Helen of Troy | Page 8

hardly from the wave
We 'scaped at Pylos, Nestor's citadel;?And there the son of Neleus loved us well,?And brought us to the high prince, Diocles,
Who led us hither, and it thus befell?That here, below thy roof, we sit at ease."
LX.
Then all men gave the stranger thanks and praise,
And Menelaus for red wine bade call;?And the sun fell, and dark were all the ways;
Then maidens set forth braziers in the hall,?And heap'd them high with lighted brands withal;?But Helen pass'd, as doth the fading day
Pass from the world, and softly left them all?Loud o'er their wine amid the twilight grey.
LXI.
So night drew on with rain, nor yet they ceased
Within the hall to drink the gleaming wine,?And late they pour'd the last cup of the feast,
To Argus-bane, the Messenger divine;?And last, 'neath torches tall that smoke and shine,?The maidens strew'd the beds with purple o'er,
That Diocles and Paris might recline?All night, beneath the echoing corridor.
BOOK II--THE SPELL OF APHRODITE
The coming of Aphrodite, and how she told Helen that she must depart in company with Paris, but promised withal that Helen, having fallen into a deep sleep, should awake forgetful of her old life, and ignorant of her shame, and blameless of those evil deeds that the Goddess thrust upon her.
I.
Now in the upper chamber o'er the gate
Lay Menelaus on his carven bed,?And swift and sudden as the stroke of Fate
A deep sleep fell upon his weary head.?But the soft-winged God with wand of lead?Came not near Helen; wistful did she lie,
Till dark should change to grey, and grey to red,?And golden throned Morn sweep o'er the sky.
II.
Slow pass'd the heavy night: like one who fears
The step of murder, she lies quivering,?If any cry of the night bird she hears;
And strains her eyes to mark some dreadful thing,?If but the curtains of the window swing,?Stirr'd by the breath of night, and still she wept
As she were not the daughter of a king,?And no strong king, her lord, beside her slept.
III.
Now in that hour, the folk who watch the night,
Shepherds and fishermen, and they that ply?Strange arts and seek their spells in the star-light,
Beheld a marvel in the sea and sky,?For all the waves of all the seas that sigh?Between the straits of Helle and the Nile,
Flush'd with a flame of silver suddenly,?From soft Cythera to the Cyprian isle.
IV.
And Hesperus, the kindest star of heaven,
That bringeth all things good, wax'd pale, and straight?There fell a flash of white malignant levin
Among the gleaming waters desolate;?The lights of sea and sky did mix and mate?And change to rosy flame, and thence did fly
The lovely Queen of Love that turns to hate,?Like summer lightnings 'twixt the sea and sky.
V.
And now the bower of Helen fill'd with light,
And now she knew the thing that she did fear?Was close upon her (for the black of night
Doth burn like fire, whene'er the Gods are near);?Then shone like flame each helm and shield and spear?That hung within the chamber of the King,
But he,--though all the bower as day was clear, -?Slept as they sleep that know no wakening.
VI.
But Helen leap'd from her fair carven bed
As some tormented thing that fear makes bold,?And on the ground she beat her golden head
And pray'd with bitter moanings manifold.?Yet knew that she could never move the cold?Heart of the lovely Goddess, standing there,
Her feet upon a little cloud, a fold?Of silver cloud about her bosom bare.
VII.
So stood Queen Aphrodite, as she stands
Unmoved in her bright mansion, when in vain?Some naked maiden stretches helpless hands
And shifts the magic wheel, and burns the grain,?And cannot win her lover back again,?Nor her old heart of quiet any more,
Where moonlight floods the dim Sicilian main,?And the cool wavelets break along the shore.
VIII.
Then Helen ceased from unavailing prayer,
And rose and faced the Goddess steadily,?Till even the laughter-loving lady fair
Half shrank before the anger of her eye,?And Helen cried with an exceeding cry,?"Why does Zeus live, if we indeed must be
No more than sullen spoils of destiny,?And slaves of an adulteress like thee?
IX.
"What wilt thou with me, mistress of all woe?
Say, wilt thou bear me to another land?Where thou hast other lovers? Rise and go
Where dark the pine trees upon Ida stand,?For there did one unloose thy girdle band;?Or seek the forest where Adonis bled,
Or wander, wander on the yellow sand,?Where thy first lover strew'd thy bridal bed.
X.
"Ah, thy first lover! who is first or last
Of men and gods, unnumber'd and unnamed??Lover by lover in the race is pass'd,
Lover by lover, outcast and ashamed.?Oh, thou of many names, and evil famed!?What wilt thou with me? What must I endure
Whose soul, for all thy craft, is never tamed??Whose heart, for all thy wiles, is ever pure?
XI.
"Behold, my heart is purer than the plume
Upon the stainless pinions of the swan,?And thou wilt smirch and stain it with the fume
Of all thy hateful lusts Idalian.?My