Helen of Troy | Page 5

can aid.?The force that comes on me is other far;
One that on all men comes: I seek the maid?Whom golden Aphrodite shall persuade?To lay her hand in mine, and follow me,
To my white halls within the cedar shade?Beyond the waters of the barren sea."
XVIII.
Then at the Goddess' name grew Helen pale,
Like golden stars that flicker in the dawn,?Or like a child that hears a dreadful tale,
Or like the roses on a rich man's lawn,?When now the suns of Summer are withdrawn,?And the loose leaves with a sad wind are stirr'd,
Till the wet grass is strewn with petals wan, -?So paled the golden Helen at his word.
XIX.
But swift the rose into her cheek return'd
And for a little moment, like a flame,?The perfect face of Argive Helen burn'd,
As doth a woman's, when some spoken name?Brings back to mind some ancient love or shame,?But none save Paris mark'd the thing, who said,
"My tale no more must weary this fair dame,?With telling why I wander all unwed."
XX.
But Helen, bending on him gracious brows,
Besought him for the story of his quest,?"For sultry is the summer, that allows
To mortal men no sweeter boon than rest;?And surely such a tale as thine is best?To make the dainty-footed hours go by,
Till sinks the sun in darkness and the West,?And soft stars lead the Night along the sky."
XXI.
Then at the word of Helen Paris spoke,
"My tale is shorter than a summer day, -?My mother, ere I saw the light, awoke,
At dawn, in Ilios, shrieking in dismay,?Who dream'd that 'twixt her feet there fell and lay?A flaming brand, that utterly burn'd down
To dust of crumbling ashes red and grey,?The coronal of towers and all Troy town.
XXII.
"Then the interpretation of this dream
My father sought at many priestly hands,?Where the white temple doth in Pytho gleam,
And at the fane of Ammon in the sands,?And where the oak tree of Dodona stands?With boughs oracular against the sky, -
And with one voice the Gods from all the lands,?Cried out, 'The child must die, the child must die.'
XXIII.
"Then was I born to sorrow; and in fear
The dark priest took me from my sire, and bore?A wailing child through beech and pinewood drear,
Up to the knees of Ida, and the hoar?Rocks whence a fountain breaketh evermore,?And leaps with shining waters to the sea,
Through black and rock-wall'd pools without a shore, -?And there they deem'd they took farewell of me.
XXIV.
"But round my neck they tied a golden ring
That fell from Ganymedes when he soar'd?High over Ida on the eagle's wing,
To dwell for ever with the Gods adored,?To be the cup-bearer beside the board?Of Zeus, and kneel at the eternal throne, -
A jewel 'twas from old King Tros's hoard,?That ruled in Ilios ages long agone.
XXV.
"And there they left me in that dell untrod, -
Shepherd nor huntsman ever wanders there,?For dread of Pan, that is a jealous God, -
Yea, and the ladies of the streams forbear?The Naiad nymphs, to weave their dances fair,?Or twine their yellow tresses with the shy
Fronds of forget-me-not and maiden-hair, -?There had the priests appointed me to die.
XXVI.
"But vainly doth a man contend with Fate!
My father had less pity on his son?Than wild things of the woodland desolate.
'Tis said that ere the Autumn day was done?A great she-bear, that in these rocks did wonn,?Beheld a sleeping babe she did convey
Down to a den beheld not of the sun,?The cavern where her own soft litter lay.
XXVII.
"And therein was I nurtured wondrously,
So Rumour saith: I know not of these things,?For mortal men are ever wont to lie,
Whene'er they speak of sceptre-bearing kings:?I tell what I was told, for memory brings?No record of those days, that are as deep
Lost as the lullaby a mother sings?In ears of children that are fallen on sleep.
XXVIII.
"Men say that now five autumn days had pass'd,
When Agelaus, following a hurt deer,?Trod soft on crackling acorns, and the mast
That lay beneath the oak and beech-wood sere,?In dread lest angry Pan were sleeping near,?Then heard a cry from forth a cavern grey,
And peeping round the fallen rocks in fear,?Beheld where in the wild beast's tracks I lay.
XXIX.
"So Agelaus bore me from the wild,
Down to his hut; and with his children I?Was nurtured, being, as was deem'd, the child
Of Hermes, or some mountain deity;?For these with the wild nymphs are wont to lie?Within the holy caverns, where the bee
Can scarcely find a darkling path to fly?Through veils of bracken and the ivy-tree.
XXX.
"So with the shepherds on the hills I stray'd,
And drave the kine to feed where rivers run,?And play'd upon the reed-pipe in the shade,
And scarcely knew my manhood was begun,?The pleasant years still passing one by one,?Till I was chiefest of the mountain men,
And clomb the peaks that take the snow and sun,?And braved the anger'd lion in his den.
XXXI.
"Now in my herd of kine was one more dear
By far than all the rest, and