PROEM

Sing of the end of Troy, and of that flood Of passion by the blood Of heroes consecrate, by poet's craft Hallowed, if that thin waft

Of godhead blown upon thee stretch thy song To span such store of strong And splendid vision of immortal themes Late harvested in dreams,

Albeit long years laid up in tilth. Most meet Thou sing that slim and sweet Fair woman for whose bosom and delight Paris, as well he might,

Wrought all the woe, and held her to his cost And Troy's, and won and lost Perforce; for who could look on her or feel Her near and not dare steal

One hour of her, or hope to hold in bars Such wonder of the stars Undimmed? As soon expect to cage the rose Of dawn which comes and goes

Fitful, or leash the shadows of the hills, Or music of upland rills As Helen's beauty and not tarnish it With thy poor market wit,

Adept to hue the wanton in the wild, Defile the undefiled! Yet by the oath thou swearedst, standing high Where piled rocks testify

The holy dust, and from Therapnai's hold Over the rippling wold Didst look upon Amyklai's, where sunrise First dawned in Helen's eyes,

Take up thy tale, good poet, strain thine art To sing her rendered heart, Given last to him who loved her first, nor swerved From loving, but was nerved

To see through years of robbery and shame Her spirit, a clear flame, Eloquent of her birthright. Tell his peace, And hers who at last found ease

In white-arm'd Heré, holy husbander Of purer fire than e'er To wife gave Kypris. Helen, and Thee sing In whom her beauties ring,

Fair body of fair mind fair acolyte, Star of my day and night!