Woe upon Paris' bridal bed
She utters;—she who long before
A dirgeful life, alas! had led,
Weeping her sons in wretched slaughter sped.
Strophe II.
So once did wight incautious rear
A suckling lion, for the breast
Still yearning, to the house a pest.
Tame in life's early morning, dear 700
To childhood, and by Eld caressed.
Carried full oft in fondling play,
Like to a babe in arms he lay;
The hand with winning glances wooed,
And, smit with pangs of hunger, fawned for food.
Antistrophe II.
But time the temper doth bewray
Inherent in his race. Due meed
Of gentle nurture to repay,
Rending the flocks with cruel greed,
Unbidden he prepares the feast, 710
And mars with gory stain the halls.
Resistless, dire, athirst for prey,
The pest the menial train appals,
Reared for the house by Heaven, fell Atè's priest.
Strophe III.
So came to Troia's walls, in evil hour,
Spirit of breathless calm, fair pride
Of riches, love's soul-piercing flower, 720
The eyes' soft dart; but from her course aside
