Second Stasimon

CHORUS.In Salamis, filled with the foamingOf billows and murmur of bees,Old Telamon stayed from his roaming,Long ago, on a throne of the seas;Looking out on the hills olive-laden,Enchanted, where first from the earthThe grey-gleaming fruit of the MaidenAthena had birth;A soft grey crown for a cityBeloved, a City of Light:Yet he rested not there, nor had pity,But went forth in his might,Where Heracles wandered, the lonelyBow-bearer, and lent him his handsFor the wrecking of one land only,Of Ilion, Ilion only,Most hated of lands!

Of the bravest of Hellas he made himA ship-folk, in wrath for the Steeds,And sailed the wide waters, and stayed himAt last amid Simois' reeds;And the oars beat slow in the river,And the long ropes held in the strand,And he felt for his bow and his quiver,The wrath of his hand.And the old king died; and the towersThat Phoebus had builded did fall,And his wrath, as a flame that devours,Ran red over all;And the fields and the woodlands lay blasted,Long ago. Yea, twice hath the SireUplifted his hand and downcast itOn the wall of the Dardan, downcast itAs a sword and as fire.

In vain, all in vain,O thou 'mid the wine-jars goldenThat movest in delicate joy,Ganymedes, child of Troy,The lips of the Highest drainThe cup in thine hand upholden:And thy mother, thy mother that bore thee,Is wasted with fire and torn;And the voice of her shores is heard,Wild, as the voice of a bird,For lovers and children before theeCrying, and mothers outworn.And the pools of thy bathing are perished,And the wind-strewn ways of thy feet:Yet thy face as aforetime is cherishedOf Zeus, and the breath of it sweet;Yea, the beauty of Calm is upon itIn houses at rest and afar.But thy land, He hath wrecked and o'erthrown itIn the wailing of war.

O Love, ancient Love,Of old to the Dardan given;Love of the Lords of the Sky;How didst thou lift us highIn Ilion, yea, and aboveAll cities, as wed with heaven!For Zeus--O leave it unspoken:But alas for the love of the Morn;Morn of the milk-white wing,The gentle, the earth-loving,That shineth on battlements brokenIn Troy, and a people forlorn!And, lo, in her bowers Tithonus,Our brother, yet sleeps as of old:O, she too hath loved us and known us,And the Steeds of her star, flashing gold,Stooped hither and bore him above us;Then blessed we the Gods in our joy.But all that made them to love usHath perished from Troy.