At the center of Greek—and Roman—myth was the Trojan War, and at the center of the Trojan War was its cause, Helen, Zeus’ daughter, supposedly abducted from Sparta by Paris to Troy. Helen of Troy remains central to Greek mythology, even today. If ancient Greek society was in many ways male-dominated, the power and volatility of women created its myths, whether the women were goddesses like Hera, Athena, and Persephone, or aristocratic women like Antigone, Clytemnestra, and Penelope. Interpretations of Helen’s story are found from Homer to Marlowe to Goethe to the modern poet H.D., and beyond. She embodies that quintessential Greek pursuit, beauty. Aeschylus punned on her name in the Agamemnon (688–690) and may have used a popular etymology, likening her name to a word meaning “to take, capture, destroy,” suggesting her predatory powers (Skutsch, “Helen”). Her name can also mean a “torch” in Greek. She was probably a nature goddess, like Persephone, whose abductions (by Theseus as well as Paris) represent changes in the seasons. She became a patron deity of girls’ coming to sexual maturity and marriage, and a cult figure. In literature, she often represents desire and destruction.
In her early legend, she is offered by Aphrodite as a prize in the beauty contest on Mount Ida, a bribe for Paris to choose her as the most beautiful goddess over Hera and Athena, both of whom offer the conquest of Greece. Menelaus, her husband, and Agamemnon, his brother, muster the Greeks to bring her back. After a ten-year siege, Troy falls to the wooden-horse stratagem of Odysseus, and Helen returns safely to Sparta. Helen’s inner life is the key to variations of the story: Did she run off with Paris or was she dragged? Was she whore or victim? In the Odyssey, she laments her Trojan adventure and says she longed for home. Menelaus scoffs at her tale (4.235–289).
But she has an alternative tale. In the Cypria of the Epic Cycle (7–6 C.), Helen is a victim of the “plan of Zeus” to rid the earth of its excess population. To Gorgias, in the seemingly light-hearted Encomium of Helen, she is not to blame but is the victim of four powerful forces: the gods (or chance), force, rhetoric, and love. Sappho celebrates Helen leaving all for love (Fragment 16). Stesichorus goes even further. He claims that after he attacked Helen in a poem he was struck blind, and then wrote a retraction that stated she never went to Troy at all but was in Egypt during the war, for which Helen restored his sight. The historian Herodotus, too, insists that Helen was in Egypt after being blown off course for Troy with Paris. Proteus, king of Egypt, took Helen away from her abductor, and Paris continued on to Troy and fought the war for a lie (2.112–120).
Euripides likely knew these sources and others that have been lost. Apollo reveals Zeus’ plan in Euripides’ Orestes:
. . . the gods, because of her great beauty,
Set Greeks and Trojans against one another
And brought death, so they might lighten the outrage
Of the plentiful surplus of men from the earth. (1639–1642)
In Electra, Euripides mentions Helen’s sojourn in Egypt. Castor, brother of Helen, is speaking:
From the palace of Proteus,
Helen came, leaving Egypt and did not go to Troy.
Zeus, so there might be strife and murder of men,
Had sent a phantom there. (1280–1283)
In the Helen, the heroine herself proclaims the plan of Zeus to lighten the earth of men and to raise up Achilles as the greatest hero of the heroic age:
Zeus’ plans fit well with this misery:
He brought a Greek war to the land
And to the poor Trojans, so he might lighten
Mother Earth of crowds of mortals and make
Known the mightiest man in Greece. (37–41)
Helen was performed in Athens in 412 BC. Then the mode was to rework older heroic tales of Troy and the royal House of Thebes. But (from what we can tell) Euripides went beyond his sources that helped form what a character in Aristophanes called “the new Helen” of Euripides (Women at the Thesmophoria, 950). In our play, Helen is the still chaste wife of Menelaus, taken to Egypt by Hermes so she would not be bedded by Paris at all. In Egypt, Proteus’ son, Theoclymenus, pursues her, while she claims sanctuary in the tomb of the now-dead Proteus. Helen has become Penelope, traditionally her opposite.
Greek tragedy in Aristotle’s definition needs to arouse pity and fear (1451b) but need not have a tragic ending (1452b), as in Euripides’ Iphigenia in Tauris. The tragic style of Helen is more relaxed than usual, even humorous in places. Ancient and modern critics have noted that Euripides’ style in general is more colloquial than the styles of Aeschylus and Sophocles, and P. T. Stevens (Colloquial Expressions, 65) discovered fortynine colloquial expressions in this play, a high percentage for even Euripidean Greek tragedy. Menelaus in disguise discusses his own funeral, and he and Helen sometimes employ double entendres, taking advantage of that situational irony (e.g., 1287–1300). The play’s themes of exoticism, mistaken identity, disguise, connivance, recognition, reunion, and hairbreadth escapes are common in later literature, but their use here is different. What distinguishes Helen from later “tragicomedy” and “romantic tragedies” is its seriousness and its air of real menace, in spite of its comic moments. As we saw above, Helen is again the victim of the will of Zeus, and she laments the loss of human life at Troy in her name, where soldiers die for a phantom. Like a Homeric hero, Helen is pained at her bad and unearned reputation and connives like Odysseus to escape from her tragic life in Egypt. Frustrated and inept, Menelaus takes a secondary role. Helen shows what complex situations female intelligence can resolve and demonstrates to the Athenian audience the female intellect they have ignored. When battle breaks out, Menelaus resumes his heroic Homeric role, and Helen drives him on. This battle is as right as the Trojan War was wrong. Ultimately, war was Zeus’ mysterious will, whatever his plan. Moreover, the play examines the conflict between illusion and reality, the senses and truth, myth and identity.
The Egyptians are partly “Hellenized.” Although an Egyptian, Theoclymenus acts the familiar Greek tragic tyrant, while his sister exemplifies Greek piety and reason, another example of the wisdom of Euripides’ women. Heroically, she risks her life for Helen and Menelaus. The Greeks admired Egypt, borrowed from it, and felt superior to it—and to everyone else non-Greek. So in this play Egyptians are also “barbarians.” Such complexity permeates the plot and dialogue.
Central to the extensive imagery of the play is flying. Hermes took Helen by air to Egypt, stopping at what is now Makronissos, to name the island Helen after her. The eidolon, the phantom Helen that deceives Menelaus and accompanies him to Troy and then to Egypt, miraculously flies off. Finally the Dioscuri, Castor and Polydeuces, ride down their track of air on the crane over the stage. Castor announces they will fly over the sea to guide Helen and Menelaus home. The images of flying create a sense of wonder and awe. Flying stresses the power of the gods and the mystery of the world—and Helen’s favored status. From the sky, Castor proclaims Helen’s coming apotheosis. The daughter of Zeus will be rewarded for her pains by being celebrated and worshipped forever. But in this play, she is very human indeed.
In general, I have followed James Diggle’s Oxford Classical Text, Euripides Fabulae, III (1994). (Line numbering corresponds to Diggle’s text, not to my translation.) I have also used the following editions:
G. Murray, Euripides, Euridipidis Fabulae, III (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1913).
A. M. Dale, Euripides, Helen (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967), with commentary.
R. Kannicht, Euripides, Helena, 2 vols. (Heidelberg: Winter, 1969), with commentary.
D. Kovacs, Euripides, V, Helen, Phoenician Women, Orestes (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002).
W. Allan, Euripides, Helen (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), with commentary.
List of Characters
HELEN OF TROY
TEUCER, Greek soldier
CHORUS of Greek Women
MENELAUS, Helen’s husband
OLD WOMAN, Theoclymenus’ servant
SERVANT of Menelaus
THEONOE (“Theono-e”), Theoclymenus’ sister
THEOCLYMENUS, King of Egypt
MESSENGER, an Egyptian sailor
CASTOR and POLYDEUCES, the Dioscuri, brothers of Helen
(Outside the palace of the Egyptian king, THEOCLYMENUS. In front is a monument to Proteus, his dead father. HELEN enters.)
These are the gleaming virgin streams
Of the Nile, which waters the Egyptian land
And fields with melted snow, not heaven’s rain.
Proteus, while he lived, was king of this land,
| Dwelling on the island of Pharos, though lord of Egypt. | 5 |
He married a daughter of the sea, Psamathe,
After she left the bed of Aeacus,
And bore two children in this house,
A boy, called Theoclymenus [because he lived his life
| Honoring the gods] and a noble girl, | 10 |
Eido, her mother’s pride as a baby.
When she came to marriageable age,
They called her Theonoe, for she knew
The will of the gods, now and in the future,
| Receiving the gift from her ancestor, Nereus. | 15 |
My fatherland, Sparta, is not unknown
And my father is Tyndareus. There’s a story
That Zeus, taking the shape of a bird,
A swan, flew to my mother, Leda,
| Making a secret marriage, having fled | 20 |
An eagle in pursuit—if this tale is true.
I am called Helen. I will tell you
Of my terrible sufferings. Three goddesses
Came to Paris in a valley of Mount Ida,
| Hera, Aphrodite, and Zeus-born Athena, | 25 |
Wanting his judgment on their beauty.
My beauty, if misfortune is beautiful, Aphrodite
Offered in marriage to Paris, and won.
Leaving his cow shed, Paris of Ida
| Came to Sparta to claim my bed. | 30 |
Hera, angry at not overcoming the goddesses,
Voided my marriage to Paris and gave,
Not me, but a breathing phantom,
Formed like me, fashioned from air,
| To King Priam’s son. He thinks he has me. | 35 |
But he doesn’t—only an empty image.
Zeus’ plans fit well with this misery:
He brought a Greek war to the land
And to the poor Trojans, so he might lighten
| Mother Earth of crowds of mortals and make | 40 |
Known the mightiest man in Greece.
I was not there in the Trojan battle,
Just my name, a spear prize for Greeks.
Hermes took me, enfolded in air,
| Hidden in a cloud—Zeus didn’t forget me— | 45 |
And placed me at this house of Proteus,
Judging him the wisest of men,
So I could keep my bed pure for Menelaus.
I am here, while my poor husband
| Having marshaled an army, pursues | 50 |
My abductor, and has gone to the towers of Troy.
Many souls have died because of me
By Scamander’s streams, and I, who endure all,
Am cursed, and seem to betray my husband
| And to bring on the Greeks a great war. | 55 |
Why do I still live? I heard Hermes say
I’ll dwell in the famous plain of Sparta
With my husband and he’ll know I didn’t
Go to Troy—but only if I don’t bed another.
| While Proteus saw this sunlight, I was safe | 60 |
From marriage. Now that he is hidden
In the dark earth, the dead man’s son
Wants to marry me. Honoring my husband of old,
I fall before this tomb of Proteus,
| A suppliant, saving my bed for my husband. | 65 |
If I bear a disgraceful name in Greece,
My real self shall bear no shame here.
(TEUCER enters.)
TEUCER:
Who owns this fortified palace?
It compares with the house of Plutus, the battlements
| Of kings and strong-walled bastions. | 70 |
What!
O gods, what do I see? I see the murdering
Image of that most-hated woman, who ruined
Me and all the Greeks. May the gods
| Spit on you for your likeness to Helen! | 75 |
If I were not in a foreign land, you would die
by a well-aimed arrow, for looking like Zeus’ daughter.
HELEN:
Poor man, whoever you are, you turn away
And hate me for her disasters?
TEUCER:
| I was wrong. I gave in to anger too much. | 80 |
But all Greece hates Zeus’ daughter.
Forgive me my words, lady.
HELEN:
Who are you? Why do you come here?
TEUCER:
One of the suffering Achaeans, my lady.
| No wonder you hate Helen. Who are you? | 85 |
From where? Whose son should I call you?
TEUCER:
Teucer is my name. My father Telamon
Gave me birth, and Salamis my nurturing home.
HELEN:
What brings you to the land of the Nile?
TEUCER:
| I was driven out, an exile from my native land. | 90 |
HELEN:
What torture! Who drove you out?
TEUCER:
Telamon, my father. Who could be dearer?
HELEN:
Why? That means bad luck for you.
TEUCER:
My brother, Ajax, died at Troy and destroyed me.
HELEN:
| How? Not because he lost his life on your sword? | 95 |
TEUCER:
A fall on his own sword killed him.
HELEN:
Was he mad? Who in his right mind would do this?
You know of Achilles, Peleus’ son?
HELEN:
Yes.
A suitor of Helen once, I hear.
TEUCER:
| After his death, his friends competed for his weapons. | 100 |
HELEN:
Why was this a disaster for Ajax?
TEUCER:
Another got the weapons, and he gave his life.
HELEN:
You suffer for his troubles?
TEUCER:
Because I was not destroyed with him.
HELEN:
| What! Stranger, you went to famous Troy? | 105 |
TEUCER:
Joined in sacking it, and ruined myself.
HELEN:
It is burned and destroyed by fire?
TEUCER:
Not a trace of the walls is visible.
O poor Helen, through you the Phrygians perished.
TEUCER:
| Achaeans, too. Great atrocities were committed. | 110 |
HELEN:
How much time has passed since the city was devastated?
TEUCER:
Almost seven fruitful cycles of the years.
HELEN:
How much longer were you in Troy?
TEUCER:
Many months. Ten years have passed.
HELEN:
| Did you also take the Spartan woman? | 115 |
TEUCER:
Menelaus took her—by the hair.
HELEN:
Did you see the wretched woman? Or hear of it?
TEUCER:
No less than I see you with my eyes.
HELEN:
Be careful you didn’t have a phantom from the gods.
TEUCER:
| Talk of something else. No more of her. | 120 |
You think your fantasy so real?
TEUCER:
I saw her with my eyes! My mind sees her still.
HELEN:
Is Menelaus at home now with his wife?
TEUCER:
Neither in Argos nor by the streams of Eurotas.
HELEN:
| No! You speak bad news here. | 125 |
TEUCER:
They say he’s lost with his wife.
HELEN:
Not all the Greeks made the same voyage?
TEUCER:
They did. But a storm scattered them.
HELEN:
On what stretch of open sea?
TEUCER:
| While they crossed mid-ocean on the Aegean. | 130 |
HELEN:
Did anyone see Menelaus reach shore?
TEUCER:
No one. In Greece, he is said to have died.
I am dead. Does Thestius’ daughter live?
TEUCER:
You mean Leda? Dead and gone.
HELEN:
| Surely Helen’s disgrace didn’t kill her? | 135 |
TEUCER:
They say so, tying a noose about her noble neck.
HELEN:
Tyndareus’ sons, do they live or not?
TEUCER:
They are dead and not dead. There are two stories.
HELEN:
Which is truer? I am wrecked by misfortune.
TEUCER:
| Made into stars, they say, are gods. | 140 |
HELEN:
Well told. What is the other story?
TEUCER:
Suicides—gave up lives because of their sister.
Enough tales. I don’t want to suffer again.
Now my reason for coming to this kingly house:
| I want to see the prophetess, Theonoe. | 145 |
Be my helper. So I might get a prophecy
Where I may set favorably my full-sails
Over the sea for Cyprus, where Apollo prophesied
I shall live, giving the island the name
| Salamis, after my fatherland back home. | 150 |
HELEN:
Stranger, the voyage itself will show the way.
But flee this country before Proteus’ son
Sees you, who rules this land. He is away
Following his hounds for the kill.
| He also kills any Greek stranger he takes. | 155 |
Why? Don’t try to learn.
I’m silent. How would it help you?
TEUCER:
Well said, my lady. May the gods
Reward you for your goodness.
| You have a body like Helen but not | 160 |
The same heart—so very different.
May she die horribly and not reach the shore
Of the Eurotas. May you prosper always, lady.
(TEUCER exits.)
HELEN:
Setting the foundations of a great lament of great sorrow,
| What cry shall I compete with best? What muse shall I find | 165 |
For tears or for dirges or for grief?—What misery!
O girls in feathers,
O virgins of the earth,
Sirens, if you would come
| To my laments with flute | 170 |
Or lyres or panpipes,
Tears to match my painful laments,
Sorrow for sorrow, song for song!
May Persephone send
Choirs of death
In unison with my dirges,
| So she might receive from me | 175 |
Down in her dark halls
A song of thanks
In tears to my unhappy dead.
(CHORUS enters.)
CHORUS:
By dark-blue water
| Upon the tangled grass, | 180 |
Drying my purple robes,
In rays of golden sun,
On shoots of bulrushes.
There she raised a piteous cry.
I heard the noise, not fit for lyres.
| Groaning, keening, she cried, | 185 |
Like a nymph
Who calls out songs in flight
In the mountains and the rocks.
Down in the dark caves
And screams and shrieks
| That she is being raped by Pan. | 190 |
HELEN:
Misery, misery!
Spoils of a barbarian ship,
You Grecian women!
A Greek sailor
| Came, came to me, bringing tears on tears. | 195 |
The overthrow of Troy was brought
Of me, the murderess of many,
Because of my destructive name.
| Leda took death | 200 |
By hanging for
The agony of my shame
And my husband, wandering much on the sea,
Is dead and gone,
| And Castor and his brother, | 205 |
Twin glory of their country,
Have gone, have gone, have left
The horse-ridden plain
And field of the reedy Eurotas
| Where young men wrestle. | 210 |
CHORUS:
What misfortune!
Suffering so much your lot!
O destined woman.
Some curst fate once
| Fell, fell, when Zeus flashed down on wings, | 215 |
A snow-white swan, to father you.
What evil is not yours?
What do you not endure in life:
Your mother is no more,
| Twin brothers in | 220 |
Misfortune,
The sons of Zeus, so dear?
And you can’t look upon your native land.
Reports have spread,
| My queen, which hands you over | 225 |
To a barbarian bed
And left your husband’s life
To sea waves. He’ll never
Make happy the halls of his father
Or bronze-housed goddess.
HELEN:
What, what Phrygian
| Or man of Greece | 230 |
Cut down the pine grieving
For Troy?
Then Priam’s son fitted out
A destructive ship
And sailed with barbarian oar
| To my hearth, | 235 |
To my most-cursed
Beauty, to take me
In marriage. And murderous
Aphrodite driving death upon the Danaans—
| My terrible misfortune! | 240 |
But she on the golden throne,
Embraced and revered by Zeus,
Hera, sent the swift-footed
Son of Maia,
Who caught me up in air,
While I gathered fresh rose petals in my robe
| For bronze-housed Athena, | 245 |
Took me to this unholy land
And set wretched war—war!—between Greece
And the sons of Priam.
My fame
| Beside the Simoin streams | 250 |
Is an empty rumor.
CHORUS:
You suffer, I know. Best bear
Life’s necessities as easy as you can.
| Dear friends, what fate am I yoked with? | 255 |
Did my mother bear me a monster to the world?
No Greek or barbarian woman bore
A white bird’s egg out of herself,
As they say Leda bore me from Zeus.
| And a monster has been my life and my adventures, | 260 |
Sometimes Hera’s fault, sometimes my beauty’s fault.
If only I could have been washed out like a painting,
Taken an uglier form instead of beauty,
And the Greeks could have forgotten the evil fate
| I live now, and not have remembered, | 265 |
As they do, my “misfortunes.”
Whoever looks to one fortune only
And is cheated by the gods—hard, but must be endured.
I am surrounded by many misfortunes.
| First, I am innocent but maligned. | 270 |
The nature of true evil is
To be blamed for crimes not your own.
Then the gods transported me from my fatherland
to barbarians, without friends,
| And set me down a slave though born free. | 275 |
All barbarians are slaves, except one man.
Then my fortune’s anchor still held:
That my husband would come and release me.
But that is no more, since he is dead.
| And my mother is destroyed, and I am the murderess, | 280 |
Unjust as that injustice is.
And she who was the glory of my home,
My daughter, lives a virgin, manless, and gray.
The Dioscuri, said to be sons of Zeus,
| Are gone. Having every misfortune, | 285 |
I am dead. But, in fact, I am alive.
Worst of all: if I went to my homeland,
I would be barred at the gate—they thinking
I the Helen who came from Troy with Menelaus.
| If my husband lives, we would recognize | 290 |
Each other by signs known only to us.
But this won’t be. He won’t return safe.
Why do I live? What fate is left me?
Exchange misfortune for marriage and live
| With a barbarian and sit at a luxurious table? | 295 |
When a wife has a hateful husband,
Her body is also hateful.
Best to die. So how would I die well?
Hanging is thought disgraceful, base
| Even among slaves. Cutting the throat | 300 |
Has something noble and beautiful about it,
But hard to hit the death spot.
I have come into such a pit of evil.
Other women are fortunate in their beauty.
| Mine has destroyed me. | 305 |
CHORUS:
Helen, don’t suppose that whoever
The stranger is, he told the whole truth.
HELEN:
He said clearly that my husband was dead.
CHORUS:
Many clear words prove false.
HELEN:
| And the opposite: clear is true. | 310 |
You steer away from the good into misfortune.
HELEN:
Harassed by fear, I turn to fearful thoughts.
CHORUS:
How much goodwill is there for you in this house?
HELEN:
All are friends, except him who hunts me down in marriage.
CHORUS:
| Here is what you do: leaving this monument . . . | 315 |
HELEN:
What advice are you giving me?
CHORUS:
. . . Go into the house. She who knows everything,
The daughter of the sea Nereid,
Ask her about your husband: if he lives
| Or has left the light. Learn your fate | 320 |
Well, either for joy or sorrow.
Before you know anything, why
Lament? Do what I say.
Leave the tomb, meet the girl
| So you shall know all. Having her | 325 |
Here to tell the truth, why look further?
I, too, want to go into the house
And learn the virgin’s prophecies.
Women must sympathize with women.
HELEN:
| Friends, I’ll take your advice. | 330 |
To learn there
Of my struggles.
CHORUS:
I’m willing. Don’t ask twice.
HELEN:
| O miserable day! | 335 |
What crying sorrow
Will I hear?
CHORUS:
Don’t anticipate, my friend,
Like a prophet, cries of sorrow.
HELEN:
| What did my husband endure? | 340 |
Does he see daylight,
The four-horsed chariot of the sun, and the courses of the stars,
Or under earth, among the dead,
| Meet his eternal fate? | 345 |
CHORUS:
Make the most
Of the future, whatever will happen.
HELEN:
I call upon you, I swear upon you,
Eurotas, with green water reeds,
| If this death | 350 |
Report is true
—And what is unclear?—
I shall stretch a murderous cord
Around my neck.
Or I shall drive in
| The sword-killing thrust | 355 |
Of throat-gushing slaughter,
Hard steel triumphing through my flesh,
A sacrifice to the three goddesses
And to Priam’s son,
Seated in the caves of Ida once
Next to ox-stalls.
CHORUS:
| May your troubles be sent elsewhere, | 360 |
And good fortune be yours.
HELEN:
O poor Troy
Destroyed through deeds never done,
You suffered horribly. My gifts
From Aphrodite bore much blood
| And many tears, brought pain on pain, | 365 |
Tears on tears, sufferings.
Mothers lost sons. Virgins cut their hair,
Relatives of the dead,
By the swollen Phrygian Scamander.
| Greece cried out, cried out, | 370 |
Burst into keenings,
Put their hands upon their heads
And with their nails drenched
Their soft cheeks with blood.
| O holy Callisto, once in Arcadia, you | 375 |
Who came back from Zeus’ bed on four moving paws,
How your lot was much better than my mother’s.
In the form of a shaggy-limbed beast,
Softening the form with a delicate look,
| You put off a painful weight. | 380 |
Artemis drove out of the chorus
Merops’ Titan daughter, as a golden-horned deer
Because of her beauty, while my looks
Wrecked, wrecked the Trojan citadel
| And ruined the Greeks. | 385 |
(All exit. )
(MENELAUS enters.)
MENELAUS:
O, Pelops who raced his four-horse chariot
With Oenomaus at Pisa, I wish you had given up
Your life at the feast among the gods
When you were being eaten, before
| You had begotten my father Atreus, | 390 |
Who from Aerope’s bed had fathered Agamemnon
And me, Menelaus, his famous pair of sons.
I think—and this is not bragging—
I brought the greatest of armies to Troy,
| Not like a king, not leading them by force at all, | 395 |
Commanding willing young, Greek men.
We can count those no longer living
And those who escaped from the sea
And brought home the names of the dead.
| On an ocean wave of gray sea, | 400 |
I wandered miserably since I sacked
The Trojan towers. Wanting to go home,
I was thought unworthy by the gods.
I sailed to all the deserts and harbors
| Of Libya. When I am near home, | 405 |
A wind drives me back. No favorable breeze
Ever takes my sail, so I can come home.
Now miserable and shipwrecked, having
Lost companions, I was cast up here.
| My ship shattered into many pieces on rocks. | 410 |
The keel was wrenched from the strong joints,
And on it I was barely saved by chance,
Helen, too, whom I dragged from Troy.
The name of this country and its people
| I don’t know. I hesitated to go into the crowd | 415 |
To ask, hiding my rags in my shame
At my misfortune. When a proud man
Fares badly, he feels more confused
Than a man long used to bad luck.
| Need wears me down. No food. | 420 |
No clothing on my body. It’s obvious
What I wear are cast-off sails.
The sea took the robes I used to wear,
My shining apparel and jewels. Deep in a cave,
| I hid the woman who began all | 425 |
My trouble. I come, ordering my surviving
Friends to guard my wife.
I come alone, seeking help
For my friends there, if I can find any.
| Seeing this high-walled house and the majestic | 430 |
Gates of some rich man, I came near.
I hope to get something for my sailors
From this wealthy home. The poor
Could not help, even if they wanted to.
| Hello! Some gatekeeper come out | 435 |
And take in a troubled message.
(OLD WOMAN enters.)
OLD WOMAN:
Who’s there? Won’t you go off
And not stand at the court gates,
Making a row for my master. Or, being Greek,
| You’ll be killed. Greeks have no business here. | 440 |
MENELAUS:
Woman. You could say it better.
I’ll obey. Just give me a word.
OLD WOMAN:
Go away. This is my job, stranger,
That no one comes near the house.
MENELAUS:
| Wait! Don’t touch or shove me! | 445 |
OLD WOMAN:
You don’t do what I say, it’s your fault.
MENELAUS:
Announce to your master that . . .
OLD WOMAN:
I’d say announcing your words would go badly.
MENELAUS:
. . . I’m a shipwrecked sailor, a sacred group.
OLD WOMAN:
| Go to some other house, not this. | 450 |
MENELAUS:
No. I’m going in. Do as I say.
OLD WOMAN:
See, you’re trouble, and you’ll be tossed out.
MENELAUS:
What! What’s happened to my great campaigns!
OLD WOMAN:
Yes, you were famous wherever, but not here.
MENELAUS:
| O lord, how I am dishonored! | 455 |
OLD WOMAN:
Why do you wet your eyes? What makes you so pitiable?
MENELAUS:
My former happy fortune.
OLD WOMAN:
Why don’t you give your tears to your friends?
MENELAUS:
What country is this? Whose barbarian home?
| This is Proteus’ house. The land of Egypt. | 460 |
MENELAUS:
Egypt! Poor me, where have I sailed?
OLD WOMAN:
What’s wrong with the glorious Nile?
MENELAUS:
I don’t blame that. I lament my fate.
OLD WOMAN:
Many fare badly, not you alone.
MENELAUS:
| Is your ruler at home? | 465 |
OLD WOMAN:
This is his monument. His son rules the land.
MENELAUS:
Where is he? Out, or in the house?
OLD WOMAN:
Not here. He’s most hostile to Greeks.
MENELAUS:
What did I do to deserve that?
OLD WOMAN:
| Helen is in the house, Zeus’ daughter. | 470 |
MENELAUS:
What? What are you saying? Tell me again.
OLD WOMAN:
Tyndareus’ daughter, who was at Sparta.
MENELAUS:
Where did she come from? What do you mean?
OLD WOMAN:
She came here from Lacedaemon.
MENELAUS:
| When? I have been robbed of my wife from the cave? | 475 |
OLD WOMAN:
O stranger, it was before the Achaeans went to Troy.
But get from the house. Things have changed here.
The royal house is troubled.
You come at a bad time. If the king captures you,
| Hospitality for you will be death. | 480 |
I like Greeks, even if I speak
Harshly. I fear my master.
(OLD WOMAN exits.)
MENELAUS:
What am I to think? What to say? I hear
Bad news on top of old,
| If, since fighting at Troy, I come | 485 |
Taking my wife who is kept in a cave,
And some other woman having
The same name lives in this house.
She said she was Zeus’ child.
| Some other man has Zeus’ name | 490 |
By the Nile? But there’s only the one in heaven.
Where on earth is Sparta but where
Eurotas’ streams and beautiful reeds are?
Tyndareus is the name of one man.
| Another land has the same name Lacedaemon, | 495 |
Another Troy, too? I don’t know what to say.
In the wide world, many men have
The same names it seems. So do cities,
And women. It’s not amazing at all.
I’m not running from the terrors of a servant.
| No man is so barbarous in his heart that, hearing | 500 |
My name, won’t give me a piece of meat.
The torching of Troy is famous, and I, Menelaus,
Torched it. I’m not nobody anywhere.
| I shall wait for the lord of the house. I need | 505 |
To watch for two things. If he’s a savage,
I’ll disappear back to the shipwreck.
If he shows any compassion, I’ll ask for
Provisions for my present misfortune.
| For me, a king, this is my worst | 510 |
Moment: to ask another king
For help. But I must. Those are not
My words, but wisdom itself.
Nothing is stronger than terrible necessity.
(CHORUS enters from the palace.)
CHORUS:
| I heard from the mantic girl. | 515 |
What I wanted
Entering the king’s house: that Menelaus
Has not, covered with earth,
Yet gone through black-lit Erebus,
| But worn down | 520 |
By salty waves,
Has not yet reached home port,
Enduring all,
A wayward life and friendless,
| Setting foot in every land, | 525 |
His oar in the sea
Ever since Troy.
(HELEN enters from the palace.)
HELEN:
Now I come back to the seat
At the tomb, after learning the joyous words
| Of Theonoe, who truly knows all. | 530 |
She says my husband lives in the daylight.
He wanders by sail, in endless journeys
Everywhere, exhausted by traveling,
And he shall come when he reaches the end of his suffering.
| One thing she didn’t say: if he will live | 535 |
After he arrives. I didn’t ask this directly,
Glad that she said he was safe for now.
She said he was near this land,
Cast up a shipwreck with few friends.
| O when will you come? How welcome you will be! | 540 |
Wait! Who is this? Am I not being trapped
By the unholy, plotting son of Proteus?
Shall I not set my foot in the god’s tomb,
Fast as a young mare or the god’s bacchante.
| He has a wild look, my stalker. | 545 |
MENELAUS:
You there, desperately trying to reach
The base of the tomb and the pillars of sacrifice,
Stop! Why are you running? Seeing
You appear, I’m confused, and speechless.
HELEN:
| I’m ruined, my women. I’m kept away | 550 |
From the tomb by this man. He wishes
To give me in marriage to the king I’m avoiding.
MENELAUS:
I’m no thief or servant of bad men.
HELEN:
But you are wearing rags.
MENELAUS:
| Don’t be afraid. Stop running. | 555 |
HELEN:
I have, since I have touched the tomb.
MENELAUS:
Who are you? Whose face do I see, woman?
HELEN:
And you? We have the same question.
MENELAUS:
Never was a figure more like hers!
HELEN:
| Oh gods! To know your friends is a divine gift! | 560 |
Are you a Hellene, or some native woman?
HELEN:
A Hellene, but I want to know what you are.
MENELAUS:
I see you look so like Helen, my lady.
HELEN:
And you like Menelaus. I don’t know what to say.
MENELAUS:
| You recognize the most unfortunate of men. | 565 |
HELEN:
Finally, you come into your wife’s arms.
MENELAUS:
What wife? Don’t touch my clothes.
HELEN:
The one Tyndareus, my father, gave you.
MENELAUS:
O blazing Hecate, send a favorable vision!
HELEN:
| I’m no night servant of the Wayward Goddess. | 570 |
MENELAUS:
I’m not a husband with two wives.
What other wife are you lord of?
MENELAUS:
The one in the cave. I took her from Troy.
HELEN:
No other woman is your wife but me.
MENELAUS:
| Am I in my right mind? Are my eyes bad? | 575 |
HELEN:
Seeing me, you don’t think you see your wife?
MENELAUS:
The same form, but I am not certain.
HELEN:
Look close. What more do you need?
MENELAUS:
You are like her. I won’t deny it.
HELEN:
| What but your eyes will teach you? | 580 |
MENELAUS:
My trouble is I have another wife.
HELEN:
I didn’t go to Troy. That was a phantom.
And who makes living bodies?
HELEN:
It was air, the god-made wife you had.
MENELAUS:
| What god made it? You speak nonsense. | 585 |
HELEN:
Hera made a substitute, so Paris wouldn’t take me.
MENELAUS:
What? You were here and in Troy at the same time?
HELEN:
The name could be in many places, not the body.
MENELAUS:
Let me go. I’ve had enough trouble.
HELEN:
| You leave me for a bed of air? | 590 |
MENELAUS:
I hope you fare well, since you look like Helen.
HELEN:
I’m ruined. I find you and have no husband.
MENELAUS:
My great suffering at Troy convinces me. Not you.
Ah me! Who is worse off?
| My dearest friends leave me, and I won’t | 595 |
Go to Greece or my fatherland ever.
(SERVANT enters.)
SERVANT:
Menelaus, searching everywhere, wandering
The whole barbarian land, I almost missed you.
I was sent by the companions you left behind.
MENELAUS:
| What is it? You weren’t attacked by barbarians? | 600 |
SERVANT:
A miracle, though that word is too weak.
MENELAUS:
Speak, since you bring news in such haste.
SERVANT:
You endured great pain for nothing.
MENELAUS:
You sing old misery. What’s your message?
SERVANT:
| Your wife has vanished, caught up | 605 |
Into the depths of the air, hidden in the sky.
Leaving the sacred cave where we kept her,
She said, “O miserable Phrygians
And all you Achaeans, you died for me,
| A trick of Hera’s, on Scamander’s shores, | 610 |
Thinking Paris had Helen. He didn’t.
I, having waited my allotted time,
As was necessary, go up to my father,
The sky. Poor Tyndareus’ daughter has heard
| Of her bad reputation, though she is pure and blameless.” | 615 |
Oh! Good day, daughter of Leda. You were here?
I announced that you went high in the stars,
Not knowing you had wings on.
I must not let you mock us again.
| You brought pain enough | 620 |
To your husband and his allies at Troy.
MENELAUS:
That’s it! Her words hit upon
The truth. O long-awaited day
Which gave her into my arms!
HELEN:
| O dearest of men, Menelaus, how long | 625 |
It was, and what joy now!
I take my newfound husband, friends,
Embrace him in my loving arms
After the long, burning days.
MENELAUS:
| And I you! Having so much to tell, | 630 |
I don’t know where to begin now.
HELEN:
I’m elated. My hair
Tingles and tears fall.
I throw my arms about you. What happiness!
| O, husband, I hold you! | 635 |
MENELAUS:
O beloved sight, I find no fault in you.
I hold my wife, born of Zeus and Leda.
HELEN:
My brothers on white horses in torchlight
| Thought us happy, happy. | 640 |
MENELAUS:
Then a god took you away from my home,
Leads you to
A greater fortune.
HELEN:
An evil good brought us together, my husband,
| A long time, but still may I enjoy my fortune. | 645 |
MENELAUS:
May you indeed. I pray with you.
One of two can’t be miserable, the other not.
HELEN:
My friends, my friends,
No more do I lament or suffer for the past.
| I have the husband that I waited for | 650 |
Many years to come from Troy.
MENELAUS:
You hold me, and I hold you. Barely surviving
The many days, I recognize the work of the goddess.
My tears are joyous. More full
| Of gratitude than pain. | 655 |
MENELAUS:
What can I say? What mortal could hope for this?
HELEN:
Beyond belief, I hold you to my breast.
MENELAUS:
And I you, who seemed to go to the Idaean
City and the miserable towers of Troy.
| By the gods, how were you taken from my home? | 660 |
HELEN:
What a bitter trail you start on!
What a bitter story you ask for!
MENELAUS:
Speak. It should be heard. All things are gifts of the gods.
HELEN:
I spit upon such a tale,
Such a tale as I bring forth!
MENELAUS:
| Speak nevertheless. It is sweet to hear past troubles. | 665 |
HELEN:
No oar flew me to a young
Barbarian bed. No desire flew me
To an illegal marriage.
What god or destiny tore you from your city?
HELEN:
| O husband, Zeus’, Zeus’ son and Maia’s son, | 670 |
Hermes brought me to the Nile.
MENELAUS:
Incredible! Who sent him? What terrifying words!
HELEN:
I’m soaking my eyes with tears.
The wife of Zeus ruined me.
MENELAUS:
| Hera? Why did she want to hurt us? | 675 |
HELEN:
I was cursed by the fountain of those cleansing waters,
Where the goddesses made their bodies glisten
When they came for judgment.
MENELAUS:
Hera made the judgment trouble for you?
HELEN:
| To take me from Paris. | 680 |
MENELAUS:
What? Tell me!
HELEN:
Aphrodite promised me to him.
What misery.
HELEN:
So miserable, miserable me she sent to Egypt.
MENELAUS:
She put a phantom in your place, as you said.
HELEN:
And the suffering, suffering of your house,
Mother, poor me!
MENELAUS:
| What are you saying? | 685 |
HELEN:
Mother’s no more. She strangled herself in a noose
Because of the shame of my disgraceful marriage.
MENELAUS:
Good god! What of our daughter, Hermione?
HELEN:
Marriageless, childless, my lord,
| She bewails my shame, a marriageless marriage. | 690 |
MENELAUS:
O Paris, you destroyed my house completely!
HELEN:
That, and you, and countless
Bronze-weaponed Danaans.
The god tore me from country, from city,
| From you, to cursed misfortune, | 695 |
When I left home and bed—which I didn’t leave—
For a shameful marriage.
CHORUS:
If you hit good fortune in the future,
It shall make up for the past.
SERVANT:
| Menelaus, let me share in the joy. | 700 |
I understand, but not clearly.
MENELAUS:
Yes, old man. Share in our story.
SERVANT:
Is she not the cause of trouble in Troy?
MENELAUS:
Not her. I was tricked by the gods. I held
| In my arms an evil image of cloud. | 705 |
SERVANT:
What are you saying?
We suffered only for a cloud?
MENELAUS:
Hera’s work and a contest of three goddesses.
SERVANT:
What? Is this truly your wife?
| It’s her. Believe my words. | 710 |
SERVANT:
O daughter, the god, who is like some
Many-colored enigma, guides all somehow,
Turning this way and that. One man suffers.
Another does not, but comes to ruin in the end.
| Nothing is steady in his ever-evolving fate. | 715 |
You and your husband had suffering:
You through reputation; he through battle lust.
Driving on then, he got nothing. Now faring
His best, he gets joy by chance.
| You do not shame your old father, or your brothers, | 720 |
Not having done what is famous now.
I remember your marriage song again.
I recall the torches I carried running
| With the horses and you, a bride, | 725 |
With him in the chariot, leaving your wealthy home.
He is evil who does not honor his master,
Joy in his joy and share his troubles.
I, even though born a slave, would be counted
| A noble servant. Though not free in name, | 730 |
I’m free in mind. Better this, than one person suffer
Two evils at once: to have an evil heart
And to hear from one’s neighbors that one is a slave.
MENELAUS:
Come, old man, at my shield,
| You toiled hard for me. | 735 |
Now enjoy my success.
Go announce to my remaining friends
What you discovered here, our good fortune,
And to remain on the shore and await
| My coming trials, as I expect, | 740 |
If I can steal this woman from the land,
And find how we, united in fortune,
Can be safe from the barbarians.
SERVANT:
So be it, my lord. But I know
| How ridiculous and full of lies prophecies are. | 745 |
Nothing is sound in the holy fires.
Bird cries are unclear. To believe
Birds help men is simpleminded.
Calchas said or hinted none of this
| To the army, seeing his friends die for a cloud, | 750 |
Or Helenus, though his country was annihilated for nothing.
You could say, “The god doesn’t want it known.”
Why then do we consult prophets? We need to sacrifice
And ask the gods for gifts and forget divination.
| That’s an old fraud for moneymaking. | 755 |
No one becomes rich on divination without effort.
The best prophet is intelligence and common sense.
(SERVANT exits.)
CHORUS:
I am of the same mind as the old man
On prophecies. Having the gods for friends
| Makes the best prophecy for the home. | 760 |
HELEN:
Yes! Things have gone well here.
To know how you were saved from Troy,
Poor man, has no value here. But loved ones
Wish to hear of their beloved’s suffering.
MENELAUS:
| In that one word and one journey, you ask much. | 765 |
Why should I tell of wreckage on the Aegean,
The deadly watch fires of Nauplius in Euboea,
The cities in Crete and Libya I visited,
The lookout of Perseus? I would overwhelm
| You with words. Telling you, I would grieve | 770 |
As I suffered then. I would be devastated twice.
HELEN:
You spoke better than I asked.
Tell me one thing. Let the rest go.
How long did you wander wrecked on the wide sea?
MENELAUS:
| I was in the ships at Troy ten years, | 775 |
And I wandered seven more.
HELEN:
How horrible! You speak of a long time, poor man.
Saved there, you come to slaughter here.
MENELAUS:
What! What do you mean? You’ve destroyed me, my lady.
HELEN:
| As quickly as you can, flee from this land. | 780 |
You will be killed by the man of this house.
MENELAUS:
What did I do to win this misfortune?
Unexpectedly, you got in the way of my marriage.
MENELAUS:
What! Someone wishes to marry my wife?
HELEN:
| Wishes to violate me, a violation I must endure. | 785 |
MENELAUS:
Someone acting on his own or the country’s ruler?
HELEN:
Proteus’ son, the ruler of the land.
MENELAUS:
I understand the gatekeeper’s riddle!
HELEN:
At what barbarian gate were you standing?
MENELAUS:
| This one. Where I was driven off like a beggar. | 790 |
HELEN:
You were begging bread? Poor me!
MENELAUS:
That’s what it was, though not by name.
HELEN:
You know everything, it seems, about my marriage.
MENELAUS:
I know. Whether you escaped his bed, I’m not sure.
| Know I am saved, untouched, for you. | 795 |
MENELAUS:
What proof is there? Nice to hear, if true.
HELEN:
You see my wretched seat at this tomb?
MENELAUS:
I see a miserable straw bed. What’s this to you?
HELEN:
I come here as a suppliant, fleeing his bed.
MENELAUS:
| Lacking an altar, or for a barbarian custom? | 800 |
HELEN:
This protected me, like a temple of the gods.
MENELAUS:
Can’t I take you home by sea?
HELEN:
A sword waits for you, not my bed.
MENELAUS:
I am the most wretched of men!
HELEN:
| Forget shame, and run from this land. | 805 |
MENELAUS:
Leaving you? After sacking Troy for your sake.
Better than dying for my marriage.
MENELAUS:
What you say is unmanly and unworthy of Troy.
HELEN:
You wouldn’t kill the king. Probably you want to.
MENELAUS:
| Can his body not be broken by iron? | 810 |
HELEN:
You’ll see. To dare the impossible is not wise.
MENELAUS:
Shall I have my hands bound quietly?
HELEN:
You are at an impasse. You need a plan.
MENELAUS:
It’s sweeter to die acting than not acting.
HELEN:
| We have only one hope of being saved. | 815 |
MENELAUS:
By money, or daring, or words?
HELEN:
If the king doesn’t know you arrived.
MENELAUS:
I know he won’t know me. Who will tell him?
He has an ally inside equal to the gods.
MENELAUS:
| An oracle set in the inner sanctum? | 820 |
HELEN:
No. His sister. They call her Theonoe.
MENELAUS:
Her name is oracular. Tell me what she does.
HELEN:
She knows all and will tell her brother you are here.
MENELAUS:
I am a dead man. It’s impossible to escape her notice.
HELEN:
| Perhaps we could convince her as suppliants . . . | 825 |
MENELAUS:
To do what? What hope are you giving me?
HELEN:
. . . Not to tell her brother you are in the country.
MENELAUS:
Once she’s persuaded, we can leave the land?
HELEN:
With her aid, easily. Without her knowledge, no.
MENELAUS:
| That’s your undertaking. Woman to woman. | 830 |
Her knees will not be untouched by my hands.
MENELAUS:
What if she rejects our plea?
HELEN:
You die, and wretched me marries by force.
MENELAUS:
You betray me! Force is your excuse.
HELEN:
| I swear a holy oath upon your head. | 835 |
MENELAUS:
What! To die? Never change husbands?
HELEN:
With the same sword, I shall lie beside you.
MENELAUS:
For this, touch my right hand.
HELEN:
I touch it. Your death eclipses my light.
MENELAUS:
| If you are gone, I end my life. | 840 |
HELEN:
How can we die and gain glory?
MENELAUS:
I’ll kill you on this tomb. Then kill myself.
First, I shall wage a fierce battle
Over your marriage. Let any challenger come near.
| I shall not disgrace my Trojan reputation, | 845 |
Nor going to Greece, bear great blame,
I, who deprived Thetis of Achilles,
Saw Telemonian Ajax slaughtered,
And Nestor childless. For my wife
| Shall I not think it worthy to die? | 850 |
Yes, indeed. If the gods be wise,
They bury a strong-souled man who perished
In battle with a light cover of earth,
And throw a coward on a hard rock.
CHORUS:
| May this race of Tantalus have good fortune. | 855 |
May trouble change its course.
HELEN:
Miserable me! What fortune is mine.
Menelaus, we are at the end. The prophetess,
Theonoe, comes out of the house,
| And the house resounds to the door bars’ release. | 860 |
Run! But why must we escape?
Whether she’s present or elsewhere, she knows
You are here. Unfortunate you! I’m ruined.
Saved from barbarian Troy, you fall in
Again with barbarian swords.
(THEONOE enters with SERVANTS.)
THEONOE:
| Lead on, bringing the blazing torches. | 865 |
Burn pure with sulfur the farthest sky
In holy rites, so we may receive heaven’s pure air.
You there, if anyone has defiled the path
With impure foot, touch it with cleansing flame,
| Strike with the pine torch, so I may pass through. | 870 |
Having performed your duty to the gods,
Bring the hearth fire back inside.
(SERVANTS perform rites and exit.)
Helen, my prophecies? How are they?
Your husband, Menelaus, is really here,
| His ships lost and your phantom vanished. | 875 |
Poor man, what trouble you flee and come to.
You don’t know if you will return home or stay here.
There is strife among the gods and an assembly
Concerning you, at Zeus’ seat, this very day.
| Hera, hostile to you before, is kind now | 880 |
And wishes to save you for home
With this woman, so Greece may learn Aphrodite’s
Gift of marriage to Paris was fraudulent.
But Aphrodite wishes to ruin your return,
| So she’s not put to the test nor revealed to have bought | 885 |
Her beauty prize with Helen by a useless marriage.
The end is up to me: either what Aphrodite wants,
That I tell my brother you are here and destroy you,
Or I stand with Hera and save your life,
| Hiding you from my brother who appointed me | 890 |
To tell him when you journeyed to this land.
Who will send a message to my brother
That this man is here, so I am not in danger?
HELEN:
O virgin, I fall suppliant at your knees.
| I kneel in this unfortunate way for myself | 895 |
And this man, whom at long last I found.
Please don’t report my husband to your brother,
My beloved just come into my arms.
| Save him, I pray you. Do not betray | 900 |
For your brother, your former holiness,
Buying evil and unjust gratitude.
Gods hate violence, and they order
Everyone not to possess stolen property.
| Any unjust wealth is to go untouched. | 905 |
The sky is common to all men, and the earth,
Where they fill their houses with possessions,
And should not take from others, or lose by force.
Timely for us, wretched for me,
| Hermes gave me to your father to save | 910 |
For my husband, who is here and wants me back
Dead, how can he take me? How could
Your father give the living to the dead?
Think what the gods and your father would do:
| Whether a god or the dead man would want, | 915 |
Or not want, to give back what belongs to another.
I think yes. So you should not respect
A rash brother more than a worthy father.
If you are a prophet and know the gods
| And overthrow your father’s justice | 920 |
And grace your unjust brother, it is shameful
For you to know all the gods so well
And the future and not what is just.
Rescue me from torment, the pain
| I lie in, add to my good fortune. | 925 |
There is no mortal who does not hate Helen.
In Greece, they say I betrayed my husband
And went to live in Phrygian luxury.
If I went to Greece, set foot in Sparta,
| Hearing, seeing themselves wrecked by the plans | 930 |
Of the gods and that I was not the betrayer of loved ones,
They would give me back again my virtue.
And I would give my daughter in marriage,
Whom no one wants. Leaving this bitter journey
| Here, I shall enjoy the happiness of home. | 935 |
If this man were dead on the pyre,
Far away, I would love him with tears.
Shall I lose him, alive now and saved?
No, virgin, I beg of you!
| Do me this favor and imitate the ways | 940 |
Of your just father. This is the greatest fame
For children: whoever is born
Of a kind father, turns out the same.
CHORUS:
These words are to be pitied,
| And you, also. I want to hear | 945 |
Menelaus’ words for his own life.
MENELAUS:
I dare not fall at your knee
Or wet my eyes with tears. I would be
Cowardly and shame Troy most of all.
| They say it is right for a noble man | 950 |
To let tears fall from his eyes in misfortune.
I shall not choose that honor,
If it is honor, but the way of a great soul.
If it seems best to you to save me, a stranger
| Rightly trying to take back my wife, | 955 |
Give me her, and save my life, too. If not,
Not for the first time, but as often, I am locked
In struggle, and you are shown an evil woman.
I believe what is noble and just in me
| Will touch your heart most, as I fall | 960 |
At your father’s monument, saying,
Old man, who inhabits this stone tomb,
Give her back. I ask you for my wife
Whom Zeus sent here for you to save.
| I know, being dead, you no longer give her up. | 965 |
This woman will not think it right
That her once esteemed father, called up
From below, be defamed. Now she has the power.
O Hades in hell, I call you for ally.
| You who, for my wife, received many men | 970 |
Fallen in my slaughtering. You have your payment for her.
Either give back these men alive
Or force this woman to show herself greater
Than her father in giving back my wife.
| If you plan to steal her | 975 |
I shall say what she left out:
We are locked in oaths—so you may know,
O virgin—first to battle your brother.
He or I must die. That is all.
| If he does not oppose my strength, step by step, | 980 |
And, as we supplicate, he hunts us with starvation,
I have resolved to kill this woman, then to thrust
This double blade into my gut
On top of this tomb, so streams of blood
| Will drip down the monument. The two of us | 985 |
Will lie corpses, side to side, on the cut-stone tomb,
Eternal pain for you and a censure on your father.
No one marries this woman, not your brother,
No one. But I shall lead her away,
| If not home, then to the house of the dead. | 990 |
Why say this? Turning womanish with tears,
I would be more pitiable than heroic.
Kill, if you think best. You don’t kill an infamous man.
But, better, be persuaded by my words
| So you may be just and I take my wife. | 995 |
CHORUS:
It is yours to judge his words, young lady.
Judge so as to please all.
THEONOE:
I was born to do right, and I wish to.
I shall honor myself and not disgrace
| My father’s fame, nor honor my brother | 1000 |
In a way that will appear dishonorable.
A great temple of justice lies in
My heart. I received it from Nereus,
And I shall try to preserve it, Menelaus.
| I will cast my vote with Hera | 1005 |
Who wishes to do you well. May Aphrodite
Be kind to me, though we have nothing in common.
I shall try to remain a virgin always.
Those reproaches on the tomb of my father
| Are my words, too. I would be unjust, | 1010 |
If I did not give her back. Alive, he would
Give her back to you and you to her.
There is retribution among those below
As among those above. The mind
| Of the dead doesn’t live, but it holds | 1015 |
Immortal thought permeating immortal air.
To be brief, I shall be silent
About your supplication, nor shall I be
An accomplice to the lust of my brother.
| I will do him a kindness, while not seeming to, | 1020 |
If I turn him from impiety to righteousness.
You yourselves discover a way,
And I shall stand aside silently.
Begin with the goddesses. Supplicate
| Aphrodite to let you return home | 1025 |
And the mind of Hera to remain the same:
Safety for you and your husband.
And you, O dead father, as long as I have power,
Never may you be called impious rather than righteous.
(THEONOE exits.)
CHORUS:
| No one ever prospered, being unjust, | 1030 |
And in justice lies the hope of safety.
HELEN:
Menelaus, we are saved by the virgin.
We must bring our ideas together
Into one common plan of escape.
MENELAUS:
| Listen. You have been long familiar | 1035 |
With the servants in the king’s household.
What do you mean? You hope
To do something helpful to us both.
MENELAUS:
Might you persuade someone in charge
| Of the four-horse chariots to give us one? | 1040 |
HELEN:
I could. But what route could we take,
Not knowing the barbarian plains?
MENELAUS:
Yes. That’s impossible. What if I hid in the house
And killed the king with this two-edged sword?
HELEN:
| His sister won’t let you nor keep silent | 1045 |
About your going to murder her brother.
MENELAUS:
There is not even a ship in which
We might escape. The sea owns ours.
HELEN:
Listen—if a woman can say anything wise.
| Not dead in reality, do you want to be dead in name? | 1050 |
MENELAUS:
A bird of ill omen. But if it helps me, speak.
Alive, I’m ready to die in words.
HELEN:
I shall mourn you with a woman’s shorn hair
And with lamentations in front of the unholy man.
| How does this help our escape? | 1055 |
Your scheme is a bit old-fashioned.
HELEN:
I will ask the king of this land to bury
You in an empty tomb because you died at sea.
MENELAUS:
And he grants it. Then how will we escape
| Without a ship and my tomb being empty? | 1060 |
HELEN:
I’ll order him to give us a ship
To send the offerings into the sea’s embrace.
MENELAUS:
Well said, except: If he orders
To set the tomb on land, the plan fails.
HELEN:
| I shall say in Greece it’s forbidden | 1065 |
To bury on land those who died at sea.
MENELAUS:
Right again. Then I shall sail, too,
And will put the offerings in the same ship.
HELEN:
You must certainly be there and
| Your sailors who survived shipwreck. | 1070 |
MENELAUS:
If I have a ship at anchor, man
By man will stand, bearing a sword.
You must arrange everything. If only there may be
Favorable winds for our sails and a fast ship.
MENELAUS:
| Let it be so. The gods are stopping my suffering. | 1075 |
But from whom will you learn that I am dead?
HELEN:
From you. Say you alone sailing with the son
Of Atreus escaped fate and saw him die.
MENELAUS:
Yes, and these rags around my body
| Will witness your shipwreck story. | 1080 |
HELEN:
They’re timely now, though destructive before.
Maybe that suffering will prove favorable.
MENELAUS:
Should I go into the house with you,
Or calmly sit by this monument?
HELEN:
| Stay here. If he does anything outrageous to you, | 1085 |
This tomb, and your sword, will save you.
Going back into the house, I’ll cut my hair,
Change my white robe to black,
And drive my bloody nails into my cheeks.
| It’s a grand contest. I see two falls of the scales: | 1090 |
Either I must die, caught scheming,
Or I go home, saving your life.
O Queen Hera, who lies in Zeus’ bed,
Revive from pain two pitiful creatures.
| We ask you, throwing our arms straight | 1095 |
To the sky, where you live in spangled stars.
And you, who won beauty by my marriage,
Aphrodite, daughter of Dione, don’t murder me.
You have outraged me enough before,
| Offering my name, not myself, to the barbarians. | 1100 |
Let me die, if you wish to kill me,
In my native land. Why are you ever greedy for crime,
Lust, trickery, deceit, and plots,
Decorating homes with charms of blood?
| Were you only moderate! In every other way, | 1105 |
You’re the sweetest goddess for mankind. I won’t deny it.
(HELEN exits.)
CHORUS:
I cry to you, who sit
In your tree home,
The muses’ temple, your seat,
The tuneful,
Most-gifted bird,
| Tearful nightingale. | 1110 |
O, come trilling through your tan throat,
My helper in lament,
As I sing Helen’s
Dreadful pain, the weeping fate
| Of Trojan women | 1115 |
Beneath the Greek spears,
Paris driving gray waves with barbarian oar,
When he came and brought your marriage bed from Sparta
And misery for Priam’s sons,
| O, Helen: Paris’ fatal marriage, | 1120 |
By the connivance of Aphrodite.
So many Greeks were killed
By the flung stones
And spears to live in dark Hades,
Their wretched
Wives with shorn hair.
| Homes lie husbandless. | 1125 |
Alone, Nauplius fired sea-washed Euboea
With flame on flame and killed
Many Greeks and smashed
Them on rocks in Caphereus
| Upon the headlands | 1130 |
With a false star.
Menelaus, thrown far to grim, harborless
Lands by blasts, far storms, where barbarian dress is worn,
He carried a prize, no prize, but strife
| Inside the ships of the Danaans, | 1135 |
The holy phantom that Hera made.
What is god, or not god, or half-god,
What mortal searcher can say?
| He discovers the utmost limit who knows the works of gods | 1140 |
Jump here, again there, in contradictory
And unexpected fortunes.
You, O Helen, were born the daughter of Zeus.
| Your winged father begot you | 1145 |
In Leda’s womb
And then you were proclaimed in Greece:
Betrayer, unfaithful, unjust, ungodly.
Nor is there a certain and true word that I have ever discovered
| About the gods from mortals. | 1150 |
You are mad who win fame in war work
With mighty points on your spears
And who foolishly put an end to the pains of war with death.
| War will not leave city-states, if blood is judge | 1155 |
Of every contest—never!
War would have spared in Troy the bedrooms of Priam,
If talk could possibly have settled
| Your war, O Helen. | 1160 |
Now some are in the care of Hades
Below, and a murdering flame, like Zeus,’
Rushes over walls. You endure suffering on top of hard suffering
In pitiful disasters.
(THEOCLYMENUS enters with SERVANTS.)
THEOCLYMENUS:
| Greetings to my father’s tomb. I buried you, | 1165 |
Proteus, by the doors, so I might address you.
Going and coming from the house, I,
Your son, Theoclymenus, always greet you.
—Take care of the dogs and hunting nets,
| My men, in the royal palace.— | 1170 |
(SERVANTS exit.)
Many times I have cursed myself
For not punishing these bastards with death.
Now I learn some Greek has come
Openly into the land and my guards didn’t notice,
| A spy or someone hunting for Helen. | 1175 |
He dies—if only he be caught.
What!
It seems I find the business finished.
Leaving her seat by the tomb empty,
Tyndareus’ daughter has been taken over the sea.
| Attention! Release the bars! Open | 1180 |
The stables, servants, and bring out the chariots!
So she won’t slip from the country without
Our efforts, she I desire for wife.
(HELEN enters.)
Wait! I see her we pursue,
| Here in the house and not escaping. | 1185 |
You! Why have you put on black,
Changing from white, and from your noble head
Cut your hair, laying on the knife,
Wetting your cheeks with bright tears.
| Were you convinced by a dream | 1190 |
In the night and cry out, or did you hear
Some bad news from home that broke your heart?
HELEN:
My lord—I name you that now—I am ruined.
My world is gone. I am nothing anymore.
THEOCLYMENUS:
| What trouble are you in? What misfortune? | 1195 |
HELEN:
My Menelaus—how can I say it?—is dead.
I don’t rejoice in your words, though they’re my good fortune.
How do you know? Did Theonoe say this?
HELEN:
That man said it who was there when he died.
THEOCLYMENUS:
| Someone came who announced this for certain? | 1200 |
HELEN:
He came. Would he would go where I want him to go!
THEOCLYMENUS:
Who is he? Where is he? So I may learn for sure.
HELEN:
That’s him crouching at the tomb.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Apollo! How ugly his clothes are!
HELEN:
| I suppose my husband dressed like that. | 1205 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
What is his country? From where did he put in to shore?
HELEN:
A Greek, one of the Achaeans sailing with my husband.
THEOCLYMENUS:
What kind of death did he say Menelaus had?
The worst. In the watery surf of the sea.
THEOCLYMENUS:
| Where on the barbarous seas was he carried? | 1210 |
HELEN:
Libya. Driven out on the shelterless rocks.
THEOCLYMENUS:
How was he not destroyed, sharing the same voyage?
HELEN:
Sometimes commoners are luckier than aristocrats.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Where is the wrecked ship he left?
HELEN:
| Where may it perish completely! But not Menelaus. | 1215 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
That man is dead. In what boat did the other come?
HELEN:
Sailors found him and took him up, he says.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Where is that cursed one sent to Troy instead of you?
HELEN:
You mean the cloud image? Vanished in air.
| O Priam and the land of Troy, fallen for nothing! | 1220 |
HELEN:
And I suffered misfortune with Priam’s sons.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Did he leave your husband unburied or cover him with earth?
HELEN:
Unburied. O my dreadful suffering!
THEOCLYMENUS:
For this you cut your golden hair?
HELEN:
| He is dear to me, once being here alive. | 1225 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
It’s proper to weep this misfortune.
HELEN:
You think it’s easy to trick your sister?
THEOCLYMENUS:
No, it’s not. So. Will you remain at the tomb?
HELEN:
| Escaping you, I’m faithful to my husband. | 1230 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
You mock me and don’t leave the dead?
But no longer. Prepare my marriage.
THEOCLYMENUS:
A long time coming. But nevertheless I commend you.
HELEN:
Here is what you do: let us forget the past.
THEOCLYMENUS:
How? Let favor follow favor.
HELEN:
| Let us make a truce and reconcile ourselves. | 1235 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
I put aside my fight with you, Let it fly away.
HELEN:
Now on my knees, since you are dear to me . . .
THEOCLYMENUS:
Why do you hunt me down and supplicate me?
HELEN:
. . . I wish to bury my dead husband.
THEOCLYMENUS:
| What! A tomb for the lost or to bury a ghost? | 1240 |
HELEN:
It’s the custom for Greeks who die at sea.
What do you do? Pelops’ sons are wise in this.
HELEN:
Bury him in an empty woolen robe.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Honor him. Set it anywhere in the land.
HELEN:
| We don’t bury dead sailors that way. | 1245 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
How? I don’t know Greek customs.
HELEN:
We bring out to sea whatever the dead need.
THEOCLYMENUS:
What then can I provide for the dead man?
HELEN:
This man knows. I’m at a loss, being fortunate till now.
THEOCLYMENUS:
| Stranger, you brought a good report. | 1250 |
MENELAUS:
Not good for me, or the dead man.
THEOCLYMENUS:
How do you bury the dead who die at sea?
According to the man’s wealth at the time.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Name the price you want for her sake.
MENELAUS:
| First, sacrifice blood to those below. | 1255 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
Sacrifice what? Tell me and I shall do it.
MENELAUS:
You decide. Whatever you give will do.
THEOCLYMENUS:
A horse or bull is the barbarian custom.
MENELAUS:
Give, but give nothing deformed.
THEOCLYMENUS:
| We have no shortage of rich herds. | 1260 |
MENELAUS:
You must supply a made bed without a body.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Be it so. What else does custom demand?
MENELAUS:
Bronze weapons, for he was a friend of the spear.
What we give will be worthy of Pelops’ sons.
MENELAUS:
| And whatever is beautiful that earth bears. | 1265 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
Then what? How do you throw it into the waves?
MENELAUS:
We need a ship and skilled rowers.
THEOCLYMENUS:
How far from land will the ship be?
MENELAUS:
So the oar splash is hardly seen from shore.
THEOCLYMENUS:
| Why? Why does Greece honor this custom? | 1270 |
MENELAUS:
So waves don’t send back pollution to land.
THEOCLYMENUS:
There’ll be a fast Phoenician ship.
MENELAUS:
That would be fine, and good for Menelaus.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Can’t you do this without her?
| It’s a task for mother or wife or children. | 1275 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
It’s her job, as you say, to bury her husband.
MENELAUS:
For piety’s sake, don’t rob the dead of their rites.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Let her go. I want to nurture a pious wife.
Go in, someone, and bring out the corpse offerings.
| And you, I won’t send away empty-handed | 1280 |
For what you’ve done for her. For bringing me
Good news, you’ll receive clothes,
To replace your rags, and food, so you can go home,
Because I see how bad off you are.
You, poor woman, don’t waste yourself
| On the useless. Menelaus met his fate. | 1285 |
The dead can’t live through weeping.
MENELAUS:
It’s up to you, young woman. You must oblige
Your present husband and let the lost one go.
| That’s what is best for you in this case. | 1290 |
If I reach Greece safely, I’ll remove
Your former stigma—if you become
The wife you should to your husband.
HELEN:
So be it. My husband will never blame me.
| You, being there, will learn that. | 1295 |
But, poor man, go in and bathe,
And change your clothing. Without delay,
I’ll treat you well. You shall perform the offerings
For my beloved Menelaus better
| If you get from me what you deserve. | 1300 |
(HELEN, MENELAUS, and THEOCLYMENUS exit.)
CHORUS:
Once Cybele, the mountain Mother of the Gods,
With driving feet
Rushed up the wooded ravines
And racing rivers,
| Resounding salty waves, | 1305 |
In longing for her captured daughter,
Whose name cannot be spoken.
The thundering cymbals cast
Their roar and blared out,
| When the goddess yoked | 1310 |
Her chariot to beasts
[To track] her daughter,
Snatched from the circling
Choirs of virgins.
As swift-footed as storms,
| Artemis with her bow and wild-eyed | 1315 |
Athena with her spear and armor
[Darted to save her.] From the bright heavens,
Zeus devised another fate.
When Cybele had stopped her wandering days,
| Her driving grief, | 1320 |
Seeking her daughter’s insane
And treacherous ravisher,
She reached the peaks of Ida,
That nourish snow, a tower for nymphs,
| And flung herself in sorrow | 1325 |
To snow-deep rocks and trees.
For men, the plains withered.
She made fruitless the fields
And blighted a generation.
| She gave the herds no | 1330 |
Fresh feed or leaves.
Life left the cities.
No sacrifices were offered.
Offerings lay on the altars unburnt.
| She stopped the tender springs from pouring | 1335 |
Out their bright white waters, in grief
For her daughter, taking vengeance.
After she ended the feasting
Of gods and mankind,
Zeus, trying to calm
| The Mother’s Stygian hate, called out: | 1340 |
“Go down, O holy Graces,
Go, and with your ecstatic cries,
Banish Deo’s pain,
Furious for her daughter.
| Go, too, Muses, with your choral songs.” | 1345 |
For the first time, Aphrodite,
Most beautiful of the blessed,
Took up the quaking clash of bronze and drums
With stretched hides. Cybele laughed,
| Received into her hands | 1350 |
The thunderous pipe,
Rejoicing in its roar.
Neither right nor holy
Was what you burned,
| Helen, in caverns. | 1355 |
You won the hate of the Great Mother,
Dishonoring her rites.
Know great power lies in dappled fawn skin
Clothes, and greenery,
| Ivy that crowns the sacred | 1360 |
Thyrsus, whirly shaking high in air
Of the bull-roar’s circling wood,
Hair streaming in the dance and wild
For Bromius in bacchic ritual,
| In night-long rites for the goddess. | 1365 |
The moon surpassed her well
In light, but you
Admired your own beauty.
(HELEN enters.)
HELEN:
We were fortunate inside the house, my friends.
| Proteus’ daughter helped to conceal | 1370 |
My husband’s presence, under questioning.
She did not tell her brother. She said, for my sake,
He was dead under earth and does not see the sunlight.
My husband enjoys the greatest fortune.
| The weapons he was supposed to throw into the sea, | 1375 |
Setting his noble arm in the shield strap,
He carries himself and brings a spear in his right hand,
As if to assist in the dead man’s service.
He has dressed for battle work, to win,
| By hand, trophies over many barbarians, | 1380 |
When we board the well-oared ship.
Changing his clothes from his shipwreck rags,
I fitted him out and bathed his flesh,
Finally a washing in pure river water.
| But since this man comes out of the palace, | 1385 |
Thinking to have my marriage in hand,
I must be silent. We beg you
To wish us well and control your tongue.
If we can be saved, maybe we can save you, too.
(THEOCLYMENUS enters with MENELAUS and SERVANTS.)
THEOCLYMENUS:
| Come in formation, as the stranger ordered, | 1390 |
Men, bearing the funeral gifts for the sea.
Helen, if I seem not to speak badly,
Obey, stay here. Being present, or not,
You perform these rites for your husband.
| I’m afraid some desire will take | 1395 |
You to hurl yourself into the waves,
Struck mad by your former husband’s charms,
Grieving for him no longer here.
HELEN:
O my celebrated husband, I must honor
| My first marriage and bridal love. | 1400 |
Because I loved my husband,
I would have died with him. But what good
Would it do the dead man to die with him?
Let me give the funeral gifts to the corpse myself.
| May the gods give you what I wish | 1405 |
And to this stranger for helping out.
You shall have me for the wife you should have
In your house, since you do Menelaus
And me good service. All is turning out well.
| Whoever will give us a ship to carry these things, | 1410 |
Order him to, so my joy will be complete.
Go and bring a Sidonian fifty-oared galley
For them and skilled rowers.
HELEN:
Will not the arranger of the burial command the ship?
THEOCLYMENUS:
| Of course. My sailors must obey him. | 1415 |
HELEN:
Order again so they understand you clearly.
THEOCLYMENUS:
I order again, even three times, if you want.
HELEN:
Thank you. May I benefit from my plans.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Don’t ruin your complexion too much with tears.
HELEN:
| Today will show you my gratitude. | 1420 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
Trouble taken for the dead is useless suffering.
HELEN:
Those things I speak of matter, here, and there.
THEOCLYMENUS:
You shall have a husband no worse than Menelaus.
You are flawless. I need only good fortune.
THEOCLYMENUS:
| It’s yours—if you give me your good will. | 1425 |
HELEN:
I won’t be taught now how to love my loved ones.
THEOCLYMENUS:
Want me to help by bringing the expedition myself?
HELEN:
Oh no. Don’t be a slave to your slaves, my lord.
THEOCLYMENUS:
All right, then. I forego the customs of Pelops’ sons.
| My palace is pure, for Menelaus | 1430 |
Did not give up his soul here. Let someone go
Tell my staff to bring the wedding images
Into my palace. The whole country
Must resound with blessed hymns,
| So the marriage of Helen and me may be envied. | 1435 |
Go into the arms of the sea and give
These things to her former husband.
Hurry back my wife to my palace
And share the wedding feast with me,
| So you may set out for home, or remain here happy. | 1440 |
(THEOCLYMENUS exits.)
MENELAUS:
O Zeus, celebrated as father and wise god,
Look upon us and set aside our suffering.
Eagerly help us haul our misfortunes to the rocky height.
But touch us with your fingertip,
| We’ll arrive at the good fortune we want. | 1445 |
We struggled with enough troubles in the past.
You were called before, you gods, to hear my great
And unheeded pain. I should not fare badly always,
But go the right way. Give me one favor
| And set me in good fortune forever. | 1450 |
(MENELAUS, HELEN, and SERVANTS exit.)
CHORUS:
O swift Phoenician ship
Of Sidon, rowing, dear
To the waves of Nereus,
Leading choreographed dances
| Of the dolphins, when the sea | 1455 |
Is without a breeze,
And gray-eyed Pontus’ daughter
Galineia says:
“Let the sails hang down.
| Forget the ocean winds. | 1460 |
Take up your oars of fir,
O sailors, sailors,
Bringing Helen
To the well-harbored shores of Perseus’ home.”
| Then, Helen, you might find | 1465 |
The daughters of Leucippus
By the river waves of Pallas’
Temple, joining at last
Choruses or revels, night
| Joys of Hyacinthus | 1470 |
Whom Phoebus killed in the contest,
Hurling far the discus.
In the Spartan land,
That son of Zeus proclaimed
| A day of sacrifice. | 1475 |
The child you left home,
[Helen, greet]
Where the pine torches are not yet fired for her wedding.
Would that we might fly
Through air where Libyan
| Cranes in formation will go, | 1480 |
Leaving the winter rains,
Obedient to the oldest,
With his shepherd-like piping,
Who shrills as he flies over
| The rainless plains | 1485 |
And fertile lands.
Flocking with the racing clouds,
O long-neck birds,
Fly midway beneath the Pleiades
| And Orion by night, | 1490 |
Herald the news,
By the Eurotas,
That Menelaus took the city
Of Troy and shall come home.
| Would that you might come | 1495 |
Through air and ride down
Sky-tracks, O sons of Tyndareus,
Dwelling in heaven beneath
The shifting, flaming stars,
| You twin saviors of Helen. | 1500 |
Upon the green salt surge,
And dark-gray sea,
Sending favoring gusts of winds,
| From Zeus to sailors, | 1505 |
Cast off the disgrace of a barbarian
Bed from Helen, your sister,
Punished for strife
Upon Mount Ida
| Who never went to Troy at all, | 1510 |
To towers built by Phoebus.
(THEOCLYMENUS enters followed by a MESSENGER.)
MESSENGER:
My lord, I’ve discovered the worst for our house.
Strange the misery you’ll soon hear from me.
THEOCLYMENUS:
What is it?
MESSENGER:
Woo another woman.
| Helen’s gone from the land. | 1515 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
Taken by wings or treading feet?
MESSENGER:
Menelaus sailed off with her,
Who came himself announcing he had died.
THEOCLYMENUS:
A terrible message! What ship
| Took her out of the country? I don’t believe it. | 1520 |
The one you gave the foreigner. He went
And took your sailors. That’s the story.
THEOCLYMENUS:
How? I must know. I never thought
One man would overpower
| The many sailors you brought. | 1525 |
MESSENGER:
After she left the royal palace,
Zeus’ daughter set out for the sea.
Turning a graceful foot, she lamented with great skill.
Her husband was at her side—and not dead.
| When we came to the dockyard enclosure, | 1530 |
We started to launch the new Sidonian ship,
Fitted out for fifty benches and oars,
One task followed another. One man
Laid down the mast. Another the oars. Another
| The oars arranged for hands. The white sails | 1535 |
Were placed. The rudders let down by ropes.
During this work, the Greek men,
Menelaus’ shipmates, dressed in shipwreck rags,
Handsome men but filthy to see,
| Were on the lookout for this and came to the shore. | 1540 |
Seeing them there, the son of Atreus, bringing
Out his treacherous lament, addressed them:
“Poor wretches, how and from what Greek boat
Do you come, shattering your ship?
| Help us bury the destroyed son of Atreus, | 1545 |
Whom Tyndareus’ daughter honors with a cenotaph,
He being far from here.” They wept false tears
And went into the ship carrying offerings
For Menelaus. We were suspicious and spoke
| To each other of the great number | 1550 |
Of additional passengers. Nevertheless we obeyed
Your commands. By ordering the stranger
To run the ship, you ruined everything.
We set the rest, being light, in the ship easily.
| But the bull did not want to set his foot | 1555 |
Straight forward along the gangway.
He bellowed out, rolling his eyes,
Arching his back, and looking along his horn,
Keeping us from touching him. Helen’s husband
| called, “O sackers of Troy city, come | 1560 |
Won’t you lift the bull’s bulk, according
To Greek custom, on your sturdy shoulders
And heave him into the prow”—he took his sword
In his hand—“a sacrifice for the dead man?”
| At his order, they came and hove up the bull, | 1565 |
Carried it, and set it on the deck.
Patting the neck and forehead of the horse,
Menelaus persuaded it to enter the ship.
Finally, when the boat was full,
| After gracing the ladder with her beautiful ankles, | 1570 |
Helen sat in the middle of the quarterdeck—
And he who was dead only in words.
Others sat in pairs, equally
Starboard and port, holding swords
| Concealed beneath their cloaks, and the waves filled | 1575 |
With our voices echoing the boatswain’s calls.
When we were not too far from the land,
Or too near, the helmsman asked,
“Still farther, stranger? Is this good?
| Shall we row on? You’re in charge.” | 1580 |
He answered, “Far enough.” Seizing his sword,
He walked to the prow and stood by the sacrificial
Bull. Making no mention of the dead,
He cut the throat and prayed, “O Poseidon,
| Dwelling in the sea, and Nereus’ holy daughters, | 1585 |
Bring me and my wife to Nauplia’s shores,
Safe out of this land.” Streams of blood spouted
Into the waves propitiously for the stranger.
Someone said, “There’s treachery aboard.
| Let’s sail back. Order us to starboard! | 1590 |
Turn the rudder!” Standing at the dead bull,
Atreus’ son shouted to his shipmates,
“Why do you hesitate, flower of Greece,
To slaughter, murder the barbarians and toss
| Them from the ship to the waves?” The boatswain | 1595 |
Called the opposite command to your sailors:
“Come on! Will someone not take up a spar for a spear;
Another shatter the benches; someone rip the oar
From its pin; and bloody the heads of the warring strangers?”
| All sprang up. These holding ship’s | 1600 |
Spars in their hands; those swords.
The ship flowed with blood. From the stern,
Helen urged them on: “Where is your Trojan glory?
Show it to the barbarians.” In battle heat
| They fell. Some rose up. You could see | 1605 |
Others lying dead. Menelaus in arms,
Spying where his men were harassed,
Pressed on with his sword in his right hand.
So your men dove overboard. He cleared
| The oar seats of your sailors. He went | 1610 |
To the helmsman and told him to steer to Greece.
They stepped the mast. Favorable winds came.
They went from the country. To escape death,
I let myself down by the anchor into the sea.
| A fisherman picked me up exhausted | 1615 |
And put me on shore to announce
The news to you. There is nothing more useful
To mortals than prudent distrust.
CHORUS:
My lord, I wouldn’t have expected Menelaus
| To escape your notice and mine, right here. | 1620 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
O miserable me, taken in by female treachery.
My bride has escaped me. If the ship could be overtaken,
I would make every effort to take the foreigners.
Now I shall punish my betrayer of a sister,
| She, seeing Menelaus in the palace, didn’t tell me. | 1625 |
She won’t delude another man with her prophecies.
CHORUS LEADER:
You, where are you rushing, my lord, to what murder?
THEOCLYMENUS:
Where justice calls me. Move out of the way!
CHORUS LEADER:
I shall not let go of your robe. You’re heading for great trouble.
THEOCLYMENUS:
What! A slave, you rule your master?
| I know best. | 1630 |
THEOCLYMENUS:
Not for me, if you don’t let me . . .
CHORUS LEADER:
—No, I won’t let you—
THEOCLYMENUS:
Kill a most vile sister . . .
CHORUS LEADER:
—No, the holiest of all—
THEOCLYMENUS:
Who betrayed me . . .
CHORUS LEADER:
—beautiful betrayal, doing justice—
THEOCLYMENUS:
Giving my bride to another . . .
CHORUS LEADER:
—to her more rightful guardian.—
THEOCLYMENUS:
Who is the guardian of my property?
CHORUS LEADER:
| He who took her from her father. | 1635 |
Chance gave her to me . . .
CHORUS LEADER:
and necessity took her away.
THEOCLYMENUS:
It is not right that you judge mine.
CHORUS LEADER:
It is if I speak better.
THEOCLYMENUS:
I’m ruled then, not the ruler.
CHORUS LEADER:
Ruler to do right, not what is unjust.
THEOCLYMENUS:
You seem to love death.
CHORUS LEADER:
Kill me. You won’t kill
| Your sister, if I can help it. It is a most glorious death | 1640 |
For a noble slave to die for his mistress.
(The Dioscuri, CASTOR and POLYDEUCES, enter above on the theater crane.)
CASTOR:
Cease your anger. You’ve gone wrong,
Theoclymenus, lord of the land. We, the two
Dioscuri, call, whom Leda bore
| With Helen, who has fled your palace. | 1645 |
You are angry about a marriage not destined for you.
Nor was the daughter of the Nereid goddess,
Your sister, Theonoe, unjust to you. She honored
The gods’ will and her father’s just commands.
| It was fated that woman dwell continually | 1650 |
In your palace until the present time.
But no more, since Troy’s foundations are thrown
Down and her name belongs to the gods.
She must be reunited in the same marriage,
| Go home, and live with her husband. | 1655 |
But keep your black sword from
Your sister. Know she acted wisely.
Long ago, we might have rescued Helen,
Since Zeus had made us gods,
| Though less than fate and other gods, | 1660 |
To whom these things seemed right.
I announce this to you my sister: Sail
With your husband. You’ll have favorable winds.
We, your saviors, your twin brothers,
| Riding along the sea, will bring you home. | 1665 |
When you have finished life’s course and reached the end,
You will be called a goddess [and share libations
With the Dioscuri] and shall have feasts
From men with us. Zeus wills it so.
| Where Maia’s son first set you down, | 1670 |
Taking you from Sparta in his heavenly course,
Stealing your body, lest Paris marry you,
I mean the guardian island stretched along Attica,
It will be called “Helen” forever among mortals,
| Because it received you, stolen from home, | 1675 |
For the wandering Menelaus, it is fated,
By the gods to live in the Islands of the Blest,
For the gods do not hate the wellborn,
And their pain is more than that of common men.
THEOCLYMENUS:
| O sons of Leda and Zeus, I put aside | 1680 |
My former quarrel with your sister.
Let her go home, if it is decreed by the gods.
No longer shall I try to kill Theonoe.
Know that you were born of the same blood
| To a matchless and most chaste sister. | 1685 |
Rejoice in Helen’s most noble soul—
Something not found in many women.
CHORUS:
The gods take many forms.
Many things the gods bring about unexpectedly.
| What is expected is not accomplished. | 1690 |
Gods discover unexpected ways.
So it turned out here.
(All exit.)
Notes
1–63. Prologue (what precedes the introduction of the chorus. Aristotle, Poetics, 1452b19–20). 1–68. Helen’s song (monody).
1. Virgin. Kalliparthenoi, “with beautiful virgins” or “pure,” stresses one of the romance themes of the play: that Helen, unlike her phantom self who went to Troy with Paris, is still “virginal,” in the sense of “pure,” for Menelaus. Cf. lines 48, 59, 65, 794–801.
3. We now know that the flooding of the Nile was from heavy Ethiopian rains, not melting snow. Today dams control the water.
4. Proteus. The Old Man of the Sea, a shapeshifter and personification of nature (Odyssey 4.456–458). This magical figure prepares us for the story of the magical tale of Helen’s journey and her double, as does the setting in faraway Egypt and the invocation of Homer’s more romantic epic.
5. Pharos. A rocky island, north of Egypt.
9–10. The lines are thought partly spurious. Theoclymenus, “god-famed,” is the name of a seer in the Odyssey.
13. Theonoe. “She knows the things of the gods.” An idea essential for the plot.
16–48. Helen’s need to explain the alternate story to the audience implies that Stesichorus’ version was less well known than Homer’s version. See the introduction. Note that the pursuit of beauty is a theme in this play as well as in the original tale and, in a wider sense, throughout ancient Greek culture. Helen also reveals doubts about tales of the gods.
41. mightiest man in Greece. Achilles.
44. Hermes. The messenger god.
65. Suppliancy tries to balance heroic force in the Greek world and has the support of Zeus Heketesios (“Of the Suppliants”) (Adkins, Merit, 65, 80).
68. Teucer. Rejected by his father for not avenging the death of his brother, Ajax, at Troy, Teucer is searching for a new home, a variation of the return story (nostos) of Menelaus and of Odysseus.
69. Plutus. God of wealth.
83–142. The dialogue shifts from verse paragraphs to an exchange of one-liners (stichomythia) that heightens the drama.
99. Euripides is the first to mention that Achilles was Helen’s suitor once.
109. Phrygians. Trojans.
110. Achaeans. Greeks.
124. That is, “Neither in the territory of Sparta nor in Sparta itself, where the Eurotas flows.”
128. The gods punished the Greeks for atrocities at Troy by scattering the returning fleet with a storm (e.g., Trojan Women, 78–85).
137. Tyndareus’ sons. The Dioscuri, Castor and Polydeuces, divine brothers of Helen. Both appear at the end of the play, though only Castor speaks.
164–252. Parodos. Entrance of the Chorus. 167–178: Strophe A. 179–190: Antistrophe A. 191–210: Strophe B. 211–228: Antistrophe B. 229–251: Epode. Teucer’s situation and news of Troy’s fall and aftermath stir Helen to call upon underworld goddesses for inspiration for her lament, while the chorus feared Helen was being raped by Theoclymenus. Helen and the chorus shift the plane of the action to backstory, intensifying the atmosphere of menace at the opening of the play.
169. Sirens. Death goddesses, whose mermaid song lures mariners away from their missions (Odyssey 12.39–46). Also earthly companions of Persephone (see below) who were changed into rocks in the sea, hence their plangent song.
175. Persephone. Carried off by Hades, Persephone (Proserpina) became a goddess of the underworld. Cf. Helen’s abduction and later deification. This reference is expanded in 1301–1352.
190. Pan. God of flocks and shepherds and nature itself.
228. bronze-housed goddess. Athena. She had a temple of bronze on the acropolis in Sparta.
229–232. The war originated with Paris’ voyage to Sparta. The cutting down of trees to build ships is often seen as the beginning of war, and hence evil (cf. Iliad 5.63). The pine sap oozes like tears for the destruction the tree will bring to Troy.
239. Danaans. Greeks.
244. Son of Maia. Hermes.
253–514. First Episode.
262. An old tradition claims that Euripides was once a painter (Barlow, Imagery, 15).
264–266. As a shame culture, rather than a guilt culture, the heroic world cultivated reputation.
276. The play invokes the Homeric world for an audience in the later world of the city-state (polis). The urban democratic antipathy to monarchy is evident here.
283. My daughter. Hermione, daughter of Helen and Menelaus.
295. barbarian. Ancient Greeks saw themselves as superior to other races, like the Medes and Persians, who were considered “barbarians,” “speaking gibberish” (“bar”-“bar”-ians).
330–385. Lyric interlude between Helen and chorus.
349. Eurotas. River near Sparta.
369. Scamander. River near Troy.
375–380. Callisto. Callisto (“most beautiful”) was seduced by Zeus and transformed into a bear, hence losing human consciousness. She is the constellation the Great Bear (Big Dipper). The theme of sexuality and violation continues.
381. Artemis. Goddess of chastity and the hunt.
382. Merops’ Titan daughter. Cos? If so, the Aegean island bears her name.
386–387. Pelops. Oenomaus. Pelops was the grandfather of Menelaus and Agamemnon. At Pisa (near Olympia), he beat Oenomaus in a chariot race by bribing and won Hippodamia, his daughter, for his bride. Pelops’ father, Tantalus, boiled him, cut him up, and fed him to the gods to test their omniscience. He was later restored to life. The Peloponessus, “Pelops’ island,” is named after him.
421–424. Euripides’ lowering of Homeric heroes by introducing them in rags is mocked by Aeschylus, tragedian of the high style, in Aristophanes’ Frogs (841–842). Euripides’ more sophisticated urban audience is capable of a less admiring attitude toward the heroic age. Note the humorous elements in the scene later between Theoclymenus’ doorkeeper and Menelaus, as well as the somewhat bombastic swagger of Menelaus here, revealing a defensive hero. In Egypt, as in classical Athens, Menelaus’ stature has been somewhat reduced. As we know, and he does not, he has also been duped by Hera. The mistaken identity theme is a standard comic device. One can hardly imagine Homer’s Menelaus in this scene.
474. Lacedaemon. Sparta.
515–527. Epiparodos: Reentry of the chorus. A highly variable astrophic lyric that momentarily lessens the tension.
528–1106. Second Episode.
544. bacchante. Ecstatic follower of Dionysos.
569–570. Hecate. An earth goddess associated with death, the underworld, and demons. She was blended with Enodia, mentioned in the Greek text by Helen, a goddess of crossroads and dreams. More phantoms.
625–697. A lyric duet (amoibaion) in which Menelaus’ lines mostly follow the conversational iambic trimeters of the dialogue, but Helen’s often veer into contrasting lyric meters (iambic and the ecstatic dochmiac, ˘ — —˘ —).
658–659. Idaean/City. Troy, near Mount Ida.
680–681. The lines are “dropped” or split between the actors for a change in rhythm (antilabé ).
713–719. Conventional wisdom. The unreliability of fate and the gods suggests a doubtful outcome for the play. Cf. lines 745–757. Note Euripides’ sympathy for slaves as well as women.
749. Calchas. Greek seer.
751. Helenus. Trojan seer and son of Priam.
767. Nauplius. Nauplius’ son, Palamedes, exposed Odysseus’ ruse of madness to avoid going to the Trojan War and was killed by the Greeks in a plot laid by Odysseus. After a storm scattered the Greek fleet returning to Greece, Nauplius got vengeance by lighting false beacons on Euboea and wrecked Greek ships (in the Cypria). See line 128 and its note.
769. The lookout of Perseus. Western end of the Nile delta where the hero Perseus rescued Andromeda from a sea monster.
821. Theonoe = “she knows the things of the gods.” Cf. note to 13.
849. Nestor. Old hero in the Iliad.
894–943. A rhesis (set speech) reminiscent of law courts. Poetry and oratory were closely connected in ancient Greece.
1107–1164. First Stasimon (Choral Ode). 1107–1121: Strophe A. 1122– 1136: Antistrophe A. 1137–1150: Strophe B. 1151–1164: Antistrophe B. The chorus broadens the action with mythological and historical referents outside the play itself.
1110. nightingale. Philomela was raped by Tereus, the husband of her sister, Procne. Tereus cut out her tongue and imprisoned her in the wilds of Thrace, but she wove a tapestry of what happened and sent it to Procne. Procne killed her child, Itys, and fed him to his father Tereus. When Tereus pursued the women, the gods changed them into birds: Tereus became a hawk, Procne a swallow, and Philomela a nightingale. There are slightly variant versions of the tale. The nightingale’s cry is a high-pitched frenzy followed by a long, low lamenting note, imitative of the violence and its aftermath. Such references keep the threat of rape in the mind of the audience and also the serious consequences if Helen’s plan fails.
1126. Nauplius. See note to 767.
1165–1300. Third Episode.
1201. The first of several double entendres, e.g., 1205, 1215, 1225.
1301–1368. Second Stasimon. 1301–1318: Strophe A. 1319–1337: Antistrophe B. 1338–1352: Strophe B. 1353–1368: Antistrophe B. The kidnapped Helen invokes the tale of Persephone again (cf. note to 175).
1301–1368. The “Mountain Mother Ode.” Cybele, the Great Mother, is blended here with Demeter (Deo) as the mother of Persephone, carried off by Hades to the underworld. In revenge, she neglects the crops she cares for and mankind starves. To console her, she is given the flute and joins in the blended rites of Dionysos and Aphrodite.
1312. Line corrupt. Conjecture added.
1317. Line corrupt. Conjecture added.
1340. Stygian. Hellish.
1341. Graces. Charites, goddesses of poetry and song, often associated with the muses.
1353–1368. The story of Helen’s neglect of the rites of Cybele/Dionysos through the admiration for her own beauty is found only here, though the treatment suggests a well-known myth. Part of her misery in Egypt is the result of this neglect. Note the contrast with Cybele’s acceptance of Bacchic rites (1349–1352).
1358. fawn skin. Worn by the followers of Dionysos.
1360–1361. Thyrsus. The fennel reed stuffed with Ivy at the top, carried by Dionysos’ bacchants as a wand.
1362. the bull-roar’s circling wood. The rhombus, a cult instrument of wood, whirled on a string to make a frightening roar.
1364. Bromius. Dionysos, the “roaring” god.
1366–1368. Highly disputed lines.
1369–1450. Fourth Episode.
1412. Sidonian. A city in Phoenicia, Sidon, constructed the best ships.
1451–1511. Third Stasimon. 1451–1464: Strophe A. 1465–1477: Antistrophe A. 1478–1494: Strophe B. 1495–1511: Antistrophe B. Perhaps inspired by Helen’s suggestion that the Greek women too might return to Greece (1389), the chorus foresees and celebrates the voyage of Helen and Menelaus and themselves to Greece.
1457. Galineia. = “Calm.” A sea goddess.
1464. Perseus’ home. Perseus founded Mycenae, near Sparta.
1466. The daughters of Leucippus. Phoebe and Hilaeira. The wives of the Dioscuri, Castor and Polydeuces. Euripides invokes the cult of the Leucippides in Sparta that was like that of Helen.
1467. Pallas.’ Athena’s.
1470. Hyacinthus. A boy loved by Apollo (Phoebus [1471]) but accidently killed by him in a discus throw. The object of a Spartan cult.
1497. sons of Tyndareus. The Dioscuri, Castor and Polydeuces, who appear shortly in the play.
1512–1692. Exodos.
1512–1618. As often, a messenger arrives to fill in the action offstage and to offer another point of view from the characters or the chorus. In this case it is a soldier, who changes the tone to Homeric epic, while at the same time criticizing Theoclymenus’ actions.
1535. Text uncertain at beginning of the line.
1541. son of Atreus. Menelaus.
1556–1566. The bull’s recalcitrance is an evil omen for the sailor/narrator. 1586. Nauplia’s shores. Port near Sparta.
1621–1641. Shift to (double) Greek trochaic tetrameters. —˘—˘—˘ —˘ —˘ —˘ —˘ —˘ . Longer lines. Falling rhythm.
1630–1639. More antilabé, or “dropped” lines.
1642. The deus ex machina (god from a machine—i.e., the crane) that enters the play has given us the literary term to ending a play externally. In this case, the Dioscuri carry out the will of the gods and the insights of Theonoe, though Helen and Menelaus had to work out the means of their delivery themselves, a combination of Odyssean trickery and Achillean force.
1667–1668. Partly spurious lines.
1673–1674. The island now called Makronissos was named Helen. (Cf. introduction.)
1688–1692. The play ends with a sense that benevolent gods provide for us in the world. But the final choral song says, as often, only that the gods bring about the unexpected. But what about the Greek women of the chorus left in Egypt (cf. line 1389)? Do we assume their return? And what of other plays of Euripides. Trojan Women? Hecuba? The gods interfere with human life, saving some, destroying others.