Within the walls of Helen's fragrant bower.

V.

But she, in longing for her lord and home,
And scorn of her wild lover, did withdraw
From all men's eyes: but in the night would roam
Till drowsy watchmen of the city saw
A shadowy shape that chill'd the night with awe,
Treading the battlements; and like a ghost,
She stretch'd her lovely arms without a flaw,
In shame and longing, to the Argive host.

VI.

But all day long within her bower she wept,
Still dreaming of the dames renown'd of old,
Whom hate or love of the Immortals swept
Within the toils of Ate manifold;
And most she loved the ancient tales that told
How the great Gods, at length to pity stirr'd,
Changed Niobe upon the mountains cold,
To a cold stone; and Procne to a bird,

VII.

And Myrrha to an incense-breathing tree; -
"And ah," she murmur'd, "that the Gods were kind,
And bade the Harpies lay their hands on me,
And bear me with the currents of the wind