Fall of Troy
Learnt from Chapman's Homer*
A story full of grace and glamour
Killings of Royals, warriors and multitude
Fall of Troy is
A melodrama of ancient attitude
Sans Merci, sans certitude
War that was waged in heaven
Amongst deities of love wedding and wisdom**
To be crowned as fairest of heavenly kingdom,
Poor Prince from Trojan race
Chose to settle that celestial FACE
Ah! This sin of Paris was un-forgiven
***Brought thousands ships towards Trojan haven.
The wall of Troy
Besieged by savage and sages
For term of ten years ages
Prince Hector the decent, daredevil
Embraced Achilles` wrath and kissed the peril.
Days and nights, round the clock
Trojans, Achaeans clashed like a giant rocks
Hector, Aeneas, Paris, Agenor and Sarpedon****
Achilles, Odysseus, Ajax, Patroclus and Agamemnon*****
For worthless love and fairy******
Troy lost her grace and glory
poem by Gulsher john
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Related quotes
Achilles And The Slaying Of Hector
Achilles took the slain body of proud Prince Hector
slit holes through warrior corpse ankles and proceeded
to drag Hector’s defeated slain body behind his chariot
an ignoble act of revenge bitterness hate anger contempt
Achilles killed proud Hector with a single spear thrust
Achilles refused to eat mourns on Olympian ambrosia
Achilles killed Hector with a spear thrust into the neck
proud noble neck the only vulnerable on Hector’s body
Hector who wore the god made prize armour of Achilles
armour stripped from slain Patroclus beloved of Achilles
in grief how anger festered into revenge rage in Achilles
Hector victim of vengeance dies a slow agonizing death
Hector accepted his fate begged Achilles treat his body
with respect once slain but hubris was wrath of Achilles
shamelessly Achilles desecrates the Trojan heroes body
for nine days dragging slain corpse around the battlefield
for nine days denying King Priam funeral rites for his son
Achilles enraged cared nothing for feelings of Hector’s family
shamed humiliated is corpse of Hector dragged behind chariot
Achilles what great rage passions storm in soul possessed
Achilles who addressed Hector like an entreating dog
stated as he killed him it was hopeless to expect respect
for his slain defeated corpse declared 'my rage, my fury
would drive me now to hack your flesh away and eat
you raw — such agonies you have caused me' “For what
you've done. No one can keep the dogs off of your head,
not if they brought me ransom of ten or twenty times as much,
or more' then Achilles slices Hector's head hanging only
by skin thus fell Trojan prince Hector to pride arrogance
Achilles of scorn wrath slayer of Hector son of King Priam
Hector with wife child who fought to defend his city family
even Zeus was dismayed by hubris abuse to Hector's body
at the command of Zeus Hermes led King Priam in a wagon
out of Troy across the plains into the Greek camp unnoticed
to Achilles' tent to plead with Achilles for a slain son's body
to permit a father to perform his funeral rites for son Hector
Priam grasped Achilles by the knees and begged this feared
killer of so many of his sons to worthy ransom his son's body
Priam begged by the gods kissed the hand of Achilles killer
of his sons stirred Achilles' grief to tears to claim corpse son
only then after nine days of bitter agony did Priam at Achilles
feet begging reclaim Hector's body to take back into city Troy
only then could funeral rites be preformed only then could the
desecrated corpse of Hector be buried as Troy the city mourns
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Lliad- in 50 words or less
Paris stole Agamemmon's woman.
Hector Killed Patroclus in a fight.
Achilles took revenge against the Trojan,
but otherwise sat sulking in his tent.
Odysseus, the ever resourceful Greek,
built a wooden horse.
Final score: Greeks 1, Trojans 0
Beware of Greeks bearing gifts!
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Hector
He strode across the schoolroom in July,
Great Hector, clanging in his brazen mail;
And all the cringing Greeks, with faces pale,
Creaked into jabbering Ks and turned to fly.
Achilles, safe because he could not die,
Cheated and won; and all the lines grew stale.
The life was gone from out the shabby tale;
And back in Homer's teeth we flung the lie.
We fought for Troy behind a mossy wall;
We burned the Grecian ships below a tree . . .
Ah, that great war was forty years ago !
Yet still I know that Hector did not fall;
For when the bell rang truce to friend and foe,
Achilles, lying Greek, was under me!
poem by David McKee Wright
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Reverse Is The Case
I shall make thee my Romeo and shall be thy Juliet
And nothing like Paris shall come in ‘twixt us this time
I will destroy thousands of young men named Paris
And unite both houses of Montague and Capulet with love
Then will have William Shakespeare write a play called 'reverse is the case'
Therefore thou shall be my Helen and I shall be thy Paris
For there will be no Agamemnon come between us amore
And I shall destroy thousands of Menelaus with Hector's sword
Wherefore will have Homer's epic Iliad altered for once
I shall be more fairer than fair Helen when she lived
Whose admired worth made Greece with ten years of wars afflict poor Troy
And shall launch ten thousands of admiration and love
With which ten thousand years men shall serve thee for thy daughters' sake
Then will have Hera and Athena themselves withdraw like the stars ashamed in
comparisonwith You, my Aphrodisiac beauty.
poem by Lightcheerful Briggs
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Epitaph on King Priam of Troy
Priam, the Trojan king
Lies in a great peace.
Lies he there
The city of Troy,
Where no more is joy.
Caused by Paris’s ploy,
Thought the city was a toy.
So brought the coil
And Troy, received it, as a spoil,
As the Greeks took the coil, away
And Troy, in ruins, alas.
poem by Deepta Protik Osman
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Troy Town
HEAVENBORN Helen, Sparta's queen,
(O Troy Town!)
Had two breasts of heavenly sheen,
The sun and moon of the heart's desire:
All Love's lordship lay between.
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Helen knelt at Venus' shrine,
(O Troy Town!)
Saying, “A little gift is mine,
A little gift for a heart's desire.
Hear me speak and make me a sign!
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“Look, I bring thee a carven cup;
(O Troy Town!)
See it here as I hold it up,—
Shaped it is to the heart's desire,
Fit to fill when the gods would sup.
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“It was moulded like my breast;
(O Troy Town!)
He that sees it may not rest,
Rest at all for his heart's desire.
O give ear to my heart's behest!
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“See my breast, how like it is;
(O Troy Town!)
See it bare for the air to kiss!
Is the cup to thy heart's desire?
O for the breast, O make it his!
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“Yea, for my bosom here I sue;
(O Troy Town!)
Thou must give it where 'tis due,
Give it there to the heart's desire.
Whom do I give my bosom to?
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“Each twin breast is an apple sweet.
(O Troy Town!)
Once an apple stirred the beat
Of thy heart with the heart's desire:—
Say, who brought it then to thy feet?
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“They that claimed it then were three:
(O Troy Town!)
For thy sake two hearts did he
Make forlorn of the heart's desire.
Do for him as he did for thee!
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
“Mine are apples grown to the south,
(O Troy Town!)
Grown to taste in the days of drouth,
Taste and waste to the heart's desire:
Mine are apples meet for his mouth.”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Venus looked on Helen's gift,
(O Troy Town!)
Looked and smiled with subtle drift,
Saw the work of her heart's desire:—
“There thou kneel'st for Love to lift!”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Venus looked in Helen's face,
(O Troy Town!)
Knew far off an hour and place,
And fire lit from the heart's desire;
Laughed and said, “Thy gift hath grace!”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Cupid looked on Helen's breast,
(O Troy Town!)
Saw the heart within its nest,
Saw the flame of the heart's desire,—
Marked his arrow's burning crest.
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Cupid took another dart,
(O Troy Town!)
Fledged it for another heart,
Winged the shaft with the heart's desire,
Drew the string and said, “Depart!”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
Paris turned upon his bed,
(O Troy Town!)
Turned upon his bed and said,
Dead at heart with the heart's desire—
“Oh to clasp her golden head!”
(O Troy's down,
Tall Troy's on fire!)
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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At last is Hector stretch'd upon the plain,
Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus slain
You should have fear'd, what now you feel
Achilles absent was Achilles still
Yet a short space the great avenger stayed,
Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid.
Cassandra
I
REND, rend thine hair, Cassandra: he will go.
Yea, rend thy garments, wring thine hands, and cry
From Troy still towered to the unreddened sky.
See, all but she that bore thee mock thy woe:—
He most whom that fair woman arms, with show
Of wrath on her bent brows; for in this place
This hour thou bad'st all men in Helen's face
The ravished ravishing prize of Death to know.
What eyes, what ears hath sweet Andromache,
Save for her Hector's form and step; as tear
On tear make salt the warm last kiss he gave?
He goes. Cassandra's words beat heavily
Like crows above his crest, and at his ear
Ring hollow in the shield that shall not save.
II
“O HECTOR, gone, gone, gone! O Hector, thee
Two chariots wait, in Troy long bless'd and curs'd;
And Grecian spear and Phrygian sand athirst
Crave from thy veins the blood of victory.
Lo! long upon our hearth the brand had we,
Lit for the roof-tree's ruin: and to-day
The ground-stone quits the wall,—the wind hath way,—
And higher and higher the wings of fire are free.
“O Paris, Paris! O thou burning brand,
Thou beacon of the sea whence Venus rose,
Lighting thy race to shipwreck! Even that hand
Wherewith she took thine apple let her close
Within thy curls at last, and while Troy glows
Lift thee her trophy to the sea and land.”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Achilles Had A Little Heel After Mary Had A Little Lamb
Achilles had a little heel,
its skin was white as snow;
and everywhere Achilles went
its twin was sure to go.
His mother dipped him in the Styx
held by that little heel
henceforth Achillles bones soon picks -
scarce kept an even keel.
Greeks followed him to war one day;
quite playing by his rules;
he made the Trojans weep and pray,
to see selves seem such fools.
Of yore before fair Carthage shore
was met by Myrmidons
he tore Telephus, left wound sore -
or so say Oxford dons.
His troops were ordered to withdraw
withal though Troy destroyers
were winning war till Nestor saw
some sought Appollo's lawyers.
They sat in Council, Calchas claimed
his child from Agamemnon,
Chryseis kidnapped but King [t]aimed
Briseis, Achilles' leman.
Achilles' anger far and wide
was famed - a fatal flaw -
eternal legends since abide
of home_ru[i]ns galore.
It's G[r]eek to me how he could fling
his wrath from coast to coast,
fair Amazons his arms could bring
to grief, reefed Hades' host.
Patroculus his armour wore
successfully in song,
till Hector tore him to cold slaw,
Haephestus' trappings done.
One day an arrow turned him out,
transfixing sole so near,
soul lingered restlessly about
till Pluto did appear.
'Why'd Thetis love Achilles so? '
schoolchildren eager cry;
'Why, mothers love their lambs, you know, '
trained teachers must reply!
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Helen of Troy
A mythological beauty, she had been;
A legendary beauty, she had grown.
Who is it other than Helen of Troy,
The epitome of seductive beauty?
A symbol of man’s erotic desires,
From the other women, Helen differs
In that she never employed her charms
To gain power of self-aggrandizement.
Her era dates back to fifth century B.C.
The fairest of women had been the one
Whom all women should hate and yet envy,
And all men should fear and yet desire.
No wonder, men were captive of her charm,
But not was she captive of any man..
She had admirers; none did she admire.
Her fairness deserved more than what she got.
A puppet she was in the heavenly battle,
Where Greek Gods and Goddesses had sported.
As such, she must be absolved of the taints
She was attached with, sadistically.
Helen was the daughter of Zeus and Leda,
The Greek God and Goddess. Born of an egg,
And brought up by a shepherd, she became
The prince of Sparta, a kingdom’f the Greek.
At her age ten, Helen was kidnapped
By an Athenian Hero for her charm
And was, however, brought back unscathed
By her brother; so famous she became.
At Helen’s wedding, numerous suitors
From far and wide came to claim her fair hand.
They were made to swear an oath to defend
The chosen husband in the event of
A rival attempting to abduct Helen,
The beauty who bred danger where she trod.
The oath assumed a greater importance
In the development of the Trojan War.
Helen was married to Menelaus,
A warrior, on his highest offerings.
On king’s death, he became the king of Sparta.
Helen bore a daughter; nine years rolled.
Paris, a Trojan Prince, came to Sparta
To marry Helen, whom he had been promised
By Aphrodite, after he had chosen her
As the fairest of all the goddesses
So that she could claim the golden apple
Thrown by the Goddess, Eris, from anger
Of not being invited by King Peleus
For his marriage to Sea Nymph Thetis.
Once Paris arrived in the house,
And Menelaus was fated to leave it,
Helen eloped with Paris to Trojan.
The war broke, all suitors participated
The war lasting for over nine years,
Helen lived these years as a willing captive,
More to the design of Aphrodite.
It is unfair to brand her as unfaithful..
The end of the war was brought about
Through the Trojan horse built and left ashore,
With their heroes hidden in it. The foes
Drew the horse into the fort for their fate.
The heroes sacked the city and captured
And caged the fairest queen to her shame.
The Greeks and the Trojans despised her alike.
No woman of her status could be that worst.
Menelaus was to slay his faithless wife.
As he raised his sword, , she dropped her robe
From her shoulders, revealing her assets.
It made him let the sword dropp from his hand.
Helen defied Aphrodite to remain
With Paris, who was soon to meet his death.
Her woes about her hasty decision
To leave Sparta and her spouse crippled her.
‘I will not serve his bed since the Trojan women
Hereafter would laugh at me, all, and my heart
Even now is confused with sorrow’
Helen lamented thus to Aphrodite.
Helen returned as the queen of Sparta.
Chastity, outraged, could be recovered;
Women are resilient, given a chance.
Helen is a proof for all men to note.
How Helen looked, no clues;
Yet her name has power
To inflame men’s heart, ho!
20.08.2008
[Aphrodite is Greek Goddess her counterpart is Venus.
Zeus is Greek God, his counterpart is Jupiter.]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Unfaithfulness
When Thetis and Peleus got married
Apollo stood up at the sumptuous wedding feast
and blessed the bridal pair
for the son who would come from their union.
'Sickness will never visit him,' he said,
'and his life will be a long one.'
This pleased Thetis immensely:
the words of Apollo, expert in prophecies,
seemed a guarantee of security for her child.
And when Achilles grew up
and all Thessaly said how beautiful he was,
Thetis remembered the god's words.
But one day some elders came in with the news
that Achilles had been killed at Troy.
Thetis tore her purple robes,
pulled off rings, bracelets,
flung them to the ground.
And in her grief, remembering that wedding scene,
she asked what the wise Apollo was up to,
where was this poet who spouts
so eloquently at banquets, where was this prophet
when they killed her son in his prime?
And the elders answered that Apollo himself
had gone down to Troy
and with the Trojans had killed her son.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Feigned Courage
Horatio, of ideal courage vain,
Was flourishing in air his father's cane,
And, as the fumes of valour swelled his pate,
Now thought himself this hero, and now that:
'And now,' he cried, 'I will Achilles be;
My sword I brandish; see, the Trojans flee.
Now I'll be Hector, when his angry blade
A lane through heaps of slaughtered Grecians made!
And now by deeds still braver I'll evince
I am no less than Edward the Black Prince.-
Give way, ye coward French-' As thus he spoke,
And aimed in fancy a sufficient stroke
To fix the fate of Cressy or Poictiers
(The Muse relates the hero's fate with tears);
He struck his milk-white hand against a nail,
Sees his own blood, and feels his courage fail.
Ah! where is now that boasted valour flown,
That in the tented field so late was shown!
Achilles weeps, Great Hector hangs the head,
And the Black Prince goes whimpering to bed.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Palladium
Set where the upper streams of Simois flow
Was the Palladium, high 'mid rock and wood;
And Hector was in Ilium, far below,
And fought, and saw it not--but there it stood!
It stood, and sun and moonshine rain'd their light
On the pure columns of its glen-built hall.
Backward and forward roll'd the waves of fight
Round Troy--but while this stood, Troy could not fall.
So, in its lovely moonlight, lives the soul.
Mountains surround it, and sweet virgin air;
Cold plashing, past it, crystal waters roll;
We visit it by moments, ah, too rare!
We shall renew the battle in the plain
To-morrow;--red with blood will Xanthus be;
Hector and Ajax will be there again,
Helen will come upon the wall to see.
Then we shall rust in shade, or shine in strife,
And fluctuate 'twixt blind hopes and blind despairs,
And fancy that we put forth all our life,
And never know how with the soul it fares.
Still doth the soul, from its lone fastness high,
Upon our life a ruling effluence send.
And when it fails, fight as we will, we die;
And while it lasts, we cannot wholly end.
poem by Matthew Arnold
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Helen of Troy - Clerihew
Helen of Troy
In Paris, found her blue-eyed boy.
Short lived was her joy,
Greeks destroyed Troy.
poem by Khadim Hussain
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Andromache
Andromache, widow of lucent Hector sleeps
in front of the hearth while silence
descends the night invading from east,
in her epigrammatic kindness and guidance.
Mournful oblates to the call of Stygian ripples
(cause meritorious Hector was in duel killed,
together with her kin by invincible Achilles) ,
now a concubine of Neoptolemus, her fate unfulfilled.
From the son of Achilles, she begot a son,
who was destined to rule upon a strong race
Molossus clan reigned over Northwest land,
where Putonian Hades kingdoms base.
Andromache sleeps and remembers her son,
(Heroic Neoptolemus went to Hades forever)
while Helenos of Troy, her pained heart won,
to rule in Epirus and from her never to sever.
Andromache, widow of noble Neoptolemus sleeps
in front of the hearth while silence
descends the night invading from east,
in her epigrammatic kindness and guidance.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Paris and the Golden Apple
The best of possessions
I am holding in my hand-
The Golden Apple on which is written-
'For the most fairest'.
Strange is the way Fate works,
And I, a mortal, is chosen to select
Who among Hera, Athene and Venus
is the most fairest!
Hera said-
'Power is the ultimate goal of life,
every head must bow down before power-
with love or with fear-
The world stands before you trembling,
And you will govern it with iron rod.
Give me the apple and see
what I have to offer.'
Athene Said -
Knowledge is Power, and
Power is but the shadow of Wisdom-
always following like a faithful servent;
I will bless you with the light of wisdom
And elighten your soul from within
So that you can judge the past, present and future.
Venus smiled and said -
What drink can quench the thirst of the soul?
And can remove the hundred fevers of heart?
Can Wisdom or Power do this?
no, they don't.
Only Beauty can touch the soul softly
and can revive its vitality.
Then give me the apple and in return
Take the best of gifts the world can offer-
The most beautiful woman as your wife.
What a real dellima I am in!
Which on to chose, which one to avoid-
between Power, Wisdom and Beauty?
Power is a weapon,
But, Wisdom is the mind's eye,
Yet Beauty is the only pleasure
of the eye and soul.
So, Beauty I prefer to Power and Wisdom;
I will offer the apple to Venus
and will have the most beautiful woman as my wife.
Did Paris make a mistake
In chosing Beauty over Power and Wisdom?
Well, History holds proof of this-
Look at the burning Troy
and take lesson therefrom;
Let not one more Troy burn,
Let not one more Paris is born.
poem by Nazmul Haque
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Part of the Dialogue Between Hector and Andromache
She ceas'd; then godlike Hector answer'd kind -
(His various plumage sporting in the wind)
'That post and all the rest shall be my care;
But shall I then forsake the unfinish'd war?
How would the Trojans brand great Hector's name!
And one base action sully all my fame,
Acquired by wounds, and battles bravely fought!
Oh! how my soul abhors so mean a thought.
Long have I learnt to slight this feeble breath,
And view with cheerful eyes approaching death.
The inexorable sisters have decreed
That Priam's house and Priam's self shall bleed:
The day shall come, in which proud Troy shall yield,
And spread its smoking ruins o'er the field.
Yet Hecuba's, nor Priam's hoary age,
Whose blood shall quench some Grecian's thirsty rage;
Their souls dismiss'd through many a ghastly wound,
Can in my bosom half that grief create,
As the sad thought of your impending fate:
When some proud Grecian dame shall tasks impose,
Mimic your years, and ridicule your woes:
Beneath Hyperia's waters shall you sweat,
And, fainting, scarce support the liquid weight:
Then shall some Argive loud insulting cry,
'Behold the wife of Hector, guard of Troy!'
Tears, at my name, shall drown those beauteous eyes,
And that fair bosom heave with rising sighs!
Before that day, by some brave hero's hand,
May I lie slain, and spurn the bloody sand!'
poem by Samuel Johnson
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BkI:XV Nereus’ Prophecy of Troy
While Paris, the traitorous shepherd, her guest,
bore Helen over the waves, in a ship from Troy,
Nereus, the sea-god, checked the swift breeze
with an unwelcome calm, to tell
their harsh fate: ‘You’re taking a bird of ill-omen,
back home, whom the Greeks, new armed, will look for again,
having sworn to destroy the marriage your planning
and the empire of old Priam.
Ah, what sweated labour for men and for horses
draws near! What disaster you bring for the Trojan
people! Athene’s already prepared her helm,
breastplate, chariot, and fury.
Uselessly daring, through Venus’ protection,
you’ll comb your hair and pluck at the peace-loving lyre,
make the music for songs that please girls: uselessly
you’ll hide, in the depths of your room,
from the heavy spears, from the arrows of Cretan
reeds, and the noise of the battle, and swift-footed
Ajax quick to follow: yet, ah too late, you’ll bathe
your adulterous hair in the dust!
Have you thought of Ulysses, the bane of your race,
have you even considered Pylian Nestor?
Teucer of Salamis presses you fearlessly,
Sthenelus, skilful in warfare,
and if it’s a question of handling the horses
he’s no mean charioteer. And Meriones
you’ll know him too. See fierce Tydides, his father’s
braver, he’s raging to find you.
As the deer sees the wolf there, over the valley,
and forgets its pastures, a coward, you’ll flee him,
breathing hard, as you run, with your head thrown high,
not as you promised your mistress.
The anger of Achilles’ armies may delay
the day of destruction for Troy and its women:
but after so many winters the fires of Greece
will burn the Dardanian houses.’
The Triumph Of Achilles
In the story of Patroclus
no one survives, not even Achilles
who was nearly a god.
Patroclus resembled him; they wore
the same armor.
Always in these friendships
one serves the other, one is less than the other:
the hierarchy
is always apparant, though the legends
cannot be trusted--
their source is the survivor,
the one who has been abandoned.
What were the Greek ships on fire
compared to this loss?
In his tent, Achilles
grieved with his whole being
and the gods saw
he was a man already dead, a victim
of the part that loved,
the part that was mortal.
poem by Louise Gluck
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Pastor Cum
When he, that shepherd false, 'neath Phrygian sail ;
Carried his hostess Helen o'er the seas,
In fitful slumber Nereus hush'd the gales,
That he might sing their future destinies.
A curse to your ancestral home you take
With her, whom Greece, with many a soldier bold,
Shall seek again, in concert sworn to break
Your nuptial ties and Priam's kingdom old.
Alas ! what sweat from man and horse must flow,
What devastation to the Trojan realm
You carry, even now doth Pallas show
Her wrath—preparing buckler, car, and helm.
In vain, secure in Aphrodite's care,
You comb your locks, and on the girlish lyre
Select the strains most pleasant to the fair ;
In vain, on couch reclining, you desire
To shun the darts that threaten, and the thrust
Of Cretan lance, the battle's wild turmoil,
And Ajax swift to follow—in the dust
Condemned, though late, your wanton curls to soil.
Ah ! see you not where (fatal to your race)
Laertes' son comes with the Pylean sage ;
Fearless alike, with Teucer joins the chase
Steneläus, skill'd the fistic strife to wage,
Nor less expert the fiery steeds to quell ;
And Meriones, you must know. Behold
A warrior, than his sire more fierce and fell,
To find you rages,—Diomed the bold,
Whom, like the stag that, far across the vale,
The wolf being seen, no herbage can allure,
So fly you, panting sorely, dastard pale !—
Not thus you boasted to your paramour.
Achilles' anger for a space defers
The day of wrath to Troy and Trojan dame ;
Inevitable glide the allotted years,
And Dardan roofs must waste in Argive flame.
poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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