Chorus Leader Helen, do not suppose that stranger who came here, whoever he was, has spoken the whole truth.
Helen And yet he said very clearly that my husband was dead.
Chorus Leader Many words might be said in falsehood also.
Helen And the opposite of falsehood is clear in its truth.
Chorus Leader You are carried towards misfortune instead of what is good.
Helen Yes, for terror has embraced me and leads me to the thing I fear.
Chorus Leader How much goodwill is there in this house for you?
Helen All are my friends, except the one who hunts me in marriage.
Chorus Leader Then do you know what you should do? Leave your seat at the monument—
Helen What sort of word of advice are you coming to?
Chorus Leader Go inside and question the daughter of the sea-nymph, Theonoe, who knows all things, about your husband, whether he is still alive, or has left the light of day; and when you know for certain, rejoice or be full of mourning, according to your fortune. Before you know anything correctly, what good would it do you to grieve? But be persuaded by me; leave this tomb and join the girl; when you have someone in this house from whom you can learn the whole truth, why do you look further? And I myself want to go in and ask about the prophecies of the maiden with you; for, truly, women ought to help each other.
Helen Dear friends, I welcome your advice. Come in, come into the house, to learn within about my struggles.
Chorus You are calling on one who is wholly willing.
Helen Oh, what an unhappy day! What tearful word shall I hear, unhappy as I am?
Chorus Do not be a prophetess of sorrow, dear friend, anticipating lamentation.
Helen What has my poor husband suffered? Does he see the light and the sun’s chariot and the paths of the stars? Or does he have a lasting fate among the dead beneath the earth?
Chorus Take a brighter view of the future, whatever will happen.
Helen For I call on you, I swear to you, Eurotas green with watery reeds, if this rumor of my husband’s death is true—and what was obscure in those words?—I will stretch a deadly noose about my neck, or drive inward a murderous thrust of slaughter that gushes from the throat, a contest of the blade through my flesh, as a sacrifice to the three goddesses and to the son of Priam, who once sat on the hollows of Ida, near the ox-stalls.
Chorus May sorrow be turned aside elsewhere, and may your lot be fortunate!
Helen
Oh, unhappy Troy! Through deeds not done by yourself, you are ruined, and have suffered pitiably; for the gift that Kypris gave me has caused much blood and many tears; it has added grief to grief and tear to tear, sorrows. . . . Mothers have lost their children and virgin sisters of the slain have cut off their hair by the swollen tide of Phrygian Skamandros. And Hellas has cried aloud, aloud, and broken forth in wailing, beating her head, and drenching her soft-skinned cheek with the bloody strokes of her nails.
Helen
O maiden Kallisto, blessed once in Arcadia, who climbed into the bed of Zeus on four paws, how much happier was your lot than my mother’s, you who in the form of a shaggy-limbed beast—the bearing of a lioness with your fierce eye—changed your burden of sorrow; and also the one whom Artemis once drove from her chorus, as a deer with horns of gold, the Titan girl, daughter of Merops, because of her loveliness; but the beauty of my body has destroyed the Dardanian towers, it has destroyed them and the lost Achaeans.
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