Before the fight to Ilium was brought,
And mad Achilles fearless Hector fought,
A lovely child was born to lasting fame,
So beautiful, and Helen was her name.
Now all the Trojan ramparts soundly stood,
Upon the Beautiful, the True and Good,
Three pillars to uphold man’s mortal lease,
And all of Troy lived happily in peace.
But O! for peace! Fair Helen was betrothed,
To Menelaus, whom the heaven’s loathed,
And, far too soon, there came that fated day,
When Menelaus carried her away.
And though she vowed to learn to love her groom,
Her love for Sparta’s king would never bloom,
So Helen’s eyes were swollen shut with grief,
And in her room she prayed for some relief.
Now Paris, dreaming, tossed within his bed,
As Venus planted visions in his head,
And going to Aeneas in the morning,
Resolved to plunder Sparta without warning.
Now young Aeneas leads the expedition
To warring Sparta, far across the ocean,
And when his beaked ship split the Spartan shore,
He cut a path fair Helen to restore.
In the dark, Aeneas scales the wall,
And through the window of the wedding hall,
He finds her kneeling, weeping and distraught,
And Menelaus snoring on his cot.
He whispers, and the lady so declares,
Her sorrowed soul for lack of love despairs,
The sweetest bloom upon the fairest rose,
And they depart, before the rooster crows.
At dawn, the Greeks find Helen’s chamber void,
And on the sea, a Trojan ship deployed,
With many Trojans laboring the oar,
And so the Greeks prepare their ships for war.
Now into Troy, she rides to joyous calls,
And into Paris’ loving arms she falls,
That never was a time in Troy more bright,
And peaceful, too, for everything was right.
Now Paris governs, Helen at his side,
And Troy is blessed with ample wealth supplied,
And all of Troy advanced, by Beauty aided,
In harmony, with Truth and Goodness braided.
Now Helen’s heart is lit by virtue’s flame,
And every hearth is chiseled just the same,
A common good to mason right from wrong,
And so the Trojan walls grew high and strong.
But Hera sits upon her blackened cloud,
With all her minions, jealous, false and proud,
And pondering the goodness wrought in Troy,
She eyes the Trojan nation to destroy.
Spoke Hera, thus, “All women will betray us,
If Helen’s not returned to Menelaus,”
And from the moorings of Delirium,
She prods the Greeks to war on Ilium.
And so there came those long Achaean ships,
Drawn by Hera’s bloody fingertips,
And all of Troy was leveled to the ground,
With not one stone left standing to be found.
But falling would our freedom fortify,
For Beauty, Truth and Goodness never die,
And brave Aeneas bore the torch to Rome,
And God’s eternal city is our home.