The Fall of Troy [81]
thee of thy grievous pain."
So from her doors she drave that groaning man -- Ah fool! not knowing her own doom, whose weird Was straightway after him to tread the path Of death! So Fate had spun her destiny-thread.
Then, as he stumbled down through Ida's brakes, Where Doom on his death-path was leading him Painfully halting, racked with heart-sick pain, Hera beheld him, with rejoicing soul Throned in the Olympian palace-court of Zeus. And seated at her side were handmaids four Whom radiant-faced Selene bare to the Sun To be unwearying ministers in Heaven, In form and office diverse each from each; For of these Seasons one was summer's queen, And one of winter and his stormy star, Of spring the third, of autumn-tide the fourth. So in four portions parted is man's year Ruled by these Queens in turn -- but of all this Be Zeus himself the Overseer in heaven. And of those issues now these spake with her Which baleful Fate in her all-ruining heart Was shaping to the birth the new espousals Of Helen, fatal to Deiphobus -- The wrath of Helenus, who hoped in vain For that fair bride, and how, when he had fled, Wroth with the Trojans, to the mountain-height, Achaea's sons would seize him and would hale Unto their ships -- how, by his counselling Strong Tydeus' son should with Odysseus scale The great wall, and should slay Alcathous The temple-warder, and should bear away Pallas the Gracious, with her free consent, Whose image was the sure defence of Troy; -- Yea, for not even a God, how wroth soe'er, Had power to lay the City of Priam waste While that immortal shape stood warder there. No man had carven that celestial form, But Cronos' Son himself had cast it down From heaven to Priam's gold-abounding burg.
Of these things with her handmaids did the Queen Of Heaven hold converse, and of many such, But Paris, while they talked, gave up the ghost On Ida: never Helen saw him more. Loud wailed the Nymphs around him; for they still Remembered how their nursling wont to lisp His childish prattle, compassed with their smiles. And with them mourned the neatherds light of foot, Sorrowful-hearted; moaned the mountain-glens.
Then unto travail-burdened Priam's queen A herdman told the dread doom of her son. Wildly her trembling heart leapt when she heard; With failing limbs she sank to earth and wailed: "Dead! thou dead, O dear child! Grief heaped on grief Hast thou bequeathed me, grief eternal! Best Of all my sons, save Hector alone, wast thou! While beats my heart, my grief shall weep for thee. The hand of Heaven is in our sufferings: Some Fate devised our ruin -- oh that I Had lived not to endure it, but had died In days of wealthy peace! But now I see Woes upon woes, and ever look to see Worse things -- my children slain, my city sacked And burned with fire by stony-hearted foes, Daughters, sons' wives, all Trojan women, haled Into captivity with our little ones!"
So wailed she; but the King heard naught thereof, But weeping ever sat by Hector's grave, For most of all his sons he honoured him, His mightiest, the defender of his land. Nothing of Paris knew that pierced heart; But long and loud lamented Helen; yet Those wails were but for Trojan ears; her soul With other thoughts was busy, as she cried: "Husband, to me, to Troy, and to thyself A bitter blow is this thy woeful death! In misery hast thou left me, and I look To see calamities more deadly yet. Oh that the Spirits of the Storm had snatched Me from the earth when first I fared with thee Drawn by a baleful Fate! It might not be; The Gods have meted ruin to thee and me. With shuddering horror all men look on me, All hate me! Place of refuge is there none For me; for if to the Danaan host I fly, With torments will they greet me. If I stay, Troy's sons and daughters here will compass me And rend me. Earth shall cover not my corpse, But dogs and fowl of ravin shall devour. Oh had Fate slain me ere I saw these woes!"
So cried she: but for him far less she mourned Than for herself, remembering her own sin. Yea, and Troy's daughters but in semblance wailed For
So from her doors she drave that groaning man -- Ah fool! not knowing her own doom, whose weird Was straightway after him to tread the path Of death! So Fate had spun her destiny-thread.
Then, as he stumbled down through Ida's brakes, Where Doom on his death-path was leading him Painfully halting, racked with heart-sick pain, Hera beheld him, with rejoicing soul Throned in the Olympian palace-court of Zeus. And seated at her side were handmaids four Whom radiant-faced Selene bare to the Sun To be unwearying ministers in Heaven, In form and office diverse each from each; For of these Seasons one was summer's queen, And one of winter and his stormy star, Of spring the third, of autumn-tide the fourth. So in four portions parted is man's year Ruled by these Queens in turn -- but of all this Be Zeus himself the Overseer in heaven. And of those issues now these spake with her Which baleful Fate in her all-ruining heart Was shaping to the birth the new espousals Of Helen, fatal to Deiphobus -- The wrath of Helenus, who hoped in vain For that fair bride, and how, when he had fled, Wroth with the Trojans, to the mountain-height, Achaea's sons would seize him and would hale Unto their ships -- how, by his counselling Strong Tydeus' son should with Odysseus scale The great wall, and should slay Alcathous The temple-warder, and should bear away Pallas the Gracious, with her free consent, Whose image was the sure defence of Troy; -- Yea, for not even a God, how wroth soe'er, Had power to lay the City of Priam waste While that immortal shape stood warder there. No man had carven that celestial form, But Cronos' Son himself had cast it down From heaven to Priam's gold-abounding burg.
Of these things with her handmaids did the Queen Of Heaven hold converse, and of many such, But Paris, while they talked, gave up the ghost On Ida: never Helen saw him more. Loud wailed the Nymphs around him; for they still Remembered how their nursling wont to lisp His childish prattle, compassed with their smiles. And with them mourned the neatherds light of foot, Sorrowful-hearted; moaned the mountain-glens.
Then unto travail-burdened Priam's queen A herdman told the dread doom of her son. Wildly her trembling heart leapt when she heard; With failing limbs she sank to earth and wailed: "Dead! thou dead, O dear child! Grief heaped on grief Hast thou bequeathed me, grief eternal! Best Of all my sons, save Hector alone, wast thou! While beats my heart, my grief shall weep for thee. The hand of Heaven is in our sufferings: Some Fate devised our ruin -- oh that I Had lived not to endure it, but had died In days of wealthy peace! But now I see Woes upon woes, and ever look to see Worse things -- my children slain, my city sacked And burned with fire by stony-hearted foes, Daughters, sons' wives, all Trojan women, haled Into captivity with our little ones!"
So wailed she; but the King heard naught thereof, But weeping ever sat by Hector's grave, For most of all his sons he honoured him, His mightiest, the defender of his land. Nothing of Paris knew that pierced heart; But long and loud lamented Helen; yet Those wails were but for Trojan ears; her soul With other thoughts was busy, as she cried: "Husband, to me, to Troy, and to thyself A bitter blow is this thy woeful death! In misery hast thou left me, and I look To see calamities more deadly yet. Oh that the Spirits of the Storm had snatched Me from the earth when first I fared with thee Drawn by a baleful Fate! It might not be; The Gods have meted ruin to thee and me. With shuddering horror all men look on me, All hate me! Place of refuge is there none For me; for if to the Danaan host I fly, With torments will they greet me. If I stay, Troy's sons and daughters here will compass me And rend me. Earth shall cover not my corpse, But dogs and fowl of ravin shall devour. Oh had Fate slain me ere I saw these woes!"
So cried she: but for him far less she mourned Than for herself, remembering her own sin. Yea, and Troy's daughters but in semblance wailed For