With lords that made resort
From Calydon’s high court,
And western isles, at call of Helen’s fame,
Wooing the hand of Leda’s heavenly daughter:
But soon such jealousy and deadly gall
Inflamed the suitors all,
That then and there the fated slaughter
Of Danaans had begun,
Had not grave Tyndareus, her mortal sire,
To quench the kindling fire,