And did not turn again, and did not know
The soft repentance on OEnone's face.

LXII.

But Paris spake to Helen: "Long ago,
Dear, we were glad, who never more shall be
Together, where the west winds fainter blow
Round that Elysian island of the sea,
Where Zeus from evil days shall set thee free.
Nay, kiss me once, it is a weary while,
Ten weary years since thou hast smiled on me,
But, Helen, say good-bye, with thine old smile!"

LXIII.

And as the dying sunset through the rain
Will flush with rosy glow a mountain height,
Even so, at his last smile, a blush again
Pass'd over Helen's face, so changed and white;
And through her tears she smiled, his last delight,
The last of pleasant life he knew, for grey
The veil of darkness gather'd, and the night
Closed o'er his head, and Paris pass'd away.

LXIV.

Then for one hour in Helen's heart re-born,
Awoke the fatal love that was of old,
Ere she knew all, and the cold cheeks outworn,