Helen of Troy Part 5

Come to a sh.o.r.e beyond the barren sea; There doth the bridal crown await thy head, And there shall all the land be glad of thee!"

Then, like a child, she follow'd where he led.

XV.

For, like a child's her gentle heart was glad.

So through the courtyard pa.s.s'd they to the gate; And even there, as Aphrodite bade, The steeds of Paris and the chariots wait; Then to the well-wrought car he led her straight, And grasped the s.h.i.+ning whip and golden rein, And swift they drave until the day was late By clear Eurotas through the fruitful plain.

XVI.

But now within the halls the magic sleep Was broken, and men sought them everywhere; Yet Aphrodite cast a cloud so deep About their chariot none might see them there.

And strangely did they hear the trumpets blare, And noise of racing wheels; yet saw they nought: Then died the sounds upon the distant air, And safe they won the haven that they sought.

XVII.

Beneath a gra.s.sy cliff, beneath the down, Where swift Eurotas mingles with the sea, There climb'd the grey walls of a little town, The sleepy waters wash'd it languidly, For tempests in that haven might not be.

The isle across the inlet guarded all, And the shrill winds that roam the ocean free Broke and were broken on the rocky wall.

XVIII.

Then Paris did a point of hunting blow, Nor yet the sound had died upon the hill When round the isle they spied a scarlet prow, And oars that flash'd into that haven still, The oarsmen bending forward with a will, And swift their black s.h.i.+p to the haven-side They brought, and steer'd her in with goodly skill, And bare on board the strange Achaean bride.

XIX.

Now while the swift s.h.i.+p through the waters clave, All happy things that in the waters dwell, Arose and gamboll'd on the gla.s.sy wave, And Nereus led them with his sounding sh.e.l.l: Yea, the sea-nymphs, their dances weaving well, In the green water gave them greeting free.

Ah, long light linger'd, late the darkness fell, That night, upon the isle of Cranae!

XX.

And Hymen shook his fragrant torch on high, Till all its waves of smoke and tongues of flame, Like clouds of rosy gold fulfill'd the sky; And all the Nereids from the waters came, Each maiden with a musical sweet name; Doris, and Doto, and Amphithoe; And their shrill bridal song of love and shame Made music in the silence of the sea.

XXI.

For this was like that night of summer weather, When mortal men and maidens without fear, And forest-nymphs, and forest-G.o.ds together, Do wors.h.i.+p Pan in the long twilight clear.

And Artemis this one night spares the deer, And every cave and dell, and every grove Is glad with singing soft and happy cheer, With laughter, and with dalliance, and with love.

XXII.

Now when the golden-throned Dawn arose To waken G.o.ds and mortals out of sleep, Queen Aphrodite sent the wind that blows From fairy gardens of the Western deep.

The sails are spread, the oars of Paris leap Past many a headland, many a haunted fane: And, merrily all from isle to isle they sweep O'er the wet ways across the barren plain.

XXIII.

By many an island fort, and many a haven They sped, and many a crowded a.r.s.enal: They saw the loves of G.o.ds and men engraven On friezes of Astarte's temple wall.

They heard that ancient shepherd Proteus call His flock from forth the green and tumbling lea, And saw white Thetis with her maidens all Sweep up to high Olympus from the sea.

XXIV.

They saw the vain and weary toil of men, The s.h.i.+ps that win the rich man all he craves; They pa.s.s'd the red-prow'd barks Egyptian, And heard afar the moaning of the slaves Pent in the dark hot hold beneath the waves; And scatheless the Sardanian fleets among They sail'd; by men that sow the sea with graves, Bearing black fate to folk of alien tongue.

XXV.

Then all day long a rolling cloud of smoke Would hang on the sea-limits, faint and far, But through the night the beacon-flame upbroke From some rich island-town begirt with war; And all these things could neither make nor mar The joy of lovers wandering, but they Sped happily, and heedless of the star That hung o'er their glad haven, far away.

XXVI.

The fisher-sentinel upon the height Watch'd them with vacant eyes, and little knew They bore the fate of Troy; to him the bright Plashed waters, with the silver s.h.i.+ning through When tunny shoals came cruising in the blue, Was more than Love that doth the world unmake; And listless gazed he as the gulls that flew And shriek'd and chatter'd in the vessel's wake.

XXVII.

So the wind drave them, and the waters bare Across the great green plain unharvested, Till through an after-glow they knew the fair Faint rose of snow on distant Ida's head.

And swifter then the joyous oarsmen sped; But night was ended, and the waves were fire Beneath the fleet feet of a dawning red Or ere they won the land of their desire.

XXVIII.

Now when the folk about the haven knew The scarlet prow of Paris, swift they ran And the good s.h.i.+p within the haven drew, And merrily their welcoming began.

But none the face of Helen dared to scan; Their bold eyes fell before they had their fill, For all men deem'd her that Idalian Who loved Anchises on the lonely hill.

XXIX.

But when her sweet smile and her gentleness And her kind speech had won them from dismay, They changed their minds, and 'gan the G.o.ds to bless Who brought to Ilios that happy day.

And all the folk fair Helen must convey, Crown'd like a bride, and clad with flame-hued pall, Through the rich plain, along the water-way Right to the great gates of the Ilian wall.

x.x.x.

And through the vines they pa.s.s'd, where old and young Had no more heed of the glad vintaging, But all unpluck'd the purple cl.u.s.ters hung, Nor more of Linus did the minstrel sing, For he and all the folk were following, Wine-stain'd and garlanded, in merry bands, Like men when Dionysus came as king, And led his revel from the sun-burnt lands,

x.x.xI.

So from afar the music and the shout Roll'd up to Ilios and the Scaean gate, And at the sound the city folk came out And bore sweet Helen--such a fairy weight As none might deem the burden of Troy's fate-- Across the threshold of the town, and all Flock'd with her, where King Priam sat in state, Girt by his elders, on the Ilian wall.

x.x.xII.

No man but knew him by his crown of gold, And golden-studded sceptre, and his throne; Ay, strong he seem'd as those great kings of old, Whose image is eternal on the stone Won from the dust that once was Babylon; But kind of mood was he withal, and mild, And when his eyes on Argive Helen shone, He loved her as a father doth a child.

x.x.xIII.

Round him were set his peers, as Panthous, Antenor, and Agenor, hardly grey, Scarce touch'd as yet with age, nor garrulous As are cicalas on a sunny day: Such might they be when years had slipp'd away, And made them over-weak for war or joy, Content to watch the Leaguer as it lay Beside the s.h.i.+ps, beneath the walls of Troy.

x.x.xIV.

Then Paris had an easy tale to tell, Which then might win upon men's wond'ring ears, Who deem'd that G.o.ds with mortals deign to dwell, And that the water of the West enspheres The happy Isles that know not Death nor tears; Yea, and though monsters do these islands guard, Yet men within their coasts had dwelt for years Uncounted, with a strange love for reward.

x.x.xV.

And there had Paris ventured: so said he,-- Had known the Sirens' song, and Circe's wile; And in a cove of that Hesperian sea Had found a maiden on a lonely isle; A sacrifice, if so men might beguile The wrath of some beast-G.o.d they wors.h.i.+pp'd there, But Paris, 'twixt the sea and strait defile, Had slain the beast, and won the woman fair.

x.x.xVI.