Helen of Troy
LXVII.

Andrew Lan

Settings
ScrollingScrolling

Not now in wrath OEnone came; but fair

Like a young bride when nigh her bliss she knows,

And in the soft night of her fallen hair

Shone flowers like stars, more white than Ida's snows,

And scarce men dared to look on her, of those

The pyre that guarded; suddenly she came,

And sprang upon the pyre, and shrill arose

Her song of death, like incense through the flame.

This book is provided by FunNovel Novel Book | Fan Fiction Novel [Beautiful Free Novel Book]

Last Next Contents
Bookshelf ADD Settings
Reviews Add a review
Chapter loading