And Paris be it or Helen dying, Who dies soever, dies with pain. He that lacks breath and wind for sighing, His gall bursts on his heart; and then He sweats, God knows what sweat! again, No man may ease him of his grief; Child, brother, sister, none were fain To bail him thence for his relief. Death makes him shudder, swoon, wax pale, Nose bend, veins stretch, and breath surrender, Neck swell, flesh soften, joints that fail Crack their strained nerves and arteries slender. O woman's body found so tender, Smooth, sweet, so precious in men's eyes, Must thou too bear such count to render? Yes; or pass quick into the skies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DYING SWAN by ALFRED TENNYSON TURN O LIBERTAD by WALT WHITMAN THE SUPLIANTS: IO. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS THE YOUNG CARPENTER by AL-RUSAFI THRENODY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH ONCE IN A WAY by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM |