--THE DEATH OF CORYTHUS

How Helen was made an outcast by the Trojan women, and how OEnone, the
old love of Paris, sent her son Corythus to him as her messenger, and
how Paris slew him unwittingly; and of the curses of OEnone, and the
coming of the Argive host against Troy.

I.

For long in Troia was there peace and mirth,
The pleasant hours still passing one by one;
And Helen joy'd at each fresh morning's birth,
And almost wept at setting of the sun,
For sorrow that the happy day was done;
Nor dream'd of years when she should hate the light,
And mourn afresh for every day begun,
Nor fare abroad save shamefully by night.

II.

And Paris was not one to backward cast
A fearful glance; nor pluck sour fruits of sin,
Half ripe; but seized all pleasures while they last,
Nor boded evil ere ill days begin.
Nay, nor lamented much when caught therein,
In each adventure always finding joy,
And hopeful still through waves of war to win
By strength of Hector, and the star of Troy.

III.

Now as the storms drive white sea-birds afar
Within green upland glens to seek for rest,
So rumours pale of an approaching war
Were blown across the islands from the west:
For Agamemnon summon'd all the best
From towns and tribes he ruled, and gave command
That free men all should gather at his hest
Through coasts and islets of the Argive land.

IV.

Sidonian merchant-men had seen the fleet
Black war-galleys that sped from town to town;
Had heard the hammers of the bronze-smiths beat
The long day through, and when the sun went down;
And thin, said they, would show the leafy crown
On many a sacred mountain-peak in spring,
For men had fell'd the pine-trees tall and brown
To fashion them curved ships for seafaring.

V.

And still the rumour grew; for heralds came,
Old men from Argos, bearing holy boughs,
Demanding great atonement for the shame
And sore despite done Menelaus' house;
But homeward soon they turn'd their scarlet prows,
And all their weary voyaging was vain;
For Troy had bound herself with awful vows
To cleave to Helen till the walls were ta'en.

VI.

And now, like swallows ere the winter weather,
The women in shrill groups were gathering,
With eager tongues still communing together,
And many a taunt at Helen would they fling,
Ay, through her innocence she felt the sting,
And shamed was now her gentle face and sweet,
For e'