The daughter of the Lesbian king Within her bower she watched the war, Far off she heard the arrows ring, The smitten harness ring afar;
And, fighting from the foremost car, Saw one that smote where all must flee; More fair than the Immortals are He seemed to fair Pisidice!
She saw, she loved him, and her heart Before Achilles, Peleus’ son, Threw all its guarded gates apart, A maiden fortress lightly won!
And, ere that day of fight was done, No more of land or faith recked she, But joyed in her new life begun, - Her life of love, Pisidice!
She took a gift into her hand, As one that had a boon to crave; She stole across the ruined land Where lay the dead without a grave,
And to Achilles’ hand she gave Her gift, the secret postern's key. “To-morrow let me be thy slave!” Moaned to her love Pisidice.
Ere dawn the Argives’ clarion call Rang down Methymna's burning street; They slew the sleeping warriors all, They drove the women to the fleet,
Save one, that to Achilles’ feet Clung, but, in sudden wrath, cried he: “For her no doom but death is meet,” And there men stoned Pisidice.
In havens of that haunted coast, Amid the myrtles of the shore, The moon sees many a maiden ghost Love's outcast now and evermore.
The silence hears the shades deplore Their hour of dear-bought love; but THEE The waves lull,‘ neath thine olives hoar, To dreamless rest, Pisidice!
Cookies on Poetry Cove