Briseis
The footfalls of the parting Myrmidons
And counter-cries of leaguer and of town
Are hushed behind her as the silks drop down;
Alone she stands, and wonderingly cons
Heads circleted with gold or helmed with bronze;
Higher her eyes from crown to loftier crown
Creep, till they fall, nigh-blasted, at the frown
Of Argos, throned in his pavilions
And mid his captains wrathfully aware
How the plague smites the host, how by the sea
Beyond the ships, with vengeful prayer and oath,
Rages the young Achilles, of whose wrath
Innocent, ignorant, a captive, she
Sees but the dropped staff on the voided chair.
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