Helen of Troy
XXXII.

Andrew Lan

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So wounded to his hut and wearily

Came Menelaus; and he bow'd his head

Beneath the lintel neither fair nor high;

And, lo! Queen Helen lay upon his bed,

Flush'd like a child in sleep, and rosy-red,

And at his footstep did she wake and smile,

And spake: "My lord, how hath thy hunting sped,

Methinks that I have slept a weary while!"

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