She found queen Helena at home, at work about a weed, Wov’n for herself; it shin’d like fire, was rich, and full of size, The work of both sides being alike; in which she did comprise The many labours warlike Troy and brass-arm’d Greece endur’d For her fair sake, by cruel Mars and his stern friends procur’d. Iris came in in joyful haste, and said; “O come with me, Lov’d nymph, and an admiréd sight of Greeks and Trojans see, Who first on one another brought a war so full of tears, Ev’n thirsty of contentious war. Now ev’ry man forbears, And friendly by each other sits, each leaning on his shield, Their long and shining lances pitch’d fast by them in the field, Paris, and Sparta’s king, alone must take up all the strife; And he that conquers only call fair Helena his wife.” Thus spake the thousand-colour’d Dame, and to her mind commends The joy to see her first espous’d, her native tow’rs, and friends; Which stirr’d a sweet desire in her: to serve the which she hied, Shadow’d her graces with white veils, and (though she took a pride To set her thoughts at gaze, and see, in her clear beauty’s flood, What choice of glory swum to her yet tender womanhood) Season’d with tears her joys to see more joys the more offence, And that perfection could not flow from earthly excellence. Thus went she forth, and took with her her women most of name, Æthra, Pitthëus’ lovely birth, and Clymene, whom fame Hath for her fair eyes memoris’d. They reach’d the Scæan Tow’rs, Where Priam sat, to see the fight, with all his counsellors; Panthous, Lampus, Clytius, and stout Hicetaon, Thymœtes, wise Antenor, and profound Ucalegon; All grave old men; and soldiérs they had been, but for age Now left the wars; yet counsellors they were exceeding sage. And as in well-grown woods, or trees, cold spiny grasshoppers Sit chirping, and send voices out, that scarce can pierce our ears For softness, and their weak faint sounds; so, talking on the tow’r, These seniors of the people sat; who when they saw the pow’r Of beauty, in the queen, ascend ev’n those cold-spirited peers, Those wise and almost wither’d men, found this heat in their years, That they were forc’d (though whispéring) to say: “What man can blame The Greeks and Trojans to endure, for so admir’d a dame, So many mis’ries, and so long? In her sweet count’nance shine Looks like the Goddesses. And yet (though never so divine) Before we boast, unjustly still, of her enforcéd prise, And justly suffer for her sake, with all our progenies, Labour and ruin, let her go; the profit of our land Must pass the beauty.” Thus, though these could bear so fit a hand On their affections, yet, when all their gravest powers were us’d, They could not choose but welcome her, and rather they accus’d The Gods than beauty; for thus spake the most-fam’d king of Troy: “Come, lovéd daughter, sit by me and take the worthy joy Of thy first husband’s sight, old friends, and princes near allied,