the son I’d bear would rule this fertile land—
not be a victim slaughtered by the Greeks.
Child, are you crying? Do you understand?
750
Why are you clinging, clutching at my dress,
like a baby bird beneath my wings?
Hector will not rise up from the earth,
his famous spear in hand, to come and save you.
Your family can’t help, nor can your city.
You’ll fall from a terrible height, down to your death.
Neck broken, no more breath in you. The pity!
My sweetest baby, nestled in my arms!
Your soft skin smells so good! Was it for nothing
I fed you at my breast when you were tiny?
760
For nothing that I wore myself to shreds,
in looking after you? Now, kiss your mother,
hug me one last time, cling close to me,
kiss me and hold me tight, my own sweet baby…
How can you act with such barbarity?*82
You think you’re civilized! Why kill this child?
He did no harm! And Helen, you’re no daughter
of Zeus.*83 No, you had many fathers: Vengeance,
then Envy, Murder, Death, and all the evils
that Mother Earth is nursing. I am sure
770
Zeus never fathered you—to be a curse
on foreigners and Greeks alike.*84 Die, Helen!
I hate those pretty eyes of yours, that ruined
the famous plains of noble Troy. Disgusting!
Well, go on, then: take him, hurl him down!
You want to do it? Why not eat him, too?
The gods are killing us. I can’t protect
my child from death. So hide me, cover me up,
throw me on board the ship. Congratulations!
Time to get married! With my sweet child lost—.
780
CHORUS: Poor Troy! So many people now destroyed
for just one woman and that cursed affair.*85
TALTHYBIUS:*86 Come on, boy, leave the arms of your mother—
poor woman! March to the crown, to the peak
of your family’s citadel. There you’ll let go
of breath: so we’ve decreed by vote.
(to the guards) Seize him!
(aside) This is the kind of message
a man without pity should bring;
a man with a heartless mind—
but mine is not that way.
(Talthybius and the guards march the child away. Andromache in the cart is led off in a different direction.)
790
HECUBA: Child, son of my poor dead son,
your mother and I are robbed
of your life. It’s wrong! What now for me? What
can I do for you, my poor child? I’ll give
these blows to my head and my chest for you.
That’s all I can do. O my city!
Oh, poor little boy! Is there no end?
What can prevent us from rushing
to instant and total destruction?
strophe 1
CHORUS: Telamon, king of Salamis, land of the bees,*87
800
you lived in that island in the midst of the sea,
across from the holy Acropolis. There first Athena
made the gray olive tree sprout,
the heavenly crown and the glory of Athens,
shining with oil.*88 You came, you came,
along with the archer, Heracles, heroes together,
to sack Troy, our Troy, our city
—ours in former times
when you came from Greece.*89
antistrophe 1
The hero, insulted at being deprived of his horses,
810
roused up the flower of Greek manhood, and led them
by seafaring oar to the plain of the flowing Simois,*90
fastened the ships, and from the deck, he let fire with sure aim,
to slaughter Laomedon. With the purple breath of flame
he wrecked the walls Apollo built so straight,
and sacked the land of Troy.
Twice the bloody spear, in two fell swoops,
flattened the walls of Dardania.*91
strophe 2
What good does it do,
820
that Laomedon’s son
tiptoes on delicate feet
to pour the wine from the golden cups,
to fill the cup of Zeus, that glorious service?*92
Ganymede!
the city of your birth
is now on fire.
The shores of the sea
resound like a bird
830
who cries for her chicks:
one woman weeps for her husband, another her child,
another for her old mother.
Boy, the baths where you washed in the dew,
and the race-tracks you ran on
are gone; but you keep the beautiful calm
of your young face, as you serve
the throne of Zeus as his favorite.
The spear of Greece has ruined the land of Priam.
antistrophe 2
Love, Love,*93
840
the pet of the heavenly goddesses,
you came once to the palace of Troy,
and built the city up,
so high,
by joining us in marriage
to the gods.
But now? I will never put the blame on Zeus.
White-winged Day,
beloved by humans,
shed the light of destruction
850
as she looked down on Troy.
She looked down at the ruin of our Pergamum,
though she had in her bedroom a husband,
father of her children,
who came from our land:*94
her golden chariot of stars
led by four horses,
snatched him and took him,
a great source of hope for his home.
But Troy has no more love-charms for the gods.*95
(Enter Menelaus, with his attendants.)
860
MENELAUS: What a glorious day this is! A happy dawn!
Today I’ll lay my hands on my own wife,
Helen. I’m the one who worked to get her—
with the army’s help. I’m Menelaus.*96
I came from Troy, but not for what they think:
not for the woman, but that man, that traitor,
the guest who tricked me, took away my wife,
from my own home! And now, thanks to the gods,
he’s got his punishment, he and his land.
Greek spears have laid them low. But I have come
870
to get Miss Sparta:*97 I won’t say the name—
my former wife. She’s in detention here
with the Trojan girls, the prisoners.
The men who fought with spears to capture her
gave her to me to kill, or if I’d rather,
to take back home with me to the land of Argos.
I decided not to intervene
with Helen’s fate in Troy, but take her back
by ship to Hellas. Let them kill her there,
as retribution for those lost at Troy.
880
(to his attendants) But go now, men, and get her from the tent!
Drag that woman here, bring her to me
by her blood-guilty hair! When fair winds come,
we’ll take her back with us to the land of Greece.*98
HECUBA: Sustainer of the earth, in heaven above,
whoever you may be, Divine Unknown,
Zeus, Fate of Nature, or the Mind of Man,
I pray to you: you come with silent tread
and bring some justice to the affairs of mortals.
MENELAUS: What’s this? What a strange new way t
o pray.*99
890
HECUBA: Menelaus, I approve your plan
to kill your wife. But flee her hellish sight!*100
She’ll trap you with desire. She traps men’s eyes,
ruins cities, burns up homes: she has such charms!
I know her. So do you, so do her victims.
(The guards bring Helen out.)
HELEN: Menelaus, what a scary opening!
Your guards marched in and laid their hands on me
and dragged me here outside by force! So rough!
Well, I suppose that you must hate me; still
I want to speak. What have you all decided,
900
you and the Greeks, about my life or death?
MENELAUS: We didn’t need a vote count; the whole army
sent me to kill you, since you did me wrong.
HELEN: All right. May I say something in reply,
explaining why it isn’t fair to kill me?
MENELAUS: I didn’t come to talk: I came to kill you.
HECUBA: No, Menelaus, listen! Don’t deprive her
of this before she dies. And grant to me
the chance to speak against her. You know nothing
of what we’ve borne in Troy. If all is told
910
my words will kill her. She cannot escape.
MENELAUS: It slows things down; but yes, if you want to, speak.
Just so you know, I grant this gift to her,
not for her sake, but so that you may speak.
HELEN: Perhaps you see me in such hostile terms
you won’t reply even if my speech is good.
But I’ll set out an answer to the charges
that I anticipate you’ll make against me,
giving replies for every accusation.*101
First: this woman mothered this whole mess
920
by bearing Paris. Second, her old husband
ruined both Troy and me. He failed to kill
the infant—nightmare image of a torch,
that Alexander.*102 Listen, I have more.
He judged the trio, those three goddesses.*103
Athena promised him that he would lead
the Trojans to defeat the Greeks in war.
Hera swore, if he picked her, she would give him
empire from Asia to the shores of Europe.
But Aphrodite had been thunderstruck
930
by me—my beauty. She said if she won
the beauty contest, she would give him me.
Now see what follows. Cypris beat the others,*104
and my new marriage benefited Greece.
No foreign power has conquered you in war
or politics—you’re free. But Greek delight
cost me my ruin: sold for my beauty, loathed
by those who should have blessed and crowned my head.
You’ll say I’m not yet at the central issue:
how could I sneak in secret from your house?
940
The curse on Hecuba, a mighty goddess,*105
was with that man—call him what name you will:
That Alexander—also known as Paris.
That’s who you left at home—you idiot!
—when you sailed from Sparta off to Crete.*106
Well, next?
I won’t ask you this one: I’ll ask myself.
What was I thinking, going with a stranger,
betraying my own home and native land?
Punish the goddess; outstrip Zeus in power,
who dominates the other gods, but slaves
950
for Aphrodite. So I should be pardoned.
Now you might raise a specious point against me:
when Paris died and went beneath the earth,
when that god-gotten union was dissolved,
I should have left and gone to the Greek ships.
I tried to! Be my witness, guards: I did!
The watchmen from the towers and from the walls
often found me slipping out in secret,
dropping from the battlements on ropes.
But my new husband forced me to his side,
960
Deiphobus, despite the Trojans’ will.*107
So, husband, how could I deserve to die,
when I was forced to that affair, and when
I suffered bitter slavery in that house,
not victory? But if you want to win
against the gods, you don’t know what to want.
CHORUS: (to Hecuba) Your majesty, protect your land and children
by undermining her: she speaks so well,
plausibly, but she’s bad. A terrible thing.
HECUBA: First, let me defend the goddesses,
970
and show this woman’s words were simply wrong.
I don’t believe that Hera and the Maiden,
Athena, could have ever been so stupid—
Hera, to sell her Argos to barbarians,
Athena making Athens slave to Troy!
They didn’t go to Ida to play games
or have a beauty pageant! Why would Hera
yearn to be beautiful? She is a goddess!
Married to Zeus—could she do better than that?
Or was Athena on the hunt to marry
980
some god—Athena, who implored her father
to let her be a virgin? Don’t make gods
seem fools, to prettify your faults; you won’t
persuade the wise. You said that Aphrodite
went with my son to Menelaus’ house.
Ridiculous! She could have stayed in heaven,
resting, and transported you to Troy
and all of Sparta, too.*108 No, no. My son
was very handsome: glimpsing him, your mind
caused your desire. Humans are such fools,
990
they’re Aphro-dotty—hence the goddess’ name.*109
When you saw Paris in his flashy gold,
dressed so exotic, well, you lost your mind.
You didn’t have much when you lived in Argos;
you hoped to trade your Sparta for our city,
our Troy which flows with gold, and floods the town
with luxury. Already you’d run riot
living it up in Menelaus’ palace.
But still you wanted more.
Now then. You say
my son took you by force. Who saw you go?
Did any Spartan woman know about it?*110
What Spartan heard you? Didn’t you shout? If so,
1000
why didn’t Castor and his brother hear you?
They were still on earth, not turned to stars.*111
And when you came to Troy, and Greeks pursued you,
hot on your heels, when spears were falling fast,
if you heard news your husband might be winning,
you sang his praises to upset my son,
with the greatness of his sexual rival.
But if the men of Troy were doing better,
that man was nothing. You were always acting
with an eye to fortune, never virtue.
1010
Now then: you claim you stole away on ropes
down from the towers; you didn’t want to stay.
Were you ever found hung from a noose,
or having stabbed yourself? A decent woman
would do that if she missed her former husband.
But I was always giving you advice:
“Daughter, go! And let my sons be free
to marry other wives. I’ll take you safely
down to the ships. So you can stop the fighting
of Greece and Troy.” But you hated that idea.
1020
You got so grand and uppity in his palace,
you wanted foreigners prostrate before you.*112
That’s what you valued. Now, after such b
ehavior,
you come out here dolled up, and dare to share
the sky your husband sees? Disgusting monster!
You should have come here humbly, dressed in rags,
trembling with fear, your hair all snipped and shaved.
That would be decent, given what you’ve done,
so many wicked actions. You are shameless!
Menelaus, here’s my final word:
1030
Crown Greece with glory, glorify yourself,
by killing her. So set the rule for others:
a woman who betrays her man must die.*113
CHORUS: King, take revenge on her! Show even Troy
you’re worthy of your birth, and show the Greeks
they need not blame you for effeminate ways.
MENELAUS: (to Hecuba)
Your opinion matches mine; she went
willingly from my house to the stranger’s bed.
Her talk of Aphrodite’s meaningless.
(to Helen) Go! Let them stone you! Die, and with your death,
1040
pay back the ten-year sufferings of the Greeks.
Then you’ll know better than to dishonor me.
HELEN: (kneeling)
I beg you, do not kill me! All this plague
came from the gods; you have to pity me.
HECUBA: (also kneeling)
Do not betray the friends this woman killed.
I beg you, too, for them and for my children.
MENELAUS: Hush, old woman. I’m going to take no notice
of her. I’ll tell the slaves to take her down
onto the ships; we’ll take her off by sea.
HECUBA: You must not let her share a ship with you!
1050
MENELAUS: Why not? Has she put on too much weight?*114
HECUBA: Lovers feel affectionate forever.
MENELAUS: Some do, some don’t; their attitude depends.
But as you wish. I won’t let her embark
in my ship; what you say does make some sense.
But when she gets to Argos she will die;
she’ll come to the bad end that she deserves,
to teach all women decency. Not easy,
but Helen’s death will stop their nasty ways,
through fear, although they’ll still be just as shameless.
(Helen and Menelaus exit together.)
strophe 1
1060
CHORUS: How could you, Zeus, abandon
your Trojan temple and its smoking altar
to the Achaeans?
You left the burning honey cake,*115
the myrrh that smoked so high,
and holy Pergamum,
and the ivy-covered valleys
of mount Ida.
Ida! where rivers run with melted snow,
where the horizon is first struck by dawn,
The Greek Plays Page 79
