And she had borne, though Paris knew it not, A child, fair Corythus, to be her shame, And still she mused, whenas her heart was hot, "He hath no child by that Achaean dame:"But when her boy unto his manhood came, Then sorer yet OEnone did repine, And bade him "fare to Ilios, and claim Thy father's love, and all that should be thine!"XVIII.
Therewith a golden bodkin from her hair She drew, and from a green-tress'd birchen tree She pluck'd a strip of smooth white bark and fair, And many signs and woful graved she, A message of the evil things to be.
Then deftly closed the birch-bark, fold on fold, And bound the tokens well and cunningly, Three times and four times, with a thread of gold.
XIX.
"Give these to Argive Helen's hand," she cried:
And so embraced her child, and with no fear Beheld him leaping down the mountain-side, Like a king's son that goes to hunt the deer, Clad softly, and in either hand a spear, With two swift-footed hounds that follow'd him, So leap'd he down the grassy slopes and sheer, And won the precinct of the forest dim.
XX.
He trod that ancient path his sire had trod, Far, far below he saw the sea, the town;He moved as light as an immortal god, For mansions in Olympus gliding down.
He left the shadow of the forest brown, And through the shallow waters did he cross, And stood, ere twilight fell, within the crown Of towers, the sacred keep of Ilios.
XXI.
Now folk that mark'd him hasting deem'd that he Had come to tell the host was on its way, As one that from the hills had seen the sea Beclouded with the Danaan array, So straight to Paris' house with no delay They led him, and did eagerly await Within the forecourt, in the twilight grey, To hear some certain message of their fate.
XXII.
Now Paris was asleep upon his bed Tired with a listless day; but all along The palace chambers Corythus was led, And still he heard a music, shrill and strong, That seem'd to clamour of an old-world wrong, And hearts a long time broken; last they came To Helen's bower, the fountain of the song That cried so loud against an ancient shame.
XXIII.
And Helen fared before a mighty loom, And sang, and cast her shuttle wrought of gold, And forth unto the utmost secret room The wave of her wild melody was roll'd;And still she fashion'd marvels manifold, Strange shapes of fish and serpent, bear and swan, The loves of the immortal Gods of old, Wherefrom the peoples of the world began.
XXIV.
Now Helen met the stranger graciously With gentle speech, and bade set forth a chair Well wrought of cedar wood and ivory That wise Icmalius had fashion'd fair.
But when young Corythus had drunk the rare Wine of the princes, and had broken bread, Then Helen took the word, and bade declare His instant tidings; and he spake and said, XXV.
"Lady and Queen, I have a secret word, And bear a token sent to none but thee, Also I bring message to my Lord That spoken to another may not be."Then Helen gave a sign unto her three Bower-maidens, and they went forth from that place, Silent they went; and all forebodingly, They left the man and woman face to face.
XXVI.
Then from his breast the birchen scroll he took And gave to Helen; and she read therein:
"Oh thou that on those hidden runes dost look, Hast thou forgotten quite thine ancient sin, Thy Lord, thy lofty palace, and thy kin, Even as thy Love forgets the words he spoke The strong oath broken one weak heart to win, The lips that kiss'd him, and the heart that broke?
XXVII.
"Nay, but methinks thou shalt not quite forget The curse wherewith I curse thee till I die;The tears that on the wood-nymph's cheeks are wet, Shall burn thy hateful beauty deathlessly, Nor shall God raise up seed to thee; but IHave borne thy love this messenger: my son, Who yet shall make him glad, for Time goes by And soon shall thine enchantments all be done:
XXVIII.
"Ay, soon 'twixt me and Death must be his choice, And little in that hour will Paris care For thy sweet lips, and for thy singing voice, Thine arms of ivory, thy golden hair.
Nay, me will he embrace, and will not spare, But bid the folk that hate thee have their joy, And give thee to the mountain beasts to tear, Or burn thy body on a tower of Troy."XXIX.
Even as she read, by Aphrodite's will The cloud roll'd back from Helen's memory:
She saw the city of the rifted hill, Fair Lacedaemon, 'neath her mountain high;She knew the swift Eurotas running by To mix his sacred waters with the sea, And from the garden close she heard the cry Of her beloved child, Hermione.
XXX.
Then instantly the horror of her shame Fell on her, and she saw the coming years;Famine, and fire, and plague, and all men's blame, The wounds of warriors and the women's fears;And through her heart her sorrow smote like spears, And in her soul she knew the utmost smart Of wives left lonely, sires bereaved, the tears Of maidens desolate, of loves that part.
XXXI.
She drain'd the dregs out of the cup of hate;The bitterness of sorrow, shame, and scorn;Where'er the tongues of mortals curse their fate, She saw herself an outcast and forlorn;And hating sore the day that she was born, Down in the dust she cast her golden head, There with rent raiment and fair tresses torn, At feet of Corythus she lay for dead.
XXXII.
