The Mask of Agamemnon

Pale gold, thin as card, shaped to a face
Heavy-lidded eyes like cowries, and a smile.
Not the faint ironic smile of a skull,
But a grin of power; satiated;
Having laid conscience to rest.
This face, not Helen’s, launched the thousand ships,
Murdered Iphigenia, burned Troy,
To avenge an insult to the family,
To not lose face.

Then, fixed in eternal gold,
Sent out of sight of man to darkness,
Unrotted in the grave; for endless years
Only the gods could see. To them it showed its grin
And the message: “This face was not lost:
“Through heroic genocide, and towns laid waste, this face was saved”.

And now is saved indeed
Since Schliemann dug it from the earth.
Placed now behind bullet-proof glass
Stronger than stone walls and Lion Gates
Under fluorescence far brighter
Than any sun of Hellas
Agamemnon, great king
Of mighty Mycenae
Once more in state
Triumphant over death as over morality
Immortalised in story as in gold
Still grinning. We repeat: this face was saved
Though nothing else was.
Troy was lost, and soon after
Mycenae also was lost, but this face was not lost.
What more could any king desire?