And soft shall be my words to him I hate.So speak I; but on whom my spell is setHe hears not, sees not, though so near I stand.She becomes invisible where she stands.Enter PARIS.PARIS.Ho, Hector! Brother! General of the land!Sleepest thou still? We need thy waking sight.Our guards have marked some prowler of the night,We know not if a mere thief or a spy.ATHENA becomes visible again, but seems changed and her voice softer.ATHENA.Have comfort thou! Doth not the Cyprian’s eyeMark all thy peril and keep watch aboveThy battles? How shall I forget the loveI owe thee, and thy faithful offices?To crown this day and all its victories,Lo, I have guided here to Troy a strongHelper, the scion of the Muse of songAnd Strymon’s flood, the crownèd stream of Thrace.PARIS.(standing like one in a dream)Indeed thy love is steadfast, and thy graceBounteous to Troy and me. Thou art the joyAnd jewel of my days, which I to TroyHave brought, and made thee hers.—O Cyprian,I heard, not clearly,—’twas some talk that ran