Before the fight to Ilium was brought,
And mad Achilles fearless Hector fought,
A lovely child was born to lasting fame,
Divinely made, and Helen was her name.
Now all the Trojan ramparts soundly stood,
Upon the Beautiful, the True and Good,
Three pillars to uphold our mortal lease,
And all of Troy lived happily in peace.
But, O, for peace, this Helen was betrothed,
To Menelaus, whom the heaven’s loathed,
And, far too soon, there came that fateful 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,
And Helen’s eyes were swollen shut with grief,
And in her room she languished for relief.
Now Paris, dreaming, tossed at night in bed
As heaven planted visions in his head,
And going to Aeneas in the morning,
Plotted to retrieve her without warning.
So young Aeneas leads the expedition
To mighty Sparta, far across the ocean,
And when his beaked ship split the Grecian shore,
He cut a passage, Helen to restore.
In the dark, Aeneas scales the wall,
And through the window of the wedding hall
Spies the lady weeping and distraught,
And Menelaus snoring in 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 King find Helen’s chamber void,
And on the sea, the Trojan ships deployed,
With many Trojans laboring the oar,
And so the Greeks alarm their men for war.
Now into Troy, she rides to joyous calls,
And into Paris’ loving arms she falls,
That never was a day in Troy more bright,
For every heart was good, and all was right.
And Paris rules with Helen at his side,
And Troy is led with ample love supplied,
And all of Troy advanced, by Beauty aided,
In harmony, with Truth and Goodness braided.
And Helen’s heart is lit with virtue’s flame,
And every hearth is masoned just the same,
A common good to chisel right from wrong,
And so the Trojan walls grew high and strong.
But Hera sat 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.
Cried Hera, thus, “All women will betray us,
If Helen’s not returned to Menelaus,”
And from the moorings of Delirium,
Prods the Greeks to war on Ilium.
And now the false and jealous gods of war,
Were crueler than they ever were before,
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,
Where heaven stoops to meet the vaulting dome.