Now Paris was not sated with the fame
And rich reward Troy gave his archery;
But o'er the wine he boasted that the game
That very night he deem'd to win, or die;
"For scarce their watch the tempest will defy,"
He said, "and all undream'd of might we go,
And fall upon the Argives where they lie,
Unseen, unheard, amid the silent snow."
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