But she gives no sign and she makes no sound.
Red Menelaus has poured her drink;
And she does not sip and she does not shrink.
And her mouth is a flower that says “Depart!”
And the hilt of a knife is under her heart.
The kings of the world have finished their chase,
They dash their wine in the glorious face.
And Paris is dead in a sickly land;
And they wrench the rings from the plume-white hand.
They dice for her rings and the game is sweet