She spake; but they already lay in earth In Lacedaemon, their dear native land.

And now the heralds through the city bore The sacred pledges of the gods⁠—two lambs, And joyous wine, the fruit of Earth, within A goat-skin. One of them⁠—Idasus⁠—brought A glistening vase and golden drinking-cups, And summoned, in these words, the aged king:⁠—

“Son of Laomedon, arise! The chiefs Who lead the Trojan knights and brazen-mailed Achaians pray thee to descend at once Into the plain, that thou mayst ratify A faithful compact. Alexander now And warlike Menelaus will contend With their long spears for Helen. She and all Her treasures are to be the conqueror’s prize; While all the other Trojans, having made A faithful league of amity, shall dwell On Ilium’s fertile plain, and all the Greeks Return to Argos, famed for noble steeds, And to Achaia, famed for lovely dames.”