Menelaus on the Shores of Troy

In the realm of ancient lore, let me unfold,  
The tale of red-haired Menelaus, whose heart grew cold.  
Once a love he felt so pure, a flame that burned bright,
But alas, it turned to sorrow in the darkest night.  
   
Menelaus, a prince of noble blood,  
His love for Helen, like a mighty flood.  
Their union blessed, their bond divine,  
Yet fate and Gods had plans to sever the twine.  
   
Fair Helen, a beauty that none could ignore,  
Captivating hearts, a temptress to adore.  
But her bright eyes wandered, her heart astray,  
Towards handsome Paris, a prince who led white-armed Helen away.  
   
Dog-faced Menelaus, betrayed and filled with despair,  
His heartache grew, burdened beyond compare.  
A ten year war, was fought for her,  
And now he contemplates, what was it for?  
   
Memories of her face, divinely radiant and fresh as morning dew,  
Now haunted his dreams, tormenting him through.  
   
Her laughter, once sweet, now echoes his pain,  
As he envisions her with Paris, laughing in disdain.  
The betrayal, a knife through his shattered soul,  
Leaving him broken, his spirit paying the toll.  
   
Alone on the army camp beach, he rocks in his bed,
And he silently weeps, grieving guit for the dead.    
Oh, where could he find sweet Helen,  Goddess-woman so fair?  
In the arms of handsome Prince Paris, with his black lovelocks hair.