Far offspring of the light of fallen Troy. PRIAM AND HELEN. (_Iliad_ iii. 161.) Priam, the King, to the tower where he sat called the beautiful Helen: “Hither, my daughter, approach and sit by me here on this tower, Whence thou mayest see the spouse of thy youth, thy friends and thy kindred. Thou knowest I never blamed thee; I blame the gods of Olympus, Who excited this war of sorrows and tears without number. Come, Helen, sit by my side, and tell me the name of yon hero, Mighty and stately in mien. Though others around him are taller, One of such beauty as his and of so majestic a bearing I have never beheld. If he is not a king he is kingly.” Then Helen, fairest of women, answered the King: “O my father, Father of Paris, by me thou art loved and revered and respected! Would that an evil death had been my lot when I followed Hither thy son, Alexander, leaving my husband behind me, Kinsmen, too, and sweet daughter, and friends that I knew since my childhood! ’Twas not allowed me to die--so I pine away slowly with weeping. But thou awaitest reply: thou seest the great Agamemnon, Wide-ruling king, as thou saidst, and a warrior valiant and skilful; Once he was a brother to me--oh, shame!--in the days that have vanished!” Then, as a hero a hero, the old man admired Agamemnon: “Happy art thou, Atrides, in birth, and in name, and in fortune; Many are under thy sway--the flower of the sons of Achæa. Once into vine-bearing Phrygia I entered, and saw many Phrygians Riding swift steeds, the forces of Otreus and Mygdon, the godlike, Who, with me for an ally, encamped by the banks of the Sangar, Waiting the march of their foes, the Amazons, warrior-women: But few in number were they to those quick-eyed sons of Achæa.” Next, perceiving Ulysses, the old man said, “My dear Helen, Tell me who this is also--in stature less than Atrides, Less by a head, it may be, but broader in chest and in shoulders. Rest on the ground his arms; but he through the ranks of the army Ranges about like a ram; to a thick-fleeced ram I compare him, Wandering hither and thither through snow-white sheep in the pasture?” Him then answered Helen--Helen of Jove descended: “That is Ulysses, my father, the wily son of Laertes, Nourished in Ithaca’s isle--Ithaca rocky and barren; Skilled to contrive and complete wise plans and politic counsels.”