h were gone, for no more blows fell, and his sword
only cut the air.

Then he rushed on and passed behind the veil and stood within the
shrine.

But as the curtains swung behind him the singing rose again upon the
air, and he might not move, but stood fixed with his eyes gazing where,
far up, a loom was set within the shrine. For the sound of the singing
came from behind the great web gleaming in the loom, the sound of the
song of Helen as she heard the swords clash and the ringing of the
harness of those whose knees were loosened in death. It was thus she
sang:

Clamour of iron on iron, and shrieking of steel upon steel,
Hark how they echo again!
Life with the dead is at war, and the mortals are shaken and reel,
The living are slain by the slain!

Clamour of iron on iron; like music that chimes with a song,
So with my life doth it chime,
And my footsteps must fall in the dance of Erinnys, a revel of
wrong,
Till the day of the passing of Time!

Ghosts of the dead that have loved me, your love have been
vanquished of death,
But unvanquished of death is your hate;
Say, is there none that may woo me and win me of all that draw
breath,
Not one but is envied of Fate?

Now the song died, and the Wanderer looked up, and before him stood
three shadows of mighty men clad in armour. He gazed upon them, and he
knew the blazons painted on their shields; he knew them for heroes long
dead--Pirithous, Theseus, and Aias.

They looked upon him, and then cried with one voice:

"Hail to thee, Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laertes!"

"Hail to thee," cried the Wanderer, "Theseus, AEgeus' son! Once before
didst thou go down into the House of Hades, and alive thou camest forth
again. Hast thou crossed yet again the stream of Ocean, and dost thou
live in the sunlight? For of old I sought thee and found thee not in the
House of Hades?"

The semblance of Theseus answered: "In the House of Hades I abide this
day, and in the fields of asphodel. But that thou seest is a shadow,
sent forth by Queen Persephone, to be the guard of the beauty of Helen."

"Hail to thee, Pirithous, Ixion's son," cried the Wanderer again. "Hast
thou yet won the dread Persephone to be thy love? And why doth Hades
give his rival holiday to wander in the sunlight, for of old I sought
thee, and found thee not in the House of Hades."

Then the semblance