Black ships of Argos dash’d upon the shore.
LXVII.
Not now in wrath none came; but fair
Like a young bride when nigh her bliss she knows,
And in the soft night of her fallen hair
Shone flowers like stars, more white than Ida’s snows,
And scarce men dared to look on her, of those
The pyre that guarded; suddenly she came,
And sprang upon the pyre, and shrill arose
Her song of death, like incense through the flame.
LXVIII.
And still the song, and still the flame went up,
But when the flame wax’d fierce, the singing died;
And soon with red wine from a golden cup
Priests drench’d the pyre; but no man might divide
The ashes of the Bridegroom from the Bride.
Nay, they were wedded, and at rest again,
As in those old days on the mountain-side,
Before the promise of their youth was vain.
Book VI.
The Sack Of Troy. The Return Of Helen
The sack of Troy, and of how Menelaus would have let stone Helen, but Aphrodite saved her, and made them at one again, and how they came home to Lacedaemon, and of their translation to Elysium.
I.
There came a day, when Trojan spies beheld
How, o’er the Argive leaguer, all the air
Was pure of smoke, no battle-din there swell’d,
Nor any clarion-call was sounding there!
Yea, of the serried ships the strand was bare,
And sea and shore were still, as long ago
When Ilios knew not Helen, and the fair
Sweet face that makes immortal all her woe.
II.
So for a space the watchers on the wall
Were silent, wond’ring what these things might mean.
But, at the last, sent messengers to call
Priam, and all the elders, and the lean
Remnant of goodly chiefs, that once had been
The shield and stay of Ilios, and her joy,
Nor yet despair’d, but trusted Gods unseen,
And cast their spears, and shed their blood for Troy.
III.
They came, the more part grey, grown early old,
In war and plague; but with them was the young
Coroebus, that but late had left the fold
And flocks of sheep Maeonian hills among,
And valiantly his lot with Priam flung,
For love of a lost cause and a fair face, –
The eyes that once the God of Pytho sung,
That now look’d darkly to the slaughter-place.
IV.
Now while the elders kept their long debate,
Coroebus stole unheeded to his band,
And led a handful by a postern gate
Across the plain, across the barren land
Where once the happy vines were wont to stand,
And ‘mid the clusters once did maidens sing, –
But now the plain was waste on every hand,
Though here and there a flower would breathe of Spring.
V.
So swift across the trampled battle-field
Unchallenged still, but wary, did they pass,
By many a broken spear or shatter’d shield
That in Fate’s hour appointed faithless was:
Only the heron cried from the morass
By Xanthus’ side, and ravens, and the grey
Wolves left their feasting in the tangled grass,
Grudging; and loiter’d, nor fled far away.
VI.
There lurk’d no spears in the high river-banks,
No ambush by the cairns of men outworn,
But empty stood the huts, in dismal ranks,
Where men through all these many years had borne
Fierce summer, and the biting winter’s scorn;
And here a sword was left, and there a bow,
But ruinous seem’d all things and forlorn,
As in some camp forsaken long ago.
VII.
Gorged wolves crept round the altars, and did eat
The flesh of victims that the priests had slain,
And wild dogs fought above the sacred meat
Late offer’d to the deathless Gods in vain,
By men that, for reward of all their pain,
Must haul the ropes, and weary at the oar,
Or, drowning, clutch at foam amid the main,
Nor win their haven on the Argive shore.
VIII.
Not long the young men marvell’d at the sight,
But grasping one a sword, and one the spear
Aias, or Tydeus’ son, had borne in fight,
They sped, and fill’d the town with merry cheer,
For folk were quick the happy news to hear,
And pour’d through all the gates into the plain,
Rejoicing as they wander’d far and near,
O’er the long Argive toils endured in vain.
IX.
Ah, sweet it was, without the city walls,
To hear the doves coo, and the finches sing;
Ah, sweet, to twine their true-loves coronals
Of woven wind-flowers, and each fragrant thing
That blossoms in the footsteps of the spring;
And sweet, to lie, forgetful of their grief,
Where violets trail by waters wandering,
And the wild fig-tree putteth forth his leaf!
X.
Now while they wander’d as they would, they found
A wondrous thing: a marvel of man’s skill,
That stood within a vale of hollow ground,
And bulk’d scarce smaller than the bitter-hill, –
The common barrow that the dead men fill
Who died in the long leaguer,–not of earth,
Was this new portent, but of tree, and still
The Trojans stood, and marvell’d ‘mid their mirth.
XI.
Ay, much they wonder’d what this thing might be,
Shaped like a Horse it was; and many a stain
There show’d upon the mighty beams of tree,
For some with fire were blacken’d, some with rain
Were dank and dark amid white planks of plane,
New cut among the trees that now were few
On wasted Ida; but men gazed in vain,
Nor truth thereof for all their searching knew.
XII.
At length they deem’d it was a sacred thing,
Vow’d to Poseidon, monarch of the deep,
And that herewith the Argives pray’d the King
Of wind and wave to lull the seas to sleep;
So this, they cried, within the sacred keep
Of Troy must rest, memorial of the war;
And sturdily they haled it up the steep,
And dragg’d the monster to their walls afar.
XIII.
All day they wrought: and children crown’d with flowers
Laid light hands on the ropes; old men would ply
Their feeble force; so through the merry hours
They toil’d, midst laughter and sweet minstrelsy,
And late they drew the great Horse to the high
Crest of the hill, and wide the tall gates swang;
But thrice, for all their force, it stood thereby
Unmoved, and thrice like smitten armour rang.
XIV.
Natheless they wrought their will; then altar fires
The Trojans built, and did the Gods implore
To grant fulfilment of all glad desires.
But from the cups the wine they might not pour,
The flesh upon the spits did writhe and roar,
The smoke grew red as blood, and many a limb
Of victims leap’d upon the temple floor,
Trembling; and groans amid the chapels dim
XV.
Rang low, and from the fair Gods’ images
And from their eyes, dropp’d sweat and many a tear;
The walls with blood were dripping, and on these
That sacrificed, came horror and great fear;
The holy laurels to Apollo dear
Beside his temple faded suddenly,
And wild wolves from the mountains drew anear,
And ravens through the temples seem’d to fly.
XVI.
Yet still the men of Troy were glad at heart,
And o’er strange meat they revell’d, like folk fey,
Though each would shudder if he glanced apart,
For round their knees the mists were gather’d grey,
Like shrouds on men that Hell-ward take their way;
But merrily withal they feasted thus,
And laugh’d with crooked lips, and oft would say
Some evil-sounding word and ominous.
XVII.
And Hecuba among her children spake,
“Let each man choose the meat he liketh best,
For bread no more together shall we break.
Nay, soon from all my labour must I rest,
But eat ye well, and drink the red wine, lest
Ye blame my house-wifery among men dead.”
And all they took her saying for a jest,
And sweetly did they laugh at that she said.
XVIII.
Then, like a raven on the of night,
The wild Cassandra flitted far and near,
Still crying, “Gather, gather for the fight,
And brace the helmet on, and grasp the spear,
For lo, the legions of the Night are here!”
So shriek’d the dreadful prophetess divine.
But all men mock’d, and were of merry cheer;
Safe as the Gods they deem’d them, o’er their wine.
XIX.
For now with minstrelsy the air was sweet,
The soft spring air, and thick with incense smoke;
And bands of happy dancers down the street
Flew from the flower-crown’d doors, and wheel’d, and broke;
And loving words the youths and maidens spoke,
For Aphrodite did their hearts beguile,
As when beneath grey cavern or green oak
The shepherd men and maidens meet and smile.
XX.
No guard they set, for truly to them all
Did Love and slumber seem exceeding good;
There was no watch by open gate nor wall,
No sentinel by Pallas’ image stood;
But silence grew, as in an autumn wood
When tempests die, and the vex’d boughs have ease,