Chorus
I have heard the prophetic maiden, who gave a clear answer within the palace: Menelaos is not yet dead and buried, gone to the land of shadows where darkness takes the place of light; but he is still wearing out his life on the ocean swell and has not yet reached the haven of his country, wretched in his wandering life, bereft of every friend, approaching every land in his sea-going ship from the land of Troy.
Helen Here I am, once again coming back to the sanctuary of this tomb, after learning the welcome words of Theonoe, who knows all things truly; she says my husband is alive and sees the light of day; he is roaming here and there on countless voyages, not without practice in wandering, and he shall come here when he finds an end to his suffering. But she left one thing unsaid: if he will escape when he has come? And I refrained from asking that question clearly; I was so glad when she told me he was safe. She said that he was near this land somewhere, cast up, shipwrecked, with a few friends. Oh, when will you come? How much I long for your arrival! Ah! Who is this? I am not being ambushed by the plots of Proteus’ impious son, am I? Shall I not, like a young racehorse or a worshipper of Bacchus, reach the tomb? There is something wild about the looks of this man who is hunting me down.
Menelaos You there! the one trying with fearful effort to reach the base of the tomb and the pillars of burnt sacrifice, stay where you are. Why do you flee? I am amazed and speechless at the sight of your body.
Helen Women, I am being ill-treated. This man is keeping me from the tomb, and he wants to take me and give me to the king, whose wooing I was seeking to avoid.
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