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From the Painting by George Romney, in the Boydell Gallery

Reprove in thee the work of fight, at least, not any such

As is an equal judge of things; for thou hast strength as much
As serves to execute a mind very important, but

Thy strength too readily flies off, enough will is not put

To thy ability. My heart is in my mind's strife sad,

When Troy (out of her much distress, she and her friends have had
By thy procurement) doth deprave thy noblesse in mine ears.
But come, hereafter we shall calm these hard conceits of theirs,
When, from their ports the foe expulsed, high Jove to them hath given
Wished peace, and us free sacrifice to all the Powers of heaven."



MUCH have I traveled in the realms of gold,

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been

Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes

He stared at the Pacific—and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise-
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.


(For a drawing where Helen arms Paris, and Cassandra prophesies, as Hector leaves them for his last fight.)


[English poet and preraphaelite artist, born of Italian parents, 1828; died 1882.]


REND, rend thine hair, Cassandra: he will go.

Yea, rend thy garments, wring thine hands, and cry
From Troy still towered to the unreddened sky.

See, all but she who bore thee mock thy woe;
He most whom that fair woman arms, with show
Of wrath on her bent brows; for in this place,
This hour thou bad'st all men in Helen's place
The ravished ravishing prize of Death to know.

What eyes, what ears hath fair Andromache,
Save for her Hector's form and step, as tear
On tear make salt the warm last kiss he gave ?
He goes. Cassandra's words beat heavily
Like crows upon his crest, and at his ear
Ring hollow in the shield that shall not save.


"O Hector, gone, gone, gone! O Hector, thee,
Two chariots wait, in Troy long blest and curst;
And Grecian spear and Phrygian sand athirst
Crave from thy veins the blood of victory.
Lo! long upon our hearth the brand had we,
Lit for the roof tree's ruin; and to-day
The ground stone quits the wall
And higher and higher the wings of fire are free.

the wind hath way—

"O Paris, Paris! O thou burning brand,

Thou beacon of the sea whence Venus rose,
Lighting thy race to shipwreck! Even that hand
Wherewith she took thine apple let her close
Within thy curls at last, and while Troy glows
Lift thee her trophy to the sea and land.”



[WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR: English poet and miscellaneous writer; born at Ipsley Court, Warwickshire, January 30, 1775; died at Florence, Italy, September 17, 1864, where he had lived chiefly since 1821. His "Imaginary Conversations" fill six large volumes. His first volume of poems was published in 1795; his last, entitled "Heroic Idylls," in 1863. The list of his writings in prose and verse is very long.]

Achilles, during the siege of Troy, having prayed to his mother Thetis and to Aphrodite that he might see Helen face to face, is transported by those goddesses to a place of meeting with her on Mount Ida.

Helena Where am I? Desert me not, O ye blessed from above! ye twain who brought me hither!

Was it a dream?

Stranger! thou seemest thoughtful; couldst thou answer me? Why so silent? I beseech and implore thee, speak.

Achilles-Neither thy feet nor the feet of mules have borne thee where thou standest. Whether in the hour of departing sleep, or at what hour of the morning, I know not, O Helena, but Aphroditè and Thetis, inclining to my prayer, have, as thou art conscious, led thee into these solitudes. To me also have they shown the way; that I might behold the pride of Sparta, the marvel of the Earth, and how my heart swells and agonizes at the thought! - the cause of innumerable woes to Hellas.

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Helena - Stranger! thou art indeed one whom the goddesses or gods might lead, and glory in; such is thy stature, thy voice, and thy demeanor; but who, if earthly, art thou?

Achilles Before thee, O Helena, stands Achilles, son of Peleus. Tremble not, turn not pale, bend not thy knees, O Helena.

Helena-Spare me, thou goddess-born! thou cherished and only son of silver-footed Thetis! Chryseis and Briseis ought to soften and content thy heart. Lead not me also into captivity. Woes too surely have I brought down on Hellas; but woes have been mine alike, and will forever be.

Achilles - Daughter of Zeus! what word hast thou spoken! Chryseïs, child of the aged priest who performs in this land due sacrifices to Apollo, fell to the lot of another; an insolent and unworthy man, who hath already brought more sorrows upon our people than thou hast; so that dogs and vultures prey on the brave who sank without a wound. Briseïs is indeed mine; the lovely and dutiful Briseis. He, unjust and contumelious, proud at once and base, would tear her from me. But gods above! in what region has the wolf with impunity dared to seize upon the kid which the lion hath taken ?

Talk not of being led into servitude. Could mortal be guilty of such impiety? Hath it never thundered on these mountain heads? Doth Zeus, the wide-seeing, see all the Earth but Ida? doth he watch over all but his own? Capaneus and

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