And valiantly his lot with Priam flung,
For love of a lost cause and a fair face, -
The eyes that once the God of Pytho sung,
That now look'd darkly to the slaughter-place.

IV.

Now while the elders kept their long debate,
Coroebus stole unheeded to his band,
And led a handful by a postern gate
Across the plain, across the barren land
Where once the happy vines were wont to stand,
And 'mid the clusters once did maidens sing, -
But now the plain was waste on every hand,
Though here and there a flower would breathe of Spring.

V.

So swift across the trampled battle-field
Unchallenged still, but wary, did they pass,
By many a broken spear or shatter'd shield
That in Fate's hour appointed faithless was:
Only the heron cried from the morass
By Xanthus' side, and ravens, and the grey
Wolves left their feasting in the tangled grass,
Grudging; and loiter'd, nor fled far away.

VI.

There lurk'd no spears in the high river-banks,