Dimly I could descry
The stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes,
Waiting to see me die.
"The tall masts quivered as they lay afloat,
The temples and the people and the shore;
One drew a sharp knife through my tender throat
Slowly,--and--nothing more."
The wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the
forces to the coast of Troy. The Trojans came to oppose their
landing, and at the first onset Protesilaus fell by the hand of
Hector. Protesilaus had left at home his wife, Laodamia, who was
most tenderly attached to him. When the news of his death reached
her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with him only
three hours. The request was granted. Mercury led Protesilaus back
to the upper world, and when he died a second time Laodamia died
with him. There was a story that the nymphs planted elm trees
round his grave which grew very well till they were high enough to
command a view of Troy, and then withered away, while fresh
branches sprang from the roots.
Wordsworth has taken the story of Protesilaus and Laodamia for the
subject of a poem. It seems the oracle had declared that victory
should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first
victim to the war. The poet represents Protesilaus, on his brief
return to earth, as relating to Laodamia the story of his fate:
"'The wished-for wind was given; I then revolved
The oracle, upon the silent sea;
And if no worthier led the way, resolved
That of a thousand vessels mine should be
The foremost prow impressing to the strand,--
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.
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