Henry Wadsworth Longfellow — Helen of Tyre

What phantom is this that appears Through the purple mist of the years,        &nbsp Itself but a mist like these? A woman of cloud and of fire; It is she; it is Helen of Tyre,        &nbsp The town in the midst of the seas. O Tyre! in thy crowded streets The phantom appears and retreats,        &nbsp And the Israelites that sell Thy lilies and lions of brass, Look up as they see her pass,        &nbsp And murmur "Jezebel!" Then another phantom is seen At her side, in a gray gabardine,        &nbsp With beard that floats to his waist; It is Simon Magus, the Seer; He speaks, and she pauses to hear        &nbsp The words he utters in haste. He says: "From this evil fame, From this life of sorrow and shame,        &nbsp I will lift thee and make thee mine; Thou hast been Queen Candace, And Helen of Troy, and shalt be        &nbsp The Intelligence Divine!" Oh, sweet as the breath of morn, To the fallen and forlorn        &nbsp Are whispered words of praise; For the famished heart believes The falsehood that tempts and deceives,        &nbsp And the promise that betrays. So she follows from land to land The wizard's beckoning hand,        &nbsp As a leaf is blown by the gust, Till she vanishes into night. O reader, stoop down and write        &nbsp With thy finger in the dust. O town in the midst of the seas, With thy rafts of cedar trees,        &nbsp Thy merchandise and thy ships, Thou, too, art become as naught, A phantom, a shadow, a thought,        &nbsp A name upon men's lips.