And one beheld, the soldier-prophet true,
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And the two chiefs, unlike of soul and will,
In the twy-coloured eagles straight he knew,
And spake the omen forth, for good and ill.
(Ah woe and well-a-day! but be the issue fair!)
Go forth, he cried,
and Priam's town shall fall.
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Yet long the time shall be; and flock and herd,
The people's wealth, that roam before the wall,
Shall force hew down, when Fate shall give the word.
But O beware! lest wrath in Heaven abide,
To dim the glowing battle-forge once more,
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And mar the mighty curb of Trojan pride,
The steel of vengeance, welded as for war!
For virgin Artemis bears jealous hate
Against the royal house, the eagle-pair,
Who rend the unborn brood, insatiate—
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Yea, loathes their banquet on the quivering hare.
(Ah woe and well-a-day! but be the issue fair!)