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THE FALL OF TROY.
11
I fled my home, and sought the shrine
Of the Virgin Power Divine,
But there I knelt in vain—
They tore me thence. I saw my lord,
He lay by foreign falchions gored
On his own threshold slain.
And I was hurried o'er the sea
The slayer's spoil. Still upon thee,
My fallen country, looking back,
As clove their ship her homeward track.
I gazed, till blinding tears prevail'd,
And fainting nature's firmness fail'd.
Of the Virgin Power Divine,
But there I knelt in vain—
They tore me thence. I saw my lord,
He lay by foreign falchions gored
On his own threshold slain.
And I was hurried o'er the sea
The slayer's spoil. Still upon thee,
My fallen country, looking back,
As clove their ship her homeward track.
I gazed, till blinding tears prevail'd,
And fainting nature's firmness fail'd.
Yet cursed I, in my soul's despair,
The sister of the sons of Jove,
And Ida's swain. Ye guilty pair,
Ye fiends to Troy, your sinful love
Hath torn me from my country's walls,
Hath slain her sons, hath sack'd her halls.
Helen, the victims of thy crime
Heap on thy head their malison!
Ye billows, to her native clime
Refuse to bear th' accursed one.
Let her not see again the home
She left in sin and shame to roam.
The sister of the sons of Jove,
And Ida's swain. Ye guilty pair,
Ye fiends to Troy, your sinful love
Hath torn me from my country's walls,
Hath slain her sons, hath sack'd her halls.
Helen, the victims of thy crime
Heap on thy head their malison!
Ye billows, to her native clime
Refuse to bear th' accursed one.
Let her not see again the home
She left in sin and shame to roam.