Say, from whose lips the presage fell?
Who read the future all too well, And named her, in her natal hour, Helen, the bride with war for dower 'Twas one of the Invisible, Guiding his tongue with prescient power.
On fleet, and host, and citadel, War, sprung from her, and death did lour, When from the bride-bed's fine-spun veil She to the Zephyr spread her sail.
Strong blew the breeze-the surge closed oer The cloven track of keel and oar, But while she fled, there drove along, Fast in her wake, a mighty throng-Athirst for blood, athirst for war, Forward in fell pursuit they sprung, Then leapt on Simois' bank ashore, The leafy coppices among-No rangers, they, of wood and field, But huntsmen of the sword and shield.
antistrophe 1
Heaven's jealousy, that works its will, Sped thus on Troy its destined ill, Well named, at once, the Bride and Bane;And loud rang out the bridal strain;
But they to whom that song befell Did turn anon to tears again;Zeus tarries, but avenges still The husband's wrong, the household's stain!
He, the hearth's lord, brooks not to see Its outraged hospitality.
Even now, and in far other tone, Troy chants her dirge of mighty moan, Woe upon Paris, woe and hate!
Who wooed his country's doom for mate-
This is the burthen of the groan, Wherewith she wails disconsolate The blood, so many of her own Have poured in vain, to fend her fate;Troy! thou hast fed and freed to roam A lion-cub within thy home!
strophe 2
A suckling creature, newly ta'en From mother's teat, still fully fain Of nursing care; and oft caressed, Within the arms, upon the breast, Even as an infant, has it lain;Or fawns and licks, by hunger pressed, The hand that will assuage its pain;In life's young dawn, a well-loved guest, A fondling for the children's play, A joy unto the old and grey.
antistrophe 2
But waxing time and growth betrays The blood-thirst of the lion-race, And, for the house's fostering care, Unbidden all, it revels there, And bloody recompense repays-Rent flesh of kine, its talons tare: