Achilles He sang to me over the lyre the lives of Narcissus and Hyacinthus, brought back by the beautiful Hours, of silent unwearied feet, regular as the stars in their courses. Many of the trees and bright-eyed flowers once lived and moved, and spoke as we are speaking. They may yet have memories, although they have cares no longer. Helena-Ah! then they have no memories; and they see their own beauty only. Achilles-Helena! thou turnest pale, and droopest. Helena-The odor of the blossoms, or of the gums, or the height of the place, or something else, makes me dizzy. Can it be the wind in my ears? Achilles-There is none. Helena - I could wish there were a little. Achilles- Be seated, O Helena! Helena-The feeble are obedient: the weary may rest even in the presence of the powerful. AchillesOn this very ground where we are now reposing, they who conducted us hither told me, the fatal prize of beauty was awarded. One of them smiled; the other, whom in duty I love the most, looked anxious, and let fall some tears. Helena-Yet she was not one of the vanquished. Achilles-Goddesses contended for it; Helena was afar. But could not the venerable Peleus, nor Pyrrhus the infant so beautiful and so helpless, detain thee, O Achilles, from this sad, sad war? Achilles-No reverence or kindness for the race of Atreus brought me against Troy; I detest and abhor both brothers : but another man is more hateful to me still. Forbear we to name him. The valiant, holding the hearth as sacred as the temple, is never a violator of hospitality. He carries not away the gold he finds in the house; he folds not up the purple linen worked for solemnities, about to convey it from the cedar chest to the dark ship, together with the wife confided to his protection in her husband's absence, and sitting close and expectant by the altar of the gods. It was no merit in Menelaus to love thee; it was a crime in another — I will not say to love, for even Priam or Nestor might love thee but to avow it, and act on the avowal. Helena - Menelaus, it is true, was fond of me, when Paris was sent by Aphroditè to our house. It would have been very wrong to break my vow to Menelaus, but Aphroditè urged me by day and by night, telling me that to make her break hers to Paris would be quite inexpiable. She told Paris the same thing at the same hour; and as often. He repeated it to me every morning his dreams tallied with mine exactly. At last Achilles-The last is not yet come. Helena! by the Immortals! if ever I meet him in battle I transfix him with this spear. Helena-Pray do not. Aphroditè would be angry and never forgive thee. Achilles-I am not sure of that; she soon pardons. Variable as Iris, one day she favors and the next day she forsakes. Helena - She may then forsake me. thee. AchillesOther deities, O Helena, watch over and protect Thy two brave brothers are with those deities now, and never are absent from their higher festivals. Helena - They could protect me were they living, and they would. O that thou couldst but have seen them! Achilles-Companions of my father on the borders of the Phasis, they became his guests before they went all three to hunt the boar in the brakes of Calydon. Thence too the beauty of a woman brought many sorrows into brave men's breasts, and caused many tears to hang long and heavily on the eyelashes of matrons. Helena Didst thou indeed see my brothers at that season? Yes, certainly. Achilles-I saw them not, desirous though I always was of seeing them, that I might have learnt from them, and might have practiced with them, whatever is laudable and manly. But my father, fearing my impetuosity, as he said, and my inexperience, sent me away. Soothsayers had foretold some mischief to me from an arrow: and among the brakes many arrows might fly wide, glancing from trees. Helena I wish thou hadst seen them, were it only once. Three such youths together the blessed sun will never shine upon again. O my sweet brothers! how they tended me! how they loved me! how often they wished me to mount their horses and to hurl their javelins. They could only teach me to swim with them; and when I had well learnt it I was more afraid than at first. It gratified me to be praised for anything but swimming. Happy, happy hours! soon over! Does happiness always go away before beauty? It must go then: surely it might stay that little while. Alas! dear Castor! and dearer Polydeucès! often shall I think of you as ye were (and oh! as I was) on the banks of the Eurotas. Brave noble creatures! they were as tall, as terrible, and almost as beautiful, as thou art. Be not wroth! Blush no more for me. Achilles-Helena! Helena! wife of Menelaus! my mother is reported to have left about me only one place vulnerable: I have at last found where it is. Farewell. Helena O leave me not! Earnestly I entreat and implore thee, leave me not alone. These solitudes are terrible: there must be wild beasts among them; there certainly are Fauns and Satyrs. And there is Cybelè, who carries towers and temples on her head; who hates and abhors Aphroditè, who persecutes those she favors, and whose priests are so cruel as to be cruel even to themselves. Achilles According to their promise, the goddesses who brought thee hither in a cloud will in a cloud reconduct thee, safely and unseen, into the city. Again, O daughter of Leda and of Zeus, farewell! THE TOMB OF ACHILLES. BY LORD BYRON. (From "The Bride of Abydos.") [LORD GEORGE NOEL GORDON BYRON: A famous English poet; born in London, January 22, 1788. At the age of ten he succeeded to the estate and title of his granduncle William, fifth Lord Byron. He was educated at Harrow and Cambridge, and in 1807 published his first volume of poems, "Hours of Idleness." After a tour through eastern Europe he brought out two cantos of "Childe Harold," which met with instantaneous success, and soon after he married the heiress Miss Millbanke. The union proving unfortunate, Byron left England, and passed several years in Italy. In 1823 he joined the Greek insurgents in Cephalonia, and later at Missolonghi, where he died of a fever April 19, 1824. His chief poetical works are: "Childe Harold," "Don Juan," 66 'Manfred," "Cain," "Marino Faliero," "Sardanapalus,' "The Giaour," "Bride of Abydos," "The Corsair," "Lara," and "Mazeppa."] I. THE winds are high on Helle's wave; As on that night of stormy water The lonely hope of Sestos' daughter, II. The winds are high and Helle's tide The tombs, sole relics of his reign— III. Oh! yet for thus my steps have been; These feet have pressed the sacred shore; These limbs that buoyant wave hath borne — Minstrel with thee to move, to mourn, To trace again those fields of yore, Believing every hillock green Contains no fabled hero's ashes, And that around the undoubted scene Thine own "broad Hellespont" still dashes, Be long my lot! and cold were he Who there could gaze denying thee! IV. The night hath closed on Helle's stream, Nor yet hath risen on Ida's hill That moon which shone on his high theme: No warrior chides her peaceful beam, But conscious shepherds bless it still Their flocks are grazing on the mound Within thy dwelling place how narrow; CENONE. BY ALFRED TENNYSON. [ALFRED TENNYSON, BARON TENNYSON: English poet; born at Somersby, England, August 6, 1809; died at Aldworth, October 6, 1892. His first poems were published with his brother Charles' in a small volume entitled "Poems of Two Brothers," in 1827. Two years later he won the chancellor's gold medal for his prize poem, "Timbuctoo." The following year came his "Poems Chiefly Lyrical." In 1832 a new volume of miscellaneous poems was published, and was attacked savagely by the Quarterly Review. Ten years afterward another volume of miscellaneous verse was collected. In 1847 he published "The Princess," which was warmly received. In 1850 came "In Memoriam," and he was appointed poet laureate to succeed Wordsworth. Among his other works may be mentioned: "Idylls of the King" (1859), “Enoch Arden" and "The Holy Grail" (1869), "Queen Mary (1875), "Harold" (1876), "The Cup" (1884), "Tiresias" (1885), "Locksley Hall Sixty Years After (1886), "The Foresters" and "The Death of Enone" (1892)]. THERE lies a vale in Ida, lovelier Than all the valleys of Ionian hills. The swimming vapor slopes athwart the glen, Behind the valley topmost Gargarus Stands up and takes the morning: but in front Troas and Ilion's columned citadel, The crown of Troas. Hither came at noon |