Nor all who reach their native land May long the joy of welcome feel-- Beside the household gods may stand Grim Murther with awaiting steel; And they who 'scape the foe, may die Beneath the foul familiar glaive. Thus He[2] to whose prophetic eye Her light the wise Minerva gave:-- "Ah! blest whose hearth, to memory true, The goddess keeps unstain'd and pure-- For woman's guile is deep and sure, And Falsehood loves the New!" The Spartan eyes his Helen's charms, By the best blood of Greece recaptured; Round that fair form his glowing arms-- (A second bridal)--wreathe enraptured. "Woe waits the work of evil birth-- Revenge to deeds unblest is given! For watchful o'er the things of earth, The eternal Council-Halls of Heaven. Yes, ill shall ever ill repay-- Jove to the impious hands that stain The Altar of Man's Hearth, again The doomer's doom shall weigh!" "Well they, reserved for joy to day," Cried out Oïleus' valiant son, "May laud the favouring gods who sway Our earth, their easy thrones upon; Without a choice they mete our doom, Our woe or welfare Hazard gives-- Patroclus slumbers in the tomb, And all unharm'd Thersites lives. While luck and life to every one Blind Fate dispenses, well may they Enjoy the life and luck to day By whom the prize is won! "Yes, war will still devour the best!-- Brother, remember'd in this hour! His shade should be in feasts a guest, Whose form was in the strife a tower! What time our ships the Trojan fired, Thine arm to Greece the safety gave-- The prize to which thy soul aspired, The crafty wrested from the brave.[3] Peace to thine ever-holy rest-- Not thine to fall before the foe! Ajax alone laid Ajax low: Ah--wrath destroys the best!" To his dead sire--(the Dorian king)-- The bright-hair'd Pyrrhus[4] pours the wine:-- "Of every lot that life can bring, My soul, great Father, prizes thine. Whate'er the goods of earth, of all, The highest and the holiest--FAME! For when the Form in dust shall fall, O'er dust triumphant lives the Name! Brave Man, thy light of glory never Shall fade, while song to man shall last; The Living, soon from earth are pass'd, 'THE DEAD--ENDURE FOR EVER!'" "While silent in their grief and shame, The conquer'd hear the conqueror's praise," Quoth Tydeus' son, "let Hector's fame, In me, his foe, its witness raise! Who, battling for the altar-hearth, A brave defender, bravely fell-- It takes not from the victor's worth, If honour with the vanquish'd dwell. Who falleth for the altar-hearth, A rock and a defence laid low, Shall leave behind him, in the foe, The lips that speak his worth!"