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The wind now proving fair, the fleet made sail and brought the forces to the coast of Troy. The Trojans opposed their landing, and at the first onset one of the noblest of the Greeks, Protesilaus, fell by the hand of Hector. This Protesilaus had left at home his wife Laodamia (a niece of Alcestis), -- who was most tenderly attached to him. The story runs that when the news of his death reached her, she implored the gods for leave to converse with him if but for three hours. The request was granted. Mercury led Protesilaus back to the upper world; and when the hero died a second time Laodamia died with him. It is said that the nymphs planted elm trees round his grave, which flourished till they were high enough to command a view of Troy, then withered away, giving place to fresh branches that sprang from the roots.
Wordsworth has taken the story of Protesilaus and Laodamia for a poem invested with the atmosphere of the classics. The oracle, according to the tradition, had declared that victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall the first victim in the war. The poet represents Protesilaus, on his brief return to earth, relating to Laodamia the story of his fate:
"The wished-for wind was given: -- I then revolved
The oracle, upon the silent sea;
And, if no worthier led the way, resolved
That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be
The foremost prow in pressing to the strand,--
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.
"Yet bitter, of times bitter, was the pang
When of thy loss I thought, beloved Wife!
On thee too fondly did my memory hang,
And on the joys we shared in mortal life, --
The paths which we had trod -- these fountains, flowers,
My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers.
"But should suspense permit the foe to cry,
`Behold they tremble! -- haughty their array,
Yet of their number no one dares to die'?
In soul I swept the indignity away:
Old frailties then recurred: -- but lofty thought,
In act embodied, my deliverance wrought." . . .
. . . Upon the side
Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained)
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew
From out the tomb of him for whom she died;
And ever, when such stature they had gained
That Ilium's walls were subject to their view,
The trees' tall summits withered at the sight;
A constant interchange of growth and blight!
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