failures to punish criminals with death.
I’ve just now learnt a man came to this land,
clearly a Greek, yet he got through the guards.
Either a spy, or on the hunt for Helen:
a kidnapper. He’ll die, if I can catch him.
(He sees that Helen is gone.)
Hey!
Helen has left her place beside the tomb!
It’s empty! She’s been whisked away by sea!
1180
Unlock the gates! Open the stables up!
Servants, bring out my chariot! I’ll work
to stop the wife I want from being abducted.
(He notices Menelaus and his companions and Helen.)
But wait! I see the men I’m hunting down
right at my house—they haven’t run away.
(to Helen) And you! Why have you changed from your white dress
into this black one? Why did you chop off
your hair so roughly from your noble head?
Are your cheeks wet with tears? Have you been crying?
1190
Have you been having visions in the night,
or did you hear some message from your country
that made you mourn and broke your heart with grief?
HELEN: Master—since I must call you that already—
I’m done for. My life’s over. I am dead.
THEOCLYMENUS: What’s happening to you? What is your trouble?
HELEN: My Menelaus is—just say it!—dead.
THEOCLYMENUS: I’m sorry. Though for me, this news is lucky.
How do you know? Did Theonoë tell you?
HELEN: Yes, and one who was present when he died.
1200
THEOCLYMENUS: Did someone come and give a full report?
HELEN: Yes. And may that man go where I would wish!*38
THEOCLYMENUS: Who is he? Where? I need to find out more.
HELEN: This man who’s cowering beneath the tomb.
THEOCLYMENUS: Apollo! What disgusting clothes he’s wearing!
HELEN: My husband must be in the same sad plight.
THEOCLYMENUS: This fellow who arrived, where is he from?
HELEN: He is a Greek, one of my husband’s shipmates.
THEOCLYMENUS: How does he say that Menelaus died?
HELEN: A dreadful death beneath the salty waves.
1210
THEOCLYMENUS: Where was he sailing? In which foreign sea?
HELEN: The man was cast away on Libyan rocks.
THEOCLYMENUS: How did he live, when Menelaus died?
HELEN: Sometimes the better man is not as lucky.
THEOCLYMENUS: Where did he leave the fragments of the wreck?
HELEN: Somewhere—oh, curse that ship! But bless my husband!
THEOCLYMENUS: He’s dead. But in what boat did this man come?
HELEN: He says some random sailors picked him up.
THEOCLYMENUS: Where is that bad thing sent to Troy for you?
HELEN: You mean the cloudy image? In the sky.
1220
THEOCLYMENUS: Priam and Troy! Your ruin was for nothing.
HELEN: I shared in Priam’s people’s suffering.
THEOCLYMENUS: And did he lay your husband in the earth?
HELEN: No! Such a dreadful thing! He is not buried.
THEOCLYMENUS: And this is why you cut your golden curls?
HELEN: Yes, since I loved him once, and he’s still dear.*39
THEOCLYMENUS: But is it right that you should weep for him?
HELEN: Yes. Do you think your sister makes mistakes?
THEOCLYMENUS: No. But what now? Will you stay by this tomb?
1230
HELEN: Yes, I’ll be true to him, and run from you.
THEOCLYMENUS: Why do you tease me? He’s dead; let him go.
HELEN: All right, no more. Begin the wedding plans.*40
THEOCLYMENUS: About time, too! But good, I’m glad you’re ready.
HELEN: Then here’s what you must do: forget the past.
THEOCLYMENUS: One good deserves another: tell your terms.
HELEN: Let’s make a truce, forgive me and make friends.
THEOCLYMENUS: I hold no grudge against you. Let it go!
HELEN: (kneeling and grasping his legs in supplication)
If you’re a friend, I beg you, at your knees—
THEOCLYMENUS: Why are you stretching out your arms in prayer?
HELEN: Because I want to bury my dead husband.
1240
THEOCLYMENUS: Can absent shadows get a burial?
HELEN: It’s the Greek custom, when one dies at sea—
THEOCLYMENUS: Your culture has so much sophistication!
HELEN: —to “bury” them, in an empty winding cloth.
THEOCLYMENUS: Do it, and choose the spot to build the mound.
HELEN: That’s not the way we bury those that drown.
THEOCLYMENUS: How then? I don’t know much about Greek culture.
HELEN: We take the trappings for the corpse to sea.
THEOCLYMENUS: What stuff must I provide, to serve the dead?
HELEN: This man knows that; I don’t. It’s my first loss.
THEOCLYMENUS: (to Menelaus)
1250
Stranger, you came with happy news for me!
MENELAUS: But not for me, and not for him who’s dead.
THEOCLYMENUS: How do you bury those who died at sea?
MENELAUS: As best each person’s riches will allow.
THEOCLYMENUS: Have all the wealth you want—for Helen’s sake.
MENELAUS: First blood must spill, an offering to the dead.
THEOCLYMENUS: What animal? Just tell me and I’ll do it.
MENELAUS: You can decide, since any gift is fine.
THEOCLYMENUS: Barbarians usually give a horse or ox.
MENELAUS: Just make sure what you give is not malformed.
1260
THEOCLYMENUS: I have a wealth of good ones in my herds.
MENELAUS: A bier without a body must be brought.
THEOCLYMENUS: Yes. Then what else is it the norm to bring?
MENELAUS: Weapons of bronze, since war was what he loved.
THEOCLYMENUS: I’ll give him arms, worthy of Pelops’ people.
MENELAUS: And all the finest produce from the earth.
THEOCLYMENUS: Of course. And how do you take it out to sea?
MENELAUS: We need a ship, and a crew of skillful oarsmen.
THEOCLYMENUS: How far away from shore must this boat go?
MENELAUS: So you can scarcely see its wake from land.
1270
THEOCLYMENUS: Why’s that? Why do the Greeks perform this rite?
MENELAUS: So tides won’t wash pollution back to shore.
THEOCLYMENUS: You’ll have a swift Phoenician ship, with oars.
MENELAUS: That’s good, and Menelaus will be pleased.
THEOCLYMENUS: But can’t you do these rituals without Helen?
MENELAUS: No: it’s the job of mother, child or wife.
THEOCLYMENUS: She has to lay her husband to his rest?
MENELAUS: It’s pious not to rob the dead’s last rites.
THEOCLYMENUS: Then let her go. I want a pious wife.
Go in the house and take things for the corpse.
1280
And when you leave, you’ll not go empty-handed,
since you’ve helped Helen, and brought me good news.
I’ll give you proper clothes instead of rags,
and food, to make the journey to your country.
I see how badly off you are right now.
(to Helen) And you: I’m sorry for your loss. But do not waste
your life on useless mourning.*41 Menelaus
has passed away, and grief won’t bring him back.
MENELAUS: (to Helen) Your job, young lady, is to let go the husband
who isn’t here, and love the one who is.
1290
That’s b
est for you, given the situation.
If I survive and make my way to Greece,
I’ll stop them blaming you, if you can treat
the man who shares your bed the way you should.
HELEN: I will. I’ll never speak ill of my husband.
You’ll be beside me and you’ll know the truth.
But you, poor traveler, go in and wash,
and change your clothes. I want, without delay,
to do you favors, since you will perform
the duties owed to darling Menelaus
1300
more lovingly if I’ve done right by you.
strophe 1
CHORUS: Once long ago, the Lady of the Mountains,
the Mother of Gods, came running and rushing
through glades thick with forest
and gushing of rivers
and the deep-sounding wave of the ocean.
She longed for her daughter, the lost girl,
whose name is unspeakable.
The cymbals that clashed like the thunder
screamed to a din to resound far and wide,
1310
when the goddess first yoked up her chariot
with a team of wild beasts,
and rode out to hunt for the one who was taken
from the dancing circles of girls:
for the Maiden.*42
With feet like the stormwind they came:
Artemis, bearing her bow,
Athena, full-armed with her spear, her eyes glaring.
Zeus the all-seeing one trained his bright gaze
from his throne up in heaven
and altered their destiny.
antistrophe 1
The Mother was out of her mind: she ran wandering, everywhere,
1320
searching and suffering, seeking her daughter,
tracking the tricks of the rape.
When she gave up her labors she climbed up the crags to the Nymphs
on the peaks of Mount Ida, fed by the snow-drifts,
and hurled herself down in her grief
on the rocks in the snow-covered brush.
She offered no harvest for humans
and the fields of the earth lay sproutless and barren.
She brought death to the races of people.
1330
She sent forth no fodder for flocks,
no luscious tendrils of rich leafy vines.
Life was gone from the cities.
No rites were performed for the gods.
The offerings lay on the altars unburnt.
She stopped the dewy streams
of clear bright water,
in her bitter grief for her child.
strophe 2
But when she stopped all kinds of banquets
for gods and the human race,
Zeus softened the hatred
1340
and rage of the Mother, by speaking:
“Go, holy Graces,
go to Demeter; with shouting and chanting
take from her angry heart
grief for her daughter.
Muses, go heal her with singing and dancing.”
Then the most beautiful one of the blessed gods,
Cyprian Aphrodite,
took up the bronze that speaks like an earthquake
and drums made of skin stretched taut.
The goddess laughed
1350
and took in her hands
the deep-rumbling hornpipe
and was glad at the noise.
antistrophe 2
You burnt offerings down in the chambers of earth*43
that were wrong and unholy,
and, daughter, because you dishonored
the rites of the mighty Mother,
her wrath is upon you.
Great power lies in the colorful clothes
of the fawnskin
1360
and greenness of ivy
as crown for the holy fennel stalks
and the whirling and shaking up high in the air
of the rhombus revolving
and the hair that dances for Bacchus,*44
and the all-night rites for the goddess.
Ah, Helen, the beautiful moon
rode her chariot far up above you,
but you prided yourself on your beauty alone.*45
HELEN: My friends, we’ve had good luck with things inside.
1370
When Theonoë’s brother questioned her
about my husband, she said he’s not here.
She helped me to conceal him, since she claimed
he’s dead and can no longer see the sunlight.
My husband seized upon his lucky strike.
The weapons he’d been meant to sink at sea
were his: he thrust his arm into a shield,
and lifted it. His right hand grabbed a spear,
as if to join in service to the dead.
He’d armed himself in readiness for battle,
1380
prepared, when we’ve embarked upon the ship,
to triumph over countless foreigners.*46
I got him changed out of his shipwreck clothes,
gave him a bath, the first for quite some time,
in pure fresh riverwater, and I dressed him.
But hush, don’t tell! The man who thinks he has
definite prospects that I’ll be his bride
is coming from the palace. I implore you,
here on my knees, be kind and hold your tongue,
so we’ll escape, and save you, too, someday.
(Enter Theoclymenus.)
1390
THEOCLYMENUS: Slaves! Come at once, just as the stranger ordered.
Bring out the oceanic funeral gifts.
(to Helen) and Helen, if you think my words are sound,
do as I say: stay here. You give your husband
the same respect whether you’re there or not.
I am afraid you’ll get a sudden urge
to hurl yourself into the swelling waves,
struck by affection for your former husband.
You mourn too much for him, though he’s not here.
HELEN: Oh, my new husband! No, I have to honor
1400
the marriage bed where I was first a bride.
And yes, I’d like to lie beside that husband
for love of him. But what good would it do him,
if I shared in his death? Just let me go
so I can pay his funeral gifts myself.
So may the gods grant you what I would wish,
and bless this stranger, since he shares the task.
You’ll find me just the kind of wife I should be,
when you’ve done this good turn to Menelaus
and me. Yes, everything will turn out well.
1410
Now as your final kindness, get somebody
to bring a ship in which we’ll take this cargo.
THEOCLYMENUS: (to a slave) You! Go and get a ship with fifty oars,
and fifty oarsmen, a Phoenician one.
HELEN: I hope the funeral leader can be captain?
THEOCLYMENUS: Of course. My sailors must obey this man.
HELEN: Tell them again, be sure they understand.
THEOCLYMENUS: I will, and three times over, if you wish.
HELEN: Bless you! And may my plans bless me, as well.
THEOCLYMENUS: Don’t spoil your pretty skin with too much weeping.
1420
HELEN: Today will show how much I’ll do for you.
THEOCLYMENUS: It’s useless labor, caring for the dead.
HELEN: It matters, here and there. I’m telling you.*47
THEOCLYMENUS: I’ll be as good a husband as your first.
HELEN: There’s nothing wrong with you. I just need luck.
THEOCLYMENUS: It’s up to you, if you’ll be kind to me.
HELEN: I don’t need teaching how to love my
loved ones.
THEOCLYMENUS: Do you want me to come, too, and help with things?
HELEN: No, master! Don’t be slave to your own slaves.
THEOCLYMENUS: All right. I’ll let your old Greek customs go.
1430
My house is pure, since it was not the place
that Menelaus died. Go, slave, and tell
my chieftains they should bring my wedding presents
here to my palace. Let all Egypt ring
with wedding songs and shouts of happiness,
and may our marriage be admired and envied.
(to Menelaus) And stranger, when you’ve gone to give these gifts
to Helen’s former husband, deep in ocean,
then take my wife and hurry her back home.
You are invited to my wedding feast,
1440
then you may go back home, or stay, with pleasure.
MENELAUS: Zeus! You’re called the Father, God of Wisdom!
Look on us now and save us from our troubles.
We’re dragging up our fortunes to the clifftop;
come join us! Quick! If just your fingertip
brushes us, we will reach the goal we seek.
Our former sufferings are quite enough.
Gods, I have often called on you to listen
to prayers of pain that went unanswered. But
my luck can change, my feet can forge ahead.
1450
Just grant me this! You’ll make me glad forever!
strophe 1
CHORUS: Sidonian ship, with your oars rowing swiftly,
Ship of Phoenicia, beloved by the waves,
of Nereus, lord of the Ocean!
You lead in the chorus of beautiful dancers,
the dolphins. Whenever
the waters are windless,
the blue-flashing child of the deep sea,
Galaneia, says this:
“Come now, let down your sails;
1460
don’t think of sea breezes,
but take up your oars made of fir,
sailors, O sailors,
and take Helen back to the harbors
of Perseus’ home.”
antistrophe 1
I think she will come to Leucippus’ daughters,
by the rush of the river
or in front of the temple to the Maiden,*48
and finally she will join in with the dancing,
or join the festivities, joy in the night time,
for dead Hyacinthus,
1470
killed by Apollo when he was competing
with the infinite circle, the discus.*49
The god, son of Zeus, commanded the Spartans
to honor a day when the oxen are sacrificed.
The Greek Plays Page 86
