Phrygian.
The Linus-lay—O the Linus-lay!—
Death's prelude chanted, well-a-day,
Of barbarian folk in their Asian tongue
When the blood of their kings is poured on the earth, when the iron sword
Clangs Hades' song!
There came—that I tell thee the whole tale through—1400
Into the halls Greek lions two:
This was the son of the chieftain of Hellas' might;
That, Strophius' scion, an evil-devising wight,
An Odysseus, silent and subtle of mood,
Staunch to his friends, and valiant in fight,
Cunning in war, a dragon of blood.
Ruin seize him, the felon knave,
For his crafty plotting still as the grave!
So came they in, and beside the throne
Of the lady whom Archer Paris won,
With eyes tear-streaming all humbly sat,1410
On this side one, and the one on that,
Yet with guards beset on the left and the right.[1]
Then, bending low to Helen, these
Cast suppliant hands about her knees.
But her Phrygian servants in panic affright
Upstarted, upstarted;
And this unto that cried fearful-hearted,
"Ha, treachery—beware!"
Yet no peril did some trace there:1420
But to some did it seem that a snare
