In her father’s halls she would sing as maiden,
And with virginal voice in his fortune rejoice
When the happy triple libation was poured,
With her loving father in loving accord.
“What came thereafter I nor saw nor do I say,
But arts of Calchas knew nor let nor stay.
Justice freights the scale with woe
And taught by suffering we know.”
Pausanias saw the temple of Artemis, and within it as a revered relic a piece of the wood from the Homeric plane tree. The spring was also pointed out to him, and on a neighbouring hill the threshold of Agamemnon’s hut. Those were happy days for sight-seers. To-day a traveller can find only a few remains of the temple, near the ruined chapel of St. Nicholas, a little distance up the valley which stretches inland from the shore. But he may stand on the beach and watch tides as strange and irregular as they were when Æschylus described the Achæan host, troubled and held fast—
“where tide ’gainst tide comes surging back near by the shores of Aulis opposite to Chalkis.”