Helen of Troy
LXIV.

Andrew Lan

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Then for one hour in Helen's heart re-born,

Awoke the fatal love that was of old,

Ere she knew all, and the cold cheeks outworn,

She kiss'd, she kiss'd the hair of wasted gold,

The hands that ne'er her body should enfold;

Then slow she follow'd where the bearers led,

Follow'd dead Paris through the frozen wold

Back to the town where all men wish'd her dead.

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