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Whom will he stab a-sleeping, whom, The quick grey wolf, the crawling doom? Grant that he slay the Spartan! Nay, Or Agamemnon's head and plume To Helen bear at dawn of day! A lightsome dawn to hear her wail Her brother sworn, her King who came To Ilion with his thousand sail, And swords, and flame!
And men shall tell of thee, Ilion mine, Once more a-harping at day's decline, 'Mid laughing of lovers and lays and dances And challenge on challenge of circling wine? When the Greek is smitten that day shall be, And fled to Argolis over the sea: O mighty of hand, O leader of lances, Smite him, and heaven be good to thee!
Re-enter HECTOR. RHESUS. Lord Hector, Prince of Ilion, noble son Of noble sires, all hail! Long years have run Since last we greeted, and 'tis joy this day To see thy fortunes firm and thine array Camped at the foe's gate. Here am I to tame That foe for thee, and wrap his ships in flame.
Strymonian Rhesus, truth is alway good
In Hector's eyes. I wear no double heart.
Long, long ago thou shouldst have borne thy part
In Ilion's labours, not have left us here,
For all thy help, to sink beneath the spear.
Why didst thou-not for lack of need made plain!-
Not come, not sen e;
And others, yet here in the shielded line
Or mid the chariots, parching in the shine
Of noonday, starving in the winds that bite
Through Ilion's winter, still endure and fight
On at my side. 'Twas not their way, to lie
On a soft couch and, while the cups go by,
Pledge my good health, lik