Remembering Mycenae

Much have I roamed through labyrinthine land,
Minding matters of man’s clandestine mien:
Myths marked by incipiency unseen,
‘Til modern minds usurp and reprimand.
Have I been told with brazen surety
Unwakeful sleep Achilles’ wrath conceived,
Or eagles passing o’er Gaia believed
To be but masks of strange obscurity?
But then I stood beneath the Lion Gate,
Where golden beasts reared fury from the stone,
That Cyclops fashioned with colossal weight;
And formed fallen King Agamemnon’s throne.
Alight my lips appeared winged-words to state,
“I remember yet, what I’ve surely known.”

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