Theoklymenos Let her go; it is in my interest to foster piety in a wife. Go inside and choose adornment for the dead; I will not send you away from the land empty-handed either, since you have done her a favor. As you have brought me good news, you will receive clothing instead of going in rags, and food, so that you may reach your country, since now I see you doing very badly indeed. As for you, poor lady, do not wear yourself out in a hopeless case; Menelaos has met his doom, and your dead husband could not return to life.
Menelaos This is your duty, young woman; you must be content with the husband at your side, and let go the one that no longer exists; for this is best for you, according to what has happened. And if I come to Hellas and find safety, I will put to an end your former bad reputation, if you are such a wife as you ought to be to your husband.
Helen I will; my husband will never find fault with me; you yourself will be at hand to know it. Now go inside, unhappy man, and find the bath, and change your clothes. I will show my kindness to you without delay. For you will perform the due services with more kindly feeling for my dearest Menelaos, if you get from me what you ought to have.
Chorus
Once with swift foot the mountain mother of the gods rushed through the wooded glen, and the river’s streams and the deep-thundering sea wave, yearning for her lost daughter, whose name may not be spoken. The loudly rattling castanets cried out a shrill sound, when they, swift-footed as whirlwinds, followed the goddess on her chariot yoked to wild creatures, after the girl that was snatched away from the circling chorus of maidens— here Artemis with her bow, and there the grim-eyed goddess, in full armor, with her spear. But Zeus, who sees clearly from his throne in heaven, brought to pass another destiny.
Chorus
When the mother ceased from her wild wandering toil, searching for the treacherous rape of her daughter, she crossed the snow-capped heights of the nymphs of Mount Ida; and in sorrow cast herself down in the rocky woods deep in snow; and, by not making fruitful with crops the barren fields of the earth for mortals, she destroyed the human race. She would not send forth the rich nourishment of leafy tendrils for the herds, and life was leaving the cities. No sacrifice was offered to the gods, and on the altars were no cakes to burn; she made the dew-fed springs of clear water cease flowing, the avenger in sorrow for her child.
Chorus
When she made an end to banquets for gods and the race of men, Zeus spoke out, appeasing the Mother’s gloomy wrath: Go, holy Graces, go and with a loud cry take from Demeter’s angry heart her grief for the maiden; and you, Muses, with song and dance. Then Kypris, fairest of the blessed gods, first took up the rumbling voice of bronze and the drum with tight-stretched skin; and the goddess smiled, and received in her hand the deep-toned flute, pleased with its loud note.
Chorus
You made burnt offerings that were neither right nor holy, in the chambers of the gods, and you have incurred the wrath of the great mother, child, by not honoring her sacrifices. Oh! Great is the power of dappled fawn-skin robes, and green ivy that crowns a sacred thyrsos, the whirling beat of the tambourine circling in the air, hair streaming wildly for the revelry of Bromios, and the night-long festivals of the goddess. . . . You gloried in your beauty alone.
Cite This Text