Helen Redeemed and Other Poems | Page 3

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