Won from the dust that once was Babylon;

But kind of mood was he withal, and mild,

And when his eyes on Argive Helen shone,

He loved her as a father doth a child.

Round him were set his peers, as Panthous,

Antenor, and Agenor, hardly grey,

Scarce touch'd as yet with age, nor garrulous

Such might they be when years had slipp'd away,