Of killing as ye will, by cast of spear,

By bowshot or with sword. If any peer

[9]

Of Hector or Sarpedon care the bout

Which they both tried aforetime let him out

With speed, and bring his many against one,

Fearing no treachery, for there shall be none

To aid me, God nor man; nor yet will I

Stir finger in the business, but will die

By murder sooner than in battle fall

Under some Trojan hand."

Breathless stood all,

Not moving out; but Paris on the roof

Of his high house, where snug he sat aloof,

Drew taut the bowstring home, and notched a shaft,

Soft whistling to himself, what time with craft

Of peering eyes and narrow twisted face

He sought an aim.

Swift from her hiding-place

Came burning Helen then, in her blue eyes

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