Helen of Troy [6]
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 name shall be a hissing that a man
Shall smile to speak, and women curse and hate,
And on my little child shall come a ban,
And all my lofty home be desolate.
XII.
"Is it thy will that like a golden cup
From lip to lip of heroes I must go,
And be but as a banner lifted up,
To beckon where the winds of war may blow?
Have I not seen fair Athens in her woe,
And all her homes aflame from sea to sea,
When my fierce brothers wrought her overthrow
Because Athenian Theseus carried me -
XIII.
"Me, in my bloomless youth, a maiden child,
From Artemis' pure altars
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 name shall be a hissing that a man
Shall smile to speak, and women curse and hate,
And on my little child shall come a ban,
And all my lofty home be desolate.
XII.
"Is it thy will that like a golden cup
From lip to lip of heroes I must go,
And be but as a banner lifted up,
To beckon where the winds of war may blow?
Have I not seen fair Athens in her woe,
And all her homes aflame from sea to sea,
When my fierce brothers wrought her overthrow
Because Athenian Theseus carried me -
XIII.
"Me, in my bloomless youth, a maiden child,
From Artemis' pure altars