{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/eurip/helen.htm","path":"cla/eurip/helen.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/eurip/helen.htm","text":"Helen\nBy Euripides\nTranslated by E. P. Coleridge\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nDramatis Personae\nHELEN, wife Of MENELAUS\nTEUCER, a Greek warrior, who fought at Troy\nCHORUS OF CAPTIVE GREEK WOMEN, attending HELEN\nMENELAUS, King of Sparta\nPORTRESS of THEOCLYMENUS\nFIRST MESSENGER\nSECOND MESSENGER\nTHEONOE, sister of THEOCLYMENUS\nTHEOCLYMENUS, King of Egypt\nSERVANT of THEOCLYMENUS\nTHE DIOSCURI\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nBefore the palace of THEOCLYMENUS in Egypt. It is near the mouth of\nthe Nile. The tomb of Proteus, the father of THEOCLYMENUS is visible.\nHELEN is discovered alone before the tomb.\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nHELEN Lo! These are the fair virgin streams of Nile, the river that\nwaters Egypt's tilth, fed by pure melting snow instead of rain from\nheaven. Proteus during his life-time was king of this land, dwelling\nin the isle of Pharos, and ruling o'er Egypt; and he took to wife\none of the daughters of the sea, Psamathe, after she left the embraces\nof Aeacus. Two children she bare in this his palace, a son Theoclymenus,\nwho hath passed his life in duteous service to the gods, and likewise\na noble daughter, her mother's pride, called Eido in her infancy,\nbut when she reached her youthful prime, the age for wedded joys,\nrenamed Theonoe; for well she knew whate'er the gods design, both\npresent and to come, for she had won this guerdon from her grandsire\nNereus. Nor is my fatherland unknown to fame, e'en Sparta, or my sire\nTyndareus; for a legend tells how Zeus winged his way to my mother\nLeda's breast, in the semblance of a bird, even a swan, and thus as\nhe fled from an eagle's pursuit, achieved by guile his amorous purpose,\nif this tale be true. My name is Helen, and I will now recount the\nsorrows I have suffered. To a hollow vale on Ida came three goddesses\nto Paris, for beauty's prize contending, Hera and Cypris, and the\nvirgin child of Zeus, eager to secure his verdict on their loveliness.\nNow Cypris held out my beauty,-if aught so wretched deserves that\nname,-as a bride before the eyes of Paris, saying he should marry\nme; and so she won the day; wherefore the shepherd of Ida left his\nsteading, and came to Sparta, thinking to win me for his bride. But\nHera, indignant at not defeating the goddesses, brought to naught\nmy marriage with Paris, and gave to Priam's princely son not Helen,\nbut a phantom endowed with life, that she made in my image out of\nthe breath of heaven; and Paris thought that I was his, although I\nnever was,-an idle fancy! Moreover, the counsels of Zeus added further\ntroubles unto these; for upon the land of Hellas and the hapless Phrygians\nhe brought a war, that he might lighten mother-earth of her myriad\nhosts of men, and to the bravest of the sons of Hellas bring renown.\nSo I was set up as a prize for all the chivalry of Hellas, to test\nthe might of Phrygia, yet not I, but my name alone; for Hermes caught\nme up in the embracing air, and veiled me in a cloud; for Zeus was\nnot unmindful of me; and he set me down here in the house of Proteus,\njudging him to be the most virtuous of all mankind; that so I might\npreserve my marriage with Menelaus free from taint. Here then I abide,\nwhile my hapless lord has gathered an army, and is setting out for\nthe towers of Ilium to track and recover me. And there by Scamander's\nstreams hath many a life breathed out its last, and all for me; and\nI, that have endured all this, am accursed, and seem to have embroiled\nall Hellas in a mighty war by proving a traitress to my husband. Why,\nthen, do I prolong my life? Because I heard Hermes declare, that I\nshould yet again make my home on Sparta's glorious soil, with my lord,-for\nHermes knew I never went to Ilium,-that so I might never submit to\nany other's wooing. Now as long as Proteus gazed upon yon glorious\nsun, I was safe from marriage; but when o'er him the dark grave closed,\nthe dead man's son was eager for my hand. But I, from regard to my\nformer husband, am throwing myself down in suppliant wise before this\ntomb of Proteus, praying him to guard my husband's honour, that, though\nthrough Hellas I bear a name dishonoured, at least my body here may\nnot incur disgrace. (TEUCER enters.)\nTEUCER Who is lord and master of this fenced palace? The house is\none I may compare to the halls of Plutus, with its royal bulwarks\nand towering buildings. Ha! great gods! what sight is here? I see\nthe counterfeit of that fell murderous dame, who ruined me and all\nthe Achaeans. May Heaven show its loathing for thee, so much dost\nthou resemble Helen! Were I not standing on a foreign soil, with this\nwell-aimed shaft had worked thy death, thy reward for resembling the\ndaughter of Zeus.\nHELEN Oh! why, poor man, whoe'er thou art, dost thou turn from me,\nloathing me for those troubles Helen caused?\nTEUCER I was wrong; I yielded to my anger more than I ought; my reason\nwas, the hate all Hellas bears to that daughter of Zeus. Pardon me,\nlady, for the words I uttered.\nHELEN Who art thou? whence comest thou to visit this land?\nTEUCER One of those hapless Achaeans am I, lady.\nHELEN No wonder then that thou dost bate Helen. But say, who art\nthou? Whence comest? By what name am I to call thee?\nTEUCER My name is Teucer; my sire was Telamon, and Salamis is the\nland that nurtured me.\nHELEN Then why art thou visiting these meadows by the Nile?\nTEUCER A wanderer I, an exile from my native land.\nHELEN Thine must be a piteous lot; who from thy country drives thee\nout?\nTEUCER My father Telamon. Couldst find a nearer and a dearer?\nHELEN But why? This case is surely fraught with woe.\nTEUCER The death of Ajax my brother at Troy was my ruin.\nHELEN How so? surely 'twas not thy sword that stole his life away?\nTEUCER He threw himself on his own blade and died.\nHELEN Was he mad? for who with sense endowed would bring himself\nto this?\nTEUCER Dost thou know aught of Achilles. son of Peleus?\nHELEN He came, so I have heard, to woo Helen once.\nTEUCER When he died, he left his arms for his comrades to contest.\nHELEN Well, if he did, what harm herein to Ajax?\nTEUCER When another won these arms, to himself he put an end.\nHELEN Art thou then a sufferer by woes that he inflicted?\nTEUCER Yes, because I did not join him in his death.\nHELEN So thou camest, sir stranger, to Ilium's famous town?\nTEUCER Aye, and, after helping to sack it, myself did learn what\nruin meant.\nHELEN Is Troy already fired and utterly by flames consumed?\nTEUCER Yea, so that not so much as one vestige of her walls is now\nto be seen.\nHELEN Woe is thee, poor Helen! thou art the cause of Phrygia's ruin.\nTEUCER And of Achaea's too. Ah! 'tis a tale of grievous misery!\nHELEN How long is it since the city was sacked?\nTEUCER Nigh seven fruitful seasons have come and gone.\nHELEN And how much longer did ye abide in Troy?\nTEUCER Many a weary month, till through ten full years the moon had\nheld her course.\nHELEN And did ye capture that Spartan dame?\nTEUCER Menelaus caught her by the hair, and was for dragging her\naway.\nHELEN Didst thou thyself behold that unhappy one? or art thou speaking\nfrom hearsay?\nTEUCER As plain as I now see thee, I then saw her.\nHELEN Consider whether ye were but indulging an idle fancy sent by\nheaven.\nTEUCER Bethink thee of some other topic; no more of her!\nHELEN Are you so sure this fancy was reliable?\nTEUCER With these eyes I saw her face to face, if so be I see thee\nnow.\nHELEN Hath Menelaus reached his home by this time with his wife?\nTEUCER No; he is neither in Argos, nor yet by the streams of Eurotas.\nHELEN Ah me! here is evil news for those to whom thou art telling\nit.\nTEUCER 'Tis said he disappeared with his wife.\nHELEN Did not all the Argives make the passage together?\nTEUCER Yes: but a tempest scattered them in every direction.\nHELEN In what quarter of the broad ocean?\nTEUCER They were crossing the Aegean in mid channel.\nHELEN And after that, doth no man know of Menelaus' arrival?\nTEUCER No; none; but through Hellas is he reported to be dead.\nHELEN Then am I lost. Is the daughter of Thestius alive?\nTEUCER Dost speak of Leda? She is dead; aye, dead and gone.\nHELEN Was it Helen's shame that caused her death?\nTEUCER Aye, 'tis said she tied the noose about her noble neck.\nHELEN Are the sons of Tyndareus still alive or not?\nTEUCER Dead, and yet alive: 'tis a double story.\nHELEN Which is the more credible report? Woe is me for my sorrows!\nTEUCER Men say that they are gods in the likeness of stars.\nHELEN That is happy news; but what is the other rumour?\nTEUCER That they by self-inflicted wounds gave up the ghost because\nof their sister's shame. But enough of such talk! I have no wish to\nmultiply my griefs. The reason of my coming to this royal palace was\na wish to see that famous prophetess Theonoe. Do thou the means afford,\nthat I from her may obtain an oracle how I shall steer a favourable\ncourse to the sea-girt shores of Cyprus; for there Apollo hath declared\nmy home shall be, giving to it the name of Salamis, my island home,\nin honour of that fatherland across the main.\nHELEN That shall the voyage itself explain, sir stranger; but do\nthou leave these shores and fly, ere the son of Proteus, the ruler\nof this land, catch sight of thee. Now is he away with his trusty\nhounds tracking his savage quarry to the death; for every stranger\nthat he catcheth from the land of Hellas doth he slay. His reason\nnever ask to know; my lips are sealed; for what could word of mine\navail thee?\nTEUCER Lady, thy words are fair. Heaven grant thee a fair requital\nfor this kindness! For though in form thou dost resemble Helen, thy\nsoul is not like hers, nay, very different. Perdition seize her! May\nshe never reach the streams of Eurotas! But thine be joy for evermore,\nlady! (TEUCER departs. The CHORUS OF CAPTIVE GREEK WOMEN enter. They\nsing responsively with HELEN.)\nHELEN Ah me! what piteous dirge shall I strive to utter, now that\nI am beginning my strain of bitter lamentation? What Muse shall I\napproach with tears or songs of death or woe? Ah me! ye Sirens, Earth's\nvirgin daughters, winged maids, come, oh! come to aid my mourning,\nbringing with you the Libyan flute or pipe, to waft to Persephone's\near a tearful plaint, the echo of my sorrow, with grief for grief,\nand mournful chant for chant, with songs of death and doom to match\nmy lamentation, that in return she may receive from me, besides my\ntears, dirges for the departed dead beneath her gloomy roof!\nCHORUS Beside the deep-blue water I chanced to be hanging purple\nrobes along the tendrils green and on the sprouting reeds, to dry\nthem in the sun-god's golden blaze, when lo! I heard a sound of woe,\na mournful wail, the voice of one crying aloud in her anguish; yea,\nsuch a cry of woe as Naiad nymph might send ringing o'er the hills,\nwhile to her cry the depths of rocky grots re-echo her screams at\nthe violence of Pan.\nHELEN Woe! woe! ye maids of Hellas, booty of barbarian sailors! one\nhath come, an Achaean mariner, bringing fresh tears to me, the news\nof Ilium's overthrow, how that it is left to the mercy of the foeman's\nflame, and all for me the murderess, or for my name with sorrow fraught.\nWhile for anguish at my deed of shame, hath Leda sought her death\nby hanging; and on the deep, to weary wandering doomed my lord hath\nmet his end; and Castor and his brother, twin glory of their native\nland, are vanished from men's sight, leaving the plains that shook\nto their galloping steeds, and the course beside reed-fringed Eurotas,\nwhere those youthful athletes strove.\nCHORUS Ah, misery! Alas! for thy grievous destiny! Woe for thy sad\nlot, lady! Ah! 'twas a day of sorrow meted out for thee when Zeus\ncame glancing through the sky on snowy pinions like a swan and won\nthy mother's heart. What evil is not thine? Is there a grief in life\nthat thou hast not endured? Thy mother is dead; the two dear sons\nof Zeus have perished miserably, and thou art severed from thy country's\nsight, while through the towns of men a rumour runs, consigning thee,\nmy honoured mistress, to a barbarian's bed; and 'mid the ocean waves\nthy lord hath lost his life, and never, never more shalt thou fill\nwith joy thy father's halls or Athena's temple of the \"Brazen House.\"\nHELEN Ah! who was that Phrygian, who was he, that felled that pine\nwith sorrow fraught for Ilium, and for those that came from Hellas?\nHence it was that Priam's son his cursed barque did build, and sped\nby barbarian oars sailed unto my home, in quest of beauty, woman's\ncurse, to win me for his bride; and with him sailed the treacherous\nqueen of Love, on slaughter bent, with death alike for Priam's sons,\nand Danai too. Ah me! for my hard lot! Next, Hera, stately bride of\nZeus, seated on her golden throne, sent the son of Maia, swift of\nfoot, who caught me up as I was gathering fresh rose-buds in the folds\nof my robe, that I might go to the \"Brazen House,\" and bore me through\nthe air to this loveless land, making me an object of unhappy strife\n'twixt Hellas and the race of Priam. And my name is but a sound without\nreality beside the streams of Simois.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Well I know thou hast a bitter lot to bear;\nstill 'tis best to bear as lightly as we may the ills that life is\nheir to.\nHELEN Good friends, to what a fate am I united? Did not my mother\nbear me to be a monster to the world? For no woman, Hellene or barbarian,\ngives birth to babes in eggs inclosed, as they say Leda bare me to\nZeus. My life and all I do is one miracle, partly owing to Hera, and\npartly is my beauty to blame. Would God I could rub my beauty out\nlike a picture, and assume hereafter in its stead a form less comely,\nand oh! that Hellas had forgotten the evil fate that now I bear, and\nwere now remembering my career of honour as surely as they do my deeds\nof shame. Now, if a man doth turn his eyes to a single phase of fortune,\nand meets ill-usage at heaven's hands, 'tis hard no doubt; but still\nit can be borne; but I in countless troubles am involved. First, although\nI never sinned, my good name is gone. And this is a grief beyond the\nreality, if a man incurs blame for sins that are not his. Next, have\nthe gods removed me from my native land, to dwell with men of barbarous\nways, and reft of every friend, I arn become a slave though free by\nbirth; for amongst barbarians all are slaves but one. And the last\nanchor that held my fortunes, the hope that my husband would return\none day, and rid me of my woes, is now no more, lost since the day\nhe died. My mother too is dead, and I am called her murderess, unjustly\nit is true, but still that injustice is mine to bear; and she that\nwas the glory of my house, my darling child, is growing old and grey,\nunwedded still; and those twin brethren, called the sons of Zeus,\nare now no more. But 'tis fortune, not my own doing, that hath crushed\nme with sorrow and slain me. And this is the last evil of all; if\never I come to my native land. they will shut me up in prison, thinking\nme that Helen of Ilium, in quest of whom Menelaus came thither. Were\nmy husband still alive, we might have recognized each other, by having\nrecourse to tokens which ourselves alone would know. But now this\nmay not be, nor is there any chance of his escape. Why then do I prolong\nmy life? What fortune have I still in store? Shall I choose marriage\nas an alternative of evils, and dwell with a barbarian lord, seated\nat his sumptuous board? No! when a husband she loathes is mated with\na woman, even life is loathly to her. Best for her to die; but how\nshall I die a noble death? The dangling noose is an uncomely end;\neven slaves consider it disgrace; to stab oneself hath something fair\nand. noble in it; 'tis a small thing that moment of ridding the flesh\nof life. Yes, it must be; I am plunged so deep in misery; for that\nbeauty, which to other women is a boon, to me hath been a very bane.\nLEADER Helen, never believe that the stranger, whoe'er he was that\ncame, has spoken naught but truth.\nHELEN Yet he said so clearly that my lord was dead.\nLEADER There is much that falsehood seems to make quite clear.\nHELEN The word of truth hath a very different sound to falsehood.\nLEADER Thou art inclined to misfortune, rather than to luck.\nHELEN Fear girds me with terrors as with a garment, and takes me\nin her train.\nLEADER What friends hast thou within the palace?\nHELEN All are my friends here save him who seeks to wed-me.\nLEADER Thy action then is clear; leave thy seat at the tomb.\nHELEN To what words or advice art thou leading up?\nLEADER Go in and question the daughter of the ocean Nereid, who knoweth\nall things, even Theonoe, whether thy husband is still alive, or whether\nhe hath left the light of day; and when thou knowest for certain,\nbe glad or sorrowful, as fits thy fortune. But before thou hast right\nknowledge, what shall sorrow avail thee? Nay, hearken to me; leave\nthis tomb and seek the maiden's company, that she may tell thee the\ntruth, for from her shalt thou learn all. If thou abide here in this\nseat, what prospect hast thou? And I will myself go in with thee,\nand with thee inquire of the maiden's oracles; for 'tis a woman's\nbounden duty to share a sister's trouble. (The following lines are\nchanted responsively by HELEN and the CHORUS.)\nHELEN Kind friends, I welcome your advice. Come in, come in, that\nye may learn the result of my struggle within the palace.\nCHORUS Thy invitation comes to very willing ears.\nHELEN Woe for this heavy day! Ah me! what mournful tidings shall\nhear?\nCHORUS Dear mistress mine, be not a prophetess of sorrow, forestalling\nlamentation.\nHELEN What is the fate of my poor husband? Doth he still behold the\nlight turning towards the sun-god's chariot and the stars in their\ncourses? Or among the dead, beneath the earth, is he to death consigned?\nCHORUS Of the future take a brighter view, whatever shall betide.\nHELEN On thee I call, and thee adjure, Eurotas green with river-reeds,\nto tell me if this rumour of my husband's death be true.\nCHORUS What boots this meaningless appeal?\nHELEN About my neck will I fasten the deadly noose from above, or\ndrive the murderous knife with self-aimed thrust deep into my throat\nto sever it, striving to cut my flesh, a sacrifice to those goddesses\nthree and to that son of Priam, who in days gone by would wake the\nmusic of his pipe around his steading.\nCHORUS Oh may sorrow be averted otherwhither, and thou be blest!\nHELEN Woe is thee, unhappy Troy! Thou through deeds not done by the\nart ruined, and hast suffered direst woe; for the gift that Cypris\ngave to me, hath caused a sea of blood to flow, and many an eye to\nweep, with grief on grief and tear on tear. All this hath Ilium suffered\nand mothers have lost their children; and virgin sisters of the slain\nhave cut off their tresses by the swollen tide of Phrygian Scamander.\nAnd the land of Hellas hath lifted her voice of woe and broken forth\nin wailing, smiting on her head, and making tender cheeks to stream\nwith gore beneath the rending nail. Ah blest maid Callisto, who long\nago in Arcady didst find favour with Zeus, in the semblance of beast\nfour-footed, how much happier was thy lot than my mother's, for thou\nhast changed the burden of thy grief and now with savage eye art weeping\no'er thy shaggy monster-shape; aye, and hers was a happier lot, whom\non a day Artemis drove from her choir, changed to a hind with horns\nof gold, the fair Titanian maid, daughter of Merops, because of her\nbeauty; but my fair form hath proved the curse of Dardan Troy and\ndoomed Achaea's sons. (HELEN and the CHORUS go into the palace. After\nthe doors have closed upon them, MENELAUS enters. He is alone and\nclad in rags.)\nMENELAUS Ah! Pelops, easy victor long ago o'er thy rival Oenomaus\nin the chariot-race on Pisa's plain, would thou hadst ended thy career\namongst the gods that day thou wert beguiled into making a banquet\nfor them, or ever thou hadst begotten my father Atreus, to whom were\nborn by Aerope his wife, Agamemnon and myself Menelaus, an illustrious\npair; and herein I make no idle boast, for 'twas a mighty host, I\ntrow, that I their leader carried o'er the sea to Troy, using no violence\nto make them follow me, but leading all the chivalry of Hellas by\nvoluntary consent. And some of these must we number 'mid the slain,\nand some to their joy have 'scaped the sea, bearing to their homes\nagain names long reckoned dead. But I, poor wretch, go wandering o'er\ngrey Ocean's swell a weary space, long as that which saw me sick the\ntowers of Ilium; and for all my longing to reach my country I am not\ncounted worthy of this boon by heaven, but to Libya's desert cheerless\nroadsteads have I sailed, to each and all of them; and whensoe'er\nI draw me near my native land, the storm-wind drives me back again,\nand never yet have favouring breezes filled my sails, to let me reach\nmy fatherland. And now a wretched, shipwrecked mariner, my friends\nall lost, am I cast up upon this shore; and my ship is shattered in\na thousand pieces against the rocks; and its keel was wrested from\nits cunning fastenings; thereon did I with difficulty escape, most\nunexpectedly, and Helen also, for her had I rescued from Troy and\nhad with me. But the name of this country and its people I know not;\nfor I blushed to mingle with the crowd to question them, anxious for\nvery shame to hide my misfortunes which reduce me to these sorry rags.\nFor when a man of high degree meets with adversity, he feels the strangeness\nof his fallen state more keenly than a sufferer of long standing.\nDire want is wasting me; for I have neither food, nor raiment to gird\nmyself withal; behold the facts before you to judge from-I am clad\nin tatters cast up from the ship; while all the robes I once did wear,\nglorious attire and ornaments, bath the sea swallowed; and in a cavern's\ndeep recesses have I hidden my wife, the cause of all my trouble,\nand have come hither, after straitly charging the survivors of my\nfriends to watch her. Alone am I come, seeking for those there left\nsome help, if haply I may find it after careful search. So when I\nsaw this palace girt with towering walls and stately gates of some\nprosperous lord, I drew nigh; for I have hope to obtain somewhat for\nmy sailors from this wealthy house, whereas from houses which have\nno store, the inmates for all their goodwill could furnish naught.\nHo! there, who keeps the gate and will come forth to bear my tale\nof woe into the house? (A PORTRESS comes out of the palace in answer\nto his call.)\nPORTRESS Who stands before the door? Begone from the housel stand\nnot at the court-yard gate, annoying my masters! otherwise shalt thou\ndie, for thou art a Hellene born. and with them have we no dealings.\nMENELAUS Mother, herein sayest thou rightly on all points. 'Tis well;\nI will obey; but moderate thy words.\nPORTRESS Away! stranger, my orders are to admit no Hellene to this\npalace.\nMENELAUS Ha! do not seek to push me hence, or thrust me away by violence.\nPORTRESS Thou dost not heed my words, and therefore hast thyself\nto blame.\nMENELAUS Carry my message to thy master in the palace.\nPORTRESS Some one would rue it, methinks, were I to take thy message.\nMENELAUS I come as a shipwrecked man and a stranger, whom heaven\nprotects.\nPORTRESS Well, get thee to some other house than this.\nMENELAUS Nay, but I will pass into the house; so listen to me.\nPORTRESS Let me tell thee thou art unwelcome, and soon wilt be forcibly\nejected.\nMENELAUS Ah me! where are now those famous troops of mine?\nPORTRESS Elsewhere maybe thou wert a mighty man; thou art not here.\nMENELAUS O fortune! I have not deserved such insult.\nPORTRESS Why are thy eyes with tear-drops wet? Why so sad?\nMENELAUS 'Tis the contrast with my fortunes erst so blest.\nPORTRESS Hence! then, and give thy friends those tears.\nMENELAUS What land is this? whose is the palace?\nPORTRESS Proteus lives here. It is the land of Egypt.\nMENELAUS Egypt? Woe is me! to think that hither I have sailed!\nPORTRESS Pray, what fault hast thou to find with the race of Nile?\nMENELAUS 'Twas no fault I found; my own disasters I lament.\nPORTRESS There be plenty in evil case; thou art not the only one.\nMENELAUS Is the king, of whom thou speakest, here within?\nPORTRESS There is his tomb; his son rules in his stead.\nMENELAUS And where may he be? abroad, or in the house?\nPORTRESS He is not within. To Hellas is he a bitter foe.\nMENELAUS His reason, pray, for this enmity? the results whereof I\nhave experienced.\nPORTRESS Beneath this roof dwells the daughter of Zeus, Helen.\nMENELAUS What mean'st thou? what is it thou hast said? Repeat, I\npray, thy words.\nPORTRESS The daughter of Tyndareus is here, who erst in Sparta dwelt.\nMENELAUS Whence came she? What means this business?\nPORTRESS She came from Lacedaemon hither.\nMENELAUS When? Surely I have never been robbed of my wife from the\ncave!\nPORTRESS Before the Achaeans went to Troy, sir stranger. But get\nthee hence; for somewhat hath chanced within, whereat the whole palace\nis in an uproar. Thou comest most unseasonably; and if my master catch\nthee, death will be thy stranger's gift. This say I, because to Hellas\nI am well disposed, albeit I gave thee harsh answers for fear of my\nmaster. (The PORTRESS goes back into the palace.)\nMENELAUS What can I think or say? For after my previous troubles,\nthis is a fresh piece of ill-luck I hear, if, indeed, after recovering\nmy wife from Troy and bringing her hither, and putting her for safety\nin the cave, I am then to find another woman living here with the\nsame name as my wife. She called her the begotten child of Zeus. Can\nthere be a man that hath the name of Zeus by the banks of Nile? The\nZeus of heaven is only one, at any rate. Where is there a Sparta in\nthe world save where Eurotas glides between his reedy banks? The name\nof Tyndareus is the name of one alone. Is there any land of the same\nname as Lacedaemon or Troy? I know not what to say; for naturally\nthere are many in the wide world that have the same names, cities\nand women too; there is nothing, then, to marvel at. Nor yet again\nwill I fly from the alarm a servant raises; for there is none so cruel\nof heart as to refuse me food when once he hears my name. All have\nheard of Ilium's burning, and I, that set it ablaze, am famous now\nthroughout the world, I, Menelaus. I therefore wait the master of\nthis house. There are two issues I must watch; if he prove somewhat\nstern of heart, I will to my wreck and there conceal myself; but if\nhe show any sign of pity, I will ask for help in this my present strait.\nThis is the crowning woe in all my misery, to beg the means of life\nfrom other princes, prince though I be myself; still needs must I.\nYea, this is no saying of mine, but a word of wisdom, \"Naught in might\nexceedeth dread necessity.\" (HELEN and the CHORUS enter from the\npalace. They do not notice MENELAUS.)\nCHORUS (singing) I have heard the voice of the maiden inspired.\nClear is the answer she hath vouchsafed within yon palace, declaring\nthat Menelaus is not yet dead and buried, passed to the land of shades,\nwhere darkness takes the place of light; but on the stormy main is\nwearing out his life, nor yet hath reached the haven of his country,\na wanderer dragging out a piteous existence, reft of every friend,\nsetting foot in every corner of the world, as he voyageth home from\nTroy.\nHELEN Lo! once again I seek the shelter of this tomb, with Theonoe's\nsweet tidings in my ears; she that knoweth all things of a truth;\nfor she saith my lord is yet alive and in the light of day, albeit\nhe is roaming to and fro after many a weary voyage, and hither shall\nhe come whenso he reach the limit of his toils, no novice in the wanderer's\nlife. But one thing did she leave unsaid. Is he to escape when he\nhath come? And I refrained from asking that question clearly, so glad\nwas I when she told me he was safe. For she said that he was somewhere\nnigh this shore, cast up by shipwreck with a handful of friends. Ah!\nwhen shall I see thee come? How welcome will thy advent be! (She\ncatches sight of MENELAUS.) Ha! who is this? Am I being snared by\nsome trick of Proteus' impious son? Oh! let me, like a courser at\nits speed, or a votary of Bacchus, approach the tomb! for there is\nsomething wild about this fellow's looks, who is eager to o'ertake\nme.\nMENELAUS Ho there! thou that with fearful effort seekest to reach\nthe basement of the tomb and the pillars of burnt sacrifice, stay\nthee. Wherefore art flying? Ah! with what speechless amaze the sight\nof thee affects me!\nHELEN O friends! I am being ill-treated. This man is keeping me from\nthe tomb, and is eager to take and give me to his master, whose wooing\nI was seeking to avoid.\nMENELAUS No robber I, or minister of evil.\nHELEN At any rate the garb wherein thou art clad is unseemly.\nMENELAUS Stay thy hasty flight; put fear aside.\nHELEN I do so, now that I have reached this spot.\nMENELAUS Who art thou? whom do I behold in thee, lady?\nHELEN Nay, who art thou? The self-same reason prompts us both.\nMENELAUS never saw a closer resemblance.\nHELEN Great God! Yea, for to recognize our friends is of God.\nMENELAUS Art thou from Hellas, or a native of this land?\nHELEN From Hellas; but I would learn thy story too.\nMENELAUS Lady, in thee I see a wondrous likeness to Helen.\nHELEN And I in thee to Menelaus; I know not what to say.\nMENELAUS Well, thou hast recognized aright a man of many sorrows.\nHELEN Hail! to thy wife's arms restored at last!\nMENELAUS Wife indeed! Lay not a finger on my robe.\nHELEN The wife that Tyndareus, my father, gave thee.\nMENELAUS O Hecate, giver of light, send thy visions favourably!\nHELEN In me thou beholdest no spectre of the night, attendant on\nthe queen of phantoms.\nMENELAUS Nor yet am I in my single person the husband of two wives.\nHELEN What other woman calls thee lord?\nMENELAUS The inmate of yonder cave, whom I from Troy convey.\nHELEN Thou hast none other wife but me.\nMENELAUS Can it be my mind is wandering, my sight failing?\nHELEN Dost not believe thou seest in me thy wife?\nMENELAUS Thy form resembles her, but the real truth robs me of this\nbelief.\nHELEN Observe me well; what need hast thou of clearer proof?\nMENELAUS Thou art like her; that will I never deny.\nHELEN Who then shall teach thee, unless it be thine own eyes?\nMENELAUS Herein is my dilemma; I have another wife.\nHELEN To Troy I never went; that was a phantom.\nMENELAUS Pray, who fashions living bodies?\nHELEN The air, whence thou hast a wife of heaven's workmanship.\nMENELAUS What god's handiwork? Strange is the tale thou tellest.\nHELEN Hera made it as a substitute, to keep me from Paris.\nMENELAUS How then couldst thou have been here, and in Troy, at the\nsame time?\nHELEN The name may be in many a place at once, though not the body.\nMENELAUS Unhand me! the sorrows I brought with me suffice.\nHELEN What! wilt leave me, and take that phantom bride away?\nMENELAUS For thy likeness unto Helen, fare thee well.\nHELEN Ruined! in thee I found my lord only to lose thee.\nMENELAUS The greatness of my troubles at Troy convinces me; thou\ndost not.\nHELEN Ah, woe is me! who was ever more unfortunate than I? Those\nwhom I love best are leaving me, nor shall I ever reach Hellas, my\nown dear native land. (The FIRST MESSENGER enters in haste.)\nMESSENGER At last I find thee, Menelaus, after an anxious search,\nnot till I have evandered through the length and breadth of this foreign\nstrand; I am sent by thy comrades, whom thou didst leave behind.\nMENELAUS What news? surely you are not being spoiled by the barbarians?\nMESSENGER A miracle hath happened; my words are too weak for the\nreality.\nMENELAUS Speak; for judging by this haste, thou hast stirring news.\nMESSENGER My message is: thy countless toils have all been toiled\nin vain.\nMENELAUS That is an old tale of woe to mourn! come, thy news?\nMESSENGER Thy wife hath disappeared, soaring away into the embracing\nair; in heaven she now is hidden, and as she left the hollowed cave\nwhere we were guarding her, she hailed us thus, \"Ye hapless Phrygians,\nand all Achaea's race! for me upon Scamander's strand by Hera's arts\nye died from day to day, in the false belief that Helen was in the\nhands of Paris. But I, since I have stayed my appointed time, and\nkept the laws of fate, will now depart unto the sky that gave me birth;\nbut the unhappy daughter of Tyndareus, through no fault of hers, hath\nborne an evil name without reason.\" (Catching Sight of HELEN) Daughter\nof Leda, hail to thee, so thou art here after all! I was just announcing\nthy departure to the hidden starry realms, little knowing that thou\ncouldst fly at will. I will not a second time let thee flout us thus,\nfor thou didst cause tiki lord and his comrades trouble all for naught\nin Ilium.\nMENELAUS This is even what she said; her words are proved true; O\nlonged-for day, how hath it restored thee to my arms!\nHELEN O Menelaus, dearest husband, the time of sorrow has been long,\nbut joy is now ours at last. Ah, friends, what joy for me to hold\nmy husband in a fond embrace after many a weary cycle of yon blazing\nlamp of day!\nMENELAUS What joy for me to hold my wife! but with all that I would\nask about these years, I now know not where I may first begin.\nHELEN O rapture! the very hair upon my head starts up for joy! my\ntears run down! Around thy neck I fling my arms, dear husband, to\nhug my joy to me.\nMENELAUS O happy, happy sight! I have no fault to find; my wife,\nhe daughter of Zeus and Leda, is mine again, she whom her brothers\non their snow-white steeds, whilst torches blazed, made my happy bride,\nbut gods removed her from my home. Now is the deity guiding us to\na new destiny, happier than of yore.\nHELEN Evil into good transformed hath brought us twain together at\nlast, dear husband; but late though it be, God grant me joy of my\ngood luck!\nMENELAUS God grant thee joy! I join thee in the self-same prayer;\nfor of us twain one cannot suffer without the other.\nHELEN No more, my friends, I mourn the past; no longer now I grieve.\nMy own dear husband is restored to me, whose coming from Troy I have\nwaited many a long year.\nMENELAUS I to thee, and thou to me. And after these long, long years\nI have at last discovered the fraud of the goddess. But these tears,\nin gladness shed, are tears of thankfulness rather than of sorrow.\nHELEN What can I say? What mortal heart could e'er have had such\nhope? To my bosom I press thee, little as I ever thought to.\nMENELAUS And I to mine press thee, who all men thought hadst gone\nto Ida's town and the hapless towers of Ilium.\nHELEN Ah me! ah me! that is a bitter subject to begin on.\nMENELAUS Tell me, I adjure thee, how wert thou from my home conveyed?\nHELEN Alas! alas! 'tis a bitter tale thou askest to hear.\nMENELAUS Speak, for I must hear it; all that comes is Heaven's gift.\nHELEN I loathe the story I am now to tell.\nMENELAUS Tell it for all that. 'Tis sweet to hear of trouble past.\nHELEN I ne'er set forth to be the young barbarian's bride, with oars\nand wings of lawless love to speed me on my way.\nMENELAUS What deity or fate tore thee from thy country, then?\nHELEN Ah, my lord! 'twas Hermes, the son of Zeus, that brought and\nplaced me by the banks of Nile.\nMENELAUS A miracle! Who sent thee thither? O monstrous story!\nHELEN I wept, and still my eyes are wet with tears. 'Twas the wife\nof Zeus that ruined me.\nMENELAUS Hera? wherefore should she afflict us twain?\nHELEN Woe is me for my awful fate! Woe for those founts and baths\nwhere the goddesses made brighter still that beauty, which evoked\nthe fatal verdict!\nMENELAUS Why did Hera visit thee with evil regarding this verdict?\nHELEN To wrest the promise of Cypris-\nMENELAUS How now? Say on.\nHELEN From Paris, to whom that goddess pledged me.\nMENELAUS Woe for thee!\nHELEN And so she brought me hither to Egypt to my sorrow.\nMENELAUS Then she gave him a phantom in thy stead, as thou tellest\nme?\nHELEN And then began those woes of thine, ah, mother! woe is me!\nMENELAUS What meanest thou?\nHELEN My mother is no more; my shameful marriage made her fix the\nnoose about her neck.\nMENELAUS Ah me! is our daughter Hermione yet alive?\nHELEN Still unwed, childless still, she mourns my fatal marriage.\nMENELAUS O Paris, who didst utterly o'erthrow my home, here was thy\nruin too and theirs, those countless mail-clad Danai.\nHELEN From my country, city, and from thee heaven cast me forth unhappy\nand accursed, because I left,-and yet not I,-home and husband for\nunion of foul shame.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS If haply ye find happiness in the future, it\nwill suffice when to the past ye look.\nMESSENGER Menelaus, grant me too a portion of that joy which, though\nmine own eyes see, I scarcely comprehend.\nMENELAUS Come then, old friend, and share with us our talk.\nMESSENGER Was it not then in her power to decide all the trouble\nin Troy?\nMENELAUS It was not; I was tricked by the gods into taking to my\narms a misty phantom-form, to my sorrow.\nMESSENGER How so? was it then for this we vainly toiled?\nMENELAUS 'Twas Hera's handiwork, and the jealousy of three goddesses.\nMESSENGER Is this real woman, then, thy wife?\nMENELAUS This is she; trust my word for that.\nMESSENGER Daughter, how changeful and inscrutable is the nature of\nGod! With some good end doth he vary men's fortune-now up, now down;\none suffers; another who ne'er knew suffering, is in his turn to awful\nruin brought, having no assurance in his lot from day to day. Thou\nand thy husband have had your share of trouble-thou in what the world\nhas said, he in battle's heat. For all the striving that he strove,\nhe got him naught; while now, without an effort made, every blessing\nfortune boasts is his. And thou, in spite of all, hast brought no\nshame upon thy aged sire, or those twin sons of Zeus, nor art thou\nguilty of those rumoured crimes. Now again do I recall thy wedding\nrites, remembering the blazing torch I bore beside thee in a four-horsed\nchariot at full gallop; while thou with this thy lord, a new-made\nbride, wert driving forth from thy happy home. A sorry servant he,\nwhoso regardeth not his master's interest, sympathizing with his sorrows\nand his joys. Slave though I was born, yet may I be numbered amongst\nhonest servants; for in heart, though not in name, I am free. For\nthis is better far than in my single person to suffer these two evils,\nto feel my heart corrupt, and as the slave of others to be at my neighbour's\nbeck and call.\nMENELAUS Come, old friend, oft hast thou stood side by side with\nme and taken thy full share of toil; so now be partner in my happiness.\nGo, tell my comrades, whom I left behind, the state of matters here,\nas thou hast found them, and the issue of my fortunes; and bid them\nwait upon the beach and abide the result of the struggle, which I\ntrow awaits me; and if mayhap we find a way to take this lady from\nthe land by stealth, tell them to keep good watch that we may share\nthe luck and escape, if possible, from the barbarian's clutch.\nMESSENGER It shall be done, O king. Now I see how worthless are the\nseers' tricks, how full of falsehood; nor is there after all aught\ntrustworthy in the blaze of sacrifice or in the cry of feathered fowls;\n'tis folly, the very notion that birds can help mankind. Calchas never\nby word or sign showed the host the truth, when he saw his friends\ndying on behalf of a phantom, nor yet did Helenus; but the city was\nstormed in vain. Perhaps thou wilt say, 'twas not heaven's will that\nthey should do so. Then why do we employ these prophets? Better were\nit to sacrifice to the gods, and crave a blessing, leaving prophecy\nalone; for this was but devised as a bait to catch livelihood, and\nno man grows rich by divination if he is idle. No! sound judgment\nand discernment are the best of seers. (The MESSENGER departs.)\nLEADER My views about seers agree exactly with this old man's: whoso\nhath the gods upon his side will have the best seer in his house.\nHELEN Good! so far all is well. But how camest thou, poor husband,\nsafe from Troy? though 'tis no gain to know, yet friends feel a longing\nto learn all that their friends have suffered.\nMENELAUS That one short sentence of thine contains a host of questions.\nWhy should I tell thee of our losses in the Aegean, or of the beacon\nNauplius lighted on Euboea? or of my visits to Crete and the cities\nof Libya, or of the peaks of Perseus? For I should never satisfy thee\nwith the tale, and by telling thee should add to my own pain, though\nI suffered enough at the time; and so would my grief be doubled.\nHELEN Thy answer shows more wisdom than my question. Omit the rest,\nand tell me only this; how long wert thou a weary wanderer o'er the\nwide sea's face?\nMENELAUS Seven long years did I see come and go, besides those ten\nin Troy.\nHELEN Alas, poor sufferer! 'twas a weary while. And thou hast thence\nescaped only to bleed here.\nMENELAUS How so? what wilt thou tell? Ah wife, thou hast ruined me.\nHELEN Escape and fly with all thy speed from this land. Thou wilt\nbe slain by him whose house this is.\nMENELAUS What have I done to merit such a fate?\nHELEN Thou hast arrived unexpectedly to thwart my marriage.\nMENELAUS What! is some man bent on wedding my wife?\nHELEN Aye, and on heaping those insults on me, which I have hitherto\nendured.\nMENELAUS Is he some private prince, or a ruler of this land?\nHELEN The son of Proteus, king of the country.\nMENELAUS This was that dark saying I heard the servant tell.\nHELEN At which of the barbarian's gates wert thou standing?\nMENELAUS Here, whence like a beggar I was like to be driven.\nHELEN Surely thou wert not begging food? Ah, woe is me!\nMENELAUS That was what I was doing, though I had not the name of\nbeggar.\nHELEN Of course thou knowest, then, all about my marriage.\nMENELAUS I do. But whether thou hast escaped thy lover, I know not.\nHELEN Be well assured I have kept my body chaste.\nMENELAUS How wilt thou convince me of this? If true, thy words are\nsweet.\nHELEN Dost see the wretched station I have kept at this tomb?\nMENELAUS I see, alas! a bed of straw; but what hast thou to do with\nit?\nHELEN There I crave escape from this marriage as a suppliant.\nMENELAUS For want of an altar, or because it is the barbarians' way?\nHELEN This was as good a protection to me as the gods' temples.\nMENELAUS May I not then even bear thee homeward on my ship?\nHELEN The sword far sooner than thy wife's embrace is waiting thee.\nMENELAUS So should I be of all men the most miserable.\nHELEN Put shame aside, and fly from this land.\nMENELAUS Leaving thee behind? 'twas for thy sake I sacked Troy.\nHELEN Better so, than that our union should cause thy death.\nMENELAUS Oh! these are coward words, unworthy of those days at Troy!\nHELEN Thou canst not slay the prince, thy possible intent.\nMENELAUS Hath he, then, a body which steel cannot wound?\nHELEN Thou shalt hear. But to attempt impossibilities is no mark\nof wisdom.\nMENELAUS Am I to let them bind my hands, and say nothing?\nHELEN Thou art in a dilemma; some scheme must be devised.\nMENELAUS I had liefer die in action than sitting still.\nHELEN There is one hope, and only one, of our safety.\nMENELAUS Will gold, or daring deeds, or winning words procure it?\nHELEN We are safe if the prince learn not of thy coming.\nMENELAUS ary one tell him it is I? He certainly will not know who\nI am.\nHELEN He hath within his palace an ally equal to the gods.\nMENELAUS Some voice divine within the secret chambers of his house?\nHELEN No; his sister; Theonoe men call her.\nMENELAUS Her name hath a prophetic sound; tell me what she doth.\nHELEN She knoweth everything, and she will tell her brother thou\nart come.\nMENELAUS Then must we die; for I cannot escape her ken.\nHELEN Perchance we might by suppliant prayers win her over.\nMENELAUS To what end? To what vain hope art thou leading me?\nHELEN That she should not tell her brother thou art here.\nMENELAUS Suppose we persuade her, can we get away?\nHELEN Easily, if she connive thereat; without her knowledge, no,\nMENELAUS Be that thy task; women deal best with women.\nHELEN I will not fail, be sure, to clasp her knees.\nMENELAUS Come, then; only, suppose she reject our proposals?\nHELEN Thou wilt be slain, and I, alas! wedded by force.\nMENELAUS Thou wilt betray me; that \"force\" of thine is but an excuse.\nHELEN Nay, by thy life I swear a sacred oath.\nMENELAUS What meanest thou? dost swear to die and never to another\nhusband yield?\nHELEN Yes, by the self-same sword; I will fall by thy side.\nMENELAUS On these conditions touch my right hand.\nHELEN I do so, swearing I will quit the light of day if thou art\nslain.\nMENELAUS I, too, will end my life if I lose thee.\nHELEN How shall we die so as to gain fame?\nMENELAUS I will slay thee and then myself upon the summit of the\ntomb. But first will I in doughty fight contest another's claim to\nthee; and let who will draw nigh! for I will not sully the lustre\nof my Trojan fame, nor will I, on my return to Hellas, incur a storm\nof taunts, as one who robbed Thetis of Achilles; saw Ajax, son of\nTelamon, fall a weltering corpse; and the sort of Neleus of his child\nbereft; shall I then flinch myself from death for my own wife? No,\nno! For if the gods are wise, o'er a brave man by his foes laid low\nthey lightly sprinkle the earth that is his tomb, while cowards 'they\ncast forth on barren rocky soil.\nLEADER Grant, heaven, that the race of Tantalus may at last be blest,\nand pass from sorrow unto joy!\nHELEN Ah, woe is me! Yea, all my lot is woe; O Menelaus, we are utterly\nundone! Behold! from forth the house comes Theonoe, the prophetess,\nThe palace echoes as the bolts are unfastened; fly! yet what use to\nfly? For whether absent or present she knows of thy arrival here.\nAh me! how lost am I! Saved from Troy and from a barbarian land, thou\nhast come only to fall a prey to barbarian swords. (THEONOE enters,\nattended by hand-maidens carrying torches.)\nTHEONOE Lead on, bearing before me blazing brands, and, as sacred\nrites ordain, purge with incense every cranny of the air, that I may\nbreathe heaven's breath free from taint; meanwhile do thou, in case\nthe tread of unclean feet have soiled the path, wave the cleansing\nflame above it, and brandish the torch in front, that I may pass upon\nmy way. And when to heaven ye have paid the customs I exact, bear\nback into the house the brand from off the hearth. What of my prophecy,\nHelen? how stands it now? Thou hast seen thy husband Menelaus arrive\nwithout disguise, reft of his ships, and of thy counterfeit. Ah, hapless\nman! what troubles hast thou escaped, and art come hither, and yet\nknowest not whether thou art to return or to abide here; for there\nis strife in heaven, and Zeus this very day will sit in solemn conclave\non thee. Hera, who erst was thy bitter foe, is now grown kind, and\nis willing to bring thee and thy wife safe home, that Hellas may learn\nthat the marriage of Paris was all a sham, assigned to him by Cypris;\nbut Cypris fain would mar thy homeward course, that she may not be\nconvicted, or proved to have bought the palm of beauty at the price\nof Helen in a futile marriage. Now the decision rests with me, whether\nto ruin thee, as Cypris wishes, by telling my brother of thy presence\nbere, or to save thy life by taking Hera's side, concealing thy coming\nfrom my brother, for his orders are that I should tell him, whensoe'er\nthou shouldst reach these shores. Ho! one of you, go show my brother\nthis man is here, that I may secure my safety.\nHELEN Maiden, at thy knees I fall a suppliant, and seat myself in\nthis sad posture on behalf of myself and him, whom I am in danger\nof seeing slain, after I have so hardly found him. Oh! tell not thy\nbrother that my husband is returned to these loving arms; save us,\nI beseech thee; never for thy brother's sake sacrifice thy character\nfor uprightness, by evil and unjust means bidding for his favour.\nFor the deity hates violence, and biddeth all men get lawful gains\nwithout plundering others. Wealth unjustly gotten, though it bring\nsome power, is to be eschewed. The breath of heaven and the earth\nare man's common heritage, wherein to store his home, without taking\nthe goods of others, or wresting them away by force. Me did Hermes\nat a critical time, to my sorrow, intrust to thy father's safe keeping\nfor this my lord, who now is here and wishes to reclaim me. But how\ncan he recover me if he be slain? How could thy sire restore the living\nto the dead? Oh! consider ere that the will of heaven and thy father's\ntoo; would the deity or would thy dead sire restore their neighbour's\ngoods, or would they forbear? restore them, I feel sure. It is not,\ntherefore, right that thou shouldst more esteem thy wanton brother\nthan thy righteous father. Yet if thou, prophetess as thou art and\nbeliever in divine providence, shalt pervert the just intention of\nthy father and gratify thy unrighteous brother, 'tis shameful thou\nshouldst have full knowledge of the heavenly will, both what is and\nwhat is not, and yet be ignorant of justice. Oh! save my wretched\nlife from the troubles which beset it, granting this as an accession\nto our good fortune; for every living soul loathes Helen, seeing that\nthere is gone a rumour throughout Hellas that I was false unto my\nlord, and took up my abode in Phrygia's sumptuous halls. Now, if I\ncome to Hellas, and set foot once more in Sparta, they will hear and\nsee how they were ruined by the wiles of goddesses, while was no traitress\nto my friends after all; and so will they restore to me my virtuous\nname again, and I shall give my daughter in marriage, whom no man\nnow will wed; and, leaving this vagrant life in Egypt, shall enjoy\nthe treasures in my home. Had Menelaus met his doom at some funeral\npyre, with tears should I be cherishing his memory in a far-off land,\nbut must lose him now when he is alive and safe? Ah! maiden, I beseech\nthee, say not so; grant me this boon, I pray, and reflect thy father's\njustice; for this is the fairest ornament of children, when the child\nof a virtuous sire resembles its parents in character.\nLEADER Piteous thy pleading, and a piteous object thou! But I fain\nwould hear what Menelaus will say to save his life.\nMENELAUS I will not deign to throw myself at thy knees, or wet mine\neyes with tears; for were I to play the coward, I should most foully\nblur my Trojan fame. And yet men say it shows a noble soul to let\nthe tear-drop fall in misfortune. But that will not be the honourable\ncourse that I will choose in preference to bravery, if what I shall\nsay is honourable. Art thou disposed to save a stranger seeking in\nmere justice to regain his wife, why then restore her and save us\nlikewise; if not, this will not be the first by many a time that I\nhave suffered, though thou wilt get an evil name. All that I deem\nworthy of me and honest, all that will touch thy heart most nearly,\nwill I utter at the tomb of thy sire with regret for his loss. Old\nking beneath this tomb of stone reposing, pay back thy trust! I ask\nof thee my wife whom Zeus sent hither unto thee to keep for me. I\nknow thou canst never restore her to me thyself, for thou art dead;\nbut this thy daughter will never allow her father once so glorious,\nwhom I invoke in his grave, to bear a tarnished name; for the decision\nrests with her now. Thee, too, great god of death, I call to my assistance,\nwho hast received full many a corpse, slain by me for Helen, and art\nkeeping thy wage; either restore those dead now to life again, or\ncompel the daughter to show herself a worthy equal of her virtuous\nsire, and give me back my wife. But if ye will rob me of her, I will\ntell you that which she omitted in her speech. Know then, maiden,\nI by an oath am bound, first, to meet thy brother sword to sword,\nwhen he or I must die-there is no alternative. But if he refuse to\nmeet me fairly front to front, and seek by famine to chase away us\nsuppliants twain at this tomb, I am resolved to slay Helen, and then\nto plunge this two-edged sword through my own heart, upon the top\nof the sepulchre, that our streaming blood may trickle down the tomb;\nand our two corpses will be lying side by side upon this polished\nslab, a source of deathless grief to thee, and to thy sire reproach.\nNever shall thy brother wed Helen, nor shall any other; I will bear\nher hence myself, if not to my house, at any rate to death. And why\nthis stern resolve? Were I to resort to women's ways and weep, I should\nbe a pitiful creature, not a man of action. Slay me, if it seems thee\ngood; I will not die ingloriously; but better yield to what I say,\nthat thou mayst act with justice, and I regain my wife.\nLEADER On thee, maiden, it rests to judge between these arguments.\nDecide in such a way as to please one and all.\nTHEONOE My nature and my inclination lean towards piety; myself,\ntoo, I respect, and I will never sully my father's fair name, or gratify\nmy brother at the cost of bringing myself into open dishonour. For\njustice hath her temple firmly founded in my nature, and since I have\nthis heritage from Nereus I will strive to save Menelaus; wherefore,\nseeing it is Hera's will to stand thy friend, I will give my vote\nwith her. May Cypris be favourable to me! though in me she hath no\npart, and I will try to remain a maid alway. As for thy reproaches\nagainst my father at this tomb; lo! I have the same words to utter;\nI should be wronging thee, did I not restore thy wife; for my sire,\nwere he living, would have given her back into thy keeping, and thee\nto her. Yea, for there is recompense for these things as well amongst\nthe dead as amongst all those who breathe the breath of life. The\nsoul indeed of the dead lives no more, yet hath it a consciousness\nthat lasts for ever, eternal as the ether into which it takes the\nfinal plunge. Briefly then to end the matter, I will observe strict\nsilence on all that ye prayed I should, and never with my counsel\nwill I aid my brother's wanton will. For I am doing him good service,\nthough he little thinks it, if turn him from his godless life to holiness.\nWherefore devise yourselves some way of escape; my lips are scaled;\nI will not cross your path. First with the goddesses begin, and of\nthe one,-and that one Cypris,-Crave permission to return unto thy\ncountry; and of Hera, that her goodwill may abide in the same quarter,\neven her scheme to save thee and thy husband. And thou, my own dead\nsire, shalt never, in so far as rests with me, lose thy holy name\nto rank with evil-doers. (THEONOE and her attendants enter the palace.)\nLEADER No man ever prospered by unjust practices, but in a righteous\ncause there is hope of safety.\nHELEN Menelaus, on the maiden's side are we quite safe. Thou must\nfrom that point start, and by contributing thy advice, devise with\nme a scheme to save ourselves.\nMENELAUS Hearken then; thou hast been a long while in the palace,\nand art intimate with the king's attendants.\nHELEN What dost thou mean thereby? for thou art suggesting hopes,\nas if resolved on some plan for our mutual help.\nMENELAUS Couldst thou persuade one of those who have charge of cars\nand steeds to furnish us with a chariot?\nHELEN I might; but what escape is there for us who know nothing of\nthe country and the barbarian's kingdom?\nMENELAUS True; 'tis impossible. Well, supposing I conceal myself\nin the palace and slay the king with this two-edged sword?\nHELEN His sister would never refrain from telling her brother that\nthou wert meditating his death.\nMENELAUS We have not so much as a ship to make our escape in; for\nthe sea. hath swallowed the one we had.\nHELEN Hear me, if haply even a woriian can utter words of wisdom.\nDost thou consent to be dead in word, though not really so?\nMENELAUS 'Tis a bad omen; still, if by saying so I shall gain aught,\nI am ready to be dead in word, though not in deed.\nHELEN I, too, will mourn thee with hair cut short and dirges, as\nis women's way, before this impious wretch.\nMENELAUS What saving remedy doth this afford us twain? There is deception\nin thy scheme.\nHELEN I will beg the king of this country leave to bury thee in a\ncenotaph, as if thou hadst really died at sea.\nMENELAUS Suppose he grant it; how, e'en then, are we to escape without\na ship, after having committed me to my empty tomb?\nHELEN I will bid him give me a vessel, from which to let drop into\nthe sea's embrace thy funeral offerings.\nMENELAUS A clever plan in truth, save in one particular; suppose\nhe bid thee rear the tomb upon the strand, thy pretext comes to naught.\nHELEN But I shall say it is not the custom in Hellas to bury those\nwho die at sea upon the shore.\nMENELAUS Thou removest this obstacle too; I then will sail with thee\nand help stow the funeral garniture in the same ship.\nHELEN Above all, it is necessary that thou and all thy sailors who\nescaped from the wreck should be at hand.\nMENELAUS Be sure if once I find a ship at her moorings, they shall\nbe there man for man, each with his sword.\nHELEN Thou must direct everything; only let there be winds to waft\nour rails and a good ship to speed before them!\nMENELAUS So shall it be; for the deities will cause my troubles to\ncease. But from whom wilt thou say thou hadst tidings of my death?\nHELEN From thee; declare thyself the one and only survivor, telling\nhow thou wert sailing with the son of Atreus, and didst see him perish.\nMENELAUS Of a truth the garments I have thrown about me, will bear\nout my tale that they were rags collected from the wreckage.\nHELEN They come in most opportunely, but they were near being lost\njust at the wrong time. Maybe that misfortune will turn to fortune.\nMENELAUS Am I to enter the palace with thee, or are we to sit here\nat the tomb quietly?\nHELEN Abide here; for if the king attempts to do thee any mischief,\nthis tomb and thy good sword will protect thee. But I will go within\nand cut off my hair, and exchange my white robe for sable weeds, and\nrend my cheek with this hand's blood-thirsty nail. For 'tis a mighty\nstruggle, and I see two possible issues; either I must die if detected\nin my plot, or else to my country shall I come and save thy soul alive.\nO Hera! awful queen, who sharest the couch of Zeus, grant some respite\nfrom their toil to two unhappy wretches; to thee I pray, tossing my\narms upward to heaven, where thou hast thy home in the star-spangled\nfirmament. Thou, too, that didst win the prize of beauty at the price\nof my marriage; O Cypris! daughter of Dione, destroy me not utterly.\nThou hast injured me enough aforetime, delivering up my name, though\nnot my person, to live amongst barbarians. Oh! suffer me to die, if\ndeath is thy desire, in my native land. Why art thou so insatiate\nin mischief, employing every art of love, of fraud, and guileful schemes,\nand spells that bring bloodshed on families? Wert thou but moderate,\nonly that!-in all else thou art by nature man's most well, come deity;\nand I have reason so to say. (HELEN enters the palace and MENELAUS\nwithdraws into the background.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nThee let me invoke, tearful Philomel, lurking 'neath the leafy covert\nin thy place of song, most tuneful of all feathered songsters, oh!\ncome to aid me in my dirge, trilling through thy tawny throat, as\nI sing the piteous woes of Helen, and the tearful fate of Trojan dames\nmade subject to Achaea's spear, on the day that there came to their\nplains one who sped with foreign oar across the dashing billows, bringing\nto Priam's race from Lacedaemon thee his hapless bride, Helen,-even\nParis, luckless bridegroom, by the guidance of Aphrodite.\n(antistrophe 1)\nAnd many an Achaean hath breathed his last amid the spearmen's thrusts\nand hurtling hail of stones, and gone to his sad end; for these their\nwives cut off their hair in sorrow, and their houses are left without\na bride; and one of the Achaeans, that had but a single ship, did\nlight a blazing beacon on sea-girt Euboea, and destroy full many of\nthem, wrecking them on the rocks of Caphareus and the shores that\nfront the Aegean main, by the treacherous gleam he kindled; when thou,\nO Menelaus, from the very day of thy start, didst drift to harbourless\nhills, far from thy country before the breath of the storm, bearing\non thy ship a prize that was no prize, but a phantom made by Hera\nout of cloud for the Danai to struggle over.\n(strophe 2)\nWhat mortal claims, by searching to the utmost limit, to have found\nout the nature of God, or of his opposite, or of that which comes\nbetween, seeing as he doth this world of man tossed to and fro by\nwaves of contradiction and strange vicissitudes? Thou, Helen, art\nthe daughter of Zeus; for thy sire was the bird that nestled in Leda's\nbosom; and yet for all that art thou become a by-word for wickedness,\nthrough the length and breadth of Hellas, as faithless, treacherous\nwife and godless woman; nor can I tell what certainty is, whatever\nmay pass for it amongst men. That which gods pronounce have I found\ntrue.\n(antistrophe 2)\nO fools! all ye who try to win the meed of valour through war and\nserried ranks of chivalry, seeking thus to still this mortal coil,\nin senselessness; for if bloody contests are to decide, there will\nnever be any lack of strife in the towns of men; the maidens of the\nland of Priam left their bridal bowers, though arbitration might have\nput thy quarrel right, O Helen. And now Troy's sons are in Hades'\nkeeping in the world below, and fire hath darted on her walls, as\ndarts the flame of Zeus, and thou art bringing woe on woe to hapless\nsufferers in their misery. (THEOCLYMENUS and his hunting attendants\nenter.)\nTHEOCLYMENUS All hail, my father's tomb! I buried thee, Proteus,\nat the place where men go out, that I might often greet thee; and\nso, ever as I go out and in, I, thy son Theoclymenus call on thee,\nfather. Ho! servants, to the palace take my hounds and hunting nets!\nHow often have I blamed myself for never punishing those miscreants\nwith death! I have just heard that son of Hellas has come openly to\nmy land, escaping the notice of the guard, a spy maybe or a would-be\nthief of Helen; death shall be his lot if only I can catch him. Ha!\nI find all my plans apparently frustrated, the daughter of Tyndareus\nhas deserted her seat at the tomb and sailed away from my shores.\nHo! there, undo the bars, loose the horses from their stalls, bring\nforth my chariot, servants, that the wife, on whom my heart is set,\nmay not get away from these shores unseen, for want of any trouble\nI can take. Yet stay; for I see the object of my pursuit is still\nin the palace, and has not fled. (HELEN enters from the palace, clad\nin the garb of mourning.) How now, lady, why hast thou arrayed thee\nin sable weeds instead of white raiment, and from thy fair head hast\nshorn thy tresses with the steel, bedewing thy cheeks the while with\ntears but lately shed? Is it in response to visions of the night that\nthou art mourning, or, because thou hast heard some warning voice\nwithin, art thus distraught with grief?\nHELEN My lord,-for already I have learnt to say that name,--I am\nundone; my luck is gone; I cease to be.\nTHEOCLYMENUS In what misfortune art thou plunged? What hath happened?\nHELEN Menelaus, ah me! how can I say it? is dead, my husband.\nTHEOCLYMENUS How knowest thou? Did Theonoe tell thee this?\nHELEN Both she, and one who was there when he perished.\nTHEOCLYMENUS What! hath one arrived who actually announces this for\ncertaint?\nHELEN One hath; oh may he come e'en as I wish him to!\nTHEOCLYMENUS Who and where is he? that I may learn this more surely.\nHELEN There he is, sitting crouched beneath the shelter of this tomb,\nTHEOCLYMENUS Great Apollo! how clad in unseemly rags!\nHELEN Ah me! methinks my own husband too is in like plight.\nTHEOCLYMENUS From what country is this fellow? whence landed he here?\nHELEN From Hellas, one of the Achaeans who sailed with my husband.\nTHEOCLYMENUS What kind of death doth he declare that Menelaus died?\nHELEN The most piteous of all; amid the watery waves at sea.\nTHEOCLYMENUS On what part of the savage ocean was he sailing?\nHELEN Cast up on the harbourless rocks of Libya.\nTHEOCLYMENUS How was it this man did not perish if he was with him\naboard?\nHELEN There are times when churls have more luck than their betters.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Where left he the wreck, on coming hither?\nHELEN There, where perdition catch it, but not Menelaus!\nTHEOCLYMENUS He is lost; but on what vessel came this man?\nHELEN According to his story sailors fell in with him and picked\nhim up.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Where then is that ill thing that was sent to Troy in\nthy stead?\nHELEN Dost mean the phantom-form of cloud? It hath passed into the\nair.\nTHEOCLYMENUS O Priam, and thou land of Troy, how fruitless thy ruin!\nHELEN I too have shared with Priam's race their misfortunes.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Did this fellow leave thy husband unburied, or consign\nhim to the grave?\nHELEN Unburied; woe is me for my sad lot!\nTHEOCLYMENUS Wherefore hast thou shorn the tresses of thy golden\nhair?\nHELEN His memory lingers fondly in this heart, whate'er his fate.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Are thy tears in genuine sorrow for this calamity?\nHELEN An easy task no doubt to escape thy sister's detection!\nTHEOCLYMENUS No, surely; impossible. Wilt thou still make this tomb\nthy abode?\nHELEN Why jeer at me? canst thou not let the dead man be?\nTHEOCLYMENUS No, thy loyalty to thy husband's memory makes thee fly\nfrom me.\nHELEN I will do so no more; prepare at once for my marriage.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Thou hast been long in bringing thyself to it; still\nI do commend the now.\nHELEN Dost know thy part? Let us forget the past.\nTHEOCLYMENUS On what terms? One good turn deserves another.\nHELEN Let us make peace; be reconciled to me.\nTHEOCLYMENUS I relinquish my quarrel with thee; let it take wings\nand fly away.\nHELEN Then by thy knees, since thou art my friend indeed,-\nTHEOCLYMENUS What art so bent on winning, that to me thou stretchest\nout a suppliant hand?\nHELEN My dead husband would I fain bury.\nTHEOCLYMENUS What tomb can be bestowed on lost bodies? Wilt thou\nbury a shade?\nHELEN In Hellas we have a custom, whene'er one is drowned at sea-\nTHEOCLYMENUS What is your custom? The race of Pelops truly hath some\nskill in matters such as this.\nHELEN To hold a burial with woven robes that wrap no corpse.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Perform the ceremony; rear the tomb where'er thou wilt.\nHELEN 'Tis not thus we give drowned sailors burial.\nTHEOCLYMENUS How then? I know nothing of your customs in Hellas.\nHELEN We unmoor, and carry out to sea all that is the dead man's\ndue.\nTHEOCLYMENUS What am I to give thee then for thy dead husband?\nHELEN Myself I cannot say; I had no such experience in my previous\nhappy life.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Stranger, thou art the bearer of tidings I welcome.\nMENELAUS Well, I do not, nor yet doth the dead man.\nTHEOCLYMENUS How do ye bury those who have been drowned at sea?\nMENELAUS Each according to his means.\nTHEOCLYMENUS As far as wealth goes, name thy wishes for this lady's\nsake.\nMENELAUS There must be a blood-offering first to the dead.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Blood of what? Do thou show me and I will comply.\nMENELAUS Decide that thyself; whate'er thou givest will suffice.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Amongst barbarians 'tis customary to sacrifice a horse\nor bull,\nMENELAUS If thou givest at all, let there be nothing mean in thy\ngift.\nTHEOCLYMENUS I have no lack of such in my rich herds\nMENELAUS Next an empty bier is decked and carried in procession.\nTHEOCLYMENUS It shall be so; what else is it customary to add?\nMENELAUS Bronze arms; for war was his delight.\nTHEOCLYMENUS These will be worthy of the race of Pelops, and these\nwill we give.\nMENELAUS And with them all the fair increase of productive earth.\nTHEOCLYMENUS And next, how do ye pour these offerings into the billows?\nMENELAUS There must be a ship ready and rowers.\nTHEOCLYMENUS How far from the shore does the ship put out?\nMENELAUS So far that the foam in her wake can scarce be seen from\nthe strand.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Why so? wherefore doth Hellas observe this custom?\nMENELAUS That the billow may not cast up again our expiatory offerings.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Phoenician rowers will soon cover the distance.\nMENELAUS 'Twill be well done, and gratifying to Menelaus, too.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Canst thou not perform these rites well enough without\nHelen?\nMENELAUS This task belongs to mother, wife, or children.\nTHEOCLYMENUS 'Tis her task then, according to thee, to bury her husband.\nMENELAUS To be sure; piety demands that the dead be not robbed of\ntheir due.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Well, let her go; 'tis my interest to foster piety in\na wife. And thou, enter the house and choose adornment for the dead.\nThyself, too, will not send empty-handed away, since thou hast done\nher a service. And for the good news thou hast brought me, thou shalt\nreceive raiment instead of going bare, and food, too, that thou mayst\nreach thy country; for as it is, I see thou art in sorry plight. As\nfor thee, poor lady, waste not thyself in a hopeless case; Menelaus\nhas met his doom, and thy dead husband cannot come to life.\nMENELAUS This then is thy duty, fair young wife; be content with\nthy present husband, and forget him who has no existence; for this\nis thy best course in face of what is happening. And if ever I come\nto Hellas and secure my safety, I will clear thee of thy former ill-repute,\nif thou prove a dutiful wife to thy true husband.\nHELEN I will; never shall my husband have cause to blame me; thou\nshalt thyself attend us and be witness thereto. Now go within, poor\nwanderer, and seek the bath, and change thy raiment. I will show my\nkindness to thee, and that without delay. For thou wilt perform all\nservice due with kindlier feeling for my dear lord Menelaus, if at\nmy hands thou meet with thy deserts. (THEOCLYMENUS, HELEN, MENELAUS\nenter the palace.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nThrough wooded glen, o'er torrent's flood, and ocean's booming waves\nrushed the mountain-goddess, mother of the gods, in frantic haste,\nonce long ago, yearning for her daughter lost, whose name men dare\nnot utter; loudly rattled the Bacchic castanets in shrill accord,\nwhat time those maidens, swift as whirlwinds, sped forth with the\ngoddess on her chariot yoked to wild creatures, in quest of her that\nwas ravished from the circling choir of virgins; here was Artemis\nwith her bow, and there the grim-eyed goddess, sheathed in mail, and\nspear in hand. But Zeus looked down from his throne in heaven, and\nturned the issue otherwhither.\n(antistrophe 1)\nSoon as the mother ceased from her wild wandering toil, in seeking\nher daughter stolen so subtly as to baffle all pursuit, she crossed\nthe snow-capped heights of Ida's nymphs; and in anguish cast her down\namongst the rocks and brushwood deep in snow; and, denying to man\nall increase to his tillage from those barren fields, she wasted the\nhuman race; nor would she let the leafy tendrils yield luxuriant fodder\nfor the cattle, wherefore many a beast lay dying; no sacrifice was\noffered to the gods, and on the altars were no cakes to burn; yea,\nand she made the dew-fed founts of crystal water to cease their flow,\nin her insatiate sorrow for her child.\n(strophe 2)\nBut when for gods and tribes of men alike she made an end to festal\ncheer, Zeus spoke out, seeking to soothe the mother's moody soul,\n\"Ye stately Graces, go banish from Demeter's angry heart the grief\nher wanderings bring upon her for her child, and go, ye Muses too,\nwith tuneful choir.\" Thereon did Cypris, fairest of the blessed gods,\nfirst catch up the crashing cymbals, native to that land, and the\ndrum with tight-stretched skin, and then Demeter smiled, and in her\nhand. did take the deep-toned flute, well pleased with its loud note.\n(antistrophe 2)\nThou hast wedded as thou never shouldst have done in defiance of\nall right, and thou hast incurred, my daughter, the wrath of the great\nmother by disregarding her sacrifices. Oh! mighty is the virtue in\ndress of dappled fawn-skin, in ivy green that twineth round a sacred\nthyrsus, in whirling tambourines struck as they revolve in air in\ntresses wildly streaming for the revelry of Bromius, and likewise\nin the sleepless vigils of the goddess, when the moon looks down and\nsheds her radiance o'er the scene. Thou wert confident in thy charms\nalone. (HELEN comes out of the palace alone.)\nHELEN My friends, within the palace all goes well for us; for the\ndaughter of Proteus, who is privy to our stealthy scheme, told her\nbrother nothing when questioned as to my husband's coming, but for\nmy sake declared him dead and buried. Most fortunate it is my lord\nhath had the luck to get these weapons; for he is now himself clad\nin the harness he was to plunge into the sea, his stalwart arm thrust\nthrough the buckler's strap, and in his right hand a spear, on pretence\nof joining in homage to the dead. He hath girded himself most serviceably\nfor the fray, as if to triumph o'er a host of barbarian foes when\nonce we are aboard yon oared ship; instead of his rags from the wreck\nhath he donned the robes I gave for his attire, and I have bathed\nhis limbs in water from the stream, a bath he long hath wanted. But\nI must be silent, for from the house comes forth the man who thinks\nhe has me in his power, prepared to be his bride; and thy goodwill\nI also claim and thy strict silence, if haply, when we save ourselves,\nwe may save thee too some day. (THEOCLYMENUS and MENELAUS enter,\nwith a train of attendants bearing the offerings for the funeral rites.)\nTHEOCLYMENUS Advance in order, servants, as the stranger hath directed,\nbearing the funeral gifts the sea demands. But thou, Helen, if thou\nwilt not misconstrue my words, be persuaded and here abide; for thou\nwilt do thy husband equal service whether thou art present or not.\nFor I am afraid that some sudden shock of fond regret may prompt thee\nto plunge into the swollen tide, in an ecstasy of gratitude toward\nthy former husband; for thy grief for him, though he is lost, is running\nto excess.\nHELEN O my new lord, needs must I honour him with whom I first shared\nmarried joys; for I could even die with my husband, so well I loved\nhim; yet how could he thank me, were I to share death's doom with\nhim? Still, let me go and pay his funeral rites unto the dead in person.\nThe gods grant thee the boon I wish and this stranger too, for the\nassistance he is lending here! And thou shalt find in me a wife fit\nto share thy house, since thou art rendering kindness to Menelaus\nand to me; for surely these events are to some good fortune tending.\nBut now appoint someone to give us a ship wherein to convey these\ngifts, that I may find thy kindness made complete.\nTHEOCLYMENUS (to an attendant) Go thou, and furnish them with a\nSidonian galley of fifty oars and rowers also.\nHELEN Shall not he command the ship who is ordering the funeral?\nTHEOCLYMENUS Most certainly; my sailors are to obey him.\nHELEN Repeat the order, that they may clearly understand thee.\nTHEOCLYMENUS I repeat it, and will do so yet again if that is thy\npleasure.\nHELEN Good luck to thee and to me in my designs!\nTHEOCLYMENUS Oh! waste not thy fair complexion with excessive weeping.\nHELEN This day shall show my gratitude to thee.\nTHEOCLYMENUS The state of the dead is nothingness; to toil for them\nis vain.\nHELEN In what I say, this world, as well as that, hath share.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Thou shalt not find in me a husband at all inferior\nto Menelaus.\nHELEN With thee have I no fault to find; good luck is all I need.\nTHEOCLYMENUS That rests with thyself, if thou show thyself a loving\nwife to me.\nHELEN This is not a lesson I shall have to learn now, to love my\nfriends.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Is it thy wish that I should escort thee in person with\nactive aid?\nHELEN God forbid! become not thy servant's servant, O king!\nTHEOCLYMENUS Up and away! I am not concerned with customs which the\nrace of Pelops holds. My house is pure, for Menelaus did not die here;\ngo some one now and bid my vassal chiefs bring marriage-offerings\nto my palace; for the whole earth must re-echo in glad accord the\nhymn of my wedding with Helen, to make men envious. Go, stranger,\nand pour into the sea's embrace these offerings to Helen's former\nlord, and then speed back again with my bride, that after sharing\nwith me her marriage-feast thou mayst set out for home, or here abide\nin happiness. (THEOCLYMENUS and his retinue enter the palace.)\nMENELAUS O Zeus, who art called the father of all and god of wisdom,\nlook down on us and change our woe to joy! Lend us thy ready help,\nas we seek to drag our fortunes up the rugged hill; if with but thy\nfinger-tip thou touch us, we shall reach our longed-for goal. Sufficient\nare the troubles we ere this have undergone. Full oft have I invoked\nyou gods to near my joys and sorrows; I do not deserve to be for ever\nunhappy, but to advance and prosper. Grant me but this one boon, and\nso will ye crown my future with blessing. (MENELAUS, HELEN and their\ntrain of attendants depart.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nHail! thou swift Phoenician ship of Sidon! dear to the rowers, mother\nto the foam, leader of fair dolphins' gambols, what time the deep\nis hushed and still, and Ocean's azure child, the queen of calm, takes\nup her parable and says: \"Away! and spread your canvas to the ocean-breeze.\nHo! sailors, ho! come grip your oars of pine, speeding Helen on her\nway to the sheltered beach where Perseus dwelt of yore.\"\n(antistrophe 1)\nIt may be thou wilt find the daughters of Leucippus beside the brimming\nriver or before the temple of Pallas, when at last with dance and\nrevelry thou joinest in the merry midnight festival of Hyacinthus,\nhim whom Phoebus slew in the lists by a quoit hurled o'er the mark;\nwherefore did the son of Zeus ordain that Laconia's land should set\napart that day for sacrifice; there too shalt thou find the tender\nmaid, whom ye left in your house, for as yet no nuptial torch has\nshed its light for her.\n(strophe 2)\nOh! for wings to cleave the air in the track of Libyan cranes, whose\nserried ranks leave far behind the wintry storm at the shrill summons\nof some veteran leader, who raises his exultant cry as he wings his\nway o'er plains that know no rain and yet bear fruitful increase.\nYe feathered birds with necks outstretched, comrades of the racing\nclouds, on on! till ye reach the Pleiads in their central station\nand Orion, lord of the night; and as ye settle on Eurotas' banks proclaim\nthe glad tidings that Menelaus hath sacked the city of Dardanus, and\nwill soon be home.\n(antistrophe 2)\nYe sons of Tyndareus at length appear, speeding in your chariot through\nthe sky, denizens of heaven's courts beneath the radiant whirling\nstars, guide this lady Helen safely o'er the azure main, across the\nfoam-flecked billows of the deep-blue sea, sending the mariners a\nfavouring gale from Zeus; and from your sister snatch the ill-repute\nof wedding with a barbarian, even the punishment bequeathed to her\nfrom that strife on Ida's mount, albeit she never went to the land\nof Ilium, to the battlements of Phoebus. (The SECOND MESSENGER enters\nin haste, as THEOCLYMENUS comes out of the palace.)\nSECOND MESSENGER O king, at last have I found thee in the palace;\nfor new tidings of woe art thou soon to hear from me.\nTHEOCLYMENUS How now?\nMESSENGER Make haste to woo a new wife; for Helen hath escaped.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Borne aloft on soaring wings, or treading still the\nearth?\nMESSENGER Menelaus has succeeded in bearing her hence; 'twas he that\nbrought the news of his own death.\nTHEOCLYMENUS O monstrous story! what ship conveyed her from these\nshores? Thy tale is past belief.\nMESSENGER The very ship thou didst thyself give the stranger; and\nthat thou mayest briefly know all, he is gone, taking thy sailors\nwith him.\nTHEOCLYMENUS How was it? I long to know, for I never thought that\na single arm could master all those sailors with whom thou wert despatched.\nMESSENGER Soon as the daughter of Zeus had left this royal mansion\nand come unto the sea, daintily picking her way, most craftily she\nset to mourn her husband, though he was not dead but at her side.\nNow when we reached thy docks well walled, we began to launch the\nfastest of Sidonian ships, with her full complement of fifty rowers,\nand each task in due succession followed; some set up the mast, others\nranged the oars with their blades ready, and stored the white sails\nwithin the hold, and the rudder was let down astern and fastened securely.\nWhile we were thus employed, those Hellenes, who had been fellow-voyagers\nwith Menelaus, were watching us, it seems, and they drew nigh the\nbeach, clad in the rags of shipwrecked men,-well built enough, but\nsqualid to look upon. And the son of Atreus, directly he saw them\napproach, bespoke them, craftily introducing the reason for his mourning:\n\"Ye hapless mariners, how have ye come hither? your Achaean ship where\nwrecked? Are ye here to help bury dead Atreus' son, whose missing\nbody this lady, daughter of Tyndareas, is honouring with a cenotaph?\"\nThen they with feigned tears proceeded to the ship, bearing aboard\nthe offerings to be thrown into the deep for Menelaus. Thereat were\nwe suspicious, and communed amongst ourselves regarding the number\nof extra voyagers; but still we kept silence out of respect for thy\norders, for by intrusting the command of the vessel to the stranger\nthou didst thus spoil all. Now the other victims gave no trouble,\nand we easily put them aboard; only the bull refused to go forward\nalong the gangway, but rolled his eyes around and kept bellowing,\nand, arching his back and glaring askance towards his horns, he would\nnot let us touch him. But Helen's lord cried out: \"O! ye who laid\nwaste the town of Ilium, come pick up yon bull, the dead man's offering,\non your stout shoulders, as is the way in Hellas, and cast him into\nthe hold;\" and as he spoke he drew his sword in readiness. Then they\nat his command came and caught up the bull and carried him bodily\non to the deck. And Menelaus stroked the horse on neck and brow, coaxing\nit to go aboard. At length, when the ship was fully freighted, Helen\nclimbed the ladder with graceful step and took her seat midway betwixt\nthe rowers' benches, and he sat by her side, even Menelaus who was\ncalled dead; and the rest, equally divided on the right and left side\nof the ship, sat them down, each beside his man, with swords concealed\nbeneath their cloaks, and the billows soon were echoing to the rowers'\nsong, as we heard the boatswain's note. Now when we were put out a\nspace, not very far nor very near, the helmsman asked, \"Shall we,\nsir stranger, sail yet further on our course, or will this serve?\nFor thine it is to command the ship.\" And he answered: \"'Tis far enough\nfor me,\" while in his right hand he gripped his sword and stepped\non to the prow; then standing o'er the bull to slay it, never a word\nsaid he of any dead man, but cut its throat and thus made prayer:\n\"Poseidon, lord of the sea, whose home is in the deep, and ye holy\ndaughters of Nereus, bring me and my wife safe and sound to Nauplia's\nstrand from hence! Anon a gush of blood, fair omen for the stranger,\nspouted into the tide. One cried, \"There is treachery in this voyage;\nwhy should we now sail to Nauplia? Give the order, helmsman, turn\nthy rudder.\" But the son of Atreus, standing where he slew the bull,\ncalled to his comrades, \"Why do ye, the pick of Hellas, delay to smite\nand slay the barbarians and fling them from the ship into the waves?\"\nWhile to thy crew the boatswain cried the opposite command: \"Ho! some\nof you catch up chance spars, break up the benches, or snatch the\noar-blade from the thole, and beat out the brains of these our foreign\nfoes.\" Forthwith up sprang each man, the one part armed with poles\nthat sailors use, the other with swords. And the ship ran down with\nblood; while Helen from her seat upon the stern thus cheered them\non: \"Where is the fame ye won in Troy? show it against these barbarians.\"\nThen as they hasted to the fray, some would fall and some rise up\nagain, while others hadst thou seen laid low in death. But Menelaus\nin full armour, made his way, sword in hand, to any point where his\nwatchful eye perceived his comrades in distress; so we leapt from\nthe ship and swam, and he cleared the benches of thy rowers. Then\ndid the prince set himself to steer, and bade them make a straight\ncourse to Hellas. So they set up the mast, and favouring breezes blew;\nand they are clear away, while I, from death escaped, let myself down\nby the anchor chain into the sea; and, just as I was spent, one threw\nme a rope and rescued me, and drew me to land to bring to thee this\nmessage. Ah! there is naught more serviceable to mankind than a prudent\ndistrust.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS I would never have believed that Menelaus could\nhave eluded us and thee, O king, in the way he did on his coming.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Woe is me! cozened by a woman's tricks! My bride hath\nescaped me. If the ship could have been pursued and overtaken, I would\nhave used every means forthwith to catch the strangers; as it is,\nI will avenge myself upon my treacherous sister, in that she saw Menelaus\nin my palace and did not tell me. Wherefore shall she nevermore deceive\nanother by her prophetic art. (A SERVANT comes out of the palace.)\nSERVANT Ho, there! whither away so fast, my lord? on what bloody\nthought intent?\nTHEOCLYMENUS Whither justice calls me. Out of my path!\nSERVANT I will not loose thy robe, for on grievous mischief art thou\nbent.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Shalt thou, a slave, control thy master?\nSERVANT Yea, for I am in my senses.\nTHEOCLYMENUS I should not say so, if thou wilt not let me\nSERVANT Nay, but that I never will.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Slay my sister most accursed.\nSERVANT Say rather, most righteous.\nTHEOCLYMENUS \"Righteous?\" She who betrayed me?\nSERVANT There is an honourable treachery, which 'tis right to commit.\nTHEOCLYMENUS By giving my bride to another?\nSERVANT Only to those who had a better right.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Who hath any rights o'er mine?\nSERVANT He that received her from her father.\nTHEOCLYMENUS Nay, but fortune gave her to me.\nSERVANT And destiny took her away.\nTHEOCLYMENUS \"Tis not for thee to decide my affairs.\nSERVANT Only supposing mine be the better counsel.\nTHEOCLYMENUS So I am thy subject, not thy ruler.\nSERVANT Aye, a subject bound to do the right, and eschew the wrong.\nTHEOCLYMENUS It seems thou art eager to be slain.\nSERVANT Slay me; thy sister shalt thou never slay with my consent,\nbut me perchance; for to die for their masters is the fairest death\nthat noble slaves can find. (THE DIOSCURI appear from above.)\nDIOSCURI Restrain those bursts of rage that hurry thee to undue lengths,\nTheoclymenus, king of this country. We are the twin sons of Zeus that\ncall to thee by name, whom Leda bore one day, with Helen too who hath\nfled from thy palace. For thou art wroth for a marriage never destined\nfor thee; nor is thy sister Theonoe, daughter of a Nereid goddess,\nwronging thee because she honours the word of God and her father's\njust behests. For it was ordained that Helen should abide within thy\nhalls up till the present time, but since Troy is razed to the ground\nand she hath lent her name to the goddesses, no longer need she stay,\nnow must she be united in the self-same wedlock as before, and reach\nher home and share it with her husband. Withhold then thy malignant\nblade from thy sister, and believe that she herein is acting with\ndiscretion. Long, long ago had we our sister saved, seeing that Zeus\nhas made us gods, but we were too weak for destiny as well as the\ndeities, who willed these things to be. This is my bidding to thee;\nwhile to my sister I say, \"Sail on with thy husband; and ye shall\nhave a prosperous breeze; for we, thy brethren twain, will course\nalong the deep and bring you safely to your fatherland. And when at\nlast thy goal is reached and thy life ended, thou shalt be famous\nas a goddess, and with thy twin brethren share the drink-offering,\nand like us receive gifts from men, for such is the will of Zeus.\nYea, and that spot where the son o Maia first appointed thee a home\nwhen from Sparta he removed thee, after stealing an image of thee\nfrom Heaven's mansions to prevent thy marriage with Paris, even the\nisle that lies like a sentinel along the Attic coast, shall henceforth\nbe called by thy name amongst men, for that it welcomed thee when\nstolen from thy home. Moreover, Heaven ordains that the wanderer Menelaus\nshall find a home within an island of the blest; for to noble souls\nhath the deity no dislike, albeit these oft suffer more than those\nof no account.\"\nTHEOCLYMENUS Ye sons of Leda and of Zeus, I will forego my former\nquarrel about your sister, nor no longer seek to slay mine own. Let\nHelen to her home repair, if such is Heaven's pleasure. Ye know that\nye are sprung of the same stock as your sister, best of women, chastest\ntoo; hail then for the true nobility of Helen's soul, a quality too\nseldom found amongst her sex!\nCHORUS (chanting) Many are the forms the heavenly will assumes;\nand many a thing God brings to pass contrary to expectation: that\nwhich was looked for is not accomplished, while Heaven finds out a\nway for what we never hoped; e'en such has been the issue here.\nTHE END","title":"Helen, By Euripides","type":"page"}