Dismembered, huge, the head torn from the shoulders. Grim horror, then, came home to me. I saw My father when I saw the king, the life Going out with the cruel wound. I saw Creusa Forsaken, my abandoned home, Iulus, My little son. I looked around. They all Had gone, exhausted, flung down from the walls, Or dead in the fire, and I was left alone. And I saw Helen, hiding, of all places, At Vesta’s shrine, and clinging there in silence, But the bright flames lit the scene. That hated woman, Fearing both Trojan anger and Greek vengeance, A common fury to both lands, was crouching Beside the altar. Anger flared up in me For punishment and vengeance. Should she then, I thought, come home to Sparta safe, uninjured Walk through Mycenae, a triumphant queen? See husband, home, parents and children, tended By Trojan slave-girls? This, with Priam fallen And Troy burnt down, and the shore soaked in blood? Never! No memorable name, I knew, Was won by punishing women, yet, for me, There might be praise for the just abolition Of this unholiness, and satisfaction In vengeance for the ashes of my people. All this I may have said aloud, in frenzy, As I rushed on, when to my sight there came A vision of my lovely mother, radiant In the dark night, a goddess manifest, As tall and fair as when she walks in heaven. She caught me by the hand and stopped me:--‘Son, What sorrow rouses this relentless anger, This violence? Do you care for me no longer? Consider others first, your aged father, Anchises; is your wife Creusa living? Where is Iulus? Greeks are all around them, Only my love between them, fire and sword. It is not for you to blame the Spartan woman, Daughter of Tyndareus, or even Paris. The gods are the ones, the high gods are relentless It is they who bring this power down, who topple Troy from the high foundation. Look! Your vision Is mortal dull, I will take the cloud away,-- Fear not a mother’s counsel. Where you see Rock torn from rock, and smoke and dust in billows, Neptune is working, plying the trident, prying The walls from their foundations. And see Juno, Fiercest of all, holding the Scaean gates, Girt with the steel, and calling from the ships Implacable companions. On the towers,-- Turn, and be certain--Pallas takes command Gleaming with Gorgon and storm-cloud. Even Jove, Our father, nerves the Greeks with fire and spirit, And spurs the other gods against the Trojans. Hasten the flight, my son; no other labor Waits for accomplishment. I promise safety Until you reach your father’s house.’ She had spoken And vanished in the thickening night of shadows. Dread shapes come into vision, mighty powers, Great gods at war with Troy, which, so it seemed, Was sinking as I watched, with the same feeling