Now he shall never be a child again!
This ruddy blue-eyed lad with tawny hair,
Too young to know how perilously fair
The world can be—this stranger unto pain,
Suddenly finds his boyish pastimes vain. . . .
Behold his glamourous and mortal air,
His poignant surmise and his still despair,
Now the Blind Bard has caught his soul amain!
From Troy’s grim wall he views the martial strands,
The warriors, the camp, the swaying ships. . .
The beauty of the world in Helen stands
Full in his arms, her kiss upon his lips.
Then, as of yonder battle he is part,
Achilles’ shouting spear drives through his heart!