Читать книгу Helen Redeemed and Other Poems - Maurice Hewlett - Страница 5

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Sing of the end of Troy, and of that flood

Of passion by the blood

Of heroes consecrate, by poet's craft

Hallowed, if that thin waft

Of godhead blown upon thee stretch thy song

To span such store of strong

And splendid vision of immortal themes

Late harvested in dreams,

Albeit long years laid up in tilth. Most meet

Thou sing that slim and sweet

Fair woman for whose bosom and delight

Paris, as well he might,

Wrought all the woe, and held her to his cost

And Troy's, and won and lost

Perforce; for who could look on her or feel

Her near and not dare steal

One hour of her, or hope to hold in bars

Such wonder of the stars

Undimmed? As soon expect to cage the rose

Of dawn which comes and goes

Fitful, or leash the shadows of the hills,

Or music of upland rills

As Helen's beauty and not tarnish it

With thy poor market wit,

Adept to hue the wanton in the wild,

Defile the undefiled!

Yet by the oath thou swearedst, standing high

Where piled rocks testify

The holy dust, and from Therapnai's hold

Over the rippling wold

Didst look upon Amyklai's, where sunrise

First dawned in Helen's eyes,

Take up thy tale, good poet, strain thine art

To sing her rendered heart,

Given last to him who loved her first, nor swerved

From loving, but was nerved

To see through years of robbery and shame

Her spirit, a clear flame,

Eloquent of her birthright. Tell his peace,

And hers who at last found ease

In white-arm'd Heré, holy husbander

Of purer fire than e'er

To wife gave Kypris. Helen, and Thee sing

In whom her beauties ring,

Fair body of fair mind fair acolyte,

Star of my day and night!

18th September 1912.