Book III

SO when these with their chieftains had marshalled them, nation by nation, for fight,
With clamour the Trojans pressed onward, and outcry, as birds in their flight,
When afar through the heaven cometh pealing before them the cry of the cranes,
As they flee from the wintertide storms and the measureless-deluging rains.
Onward with screaming they fly to the streams of the ocean-flood,
Bringing down on the folk of the Pigmies battle and murder and blood, beneath.
And death-challenge they hurl through the mist of the morn on the foemen beneath.
But silently marched the Achaians, breathing the battle-mood’s breath,
Steadfastly minded to stand by their war-fellows unto the death.
As a mist overstreameth the hill-crests, brought by the south-wind’s might,—
To the shepherds an evil thing, for the robber better than night,—
And no farther than flieth a stone from a man’s hand pierceth the sight:
Even such was the dust-cloud that rose from their feet, and it hung overhead
As Troyward they came, and swiftly over the plain they sped.
Now when host drew nigh unto host, as onward the war-waves flowed,
Forth as the champion of Troy Alexander the godlike strode,
With a panther’s hide on his shoulders, a bow, and a battle-brand,
While shivered and shook two brass-headed spears in the grip of his hand;
And he cried upon all the mightiest men of the Argive array
To fight with him man against man in the terrible battle-play.
But him Menelaus the hero, the Arés-beloved, hath espied
Stepping forward in front of the warrior-throng with long proud stride;
And as joyeth a lion to light on the carcass of some huge beast,
When he findeth an antlered stag or a wild goat slain for his feast,
For in frenzy of famine he rendeth the quarry, though never so fain
Would the swift hounds chase him away, and the hunters whose prey he hath ta’en;
So joyed Menelaus to see Alexander the godlike appear,
And his eyes laughed over the traitor; he deemed his revenge was near.
Down from his chariot he leapt to the ground in his battle-gear.
Then saw him the man that had wronged him, who nowise had looked to behold
That face in the forefront of fight, and his spirit was stricken acold,
And backward he shrank from the death to the fence of the shields of his men.
And as when one spieth a serpent in treading a mountain-glen,
And backward he leapeth, while tremble his limbs with a sickness of dread,
And he turneth to flee, with the face of his horror as wan as the dead;
So into the throng of the Trojans stately-charioted
Quailing from Atreus’ son Alexander the godlike fled.
And Hector looked down on him there, and he chode with words of scorn:
“False Paris! O face without peer, heart woman-mad, faith-forlorn!
Would thou hadst never been wedded—ay, would thou hadst never been born!
Yea, even of that were I fain, and more were our gain therein,
Than that thou shouldst be thus our reproach and the scorn of all thy kin!
Ha, but the long-haired Achaians will laugh in their triumph-glee,
Crying, ‘This is the chief of the champions of Troy!’—for that goodly to see
Is thy body, but manhood or might is there none in the heart of thee.
Was he like unto thee, the man in the sea-swift galleys that hied
Over the broad surf-ridges with comrades true and tried,
And was guest of the strangers, and stole him a fair wife out of their land,
From afar, a daughter of spearmen mighty of heart and hand,
For a bitter grief to thy father, thy city, and all thy race,
And to them that hate us a joy, and to thee confusion of face?
And wilt thou not bide Menelaus the Arés-beloved?—not thou!
Thou wouldst know what a warrior is this whose wife thou hast gotten now.
Small help shouldst thou have of thy lyre and the gifts Aphrodité bestowed,
Thy curls and thy comeliness, when low in the dust thou wert bowed.
Ha, but the Trojans be downtrodden cravens, or long agone
A garment of stone hadst thou donned for the evils thy lust hath done.”
Answered and spake unto him Alexander the godlike wight:
“Hector, true be thy words, and thy chiding is meet and right.
But thine heart never failed thee: ’tis keen evermore as the hard-edged bill
That cleaveth a beam in the hands of the man that with craftsman-skill
Shapeth him planks for a galley; the sharp edge doubleth his might;
Even so in thy breast is a dauntless soul ever keen for the fight.
Yet taunt not me with the bounty of Aphrodité the Golden;
We may scorn not the glorious gifts in the hands of the Deathless enfolden
For whomso they will, but for none to attain where the Gods have withholden.
But now if thou wilt that I fight for the meed of war-renown,
Bid the rest of the sons of Troy and Achaia sit them down;
And set in the midst Menelaus the Arés-beloved and me,
To do battle for Helen’s sake, and the treasure that came oversea.
And it shall be, that whoso prevaileth, and proveth him stronger in strife,
He shall take her, and all that treasure, and homeward shall lead her, his wife.
And the nations shall plight them with oaths, and shall learn lovingkindness again,
And in Troyland in peace shall ye dwell, and they shall return full fain
To Achaia the land of the lovely, to Argos the horse-fed plain.”
So spake he, and Hector rejoiced at the word with exceeding joy:
Forth to the midst hath he strode, and he stayeth the ranks of Troy,
Outstretching his spear, and they all sat down with one consent.
But the long-haired men of Achaia their bows against him bent,
Drawing the shafts to the head, and the stones ’gan whirl in the sling.
Then afar down the lines did the voice of king Agamemnon ring:
“Argives, refrain you!—Achaians, cast nor stone nor spear!
I For that Hector Lightning-helm hath a word for the kings to hear.”
So spake he, and they from the battle refrained them, the war-shout died
Suddenly down, and Hector stood in the midst and cried:
“Hear me, ye Trojans and goodly-harnessed Achaian foes:
Thus saith Alexander, for whose sake first this feud arose:—
“He biddeth the rest of the Trojans and all the Achaian array
On the bosom of All-mother earth their weapons of war to lay;
And here in the midst Menelaus the Arés-beloved and he
Shall battle for Helen’s sake and the treasure that came oversea.
And it shall be, that whoso prevaileth and getteth the mastery,
He shall take her, and all that treasure, and homeward shall lead her, his wife.
And with oath-plight and glad lovingkindness will all we rest from strife.”
Then stayed was the rush of the onset, and hushed was the many-voiced din;
And thus did the battle-helper, the lord Menelaus, begin:
“Hearken ye also to me, for that mine is the heart whereon
Hath fallen the bitterest anguish:—I trow ye shall soon be at one,
Argives and Trojans, ye that have suffered woes on woes
In my quarrel, the feud that first from the prince Alexander arose.
And for whichsoever the doom of death by the Fates is dight,
Let him die; but ye which remain shall be set at one forthright.
Now bring for us lambs; one white, of the males, one black, of the ewes,
For the Earth and the Sun, and a third will we bring for Father Zeus.
And bring for us Priam your king, that himself may plight the oath,
Even he and none other; o’erweening his sons be, and faithless of troth;
That none by high-handed transgression the oath of Allfather may mar;
For vain and unstable of purpose the hearts of the young men are.
But the old man cometh between, and forward and backward are cast
His eyes, that with these and with those it may all go well at the last.”
Then glad were Achaian and Trojan to hear that challenge cried,
For they trusted that now should they rest from the woeful warfare-tide.
So they halted the steeds in the ranks, and down from the cars stepped they,
And they doffed their armour, and cast on the ground their war-array,
Full nigh, that scant was the space ’twixt host and host that lay.
And Hector sent unto Troytown heralds twain, to bring
The lambs with speed, and to call to the sacrifice Priam the king.
And the lord Agamemnon hastened the herald Talthybius’ feet,
Bidding him bring the lambs from the hollow ships of the fleet;
So to lord Agamemnon the godlike he rendered obedience meet.
And to Helen the ivory-wristed is Iris the messenger gone
In the shape of her husband’s sister, the wife of Antenor’s son;
The wife of the lord Helikaon, Antenor’s son, was she,
The fairest of Priam’s daughters, the lady Laodiké.
In her bower did she find her weaving a web full high and wide;
Twofold was the pall of Queen Helen, and gleamed on its purple pride
Many battles of horse-quelling Trojans and mailed Achaian bands,
Toils they endured for her sake at the War-god’s pitiless hands.
And Iris the swift-footed spake, as she glided to Helen’s side:
“Hither away, thou shalt look upon gallant deeds, dear bride,
Deeds by the horse-quelling Trojans and mailed Achaians wrought,
They that in days overpast in woeful warfare fought
In the plain, with the lust of the battle, the man-destroyer, filled:
But now are they sitting in silence, the din of the onset is stilled;
On their shields are they leaning, and stand beside them their lances tall.
And Paris and Arés-beloved Menelaus amidst of them all
With the spears long-shafted shall battle for thee, even thee, this day.
And the hero that overcometh shall call thee his wife for aye.”
So speaking the Goddess thrilled her with yearning sweet and strong
For the husband of old, for the city and parents forsaken long.
Straightway the silvery-shining folds of her veil did she don,
And she passed from her bower, the while the tears in her soft eyes shone;
Not alone, there were handmaids twain that moved by Helen’s side,
Aithré the daughter of Pittheus, and Klymené lovely-eyed.
And straightway they came to the place where rose the Scaean gate:
There Priam the ancient king with Thymoites and Panthous sate,
Lampus and Klytius withal, Hiketaon the War-god’s seed,
Antenor the wise, and Ukalegon mighty in council-rede.
There at the Skaian gate were the people’s elders set,
Eld-wasted in war-might, but wisdom in counsel abode with them yet.
And the sound of their piping voices was like the cicala’s cry
As it rings out shrill through the wood from the tree where she sitteth on high.
So there upon Troytown’s tower sat grey-haired prince and peer:
And they lifted their eyes, and beheld Queen Helen drawing anear;
And each unto other the light-winged words full softly spoke:
“No marvel that Trojans and goodly-harnessed Achaian folk
Long time should have borne tribulation for such a woman as this.
How wondrous like to a deathless Goddess in face she is!
Howbeit, though never so lovely she be, in the ships let her go,
Neither leave unto us and our children a heritage of woe.”
So spake they, but Priam uplifted his voice, and to Helen he cried:
“Hither come to the front, dear child, sit down by the old man’s side,
And so shalt thou look on thine husband of old, on thy friends, and thy kin,
—Nay, nay, ’tis the Gods have done it: not thine I account the sin:
For they brought up against me Achaia, the war and the tears and the grief,—
And shalt tell me of yonder captain, and name that battle-chief,
That hero amidst the Achaians stalwart and great to see.
Good sooth, there be others that tower by the whole head taller than he:
But so goodly a man mine eyes looked never upon ere now,
Neither any so worship-worthy: he seemeth a king, I trow.”
And Helen the woman divine made answer to him, and she said:
“Honoured art thou in mine eyes, dear sire of my lord, and dread:—
Ah had I chosen but death, yea, an evil death, in the hour
When I followed thy son, and forsook mine acquaintance, my bridal bower,
And my daughter, my best-beloved, and the sweet girls, playmates mine!
Woe’s me! it was not to be: and for this do I weep and pine.
But this will I tell thee whereof thou enquirest and askest of me:
Atreus’ son Agamemnon the wide-dominioned is he,
A noble king, and withal a spearman battle-keen,
And was brother to shameless me-—yea, this strange thing hath been!”
And the old man gazed, and he marvelled, and brake forth there into praise:
O happy Atreides, fair-fated! O blest in the lot of thy days!
What hosts of the sons of Achaia be bowed beneath thine hand!
Time was when I went into Phrygia the vine-abounding land;
There saw I the Phrygians, the horsemen swift-darting as birds on the wing,
Warrior-thousands of Otreus and Mygdon the godlike king.
Far down by Sangarius’ waters the tents of their host were arrayed.
I also was numbered amongst them, I and my warrior-aid,
In the day of the Amazon terror, when came the maids of war:
Yet fewer were these than the flashing-eyed sons of Achaia are.”
Then the old king looked on Odysseus, and once again asked he:
“Yet tell me withal, dear child, who yonder chief shall be.
By the head is he lesser of stature than Atreus’ kingly son.
But in shoulders and chest, I trow, is he broader to look upon.
His harness of battle is laid upon earth’s all-fostering floor,
But himself like a lord of the flock goeth ranging the war-ranks o’er.
Yea, he seemeth to me as a ram wool-wealthy, the stately beast
That paceth amidst of the ewes of the great flock silver-fleeced.”
And Helen to him made answer, the daughter of Zeus spake on:
“Lo, this is Odysseus the mighty in counsel, Laertes’ son,
Who was nurtured in Ithaca’s land, mid the crags of a rugged isle,
Cunning in dark devices, a weaver of webs of guile.”
And Antenor the hoary-wise made answer thereunto:
“Yea, princess, surely the word thou hast spoken is utter-true;
For Odysseus the godlike came hitherward once on a time oversea,
And stout Menelaus withal, on an ambassage touching thee.
And I welcomed them into mine halls, and I gave them the guest-fare due,
And I marked their bodily presence, the thoughts of their hearts I knew.
Now when these twain stood with the Trojans that into the folkmote pressed,
The shoulders of lord Menelaus towered above the rest;
But when they had sat them down was Odysseus the kingliest.
When the weaving of word-weft began, and they uttered their rede to our folk,
With a rush as of feet in the race came the words Menelaus spoke.
Little he said, but his voice rang clear, for he multiplied not
His words, though the younger he was, neither wide of the mark were they shot.
But when came the time for Odysseus the manifold-counselled to rise,
He stood with his face bowed down, and earthward he bent his eyes;
And he waved not his sceptre to rearward, he stretched it not forth in our sight,
But moveless it drooped in his hands,—thou hadst deemed him a witless wight:
Thou hadst said ‘He is anger-sullen, he troweth nothing aright.’
But so soon as the sound of his mighty voice from his deep chest rose,
And the storm of his fast-coming words like the drift of the wintertide snows,
Then no man might strive with Odysseus in counsel-rivalry,
And we marvelled no more at his glory, nor counted him poor to see.”
Then of Aias the old king asked, as he marked him afar from the wall:
“And who shall be yonder Achaian, the hero stately and tall
Who towers by shoulders and head above the Argives all?”
Spake Helen the royally-robed, the goddess-woman, again:
Aias the giant is this, war-fence of Achaian men.
Beyond, mid his Cretan array, as a god doth Idomeneus stand,
And around him be gathered the chiefs of his Cretan battle-band.
Him did the War-god’s friend Menelaus ofttimes greet
As a guest in our halls, what time soever he came from Crete.
Now the rest of the hawk-eyed sons of Achaia, I see them all,
Their faces are unforgotten, their names can I well recall.
But two arrayers of warfolk mine eyes have nowise found,
Castor the queller of steeds, Polydeukés the fist-renowned.
Mine own blood-brethren they are, one mother bare them with me.
Is it so, that from dear Lacedaemon they came not with these oversea,
Or that in sooth in the sea-tracking galleys they hitherward came,
But stand not amidst of the war-press of heroes for very shame,
For dread of the scoffs and the manifold mocks at a sister’s name?”
As she spake, in the strait embraces of Earth all-mother they lay,
In their own dear fatherland soil, Lacedaemon faraway.
Through the town with the Gods’ oath-victims then did the heralds fare;
Two lambs, and the fruit of the earth, heart-gladdening wine, they bare
In a goat-skin vessel, and passed the herald Idaius on;
In his hands the burnished bowl and the golden chalices shone.
And he hasted the ancient king, and to Priam thus spake he:
“Son of Laomedon, rise; the princes are calling for thee:
Horse-quelling Trojans and mailed Achaians are tarrying there
Till thou come down into the plain the covenant-oaths to swear.
For thy son Alexander and Arés-beloved Menelaus in strife
Shall close with the spears long-shafted to win Queen Helen to wife.
And whoso prevaileth, the bride shall be his, and the treasure-store;
And the nations shall plight them with oaths, and in friendship be joined once more,
And in Troyland in peace shall we dwell, and they shall return full fain
To Achaia the land of the lovely, to Argos the horse-fed plain.”
Then the old king shuddered, howbeit he spake to his henchman-band
To yoke the steeds to the car, and they swiftly obeyed his command.
Then he gat him up into the wain, and the reins in his hands he caught,
And beside him Antenor mounted the chariot beautiful-wrought.
And the steeds through the Skaian gateway down to the plain drove they.
And it was so, that when they were come unto Troy’s and Achaia’s array,
They lighted down from the chariot on earth’s all-bounteous face,
And on to the midst of the host of Achaia and Troy did they pace.
Straightway uprose to his feet Agamemnon King of Men:
Rose Odysseus the manifold-counselled: the lordly heralds then
Mingled the wine in the bowl, to the altar the victims they led,
And over the hands of the kings the lustral-water they shed.
And his dagger the son of Atreus drew with his brawny hand,
The blade that hung evermore by the sheath of his battle-brand.
And he severed the locks from the heads of the lambs, and the heralds bare,
Mid Trojan chiefs and Achaian parting the sacred hair.
And amidst them Atreides uplifted his hands, and in prayer did he cry:
“Zeus, Father, who dwellest in Ida, most glorious and most high,
Thou Sun, who beholdest all things, and hear’st whatsoever is said,
And ye Rivers, and Earth, and ye in the underworld of the dead
Who punish the toil-fordone that have sworn and have broken their oath,
Be witnesses ye, and the warders of this our covenant-troth.
If so be Alexander the Trojan shall slay Menelaus in fight,
Let him have Helen, let all that treasure be his of right.
And we in our sea-tracking galleys again will homeward go.
But and if bright-haired Menelaus shall lay Alexander low,
The Trojans shall yield up Helen and all that wealth straightway,
And a recompense to the Argives, such as is meet, shall they pay,
Even such as shall still be accepted by them of the unborn day.
But if by Priam and Priam’s children the victory-right
Be denied unto me when the prince Alexander hath fallen in fight,
Then will I battle to get me requital for this their sin,
Tarrying here, until to the end of my warfare I win.”
So spake he, and severed the throats of the lambs with the pitiless brass,
And he laid them down on the ground, and forth did the life-tide pass
As they quivered and gasped, for the brass had reft their strength away:
And into the chalices out of the bowl the wine poured they:
And they put up their prayer to the Gods that in life everlasting abide.
And thus from the midst of Achaians and Trojans a deep voice cried:
O Zeus most glorious and mighty, ye Deathless, defend the right!
Which nation soever shall first transgress this covenant-plight,
Be the brains of them spilt on the earth as yonder wine this day,
Even theirs and their children’s, their wives be made the ravisher’s prey!”
So prayed they; howbeit Kronion would not yet bring it about.
And amidst of the war-host Priam Dardanus’ son spake out:
“Hearken, ye Trojans and goodly-harnessed Achaian men:
As for me, I will turn back now unto Ilium the windy again,
Forasmuch as I may not endure with mine eyes to behold this sight,
My dear son grappling with Arés-beloved Menelaus in fight.
Ah, Zeus and the rest of the Deathless know, and none beside,
Unto which of the twain the death-doom end is decreed to betide.”
So spake he, and laid on the chariot the lambs that Atreides slew;
Then mounted the godlike man, and the reins through his fingers he drew.
And Antenor sat by his side in the beautiful-fashioned wain;
And back from the host to the ramparts of Ilium rode these twain.
But Hector the son of Priam and godlike Odysseus straight
Paced out the ground for the duel, and measured the lists of fate.
Then laid they the lots in a helmet of brass, and they shook them, to know
Which warrior first should hurl with his brass-headed lance at the foe,
And the multitude prayed, and uplifted their hands to the Gods on high:
And thus from the midst of Achaians and Trojans did voices cry:
“Zeus Father most glorious and mighty, O hearken from Ida thy throne!
Whichsoever of these ’twixt nation and nation this mischief hath sown,
Vouchsafe that he perish and pass unto Hades’ halls of night,
But for us may there be lovingkindness and faithful covenant-plight.”
Great Hector the splendour-helmed now shaketh the morion about,
Looking backward, and suddenly leapeth the token of Paris thereout.
Then row upon low the folk sit down where the pawing steeds
Stand chafing, and earth is agleam with the sheen of battle-weeds.
Thereafter in fair bright harness of fight his shoulders dressed
Alexander the godlike, the lord of Helen the lovely-tressed.
First unto his legs did he lay the greaves fair-glittering,
Clasping the ankle around with the burnished silver ring.
Thereafter about his bosom the fence of the corslet he dight,
His brother Lykaon’s, howbeit it fitted his body aright.
And the belt of his brazen war-glaive silver-bestarred he flung
Over his shoulder, his broad stout buckler thereafter he slung.
On his goodly head his well-wrought helmet he settleth now:
Terribly nodded the mane of the crest overglooming his brow.
Firm in his hand like the grasp of a friend is the mighty spear.
Menelaus the dauntless withal hath arrayed him in battle-gear.
So when they had girt on their harness amidst of their folk, straightway
They strode forth into the midst ’twixt Troy’s and Achaia’s array
With terribly-glaring eyes, and amazement seized each one,
Both horse-quelling Trojans and mailéd Achaians that looked thereon.
Now in the measured lists stand wronger and wronged full nigh:
Quiver the spears in their hands as the battle-wrath flames high.
First flew Alexander’s lance long-shafted across the field;
And it smote on the round fair-shapen of lord Menelaus’ shield.
Bent was the point of it backward; it might not prevail to burst
Through the stubborn fence of the targe: then sprang forth vengeance-athirst
Menelaus Atreides, and cried unto Zeus Allfather first:
“King Zeus, vouchsafe me to punish the man that hath worked me woe:
Beneath mine hand do thou lay Alexander the traitor low,
That all men may tremble, yea, such as are yet to be born, to requite
The guest-receiver with wrong, and to do lovingkindness despite.”
Then he swung up his lance long-shafted, and hurled it across the field;
And it smote on the fair-fashioned round of the son of Priam’s shield.
Crashed through the glittering buckler the great spear’s thunderbolt-head,
And it stayed not, but on through the curious work of the corslet it sped.
Through his tunic it shore; by his flank cold-sliding it went full nigh
To the life, but he swerved aside, and the black death passed him by.
Then his battle-brand drew Menelaus, bestarred with the silver white,
And he smote on the crest of his helmet, but shivered to left and to right
Clashing and clanging afar from his hand did the shards of it fly.
And Atreides looked up to the heavens, and he cried with a bitter cry:
“O Zeus Allfather, none else of the Gods is so cruel as thou!
I deemed I had gotten revenge for my foe’s foul wrong but now.
But behold, in my grasp is my battle-brand shivered: my lance hath been shot
Forth of mine hand on a bootless flight; it hath slain him not!”
Then he sprang on him, seizing the horse-mane over his crest thick-tossed,
And wrenching him round ’gan hale him away to Achaia’s host.
And the broidered strap strained hard at his throat, that he gasped for breath,
Even the helmet-clasp that was buckled his chin beneath.
And now had he dragged him a captive, and won unmeasured renown,
But the daughter of Zeus, Aphrodité, with eager glance looked down;
And she snapped in his bitter need that stubborn bull’s hide band,
And the helmet sprang from his head in Atreides’ brawny hand.
But with one swift turn of his wrist the hero hath hurled it aside
To Achaia’s array, to the hands of his comrades true and tried.
Then he turned him, and leapt on his enemy, furious-fain to slay
With the brazen spear—but lo, Aphrodité snatched him away
With the effortless strength of a Goddess, and veiled him in viewless air;
And cradled in cloud to the cedar and scent of his bower she bare.
And she hied her to bring thither Helen: she found that lady bright
Amidst of a throng of the daughters of Troy on. the gate-tower’s height.
And the princess’s nectar-breathing robe with her hand she shook;
But or ever she spake the form of an ancient woman she took,
A distaff-handmaid;—in Sparta before that shame befell
Fair fleeces she spun for her lady, and loved her passing well.
So seemed Aphrodité the Goddess, and softly murmured she:
“Hither away to thine home: Alexander calleth for thee.
In the bridal chamber he is, on the wondrous-carven bed,
In splendour of beautiful raiment, in glory of goodlihead.
Thou wouldst say he was nowise returned from deadly strife with a foe,
But was bound for the dance, or had ceased from the dance but a moment ago.”
Thrilled by her voice was the soul of the lady, and Helen turned,
And the neck exceeding fair of a Goddess her eyes discerned,
And the bosom of all desire, and the deep love-lightening eyes;
And astonied was Helen the Queen, and she spake in indignant wise:
O tyrant, why must thine enchantments be dragging me ever down!
What, wilt thou hale me thy captive again unto some fair town,
Some city in Phrygia-land or Maeonia’s lovely lea,
If perchance there too thou hast found thee a minion that waiteth for me!
Since now Menelaus hath vanquished the prince Alexander in strife,
And looketh to lead me home, The false, the hateful wife.
For this cause comest thou hither, O treacherous-hearted, now?
Nay, go thou, sit by his side, and forsake the heaven-path thou,
And never again turn back with thy feet to Olympus’ steep,
But pour out thine heart upon him, and thy darling in love-ward keep,
Till he stoop to thee, call thee his wife, or in scorn look down on his thrall!
But I, I will not go—indignant were all men if this should befall—
To be handmaid unto his couch: they will all cry shame upon me,
The daughters of Troy:—yea, now is mine heart all misery.”
Then in wrath Aphrodité made answer, and thus did the Goddess say:
“Provoke me no more, rash fool, lest in anger I cast thee away,
And according to this my love be the measure of that mine hate,
And I load thee with loathing of nation and nation, a bitter weight,
Of Trojans and Danaans: then shalt thou die by an evil fate!”
So spake she: at that stern threat did Helen the Zeus-born quail.
Silently veiled she her face with her silver-shimmering veil,
And she followed the Goddess, and none of the daughters of Troy was ware.
So they came unto Prince Alexander’s palace exceeding fair.
To the toils of the spindle and loom her handmaids turned them in haste;
But she, the lady divine, to her high-ceiled chamber paced.
And for her Aphrodité the laughter-winsome a high-seat bare,
And overagainst Alexander the Goddess set that chair.
Thereon sat Helen the child of Zeus the Aegis-lord;
But she turned her eyes away with a bitter-scornful word:
“Thou hast come from the battle!—O better it were if therein thou hadst died
Overborne by the hero that took me in days overpast for his bride.
Ha! thou wert wont to boast that by might of thine hands and thy spear
Thou wert stronger than Prince Menelaus whom Arés holdeth dear!
Go then—ay, go and defy Menelaus again to the fray:
Man against man bid the Arés-belovéd to meet thee!—nay,
I bid thee forbear, even I, for I would not have thee dare
To the deadly strife of the battle the prince of the golden hair,
Lest haply he smite thee to death, lest his spear overmaster thee there.”
And Paris with soft words answered and spake unto Helen the Queen:
“Ah lady, upbraid not: thy scorn on mine heart smiteth heavy and keen.
Menelaus hath gotten the victory now through Athéné’s aid;
Howbeit my day shall come, for with us too Gods be arrayed.
—Nay come, let us couch us for love’s delight, even I and thou;
For never the net of desire so tangled my soul as now;
No, not when from fair Lacedaemon at first I snatched thee away,
And afar in the sea-swift galleys bare that loveliest prey,
And in Kranaé’s isle we embraced, and heart into heart beat fire,
It was not with the love of to-day, with the rapture of this my desire.”
He spake, and prevailed, and she followed as on to the couch he led;
So these twain laid them adown on the curious-carven bed.
But Atreides ranged through the press like a wild beast to and fro,
If so be he might anywhere spy Alexander the godlike, his foe.
Yet could no man of Troy, no man of her war-aid battle-renowned,
Show Arés-beloved Menelaus where might Alexander be found.
Yet not as for love that they bare had they hidden him, whoso had seen,
For hated he was of them all with the hate of death, I ween.
Then cried in the midst of the war-hosts King Agamemnon, and said:
“Hear me, ye Trojans and Dardans, and ye of their warrior-aid!
With Arés-beloved Menelaus abideth the victory.
Yield Helen the Argive then, and the treasure that came oversea.
And a recompense unto the wronged, even such as is meet, shall ye pay,
Such as still shall be good in the eyes of the men of an unborn day.”
So spake Atreides, and shouted thereto the Achaian array.