She, leaving to her countrymen at home
Wild din of spear and shield and ships of war,
And bringing, as her dower,
To Ilion doom of death,
Passed very swiftly through the palace gates,
Daring what none should dare;
And many a wailing cry
They raised, the minstrel prophets of the house,
“Woe for that kingly home!
Woe for that kingly home and for its chiefs! 400
Woe for the marriage-bed and traces left
Of wife who loved her lord!”
*There stands he silent; foully wronged and yet
*Uttering no word of scorn,[301]
*In deepest woe perceiving she is gone;
And in his yearning love
For one beyond the sea,
A ghost shall seem to queen it o'er the house;
The grace of sculptured forms[302]
Is loathèd by her lord,
And in the penury of life's bright eyes
All Aphroditè's charm
To utter wreck has gone.