills. The garden old
+    Of yew and box and fishpond speaks her mind,
+    Sweet-ordered, quaint, recluse, fold within fold
+    Of quietness; but true and choice and kind--
+    A sober casket for a heart of gold.
+
+
+BLUE IRIS
+
+    Blue is the Adrian sea, and darkly blue
+    The AEgean; and the shafted sun thro' them,
+    That fishes grope to, gives the beamy hue
+    Rayed from her iris's deep diadem.
+
+
+THE ROSEBUD
+
+    In June I brought her roses, and she cupt
+    One slim bud in her hand and cherisht it,
+    And put it to her mouth. Rose and she supt
+    Each other's sweetness; but the flower was lit
+    By her kind eyes, and glowed. Then in her breast
+    She laid it blushing, warm and doubly blest.
+
+
+SPRING ON THE DOWN
+
+    When Spring blows o'er the land, and sunlight flies
+    Across the hills, we take the upland way.
+    I have her waist, the wooing wind her eyes
+    And lips and cheeks. His kissing makes her gay
+    As flowers. "Thou hast two lovers, O my dear,"
+    Say I; and she, "He takes what thou dost fear."
+
+
+SNOWY NIGHT
+
+    The snow lies deep, ice-fringes hem the thatch;
+    I knock my shoes, my Love lifts me the latch,
+    Shows me her eyes--O frozen stars, they shine
+    Kindly! I clasp her. Quick! her lips are mine.
+
+
+EVENING MOOD
+
+    Late, when the sun was smouldering down the west,
+    She took my arm and laid her cheek to me;
+    The fainting twilight held her, and I guess'd
+    All she would tell, but could not let me see--
+    Wonder and joy, the rising of her breast,
+    And confidence, and still expectancy.
+
+
+THE PARTING
+
+    Breathless was she and would not have us part:
+    "Adieu, my Saint," I said, "'tis come to this."
+    But she leaned to me, one hand at her heart,
+    And all her soul sighed trembling in a kiss.
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION OF A BOOK
+
+
+    To the Fountain of my long Dream,
+    To the Chalice of all my Sorrow,
+    To the Lamp held up, and the Stream
+    Of Light that beacons the Morrow;
+
+    To the Bow, the Quiver and Dart,
+    To the Bridle-rein, to the Yoke
+    Proudly upborne, to the Heart
+    On Fire, to the Mercy-stroke;
+
+    To Apollo herding his Cattle,
+    To Proserpina grave in Dis;
+    To the high Head in the Battle,
+    And the Crown--I consecrate this.
+
+_1911._
+
+
+
+
+_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.
+
+
+
+
+ BY MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+ THE AGONISTS
+
+ A TRILOGY OF GOD AND MAN
+
+ MINOS KING OF CRETE, ARIADNE IN NAXOS,
+ THE DEATH OF HIPPOLYTUS
+
+ _Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. net._
+
+_SPECTATOR._--"The three plays have throughout a high level of dramatic
+interest, and they have moments of great tragic beauty.... It is not a
+book of sporadic beauties, for its most remarkable quality is its unity
+of interest and effect. The chorus has many passages of lyrical charm
+... but it is the great story which moves us most deeply, the stress of
+dramatic and logical sequence, so that we have no time to notice the art
+of it all. This is a high tribute to Mr. Hewlett's technical skill. At
+its best the irregular verse has a sharp freshness which the more
+orthodox metres could scarcely give."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The poetry is full of music, yet refreshingly free
+from monotony, and in passages when swift broken phrases are of the
+essence of the atmosphere the effect is splendidly dramatic and austere.
+Mr. Hewlett is to be congratulated upon a high success in a field of the
+worthiest enterprise."
+
+_OBSERVER._--"There is no single passage that can fail to charm when
+read aloud, woven with magic of rhythm, and music of phrase. It is a
+great heroic subject, nobly conceived, and finely and thoughtfully
+executed."
+
+_BLACK AND WHITE._--"_The Agonists_ is more than fine verse; it is
+literature impregnated with the purest fragrance of the classic spirit."
+
+_DAILY EXPRESS._--"There is real drama in _The Agonists_, and there is
+much splendid beauty."
+
+_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"Of the beauty of a great deal of the poetry it is
+difficult to speak too highly."
+
+_STANDARD._--"The imaginative grasp of these dramas, as well as their
+lyric charm, is unquestionable, and so also is the rare skill with which
+the strife of elemental passions is described and the action of the
+relentless laws which made men of old regard life as the sport of the
+gods."
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+BY MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+_Crown 8vo. 6s. each._
+
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS: A ROMANCE.
+
+_SPECTATOR._--"_The Forest Lovers_ is no mere literary _tour de force_,
+but an uncommonly attractive romance, the charm of which is greatly
+enhanced by the author's excellent style."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"Mr. Maurice Hewlett's _The Forest Lovers_ stands
+out with conspicuous success.... There are few books of this season
+which achieve their aim so simply and whole-heartedly as Mr. Hewlett's
+ingenious and enthralling romance."
+
+
+THE SONG OF RENNY.
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"Mr. Hewlett has produced a remarkable series of
+historical novels, and _The Song of Renny_ is one of the best of
+them.... An admirable romance, full of 'go' and colour and good temper."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"Mr. Hewlett is mounted upon his Pegasus again,
+riding full tilt against a rushing wind, with the moonlight of
+imagination playing glorious tricks upon all the marvellous sights
+around him."
+
+
+THE QUEEN'S QUAIR: OR, THE SIX YEARS' TRAGEDY.
+
+_ATHENAEUM._--"A fine book, fine not only for its extraordinary wealth of
+incidental beauties, but also for the consistency of conception and the
+tolerant humanity with which its main theme is put before you."
+
+_WESTMINSTER GAZETTE._--"That Mr. Maurice Hewlett would give us a
+flaming, wonderful picture of Queen Mary was a foregone conclusion."
+
+
+RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.
+
+Mr. FREDERIC HARRISON in _THE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW_.--"Such historic
+imagination, such glowing colour, such crashing speed, set forth in such
+pregnant form, carry me away spell-bound."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The story carries us along as though throughout we
+were galloping on strong horses. There is a rush and fervour about it
+all which sweeps us off our feet till the end is reached, and the tale
+is done. It is very clever, very spirited."
+
+
+LITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY.
+
+_DAILY CHRONICLE._--"And even such as fail to understand, will very
+certainly enjoy--enjoy the sometimes gay and sometimes biting humour,
+the deft delineation, the fine quality of colour, the delicately-flavoured
+phrasing."
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The most finished studies which have appeared since
+some of the essays of Walter Pater."
+
+
+OPEN COUNTRY: A COMEDY WITH A STING.
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"_Open Country_ is a beautiful bit of work, a work
+that is inspired through and through with a genuine love for what is
+pure and beautiful. Mr. Hewlett's main figures have not only a wonderful
+charm in themselves, but they are noble, simple, and true-hearted
+creatures. Sanchia, the heroine, is a divine creation."
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"_Open Country_ is an important book and a fine
+novel."
+
+
+REST HARROW: A COMEDY OF RESOLUTION.
+
+_DAILY NEWS._--"_Rest Harrow_ has not only the effect of providing an
+aesthetically logical conclusion to the motives of _Open Country_, but it
+throws back a radiant retrospective influence, enhancing the value of
+what has preceded it.... In many ways the best piece of work Mr. Hewlett
+has done."
+
+_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"The present book certainly sustains the charm of
+_Open Country_ without any faltering of dramatic movement."
+
+
+THE STOOPING LADY.
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"A wondrously beautiful piece of fiction, gallant
+and romantic, a high treat for lovers of good reading."
+
+_WORLD._--"A rarely picturesque and beautiful production."
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"A story which fascinates him who reads."
+
+
+MRS. LANCELOT: A COMEDY OF ASSUMPTIONS.
+
+_DAILY TELEGRAPH._--"The story, as a whole, sustains a lofty level of
+creative vigour, and is dignified, moreover, with something of the epic
+flavour, as the old order is seen breaking up under the advance of new
+ideas and revolutionary enthusiasms.... Among the best books that the
+present age is likely to produce."
+
+_DAILY GRAPHIC._--"The best work of its kind since Meredith."
+
+
+FOND ADVENTURES: TALES OF THE YOUTH OF THE WORLD.
+
+_SPECTATOR._--"The materials for romance provided by this period (the
+Renaissance) are inexhaustibly rich, and Mr. Maurice Hewlett is
+admirably equipped for the task of reconstituting many of its phases."
+
+_EVENING STANDARD._--"The present volume is a rich mine of beauty. It
+contains four fine romantic tales."
+
+
+NEW CANTERBURY TALES.
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+ NEW TWO-SHILLING EDITION
+
+ OF
+
+ THE NOVELS OF
+ MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+ In Cloth binding. Crown 8vo. 2s. net each.
+
+
+1. THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+2. THE QUEEN'S QUAIR.
+
+3. LITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY.
+
+4. RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.
+
+5. THE STOOPING LADY.
+
+6. FOND ADVENTURES.
+
+7. NEW CANTERBURY TALES.
+
+8. HALFWAY HOUSE.
+
+9. OPEN COUNTRY: A COMEDY WITH A STING.
+
+10. REST HARROW: A COMEDY OF RESOLUTION.
+
+
+_ATHENAEUM._--"The Two-shilling Series deserves exceptional praise for
+its handiness and excellent type."
+
+_PALL MALL GAZETTE._--"An enterprise to be welcomed by all lovers of
+good literature."
+
+_DAILY MAIL._--"This cheap and handsome edition is very welcome."
+
+_WORLD._--"Extremely attractive edition.... Notable examples of what can
+nowadays be achieved in the way of handsome book-production at
+surprisingly moderate prices."
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+BY MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+
+A MASQUE OF DEAD FLORENTINES.
+
+    WHEREIN SOME OF DEATH'S CHOICEST PIECES, AND THE GREAT GAME THAT HE
+    PLAYED THEREWITH, ARE FRUITFULLY SET FORTH. 4to. 10s. net.
+
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+    With 16 Illustrations in Colour by A. S. HARTRICK. 8vo. 5s. net.
+
+
+LETTERS TO SANCHIA UPON THINGS AS THEY ARE.
+
+    EXTRACTED FROM THE CORRESPONDENCE OF MR. JOHN MAXWELL SENHOUSE.
+    Crown 8vo. 1s. 6d. net.
+
+
+THE ROAD IN TUSCANY: A COMMENTARY.
+
+    Illustrated by JOSEPH PENNELL. Extra Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. net.
+
+_TIMES._--"Its vividness is extraordinary; there is no one quite like
+Mr. Hewlett for seizing all the colour and character of a place in half
+a dozen words.... An admirable book.... Mr. Pennell's profuse
+illustrations to this book are very attractive."
+
+
+EARTHWORK OUT OF TUSCANY.
+
+    BEING IMPRESSIONS AND TRANSLATIONS OF MAURICE HEWLETT. Globe 8vo.
+    4s. net.
+
+_OBSERVER._--"This re-issue of Mr. Hewlett's beautiful book comes to us
+as one of the pleasant Eversley Series--a form in which it may be hoped,
+for the sake of the reading world, that it is to make many new friends."
+
+
+_Pott 8vo. Cloth. 7d. net each._
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+THE STOOPING LADY.
+
+
+_Medium 8vo. Sewed. 6d. each._
+
+THE FOREST LOVERS.
+
+RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY.
+
+THE QUEEN'S QUAIR.
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+COMPLETE EDITIONS OF THE POETS.
+
+_Uniform Edition. In Green Cloth. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. each._
+
+
+THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.
+
+With a Portrait engraved on Steel by G. J. STODART.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF MATTHEW ARNOLD.
+
+With a Portrait engraved on Steel by G. J. STODART.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
+
+With Introduction by THOMAS HUGHES, and a Portrait.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+
+Edited by Professor DOWDEN. With a Portrait.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.
+
+Edited, with a Biographical Introduction, by J. DYKES CAMPBELL. Portrait
+as Frontispiece.
+
+
+THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
+
+With Introduction by JOHN MORLEY, and a Portrait.
+
+
+THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF T. E. BROWN.
+
+With a Portrait; and an Introduction by W. E. HENLEY.
+
+
+THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.
+
+With Introduction, Memoir, and Notes, by W. M. ROSSETTI.
+
+
+THE DYNASTS. An Epic-Drama of the War with Napoleon.
+
+By THOMAS HARDY. Three Parts in One Vol.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE BAB BALLADS, with which are included Songs of a Savoyard.
+
+By Sir W. S. GILBERT. Sixth Edition. Illustrated.
+
+
+THE INGOLDSBY LEGENDS.
+
+With 20 Illustrations on Steel by CRUIKSHANK, LEECH, and BARHAM.
+
+
+MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Helen Redeemed and Other Poems, by Maurice Hewlett
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELEN REDEEMED AND OTHER POEMS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22803.txt or 22803.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/8/0/22803/
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+https://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at https://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit https://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/22803.zip b/22803.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ab40b74
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22803.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..32ffe1d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #22803 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22803)
author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 01:54:25 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 01:54:25 -0700
commit	b176b500b25087232a184884a3043fcd4f6e3b6a (patch)
tree	57b632ac35c32f3710ed56201c4e516a323a3d7b