of Pirithous answered:

"In the House of Hades I dwell this day, and that thou seest is but a
shadow which goes with the shadow of the hero Theseus. For where he is
am I, and where he goes I go, and our very shadows are not sundered; but
we guard the beauty of Helen."

"Hail to thee, Aias, Telamon's son," cried the Wanderer. "Hast thou not
forgotten thy wrath against me, for the sake of those accursed arms that
I won from thee, the arms of Achilles, son of Peleus? For of old in the
House of Hades I spoke to thee, but thou wouldst not answer one word, so
heavy was thine anger."

Then the semblance of Aias made answer: "With iron upon iron, and the
stroke of bronze on bronze, would I answer thee, if I were yet a living
man and looked upon the sunlight. But I smite with a shadowy spear and
slay none but men foredoomed, and I am the shade of Aias who dwells in
Hades. Yet the Queen Persephone sent me forth to be the guard of the
beauty of Helen."

Then the Wanderer spake.

"Tell me, ye shadows of the sons of heroes, is the way closed, and do
the Gods forbid it, or may I that am yet a living man pass forward and
gaze on that ye guard, on the beauty of Helen?"

Then each of the three nodded with his head, and smote once upon his
shield, saying:

"Pass by, but look not back upon us, till thou hast seen thy desire."

Then the Wanderer went by, into the innermost chamber of the alabaster
shrine.

Now when the shadows had spoken thus, they grew dim and vanished, and
the Wanderer, as they had commanded, drew slowly up on the alabaster
shrine, till at length he stood on the hither side of the web upon
the loom. It was a great web, wide and high, and hid all the innermost
recesses of the shrine. Here he waited, not knowing how he should break
in upon the Hathor.

As he stood wondering thus his buckler slipped from his loosened hand
and clashed upon the marble floor, and as it clashed the voice of the
Hathor took up the broken song; and thus she sang ever more sweetly:--

Ghosts of the dead that have loved me, your love has been
vanquished by Death,
But unvanquished by 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?

None that may pass you unwounded, unscathed of invisible spears--
By the splendour of Zeus there is one,
And he comes, and my spirit is touched as Demeter is touched b