Gorgo
Not I. I turned and felt warm draught
Of breath upon my cheek, and laught
Softly, and snuggling, slept.
Chthonoë
Fie, fie!
Goddess, drugged in thy dreams we lie,
Logs, not women, logs in the sun!
Sitys
Thou art sated. So fretteth One,
The very fount of Love's sweet well,
The chord of Love made visible,
Sickened of her own loveliness,
Haggard as hawk too long in jess,
Aching for flight.
Myrtilla
Recall the bout
When Paris armed him and went out
Into the lists, and all men thronged
To see——
Sitys
Lord Paris and him he wronged
Fight for her, who should have her! We stood
Upon the walls, and she with her hood
Close to her cheek. But I saw the flicker
In her blue eyes!