Classic Poem

When every least Commander's will best souldiers had obaide
And both the hosts were rang'd for fight, the Troyans would have fraid
The Greeks with noises, crying out in coming rudely on;
At all parts like the Cranes that fill with harsh confusion
Of brutish clanges all the aire and in ridiculous warre
(Eschuing the unsufferd stormes shot from the winter's starre)
Visite the Ocean and conferre the Pygmei souldiers' death.
The Greeks charg'd silent and like men bestow'd their thriftie breath
In strength of far-resounding blowes, still entertaining care
Of either's rescue when their strength did their engagements dare.
And as upon a hil's steepe tops the South wind powres a cloud
To shepheards thanklesse, but by theeves, that love the night, allowd,
A darknesse letting downe that blinds a stone's cast off men's eyes,
Such darknesse from the Greeks' swift feet (made all of dust) did rise.
But ere sterne conflict mixt both strengths, faire Paris stept before
The Troyan host. Athwart his backe a Panther's hide he wore,
A crooked bow and sword, and shooke two brazen-headed darts,
With which well-arm'd, his tongue provok't the best of Grecian hearts
To stand with him in single fight. Whom when the man, wrong'd most
Of all the Greekes, so gloriously saw stalke before the host,
As when a Lion is rejoyc't (with hunger halfe forlorne)
That finds some sweet prey (as a Hart, whose grace lies in his horne,
Or Sylvane Goate) which he devours, though never so pursu'd
With dogs and men, so Sparta's king exulted when he view'd
The faire-fac'd Paris so exposde to his so thirsted wreake—
Whereof his good cause made him sure. The Grecian front did breake
And forth he rusht, at all parts arm'd, leapt from his chariot
And royally prepar'd for charge. Which seene, cold terror shot
The heart of Paris, who retir'd as headlong from the king
As in him he had shund his death. And as a hilly spring
Presents a serpent to a man full underneath his feete,
Her blew necke (swolne with poison) raisd and her sting out, to greet
His heedlesse entrie, sodainely his walke he altereth,
Starts backe amaz'd, is shooke with feare and lookes as pale as death;
So Menelaus Paris scar'd, so that divine-fac't foe
Shrunke in his beauties. Which beheld by Hector, he let go
This bitter checke at him. ‘Accurst, made but in beautie's skorne!
Impostor! woman's man! O heaven, that thou hadst neare bene borne
Or (being so manlesse) never liv'd to beare man's noblest state,
The nuptiall honor! Which I wish, because it were a fate
Much better for thee than this shame. This spectacle doth make
A man a monster. Harke how lowd the Greekes laugh, who did take
Thy faire forme for a continent of parts as faire. A rape
Thou mad'st of Nature, like their Queene. No soule, an emptie shape
Takes up thy being, yet how spight to everie shade of good
Fils it with ill! For as thou art, thou couldst collect a brood
Of others like thee and, farre hence, fetch ill enough to us—
Even to thy father: all these friends make those foes mocke them thus
In thee, for whose ridiculous sake so seriously they lay
All Greece and Fate upon their necks. O wretch! not dare to stay
Weake Menelaus? But twas well, for in him thou hadst tried
What strength lost beautie can infuse, and with the more griefe died
To feele thou robdst a worthier man, to wrong a souldier's right.
Your Harp's sweet touch, curld lockes, fine shape and gifts so exquisite
Given thee by Venus would have done your fine Dames little good
When bloud and dust had ruffled them, and had as little stood
Thy selfe in stead. But what thy care of all these in thee flies
We should inflict on thee our selves. Infectious cowardise
(In thee) hath terrified our host, for which thou well deserv'st
A coate of Tomb-stone, not of steele—in which for forme thou serv'st.’
To this thus Paris spake (for forme, that might inhabit heaven
‘Hector! Because thy sharpe reproofe is out of justice given,
I take it well; but though thy heart (inur'd to these affrights)
Cuts through them as an axe through Oke, that, more usd, more excites
The workman's facultie whose art can make the edge go farre,
Yet I (lesse practisd than thy selfe in these extremes of warre)
May well be pardond though lesse bold. In these your worth exceeds,
In others, mine. Nor is my mind of lesse force to the deeds
Requir'd in warre, because my forme more flowes in gifts of peace.
Reproach not therefore the kind gifts of golden Cyprides.
All heav'n's gifts have their worthie price, as little to be scorn'd
As to be wonne with strength, wealth, state—with which to be adorn'd
Some men would change state, wealth or strength. But if your martiall heart
Wish me to make my challenge good, and hold it such a part
Of shame to give it over thus, cause all the rest to rest
And twixt both hosts let Sparta's king and me performe our best
For Helen and the wealth she brought, and he that overcomes,
Or proves superiour any way in all your equall doomes,
Let him enjoy her utmost wealth, keepe her or take her home—
The rest strike leagues of endlesse date and heartie friends become,
You dwelling safe in gleby Troy, the Greekes retire their force
T'Achaia, that breeds fairest Dames, and Argos, fairest horse.’
He said, and his amendsfull words did Hector highly please,
Who rusht betwixt the fighting hoasts and made the Troyans cease
By holding up in midst his lance. The Grecians noted not
The signall he for parle usde, but at him fiercely shot,
Hurld stones, and still were levelling darts. At last the king of men,
Great Agamemnon, cried alowd: ‘Argives! for shame, containe!
Youths of Achaia! shoot no more! The faire-helm'd Hector showes
As he desir'd to treate with us.’ This said, all ceast from blowes,
And Hector spake to both the hosts: ‘Troyans! and hardie Greekes!
Heare now what he that stird these warres for their cessation seekes.
He bids us all, and you, disarme, that he alone may fight
With Menelaus for us all, for Helen and her right,
With all the dowre she brought to Troy; and he that wins the day,
Or is in all the art of armes superiour any way,
The Queene, and all her sorts of wealth, let him at will enjoy:
The rest strike truce, and let love seale firme leagues twixt Greece and Troy.’
The Greeke host wondred at this Brave. Silence flew every where.
At last spake Sparta's warlike king: ‘Now also give me eare,
Whom griefe gives most cause of replie. I now have hope to free
The Greekes and Troyans of all ils they have sustaind for me
And Alexander, that was cause I stretcht my splene so farre.
Of both, then, which is nearest fate, let his death end the warre:
The rest immediatly retire and greet all homes in peace.
Go then (to blesse your champion, and give his powers successe)
Fetch for the Earth and for the Sunne (the Gods on whom ye call)
Two lambes, a blacke one and a white, a femall and a male,
And we another for our selves will fetch and kill to Jove.
To signe which rites bring Priam's force, because we well approve
His sonnes perfidious, envious (and out of practisd bane
To faith, when she beleeves in them) Jove's high truce may prophane.
All yong men's hearts are still unstaid, but in those wel-weigh'd deeds
An old man will consent to passe; things past and what succeeds
He lookes into, that he may know how best to make his way
Through both the fortunes of a fact, and will the worst obay.’
This granted, a delightfull hope both Greekes and Troyans fed
Of long'd-for rest from those long toyles their tedious warre had bred.
Their horses then in ranke they set, drawne from their chariots round,
Descend themselves, tooke off their armes and plac't them on the ground
Neare one another—for the space twixt both the hosts was small.
Hector two heralds sent to Troy that they from thence might call
King Priam, and to bring the lambes to rate the truce they swore.
But Agamemnon to the fleete Talthybius sent before
To fetch their lambe, who nothing slackt the royall charge was given.
Iris the raine-bow then came downe, Ambassadresse from heaven,
To white-arm'd Helen. She assum'd at every part the grace
Of Helen's last love's sister's shape, who had the highest place
In Helen's love, and had to name Laodice, most faire
Of all the daughters Priam had, and made the nuptiall paire
With Helicaon, royall sproute of old Antenor's seed.
She found Queene Helena at home, at worke about a weed
Wov'n for her selfe: it shin'd like fire, was rich and full of sise,
The worke of both sides being alike, in which she did comprise
The many labors warlike Troy and brasse-arm'd Greece endur'd
For her faire sake, by cruell Mars and his sterne friends procur'd.
Iris came in in joyfull haste, and said: ‘O come with me,
Lov'd Nymph, and an admired sight of Greekes and Troyans see
Who first on one another brought a warre so full of teares
(Even thirstie of contentious warre). Now everie man forbeares
And friendly by each other sits, each leaning on his shield,
Their long and shining lances pitcht fast by them in the field.
Paris and Sparta's king alone must take up all the strife
And he that conquers onely call faire Helena his wife.’
Thus spake the thousand-colour'd Dame, and to her mind commends
The joy to see her first espousd, her native tow'rs and friends,
Which stir'd a sweet desire in her, to serve the which she hi'd,
Shadow'd her graces with white veiles and (though she tooke a pride
To set her thoughts at gaze and see, in her cleare beautie's flood,
What choice of glorie swum to her yet tender womanhood)
Season'd with teares her joyes, to see more joyes the more offence
And that perfection could not flow from earthly excellence.
Thus went she forth and tooke with her her women most of name,
Æthre, Pittheus' lovely birth, and Clymene, whom fame
Hath for her faire eyes memorisd. They reacht the Scæan towrs,
Where Priam sat to see the fight with all his Counsellours,
Panthous, Lampus, Clytius and stout Hicetaon,
Thimœtes, wise Antenor and profound Ucalegon—
All grave old men, and souldiers they had bene, but for age
Now left the warres; yet Counsellors they were exceeding sage.
And as in well-growne woods, on trees, cold spinie Grashoppers
Sit chirping and send voices out that scarce can pierce our eares
For softnesse and their weake faint sounds; so (talking on the towre)
These Seniors of the people sate, who, when they saw the powre
Of beautie in the Queene ascend, even those cold-spirited Peeres,
Those wise and almost witherd men, found this heate in their yeares
That they were forc't (though whispering) to say: ‘What man can blame
The Greekes and Troyans to endure, for so admir'd a Dame,
So many miseries, and so long? In her sweet countenance shine
Lookes like the Goddesses’. And yet (though never so divine)
Before we boast, unjustly still, of her enforced prise
And justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies,
Labor and ruine, let her go: the profit of our land
Must passe the beautie.’ Thus, though these could beare so fit a hand
On their affections, yet when all their gravest powers were usde
They could not chuse but welcome her, and rather they accusde
The gods than beautie. For thus spake the most fam'd King of Troy:
‘Come, loved daughter, sit by me, and take the worthy joy
Of thy first husband's sight, old friends' and Princes' neare allyed,
And name me some of these brave Greekes, so manly beautified.
Come: do not thinke I lay the warres, endur'd by us, on thee:
The gods have sent them, and the teares in which they swumme to me.
Sit then, and name this goodly Greeke, so tall and broadly spred,
Who than the rest that stand by him is higher by the head—
The bravest man I ever saw, and most majesticall;
His onely presence makes me thinke him king amongst them all.’
The fairest of her sexe replyed: ‘Most reverend fath'r in law,
Most lov'd, most fear'd, would some ill death had seizd me when I saw
The first meane why I wrong'd you thus! That I had never lost
The sight of these my ancient friends, of him that lov'd me most,
Of my sole daughter, brothers both, with all those kindly mates
Of one soyle, one age, borne with me, though under different fates!
But these boones envious starres denie. The memorie of these
In sorrow pines those beauties now that then did too much please,
Nor satisfie they your demand, to which I thus replie—
That's Agamemnon, Atreus' sonne, the great in Emperie,
A king whom double royaltie doth crowne, being great and good;
And one that was my brother in law when I contain'd my blood
And was more worthie—if at all I might be said to be,
My Being being lost so soone in all that honour'd me!’
The good old King admir'd, and said: ‘O Atreus' blessed sonne!
Borne under joyfull destinies, that hast the Empire wonne
Of such a world of Grecian youths as I discover here!
I once marcht into Phrygia, that many vines doth beare,
Where many Phrygians I beheld well-skild in use of horse,
That of the two men, like two Gods, were the commanded force—
Otreus and great Mygdonus, who in Sangarius' sands
Set downe their tents, with whom my selfe (for my assistant bands)
Was numbred as a man in chiefe. The cause of warre was then
Th'Amazon dames that in their facts affected to be men.
In all, there was a mightie powre, which yet did never rise
To equall these Achaian youths that have the sable eyes.’
Then (seeing Ulysses next) he said: ‘Lov'd daughter, what is he
That lower than great Atreus' sonne seemes by the head to me,
Yet in his shoulders and big breast presents a broader show?
His armor lies upon the earth: he up and downe doth go
To see his souldiers keepe their rankes and ready have their armes,
If in this truce they should be tried by any false alarmes.
Much like a well-growne Bel-weather or feltred Ram he shewes
That walkes before a wealthie flocke of faire white-fleeced Ewes.’
High Jove and Leda's fairest seed to Priam thus replies:
‘This is the old Laertes' sonne, Ulysses, cald the wise,
Who, though unfruitfull Ithaca was made his nursing seate,
Yet knowes he everie sort of sleight, and is in counsels great.’
The wise Antenor answerd her: ‘Tis true, renowmed dame,
For, some times past, wise Ithacus to Troy a Legate came
With Menelaus, for your cause. To whom I gave receit
As guests and welcom'd to my house with all the love I might.
I learn'd the wisdomes of their soules and humors of their blood.
For, when the Troyan Councell met and these together stood,
By height of his broad shoulders had Atrides eminence,
Yet, set, Ulysses did exceed and bred more reverence.
And when their counsels and their words they wove in one, the speech
Of Atreus' sonne was passing lowd, small, fast, yet did not reach
To much, being naturally borne Laconicall, nor would
His humor lie for any thing or was (like th'other) old.
But when the prudent Ithacus did to his counsels rise,
He stood a little still, and fixt upon the earth his eyes,
His scepter moving neither way, but held it formally,
Like one that vainely doth affect. Of wrathfull qualitie
And franticke (rashly judging him) you would have said he was,
But when out of his ample breast he gave his great voice passe
And words that flew about our eares like drifts of winter's snow,
None thenceforth might contend with him, though nought admird for show.’
The third man aged Priam markt was Ajax Telamon,
Of whom he askt: ‘What Lord is that so large of limme and bone,
So raisd in height, that to his breast I see there reacheth none?’
To him the Goddesse of her sexe, the large-veild Helen, said:
‘That Lord is Ajax Telamon, a Bulwarke in their aide.
On th'other side stands Idomen, in Crete of most command,
And round about his royall sides his Cretane captaines stand.
Oft hath the warlike Spartan King given hospitable due
To him within our Lacene court, and all his retinue.
And now the other Achive Dukes I generally discerne,
All which I know, and all their names could make thee quickly learne.
Two Princes of the people yet I no where can behold,
Castor, the skilfull knight on horse, and Pollux uncontrold
For all stand-fights and force of hand—both at a burthen bred
My naturall brothers. Either here they have not followed
From lovely Sparta, or, arriv'd within the sea-borne fleet,
(In feare of infamie for me) in broad field shame to meet.’
Nor so: for holy Tellus' wombe inclosd those worthy men,
In Sparta, their beloved soyle. The voicefull heralds then
The firme agreement of the Gods through all the citie ring.
Two lambs and spirit-refreshing wine (the fruit of earth) they bring
Within a Goateskin bottle closd. Idæus also brought
A massie glittering boll and cups, that all of gold were wrought—
Which bearing to the king, they cride: ‘Sonne of Laomedon!
Rise, for the wel-rode Peeres of Troy and brasse-arm'd Greekes in one
Send to thee to descend to field, that they firme vowes may make.
For Paris and the Spartan king must fight for Helen's sake
With long-arm'd lances, and the man that proves victorious,
The woman and the wealth she brought shall follow to his house;
The rest knit friendship and firme leagues; we safe in Troy shall dwell,
In Argos and Achaia they, that do in dames excell.’
He said, and Priam's aged joints with chilled feare did shake.
Yet instantly he bad his men his chariot readie make.
Which soone they did, and he ascends. He takes the reines, and guide
Antenor cals, who instantly mounts to his royall side.
And through the Scæan ports to field the swift-foote horse they drive.
And when at them of Troy and Greece the aged Lords arrive,
From horse, on Troy's well-feeding soyle, twixt both the hosts they go,
When straight up rose the king of men; up rose Ulysses too.
The heralds in their richest cotes repeate (as was the guise)
The true vowes of the Gods, term'd theirs since made before their eyes.
Then in a cup of gold they mixe the wine that each side brings,
And next powre water on the hands of both the kings of kings.
Which done, Atrides drew his knife, that evermore he put
Within the large sheath of his sword, with which away he cut
The wooll from both fronts of the lambs, which (as a rite in use
Of execration to their heads that brake the plighted truce)
The heralds of both hosts did give the Peeres of both. And then,
With hands and voice advanc't to heaven, thus prayd the king of men:
‘O Jove, that Ida dost protect, and hast the titles wonne,
Most glorious, most invincible! And thou all-seeing Sunne,
All-hearing, all recomforting! Floods! Earth! And powers beneath,
That all the perjuries of men chastise even after death!
Be witnesses and see perform'd the heartie vowes we make!
If Alexander shall the life of Menelaus take,
He shall from henceforth Helena, with all her wealth, retaine,
And we will to our houshold Gods hoyse saile and home againe.
If by my honourd brother's hand be Alexander slaine,
The Troyans then shall his forc't Queene, with all her wealth, restore
And pay convenient fine to us and ours for evermore.
If Priam and his sonnes denie to pay this, thus agreed,
When Alexander shall be slaine, for that perfidious deed,
And for the fine, will I fight here till dearely, they repay
By death and ruine the amends that falshood keepes away.’
This said, the throtes of both the lambs cut with his royall knife,
He laid them panting on the earth till (quite depriv'd of life)
The steele had robd them of their strength. Then golden cups they cround
With wine out of a cisterne drawne—which powr'd upon the ground,
They fell upon their humble knees to all the deities
And thus pray'd one of both the hosts, that might do sacrifice:
‘O Jupiter, most high, most great, and all the deathlesse powers!
Who first shall dare to violate the late sworne oaths of ours,
So let the bloods and braines of them, and all they shall produce,
Flow on the staind face of the earth—as now, this sacred juice.
And let their wives with bastardise brand all their future race.’
Thus praid they; but with wisht effects their prayrs Jove did not grace.
When Priam said: ‘Lords of both hoasts! I can no longer stay
To see my lov'd sonne trie his life, and so must take my way
To winde-exposed Ilion. Jove yet, and heaven's high States,
Know onely which of these must now pay tribute to the Fates.’
Thus, putting in his coach the lambs, he mounts and reines his horse,
Antenor to him; and to Troy both take their speedie course.
Then Hector, Priam's Martiall sonne, stept forth and met the ground
(With wise Ulysses) where the blowes of combat must resound.
Which done, into a helme they put two lots, to let them know
Which of the combattants should first his brasse-pil'd javeline throw—
When all the people standing by, with hands held up to heaven,
Pray'd Jove the conquest might not be by force or fortune given,
But that the man who was in right the author of most wrong
Might feele his justice and no more these tedious warres prolong
But, sinking to the house of death, leave them (as long before)
Linkt fast in leagues of amitie, that might dissolve no more.
Then Hector shooke the helme that held the equall doomes of chance,
Look't backe, and drew; and Paris first had lot to hurle his lance.
The souldiers all sat downe enrank't, each by his armes and horse,
That then lay downe and cool'd their hoofes. And now th'allotted course
Bids faire-haird Helen's husband arme, who first makes fast his greaves
With silver buckles to his legs; then on his breast receives
The curets that Lycaon wore (his brother), but made fit
For his faire bodie; next, his sword he tooke and fastned it
(All damaskt) underneath his arme; his shield then, grave and great
His shoulders wore, and on his head his glorious helme he set,
Topt with a plume of horse's haire, that horribly did dance
And seem'd to threaten as he mov'd. At last he takes his lance,
Exceeding big and full of weight, which he with ease could use.
In like sort, Sparta's warlike king himselfe with armes indues.
Thus arm'd at either armie both, they both stood bravely in,
Possessing both hosts with amaze—they came so chin to chin
And with such horrible aspects each other did salute.
A faire large field was made for them, where wraths (for hugenesse) mute
And mutuall, made them mutually at either shake their darts
Before they threw. Then Paris first with his long javeline parts.
It smote Atrides' orbie Targe but ranne not through the brasse,
For in it (arming well the shield) the head reflected was.
Then did the second combattant applie him to his speare,
Which ere he threw, he thus besought almightie Jupiter:
‘O Jove! vouchsafe me now revenge, and that my enemie
(For doing wrong so undeserv'd) may pay deservedly
The paines he forfeited, and let these hands inflict those paines
By conquering, ay, by conquering dead, him on whom life complaines—
That any now, or any one of all the brood of men
To live hereafter, may with feare from all offence abstaine
(Much more from all such foule offence) to him that was his host
And entertain'd him as the man whom he affected most.’
This said, he shooke and threw his lance, which strooke through Paris' shield
And with the strength he gave to it, it made the curets yeeld,
His coate of Maile, his breast and all, and drave his intrailes in,
In that low region where the guts in three small parts begin.
Yet he, in bowing of his breast, prevented sable death.
This taint he follow'd with his sword, drawne from a silver sheath,
Which (lifting high) he strooke his helme full where his plume did stand,
On which it peece-meale brake and fell from his unhappie hand.
At which he sighing stood and star'd upon the ample skie
And said: ‘O Jove, there is no God given more illiberally
To those that serve thee than thy selfe! Why have I pray'd in vaine?
I hop't my hand should have reveng'd the wrongs I still sustaine
On him that did them, and still dares their foule defence pursue:
And now my lance hath mist his end, my sword in shivers flew,
And he scapes all.’ With this, againe he rusht upon his guest
And caught him by the horse-haire plume that dangl'd on his crest,
With thought to drag him to the Greekes—which he had surely done
And so (besides the victorie) had wondrous glorie wonne
(Because the needle-pointed lace with which his helme was tied
Beneath his chin, and so about his daintie throte implyed,
Had strangl'd him), but that in time the Cyprian seed of Jove
Did breake the string with which was lin'd that which the needle wove
And was the tough thong of a Steere—and so the victor's palme
Was (for so full a man at armes) onely an emptie helme.
That then he swong about his head and cast among his friends,
Who scrambled and took't up with shouts. Againe then he intends
To force the life blood of his foe and ranne on him amaine
With shaken javeline, when the Queene that lovers loves againe
Attended, and now ravisht him from that encounter quite
With ease, and wondrous sodainly—for she (a Goddesse) might.
She hid him in a cloud of gold and never made him knowne
Till in his chamber (fresh and sweet) she gently set him downe,
And went for Helen, whom she found in Scæa's utmost height,
To which whole swarmes of citie Dames had climb'd to see the sight.
To give her errand good successe, she tooke on her the shape
Of beldam Græa who was brought by Helen in her rape
From Lacedæmon and had trust in all her secrets still,
Being old, and had (of all her maids) the maine bent of her will,
And spun for her the finest wooll. Like her, love's Empresse came,
Puld Helen by the heavenly veile, and softly said: ‘Madame,
My Lord cals for you. You must needs make all your kind haste home.
He's in your chamber, stayes and longs, sits by your bed. Pray come.
Tis richly made, and sweet; but he, more sweet, and lookes so cleare,
So fresh and movingly attir'd that (seeing) you would sweare
He came not from the dustie fight but from a courtly dance,
Or would to dancing.’ This she made a charme for dalliance,
Whose vertue Helen felt, and knew (by her so radiant eyes,
White necke and most enticing breasts) the deified disguise.
At which amaz'd, she answerd her: ‘Unhappie Deitie!
Why lov'st thou still in these deceipts to wrap my phantasie?
Or whether yet (of all the townes given to their lust beside
In Phrygia or Mæonia) com'st thou to be my guide,
If there (of divers-languag'd men) thou hast (as here in Troy)
Some other friend to be my shame—since here thy latest joy,
By Menelaus now subdu'd, by him shall I be borne
Home to his Court and end my life in triumphs of his scorne?
And to this end would thy deceits my wanton life allure.
Hence, go thy selfe to Priam's sonne, and all the wayes abjure
Of Gods or Godlike-minded Dames, nor ever turne againe
Thy earth-affecting feet to heaven, but for his sake sustaine
Toiles here. Guard, grace him endlesly, till he requite thy grace
By giving thee my place with him; or take his servant's place
If all dishonourable wayes your favours seeke to serve
His never-pleasd incontinence. I better will deserve
Than serve his dotage now. What shame were it for me to feed
This lust in him? All honour'd Dames would hate me for the deed.
He leaves a woman's love so sham'd, and showes so base a mind,
To feele nor my shame nor his owne. Griefes of a greater kind
Wound me than such as can admit such kind delights so soone.’
The Goddesse (angrie that, past shame, her meere will was not done)
Replied: ‘Incense me not, you wretch, lest (once incenst) I leave
Thy curst life to as strange a hate as yet it may receive
A love from me, and lest I spread through both hosts such despite
For those plagues they have felt for thee that both abjure thee quite
And (setting thee in midst of both) turne all their wraths on thee
And dart thee dead—that such a death may wreake thy wrong of me.’
This strooke the faire Dame with such feare it tooke her speech away,
And (shadowed in her snowy veile) she durst not but obay;
And yet (to shun the shame she fear'd) she vanisht undescride
Of all the Troyan Ladies there, for Venus was her guide.
Arriv'd at home, her women both fell to their worke in hast,
When she, that was of all her sexe the most divinely grac't,
Ascended to a higher roome, though much against her will,
Where lovely Alexander was, being led by Venus still.
The laughter-loving Dame discern'd her mov'd mind by her grace,
And (for her mirth sake) set a stoole full before Paris' face
Where she would needs have Helen sit, who (though she durst not chuse
But sit) yet lookt away, for all the Goddesse' powre could use,
And usd her tongue too, and to chide whom Venus sooth'd so much,
And chid too, in this bitter kind: ‘And was thy cowardise such
(So conquerd) to be seene alive? O would to God thy life
Had perisht by his worthy hand to whom I first was wife!
Before this, thou wouldst glorifie thy valour and thy lance
And, past my first Love's, boast them farre. Go once more, and advance
Thy braves against his single power: this foile might fall by chance.
Poore conquerd man! Twas such a chance as I would not advise
Thy valour should provoke againe. Shun him, thou most unwise,
Lest next, thy spirit sent to hell, thy bodie be his prise.’
He answerd: ‘Pray thee, woman, ceasse to chide and grieve me thus.
Disgraces will not ever last: looke on their end—on us
Will other Gods, at other times, let fall the victor's wreath,
As on him Pallas put it now. Shall our love sinke beneath
The hate of fortune? In love's fire let all hates vanish. Come,
Love never so inflam'd my heart—no, not when (bringing home
Thy beautie's so delicious prise) on Cranae's blest shore
I long'd for and enjoyd thee first.’ With this, he went before,
She after, to the odorous bed. While these to pleasure yeeld,
Perplext Atrides, savage-like, ran up and downe the field
And every thickest troope of Troy and of their farre-cald aid
Searcht for his foe, who could not be by any eye betraid—
Nor out of friendship (out of doubt) did they conceale his sight,
All hated him so like their deaths and ow'd him such despight.
At last thus spake the king of men: ‘Heare me, ye men of Troy,
Ye Dardans and the rest, whose powers you in their aides employ.
The conquest on my brother's part ye all discerne is cleare.
Do you then Argive Helena, with all her treasure, here
Restore to us and pay the mulct that by your vowes is due:
Yeeld us an honourd recompence and all that should accrue
To our posterities confirme, that when you render it
Our acts here may be memorisd.’ This all Greekes else thought fit.