Helen of Troy Part 12

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 st.u.r.dily 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 sw.a.n.g; 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 G.o.ds 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 G.o.ds' 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 h.e.l.l-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 Ca.s.sandra 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 G.o.ds 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, And wind and sunlight fade, and soft the mood Of sacred twilight falls upon the trees.

XXI.

Then the stars cross'd the zenith, and there came On Troy that hour when slumber is most deep, But any man that watch'd had seen a flame Spring from the tall crest of the Trojan keep; While from the belly of the Horse did leap Men arm'd, and to the gates went stealthily, While up the rocky way to Ilios creep The Argives, new return'd across the sea.

XXII.

Now when the silence broke, and in that hour When first the dawn of war was blazing red, There came a light in Helen's fragrant bower, As on that evil night before she fled From Lacedaemon and her marriage bed; And Helen in great fear lay still and cold, For Aphrodite stood above her head, And spake in that sweet voice she knew of old:

XXIII.

"Beloved one that dost not love me, wake!

Helen, the night is over, the dawn is near, And safely shalt thou fare with me, and take Thy way through fire and blood, and have no fear: A little hour, and ended is the drear Tale of thy sorrow and thy wandering.

Nay, long hast thou to live in happy cheer, By fair Eurotas, with thy lord, the King."

XXIV.

Then Helen rose, and in a cloud of gold, Unseen amid the vapour of the fire, Did Aphrodite veil her, fold on fold; And through the darkness, thronged with faces dire, And o'er men's bodies fallen in a mire Of new spilt blood and wine, the twain did go Where l.u.s.t and Hate were mingled in desire, And dreams and death were blended in one woe.

XXV.

Fire and the foe were masters now: the sky Flared like the dawn of that last day of all, When men for pity to the sea shall cry, And vainly on the mountain tops shall call To fall and end the horror in their fall; And through the vapour dreadful things saw they, The maidens leaping from the city wall, The sleeping children murder'd where they lay.

XXVI.

Yea, cries like those that make the hills of h.e.l.l Ring and re-echo, sounded through the night, The screams of burning horses, and the yell Of young men leaping naked into fight, And shrill the women shriek'd, as in their flight Shriek the wild cranes, when overhead they spy Between the dusky cloud-land and the bright Blue air, an eagle stooping from the sky.

XXVII.

And now the red glare of the burning shone On deeds so dire the pure G.o.ds might not bear, Save Ares only, long to look thereon, But with a cloud they darken'd all the air.

And, even then, within the temple fair Of chaste Athene, did Ca.s.sandra cower, And cried aloud an unavailing prayer; For Aias was the master in that hour.

XXVIII.

Man's l.u.s.t won what a G.o.d's love might not win, And heroes trembled, and the temple floor Shook, when one cry went up into the din, And shamed the night to silence; then the roar Of war and fire wax'd great as heretofore, Till each roof fell, and every palace gate Was shatter'd, and the King's blood shed; nor more Remain'd to do, for Troy was desolate.

XXIX.

Then dawn drew near, and changed to clouds of rose The dreadful smoke that clung to Ida's head; But Ilios was ashes, and the foes Had left the embers and the plunder'd dead; And down the steep they drove the prey, and sped Back to the swift ships, with a captive train,-- While Menelaus, slow, with drooping head, Follow'd, like one lamenting, through the plain.

x.x.x.

Where death might seem the surest, by the gate Of Priam, where the spears raged, and the tall Towers on the foe were falling, sought he fate To look on Helen once, and then to fall, Nor see with living eyes the end of all, What time the host their vengeance should fulfil, And cast her from the cliff below the wall, Or burn her body on the windy hill.

x.x.xI.

But Helen found he never, where the flame Sprang to the roofs, and Helen ne'er he found Where flock'd the wretched women in their shame The helpless altars of the G.o.ds around, Nor lurk'd she in deep chambers underground, Where the priests trembled o'er their hidden gold, Nor where the armed feet of foes resound In shrines to silence consecrate of old.

x.x.xII.

So wounded to his hut and wearily Came Menelaus; and he bow'd his head Beneath the lintel neither fair nor high; And, lo! Queen Helen lay upon his bed, Flush'd like a child in sleep, and rosy-red, And at his footstep did she wake and smile, And spake: "My lord, how hath thy hunting sped, Methinks that I have slept a weary while!"

x.x.xIII.

For Aphrodite made the past unknown To Helen, as of old, when in the dew Of that fair dawn the net was round her thrown: Nay, now no memory of Troy brake through The mist that veil'd from her sweet eyes and blue The dreadful days and deeds all over-past, And gladly did she greet her lord anew, And gladly would her arms have round him cast.

x.x.xIV.