A curse they nursed for their own undoing,
A mouth by which their own friends shall perish;
A servant of Até, a priest of Ruin,[n60]
Some god hath taught them to cherish.
STROPHE III.
Thus to Troy came a bride of the Spartan race,
With a beauty as bland as a windless calm,
Prosperity’s gentlest grace;
And mild was love’s blossom that rayed from her eye,
The soft-winged dart that with pleasing pain