_Sorrow, sing sorrow: but good prevail, prevail_!

(_How Calchas read the sign; his Vision of the Future_.)

And the War-seer wise, as he looked on the Atreid Yoke
Twain-tempered, knew
Those fierce hare-renders the lords of his host; and spoke,
Reading the omen true.
"At the last, the last, this Hunt hunteth Ilion down,
Yea, and before the wall
Violent division the fulness of land and town
Shall waste withal;
If only God's eye gloom not against our gates,
And the great War-curb of Troy, fore-smitten, fail.
For Pity lives, and those wingèd Hounds she hates,
Which tore in the Trembler's body the unborn beast.
And Artemis abhorreth the eagles' feast."
_Sorrow, sing sorrow: but good prevail, prevail_!

(_He prays to Artemis to grant the fulfilment of the Sign, but, as his
vision increases, he is afraid and calls on Paian, the Healer, to hold her
back_.)

"Thou beautiful One, thou tender lover
Of the dewy breath of the Lion's child;
Thou the delight, through den and cover,
Of the young life at the breast of the wild,
Yet, oh, fulfill, fulfill The sign of the Eagles' Kill!
Be the vision accepted, albeit horrible....
But I-ê, I-ê! Stay her, O Paian, stay!