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.
