Then she said: “The gods conspired to give gifts of beauty to me,
And the beauty gave the gift of death to all who came to woo me;
Now of all the men who loved me, none remain,
And of both the men who had me neither knew me
Surely all my past was evil, for its fruit is bitter pain.

ROSE-FLOWER.
“I will go to some lone island where I am not made a story,
Where my beauty made no widow, nor no orphan wanting bread;
Where no human sorrow suffers the disaster of my glory,
And my eyes may lose the vision of the hauntings of the dead.”

MOON-BLOSSOM.
“Day and night the dead men haunt me, whom the madness of my caring
Brought from home and wives and children to be bones upon the plain;
All the panther-like for beauty, all the lion-like for daring,
And they lie among the bindweed now, uncovered by the rain.”

TOGETHER.
All was silent in the palace of the King,
Save the soft-foot watchers whispering;
All was dark, save in the porch
The wind-blown fire of a torch,
And the sentries still as in a stound
With their spear-heads drooped upon the ground.

Then she rose, and cloaked her face, and hurried swiftly from the city,
And to sea, away from Hellas, but she dared not show her face,
For the women and the orphans would have killed her without pity:
She had sown her crop of death too far, she found no resting-place.

But in inns where people gathered in the evenings after labour,
Where the shepherd’s pipe or viol stirred the blind man to his verse,
Till the hearers swayed and trembled and the rough man touched his
neighbour,
They would talk of Troy with sadness, but of Helen with a curse.
SIXTH CHORUS

MOON-BLOSSOM.
After long years, when Helen was riding by night

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