And ever in the
forefront of the war blazed the Red Star on Helen's breast, and ever the
sound of her singing pierced the din of death.
Now the host of the Nine-bow barbarians was utterly destroyed, and the
host of Pharaoh came up against the wall that was set about the camp
of the Achaeans to guard their ships, and at its head came the golden
chariot wherein were the Wanderer and Helen. The Captains of the Achaeans
looked wondering from their wall, watching the slaughter of their
allies.
"Now, who is this?" cried a Captain, "who is this clad in golden armour
fashioned like our own, who leads the host of Pharaoh to victory?"
Then a certain aged leader of men looked forth and answered:
"Such armour I have known indeed, and such a man once wore it. The
armour is fashioned like the armour of Paris, Priam's son--Paris of
Ilios; but Paris hath long been dead."
"And who is she," cried the Captain, "she on whose breast a Red Star
burns, who rides in the chariot of him with the golden armour, whose
shape is the shape of Beauty, and who sings aloud while men go down to
death?"
Then the aged leader of men looked forth again and answered:
"Such a one have I known, indeed; so she was wont to sing, and hers was
such a shape of beauty, and such a Star shone ever on her breast. Helen
of Ilios--Argive Helen it was who wore it--Helen, because of whose
loveliness the world grew dark with death; but long is Helen dead.
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