The Goddess, angry that, past shame, her mere will was not done, Replied: “Incense me not, you wretch, lest, once incens’d, I leave Thy curs’d 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, turn all their wraths on thee, And dart thee dead; that such a death may wreak thy wrong of me.” This strook the fair dame with such fear, it took her speech away, And, shadow’d in her snowy veil, she durst not but obey; And yet, to shun the shame she fear’d, she vanish’d undescried Of all the Trojan ladies there, for Venus was her guide. Arriv’d at home, her women both fell to their work in haste; When she, that was of all her sex the most divinely grac’d, Ascended to a higher room, though much against her will, Where lovely Alexander was, being led by Venus still. The laughter-loving Dame discen’d her mov’d mind by her grace, And, for her mirth sake, set a stool, full before Paris’ face, Where she would needs have Helen sit; who, though she durst not choose But sit, yet look’d away for all the Goddess’ pow’r could use, And used her tongue too, and to chide whom Venus sooth’d so much, And chid, too, in this bitter kind: “And was thy cowardice such, So conquer’d, to be seen alive? O would to God, thy life Had perish’d by his worthy hand, to whom I first was wife! Before this, thou wouldst glorify thy valour and thy lance, And, past my first love’s, boast them far. Go once more, and advance Thy braves against his single pow’r; this foil might fall by chance. Poor conquer’d man! ’Twas such a chance, as I would not advise Thy valour should provoke again. Shun him, thou most unwise, Lest next, thy spirit sent to hell, thy body be his prise.” He answer’d: “Pray thee, woman, cease, to chide and grieve me thus. Disgraces will not ever last. Look 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 sink 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 beauty’s so delicious prise, on Cranaë’s blest shore I long’d for, and enjoy’d thee first.” With this he went before, She after, to the odorous bed. While these to pleasure yield, Perplex’d Atrides, savage-like, ran up and down the field, And ev’ry thickest troop of Troy, and of their far-call’d aid, Search’d for his foe, who could not be by any eye betray’d; Nor out of friendship (out of doubt) did they conceal his sight, All hated him so like their deaths, and ow’d him such despite. At last thus spake the king of men: “Hear me, ye men of Troy, Ye Dardans, and the rest, whose pow’rs you in their aids employ. The conquest on my brother’s part, ye all discern is clear, Do you then Argive Helena, with all her treasure here, Restore to us, and pay the mulct, that by your vows is due,