WHERE hast thou been since round the walls of Troy | |
The sons of God fought in that great emprise? | |
Why dost thou walk our common earth again? | |
Hast thou forgotten that impassioned boy, | |
His purple galley, and his Tyrian men, | 5 |
And treacherous Aphrodites mocking eyes? | |
For surely it was thou, who, like a star | |
Hung in the silver silence of the night, | |
Didst lure the Old Worlds chivalry and might | |
Into the clamorous crimson waves of war! | 10 |
|
Or didst thou rule the fire-laden moon? | |
In amorous Sidon was thy temple built | |
Over the light and laughter of the sea? | |
Where, behind lattice scarlet-wrought and gilt, | |
Some brown-limbed girl did weave thee tapestry, | 15 |
All through the waste and wearied hours of noon; | |
Till her wan cheek with flame of passion burned, | |
And she rose up the sea-washed lips to kiss | |
Of some glad Cyprian sailor, safe returned | |
From Calpé and the cliffs of Herakles! | 20 |
|
No! thou art Helen, and none other one! | |
It was for thee that young Sarpedôn died, | |
And Memnôns manhood was untimely spent; | |
It was for thee gold-crested Hector tried | |
With Thetis child that evil race to run, | 25 |
In the last year of thy beleaguerment; | |
Ay! even now the glory of thy fame | |
Burns in those fields of trampled asphodel, | |
Where the high lords whom Ilion knew so well | |
Clash ghostly shields, and call upon thy name. | 30 |
|
Where hast thou been? in that enchanted land | |
Whose slumbering vales forlorn Calypso knew, | |
Where never mower rose to greet the day | |
But all unswathed the trammelling grasses grew, | |
And the sad shepherd saw the tall corn stand | 35 |
Till summers red had changed to withered gray? | |
Didst thou lie there by some Lethæan stream | |
Deep brooding on thine ancient memory, | |
The crash of broken spears, the fiery gleam | |
From shivered helm, the Grecian battle-cry. | 40 |
|
Nay, thou wert hidden in that hollow hill | |
With one who is forgotten utterly, | |
That discrowned Queen men call the Erycine; | |
Hidden away that never mightst thou see | |
The face of Her, before whose mouldering shrine | 45 |
To-day at Rome the silent nations kneel; | |
Who gat from Love no joyous gladdening, | |
But only Loves intolerable pain, | |
Only a sword to pierce her heart in twain, | |
Only the bitterness of child-bearing. | 50 |
|
The lotos-leaves which heal the wounds of Death | |
Lie in thy hand; O, be thou kind to me, | |
While yet I know the summer of my days; | |
For hardly can my tremulous lips draw breath | |
To fill the silver trumpet with thy praise, | 55 |
So bowed am I before thy mystery; | |
So bowed and broken on Loves terrible wheel, | |
That I have lost all hope and heart to sing, | |
Yet care I not what ruin time may bring | |
If in thy temple thou wilt let me kneel. | 60 |
|
Alas, alas, thou wilt not tarry here, | |
But, like that bird, the servant of the sun, | |
Who flies before the northwind and the night, | |
So wilt thou fly our evil land and drear, | |
Back to the tower of thine old delight, | 65 |
And the red lips of young Euphorion; | |
Nor shall I ever see thy face again, | |
But in this poisonous garden must I stay, | |
Crowning my brows with the thorn-crown of pain, | |
Till all my loveless life shall pass away. | 70 |
|
O Helen! Helen! Helen! yet awhile, | |
Yet for a little while, O, tarry here, | |
Till the dawn cometh and the shadows flee! | |
For in the gladsome sunlight of thy smile | |
Of heaven or hell I have no thought or fear, | 75 |
Seeing I know no other god but thee: | |
No other god save him, before whose feet | |
In nets of gold the tired planets move, | |
The incarnate spirit of spiritual love | |
Who in thy body holds his joyous seat. | 80 |
|
Thou wert not born as common women are! | |
But, girt with silver splendour of the foam, | |
Didst from the depths of sapphire seas arise! | |
And at thy coming some immortal star, | |
Bearded with flame, blazed in the Eastern skies, | 85 |
And waked the shepherds on thine island-home. | |
Thou shalt not die: no asps of Egypt creep | |
Close at thy heels to taint the delicate air; | |
No sullen-blooming poppies stain thy hair, | |
Those scarlet heralds of eternal sleep. | 90 |
|
Lily of love, pure and inviolate! | |
Tower of ivory! red rose of fire! | |
Thou hast come down our darkness to illume: | |
For we, close-caught in the wide nets of Fate, | |
Wearied with waiting for the Worlds Desire, | 95 |
Aimlessly wandered in the house of gloom, | |
Aimlessly sought some slumberous anodyne | |
For wasted lives, for lingering wretchedness, | |
Till we beheld thy re-arisen shrine, | |
And the white glory of thy loveliness. | 100 |
|