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And, leaving to her townsmen throngs a-spread
With shields, and spear-thrusts of sea-armament,
And bringing Ilion, in a dowry's stead,
Destruction -- swiftly through the gates she went,
Daring the undareable. But many a groan outbroke
From prophets of the House as thus they spoke.
"Woe, woe the House, the House and Rulers, -- woe
The marriage-bed and dints
A husband's love imprints!
There she stands silent! meets no honour -- no
Shame -- sweetest still to see of things gone long ago!
And, through desire of one across the main,
A ghost will seem within the house to reign.
And hateful to the husband is the grace
Of well-shaped statues: from -- in place of eyes
Those blanks -- all Aphrodite dies.
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