“O mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
  On the tree-tops a crested peacock lit,
  And o’er him flow’d a golden cloud, and lean’d
  Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant dew. 
  Then first I heard the voice other, to whom 105
  Coming thro’ Heaven, like a light that grows
  Larger and clearer, with one mind the Gods
  Rise up for reverence.  She to Paris made
  Proffer of royal power, ample rule
  Unquestion’d, overflowing revenue 110
  Wherewith to embellish state, ’from many a vale
  And river-sunder’d champaign cloth’d with corn,
  Or labour’d mines undrainable of ore. 
  Honour,’ she said, ’and homage, tax and toll,
  From many an inland town and haven large, 115
  Mast-throng’d beneath her shadowing citadel
  In glassy bays among her tallest towers.’

  “O mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
  Still she spake on and still she spake of power,
  ’Which in all action is the end of all; 120
  Power fitted to the season; wisdom-bred
  And throned of wisdom—­from all neighbour crowns
  Alliance and allegiance, till thy hand
  Fail from the sceptre-staff.  Such boon from me,
  From me, Heaven’s Queen, Paris, to thee king-born, 125
  A shepherd all thy life but yet king-born,
  Should come most welcome, seeing men, in power
  Only, are likest gods, who have attain’d
  Rest in a happy place and quiet seats
  Above the thunder, with undying bliss 130
  In knowledge of their own supremacy.’

  “Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
  She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit
  Out at arm’s-length, so much the thought of power
  Flatter’d his spirit; but Pallas where she stood 135
  Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs
  O’erthwarted with the brazen-headed spear
  Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold,
  The while, above, her full and earnest eye
  Over her snow-cold breast and angry cheek 140
  Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply.

  “’Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control;
  These three alone lead life to sovereign power. 
  Yet not for power, (power of herself
  Would come uncall’d for) but to live by law, 145
  Acting the law we live by without fear;
  And, because right is right, to follow right
  Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.’

  “Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. 
  Again she said:  ’I woo thee not with gifts. 150
  Sequel of guerdon could not alter me
  To fairer.  Judge thou me by what I am,
  So shalt thou find me fairest. 
  Yet, indeed,
  If gazing on divinity disrobed
  Thy mortal eyes are frail to judge of fair, 155
  Unbias’d by self-profit, oh! rest thee sure
  That I shall love thee well and cleave to thee,