No peril in my cause he ceased to prove,

His labours equall’d only by my love:

And both alike to bitter fortune born,

For him to suffer, and for me to mourn!

Whether he wanders on some friendly coast,

Or glides in Stygian gloom a pensive ghost,

No fame reveals; but, doubtful of his doom,

His good old sire with sorrow to the tomb

Declines his trembling steps; untimely care

Withers the blooming vigour of his heir;

And the chaste partner of his bed and throne

Wastes all her widow’d hours in tender moan.”


While thus pathetic to the prince he spoke,

From the brave youth the streaming passion broke;

Studious to veil the grief, in vain repress’d,

His face he shrouded with his purple vest.

The conscious monarch pierced the coy disguise,

And view’d his filial love with vast surprise:

Dubious to press the tender theme, or wait

To hear the youth inquire his father’s fate.

In this suspense bright Helen graced the room;

Before her breathed a gale of rich perfume.

So moves, adorn’d with each attractive grace,

The silver shafted goddess of the chase!

The seat of majesty Adraste brings,

With art illustrious, for the pomp of kings;

To spread the pall (beneath the regal chair)

Of softest wool, is bright Alcippe’s care.

A silver canister, divinely wrought,

In her soft hands the beauteous Phylo brought;

To Sparta’s queen of old the radiant vase

Alcandra gave, a pledge of royal grace;

For Polybus her lord (whose sovereign sway

The wealthy tribes of Pharian Thebes obey),

When to that court Atrides came, caress’d

With vast munificence the imperial guest:

Two lavers from the richest ore refined,

With silver tripods, the kind host assign’d;

And bounteous from the royal treasure told

Ten equal talents of refulgent gold.

Alcandra, consort of his high command,

A golden distaff gave to Helen’s hand;

And that rich vase, with living sculpture wrought,

Which heap’d with wool the beauteous Phylo brought