That comrade old hath made his moan; The centaur cowers within his den: And I abide to guard alone The ashes of the king of men. Alone, beneath the night divine-- Alone, another weeps elsewhere: Her love for him is unlike mine, Her wail she will not let me share. STESICHORUS Queen of the Argives, (thus the poet spake,) Great lady Helen, thou hast made me wise; Veiled is the world, but all the soul awake, Purged by thine anger, clearer far than eyes. Peep is the darkness; for my bride is hidden, Crown of my glory, guerdon of my song: Preod is the vision; thou art here unbidden, Mute and reproachful, since I did thee wrong. Sweetest of wanderers, grievest thou for friends Tricked by a phantom, cheated to the grave? Woe worth the God, the mocking God, that sends Lies to the pious, furies to the brave. Pardon our falsehood: thou wert far away, Gathering the lotus down the Egypt-water, Wifely and duteous, hearing not the fray, Taking no stain from all those years of slaughter: Guiltless, yet mournful. Tell the poets truths; Tell them real beauty leadeth not to strife; Weep for the slain, those many blooming youths: Tears such as thine might bring them back to life. Dear, gentle lady, if the web's unthreaded, Slander and fable fairly rent in twain, Then, by the days when thou wert loved and wedded, Give me, I pray, my bride's glad smile again. The lord, who leads the Spartan host, Stands with a little maid, To greet a stranger from the coast Who comes to seek his aid. What brings the guest? a disk of brass With curious lines engraven: What mean the lines? stream, road, and pass, Forest, and town, and haven. "Lo, here Choaspes' lilied field: Lo, here the Hermian plain: What need we save the Doric shield To stop the Persian's reign? Or shall barbarians drink their nil Upon the slopes of Tmolus? Or trowsered robbers spoil at will The bounties of Pactolus? Salt lakes, burnt uplands, lie between; The distant king moves slow; He starts, ere Smyrna's vines are green, Comes, when their juices flow. Waves bright with morning smoothe thy course, Swift row the Samian galleys; Unconquered Colophon sounds to horse Up the broad eastern valleys. Is not Apollo's call enough, The god of every Greek? Then take our gold, and household stuff; Claim what thou wilt, but speak." He falters; for the waves he fears, The roads he cannot measure; But rates full high the gleam of spears And dreams of yellow treasure. He listens; he is yielding now; Outspoke the fearless child: "Oh, father, come away, lest thou Be by this man beguiled." Her lowly judgement barred the plea, So low, it could not reach her.