"Dog! I, even I have dealt thee unwelcome death This day! No dawn divine shall meet thee again Alive in Troy -- ay, though thou vaunt thyself Spouse of the child of Zeus the thunder-voiced!
Black death hath trapped thee slain in my wife's bower!
Would I had met Alexander too in fight Ere this, and plucked his heart out! So my grief Had been a lighter load. But he hath paid Already justice' debt, hath passed beneath Death's cold dark shadow. Ha, small joy to thee My wife was doomed to bring! Ay, wicked men Never elude pure Themis: night and day Her eyes are on them, and the wide world through Above the tribes of men she floats in air, Holpen of Zeus, for punishment of sin."
On passed he, dealing merciless death to foes, For maddened was his soul with jealousy.
Against the Trojans was his bold heart full Of thoughts of vengeance, which were now fulfilled By the dread Goddess Justice, for that theirs Was that first outrage touching Helen, theirs That profanation of the oaths, and theirs That trampling on the blood of sacrifice When their presumptuous souls forgat the Gods.
Therefore the Vengeance-friends brought woes on them Thereafter, and some died in fighting field, Some now in Troy by board and bridal bower.
Menelaus mid the inner chambers found At last his wife, there cowering from the wrath Of her bold-hearted lord. He glared on her, Hungering to slay her in his jealous rage.
But winsome Aphrodite curbed him, struck Out of his hand the sword, his onrush reined, Jealousy's dark cloud swept she away, and stirred Love's deep sweet well-springs in his heart and eyes.
Swept o'er him strange amazement: powerless all Was he to lift the sword against her neck, Seeing her splendour of beauty. Like a stock Of dead wood in a mountain forest, which No swiftly-rushing blasts of north-winds shake, Nor fury of south-winds ever, so he stood, So dazed abode long time. All his great strength Was broken, as he looked upon his wife.
And suddenly had he forgotten all Yea, all her sins against her spousal-troth;
For Aphrodite made all fade away, She who subdueth all immortal hearts And mortal. Yet even so he lifted up From earth his sword, and made as he would rush Upon his wife but other was his intent, Even as he sprang: he did but feign, to cheat Achaean eyes. Then did his brother stay His fury, and spake with pacifying words, Fearing lest all they had toiled for should be lost:
"Forbear wrath, Menelaus, now: 'twere shame To slay thy wedded wife, for whose sake we Have suffered much affliction, while we sought Vengeance on Priam. Not, as thou dost deem, Was Helen's the sin, but his who set at naught The Guest-lord, and thine hospitable board;
So with death-pangs hath God requited him."
Then hearkened Menelaus to his rede.
But the Gods, palled in dark clouds, mourned for Troy, A ruined glory save fair-tressed Tritonis And Hera: their hearts triumphed, when they saw The burg of god-descended Priam destroyed.
Yet not the wise heart Trito-born herself Was wholly tearless; for within her fane Outraged Cassandra was of Oileus son Lust-maddened. But grim vengeance upon him Ere long the Goddess wreaked, repaying insult With mortal sufferance. Yea, she would not look Upon the infamy, but clad herself With shame and wrath as with a cloak: she turned Her stern eyes to the temple-roof, and groaned The holy image, and the hallowed floor Quaked mightily. Yet did he not forbear His mad sin, for his soul was lust-distraught.
Here, there, on all sides crumbled flaming homes In ruin down: scorched dust with smoke was blent:
Trembled the streets to the awful thunderous crash.
Here burned Aeneas' palace, yonder flamed Antimachus' halls: one furnace was the height Of fair-built Pergamus; flames were roaring round Apollo's temple, round Athena's fane, And round the Hearth-lord's altar: flames licked up Fair chambers of the sons' sons of a king;
And all the city sank down into hell.
Of Trojans some by Argos' sons were slain, Some by their own roofs crashing down in fire, Giving at once in death and tomb to them:
Some in their own throats plunged the steel, when foes And fire were in the porch together seen:
Some slew their wives and children, and flung themselves Dead on them, when despair had done its work Of horror. One, who deemed the foe afar, Caught up a vase, and, fain to quench the flame, Hasted for water. Leapt unmarked on him An Argive, and his spirit, heavy with wine, Was thrust forth from the body by the spear.
Clashed the void vase above him, as he fell Backward within the house. As through his hall Another fled, the burning roof-beam crashed Down on his head, and swift death came with it.
And many women, as in frenzied flight They rushed forth, suddenly remembered babes Left in their beds beneath those burning roofs:
With wild feet sped they back -- the house fell in Upon them, and they perished, mother and child.
