Some say it is the sudden sighting of massed ranks of hoplites, over-swarming the greensward, glittering in martial array
Others declare for the horsemen's thunderous dust cloud as it falls, like forked lightning, upon battle's melee
And then there are those who swear the spectacle of a vast Armada sweeping into view the most beautiful thing
And then there are those who swear the spectacle of a vast Armada sweeping into view the most beautiful thing
This black earth affords a rhapsode to sing.
Yet, Helen, than Loveliness lovelier- withal, modest, dutiful-
Forsook her all for what she thought beautiful
A visage she loved- against her will.
As in memory alone I look my fill
On Anactoria's kindling glance & comely gait
Like Helen, perchance, Phantom, pawn of Fate
Which must, in her beloved's dust, Beauty's myrmidons, as tithes enfold
Mowed down by Lydian chariots with scythes of gold.
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