Part 20

MES. Borne to the skies your consort from our sight Hath vanished, in the heavens is she concealed, Leaving the cave in which we guarded her, When she these words had uttered: “O ye sons Of hapless Phrygia, and of Greece: for me Beside Scamander’s conscious stream ye died, Through Juno’s arts, because ye falsely deemed Helen by Phrygian Paris was possest: But after having here remained on earth My stated time, observing the decrees Of Fate, I to my sire the liquid ether Return: but Tyndarus’ miserable daughter, Though guiltless, hath unjustly been accused.” Daughter of Leda hail! wert thou then here? While I as if thou to the starry paths Hadst mounted, through my ignorance proclaimed Thou from this world on rapid wings wert borne. But I no longer will allow thee thus To sport with the afflictions of thy friends; For in thy cause thy lord and his brave troops On Ilion’s coast already have endured Abundant toils.

MEN. These are the very words She uttered; and by what ye both aver The truth is ascertained. O happy day Which gives thee to my arms!

HEL. My dearest lord, O Menelaus, it is long indeed Since I have seen you: but joy comes at last. My friends, transported I receive my lord Whom I once more with these fond arms enfold, After the radiant chariot of the sun Hath oft the world illumined.

MEN. I embrace Thee too: but having now so much to say I know not with what subject to begin.

HEL. Joy raises my exulting crest, these tears Are tears of ecstasy, around your neck My arms I fling with transport, O my husband, O sight most wished for!

MEN. I acquit the Fates, Since Jove’s and Leda’s daughter I possess, On whom her brothers borne on milk-white steeds Erst showered abundant blessings, when the torch Was kindled at our jocund nuptial rite; Though from my palace her the gods conveyed. But evil now converted into good To me thy husband hath at length restored My long-lost consort: grant, O bounteous Heaven, That I these gifts of fortune may enjoy.

HEL. May you enjoy them, for my vows concur With yours; nor, of us two, can one be wretched Without the other. O my friends, I groan No longer, I no longer shed the tear For my past woes: my husband I possess Whom I from Troy expected to return Full many, many years.

MEN. I still am thine, And thee with these fond arms again enfold. But oft the chariot of the sun revolved Through his diurnal orbit, ere the frauds Of Juno I discerned. Yet more from joy Than from affliction rise the tears I shed.

HEL. What shall I say? what mortal could presume E’er to have hoped for such a blest event? An unexpected visitant once more I clasp you to my bosom.

MEN. And I thee Who didst appear to sail for Ida’s town, And Ilion’s wretched turrets. By the gods, Inform me, I conjure thee, by what means Thou from my palace hither wert conveyed.

HEL. Alas! you to the source of all my woes Ascend, and search into most bitter tidings.

MEN. Speak: for whate’er hath been ordained by Heaven Ought to be published.

HEL. I abhor the topic On which I now am entering.

MEN. Yet relate All that thou know’st; for pleasing ’tis to hear Of labours that are past.

HEL. I never went To that barbarian youth’s adulterous couch By the swift oar impelled: but winged love Those hapless spousals formed.

MEN. What god, what fate Hath torn thee from thy country?

HEL. O my lord, The son of Jove hath placed me on the banks Of Nile.

MEN. With what amazement do I hear This wondrous tale of thy celestial guide!

HEL. Oft have I wept, and still the tear bedews These eyes: to Juno, wife of Jove, I owe My ruin.

MEN. Wherefore wished she to have heaped Mischiefs on thee?

HEL. Ye sources of whate’er To me hath been most dreadful, O ye baths And fountains, where those goddesses adorned Their rival beauties, from whose influence rose That judgment!

MEN. Were those curses on thy head By Juno showered, that judgment to requite?

HEL. To rescue me from Venus.

MEN. What thou mean’st Inform me.

HEL. Who to Paris had engaged——

MEN. O wretched woman!

HEL. Wretched, wretched me! Thus did she waft me to th’ Egyptian coast.

MEN. Then in thy stead to him that image gave, As thou inform’st me.

HEL. But alas! what woes Thence visited our wretched house! ah mother! Ah me!

MEN. What sayst thou?

HEL. Leda is no more. Around her neck she fixed the deadly noose On my account, through my unhappy nuptials O’erwhelmed with foul disgrace.

MEN. Alas! But lives Hermione our daughter?

HEL. Yet unwedded, Yet childless, O my husband, she bewails My miserable ’spousals, my disgrace.

MEN. O Paris, who hast utterly o’erthrown All my devoted house, these curst events, Both thee, and myriads of the Grecian troops With brazen arms refulgent, have destroyed.

HEL. But from my country in an evil hour, From my loved native city, and from you, Me hath the goddess driven, a wretch accursed In that I left our home, and bridal bed, Which yet I left not, for those base espousals.

CHOR. If ye hereafter meet with happier fortune, This may atone for all ye have endured Already.

MES. To me too, O Menelaus, Communicate a portion of that joy Which I perceive, but know not whence it springs.

MEN. Thou too, old man, shalt in our conference share.

MES. Was not she then the cause of all the woes Endured at Troy?

MEN. Not she: we were deceived By those immortal Powers, whose plastic hand Moulded a cloud into that baleful image.

MES. What words are these you utter? have we toiled In vain, and only for an empty cloud?

MEN. These deeds were wrought by Juno, and the strife ’Twixt the three goddesses.

MES. But is this woman Indeed your wife?

MEN. E’en she: and thou for this On my assertion safely mayst depend.

MES. My daughter, O how variable is Jove, And how inscrutable! for he with ease Whirls us around, now here, now there; one suffers Full many toils; another, who ne’er knew What sorrow was, is swallowed up at once In swift perdition, nor in Fortune’s gifts A firm and lasting tenure doth enjoy. Thou and thy husband have endured a war, Of slander thou, but he of pointed spears: For by the tedious labours he endured He nothing could obtain, but now obtains The greatest and the happiest of all boons, Which comes to him unsought. Thou hast not shamed Thy aged father, and the sons of Jove, Nor acted as malignant rumour speaks. I now renew thy hymeneal rite, And still am mindful of the torch I bore, Running before the steeds, when in a car Thou with this favoured bridegroom wert conveyed From thy paternal mansion’s happy gates. For worthless is that servant who neglects His master’s interests, nor partakes their joys, Nor feels for their afflictions. I was born Indeed a slave, yet I with generous slaves Would still be numbered, for although the name I bear is abject, yet my soul is free. Far better this, than if I had at once Suffered two evils, a corrupted heart, And vile subjection to another’s will.

MEN. Courage, old man: for thou hast borne my shield, And in my cause endured unnumbered toils, Sharing my dangers: now partake my joys; Go tell the friends I left, what thou hast seen, And our auspicious fortunes: on the shore Bid them remain, till our expected conflict Is finished; and observe how we may sail From this loathed coast; that, with our better fortune Conspiring, we, if possible, may ’scape From these barbarians.

MES. Your commands, O king, Shall be obeyed. But I perceive how vain And how replete with falsehood is the voice Of prophets: no dependence can be placed Upon the flames that from the altar rise, Or on the voices of the feathered choir. It is the height of folly to suppose That birds are able to instruct mankind. For Calchas, to the host, nor by his words Nor signs, declared, “I for a cloud behold My friends in battle slain.” The seer was mute, And Troy in vain was taken. But perhaps You will rejoin, “’Twas not the will of Heaven That he should speak.” Why then do we consult These prophets? We by sacrifice should ask For blessings from the gods, and lay aside All auguries. This vain delusive bait Was but invented to beguile mankind. No sluggard e’er grew rich by divination, The best of seers are Prudence and Discernment.

[_Exit_ MESSENGER.

CHOR. My sentiments on prophets well accord With those of this old man. He whom the gods Th’ immortal gods befriend, in his own house Hath a response that never can mislead.

HEL. So be it. All thus far is well. But how You came with safety, O unhappy man, From Troy, ’twill nought avail for me to know; Yet with the sorrows of their friends, have friends A wish to be acquainted.

MEN. Thou hast asked A multitude of questions in one short And blended sentence. Why should I recount To thee our sufferings on the Ægean deep, Those treacherous beacons, by the vengeful hand Of Nauplius kindled on Eubœa’s rocks, The towns of Crete, or in the Libyan realm, Which I have visited, and the famed heights Of Perseus? never could my words assuage Thy curiosity, and, by repeating My woes to thee, I should but grieve the more, And yet a second time those sufferings feel.

HEL. You in your answer have been more discreet Than I who such a question did propose. But pass o’er all beside, and only tell me How long you wandered o’er the briny main.

MEN. Year after year, besides the ten at Troy, Seven tedious revolutions of the sun.

HEL. The time you speak of, O unhappy man, Is long indeed: but from those dangers saved You hither come to bleed.

MEN. What words are these? What dost thou mean? O, how hast thou undone me!

HEL. Fly from these regions with your utmost speed: Or he to whom this house belongs will slay you.

MEN. What have I done that merits such a fate?

HEL. You hither come an unexpected guest, And are a hindrance to my bridal rite.

MEN. Is there a man then who presumes to wed My consort?

HEL. And with arrogance to treat me, Which I, alas! have hitherto endured.

MEN. Of private rank, in his own strength alone Doth he confide, or rules he o’er the land?

HEL. Lord of this region, royal Proteus’ son.

MEN. This is the very riddle which I heard From yonder female servant.

HEL. At which gate Of this barbarian palace did you stand?

MEN. Here, whence I like a beggar was repelled.

HEL. What, did you beg for food! ah wretched me!

MEN. The fact was thus: though I that abject name Assumed not.

HEL. You then know, it seems, the whole About my nuptials.

MEN. This I know: but whether Thou has escaped th’ embraces of the king I still am uninformed.

HEL. That I have kept Your bed still spotless, may you rest assured.

MEN. How canst thou prove the fact? if thou speak truth To me, it will give pleasure.

HEL. Do you see, Close to the tomb, my miserable seat?

MEN. I on the ground behold a couch: but what Hast thou to do with that, O wretched woman?

HEL. Here I a suppliant bowed, that I might ’scape From those espousals.

MEN. Couldst thou find no altar, Or dost thou follow the barbarian mode?

HEL. Equally with the temples of the gods Will this protect me.

MEN. Is not then my bark Allowed to waft thee to the Spartan shore?

HEL. Rather the sword than Helen’s bridal bed Awaits you.

MEN. Thus should I of all mankind Be the most wretched.

HEL. Let not shame prevent Your ’scaping from this land.

MEN. And leaving thee, For whom I laid the walls of Ilion waste?

HEL. ’Twere better than to perish in the cause Of me your consort.

MEN. Such unmanly deeds As these thou speak’st of would disgrace the chief Who conquered Troy.

HEL. You cannot slay the king, Which is perhaps the project you have formed.

MEN. Hath he then such a body as no steel Can penetrate?

HEL. My reasons you shall know. But it becomes not a wise man t’ attempt What cannot be performed.

MEN. Shall I submit My hands in silence to the galling chain?

HEL. You know not how to act in these dire straits To which we are reduced: but of some plot Must we avail ourselves.

MEN. ’Twere best to die In some brave action than without a conflict.

HEL. One only hope of safety yet remains.

MEN. By gold can it be purchased, or depends it On dauntless courage, or persuasive words?

HEL. Of your arrival if the monarch hear not.

MEN. Who can inform him? he will never sure Know who I am.

HEL. He hath a sure associate, Within his palace, equal to the gods.

MEN. Some voice which from its inmost chambers sounds?

HEL. No: ’tis his sister, her they call Theonoe.

MEN. She bears indeed a most prophetic name; But say, what mighty deeds can she perform?

HEL. All things she knows, and will inform her brother That you are here.

MEN. We both, alas! must die, Nor can I possibly conceal myself.

HEL. Could our united supplications move her?

MEN. To do what action? Into what vain hope Wouldst thou mislead me?

HEL. Not to tell her brother That you are in the land.

MEN. If we prevail Thus far, can we escape from these domains?

HEL. With ease, if she concur in our design, But not without her knowledge.

MEN. This depends On thee: for woman best prevails with woman.

HEL. Around her knees these suppliant hands I’ll twine.

MEN. Go then; but what if she reject our prayer?

HEL. You certainly must die; and I by force Shall to the king be wedded.

MEN. Thou betray’st me; That force thou talk’st of is but mere pretence.

HEL. But by your head that sacred oath I swear.

MEN. What sayst thou, wilt thou die, and never change Thy husband?

HEL. By the self-same sword: my corse Shall lie beside you.

MEN. To confirm the words Which thou hast spoken, take my hand.

HEL. I take Your hand, and swear that after you are dead I will not live.

MEN. And I will put an end To my existence, if deprived of thee.

HEL. But how shall we die so as to procure Immortal glory?

MEN. Soon as on the tomb Thee I have slain, myself will I destroy. But first a mighty conflict shall decide Our claims who to thy bridal bed aspire. Let him who dares, draw near: for the renown I won at Troy, I never will belie, Nor yet returning to the Grecian shore Suffer unnumbered taunts for having reft Thetis of her Achilles, and beheld Ajax the Telamonian hero slain, With Neleus’ grandson, though I dare not bleed To save my consort. Yet on thy behalf Without regret, will I surrender up This fleeting life: for if the gods are wise They lightly scatter dust upon the tomb. Of the brave man who by his foes is slain, But pile whole mountains on the coward’s breast.

CHOR. O may the race of Tantalus, ye gods, At length be prosperous, may their sorrows cease!

HEL. Wretch that I am! for such is my hard fate: O Menelaus, we are lost for ever. The prophetess Theonoe, from the palace Comes forth: I hear the sounding gates unbarred. Fly from this spot. But whither can you fly? For your arrival here, full well she knows, Absent, or present. How, O wretched me, Am I undone! in safety you return From Troy, from a barbarian land, to rush Again upon the swords of fresh barbarians.

THEONOE, MENELAUS, HELEN, CHORUS.

THEON. [_to one of her Attendants_.] Lead thou the way, sustaining in thy hand The kindled torch, and fan the ambient air, Observing every due and solemn rite, That we may breathe the purest gales of Heaven. Meanwhile do thou, if any impious foot Have marked the path, with lustral flames efface The taint, and wave the pitchy brand around, That I may pass; and when we have performed Our duteous homage to th’ immortal powers, Into the palace let the flame be borne, Restore it to the Lares. What opinion Have you, O Helen, of th’ events foretold By my prophetic voice? Your husband comes, Your Menelaus in this land appears, Reft of his ships, and of your image reft. ’Scaped from what dangers, O unhappy man, Art thou arrived, although thou know’st not yet Whether thou e’er shalt to thy home return, Or here remain. For there is strife in Heaven; And Jove on thy account this day will hold A council; Juno who was erst thy foe, Now grown benignant, with thy consort safe To Sparta would convey thee, that all Greece May understand that the fictitious nuptials Of Paris, were the baleful gift of Venus. But Venus wants to frustrate thy return, Lest she should be convicted, or appear At least the palm of beauty to have purchased By vending Helen for a wife to Paris. But this important question to decide, On me depends; I either can destroy thee, Which is the wish of Venus, by informing My brother thou art here; or save thy life By taking Juno’s side, and thy arrival Concealing from my brother, who enjoined me To inform him whensoe’er thou on these shores Shouldst land. Who bears the tidings to my brother, That Menelaus’ self is here, to save me From his resentment?

HEL. At thy knees I fall, O virgin, as a suppliant, and here take My miserable seat, both for myself, And him whom, scarce restored to me, I see Now on the verge of death. Forbear t’ inform Thy brother, that to these fond arms my lord Again is come. O save him, I implore thee; Nor gratify thy brother, by betraying The feelings of humanity, to purchase A wicked and unjust applause: for Jove Detests all violence, he bids us use What we possess, but not increase our stores By rapine. It is better to be poor, Than gain unrighteous wealth. For all mankind Enjoy these common blessings, Air and Earth; Nor ought we our own house with gold to fill, By keeping fraudfully another’s right, Or seizing it by violence. For Hermes, Commissioned by the blest immortal powers, Hath, at my cost, consigned me to thy sire, To keep me for this husband, who is here And claims me back again: but by what means Can he receive me after he is dead? Or how can the Ægyptian king restore me A living consort to my breathless lord? Consider therefore, both the will of Heaven And that of thy great father. Would the god, Would the deceased, surrender up or keep Another’s right? I deem they would restore it. Hence to thy foolish brother shouldst not thou Pay more respect than to thy virtuous sire. And sure if thou, a prophetess, who utter’st Th’ oracular responses of the gods, Break’st through thy father’s justice, to comply With an unrighteous brother: it were base In thee to understand each mystic truth Revealed by the immortal powers, the things That are, and those that are not; yet o’erlook The rules of justice. But O stoop to save Me, miserable me, from all those ills In which I am involved; this great exertion Of thy benignant aid, my fortunes claim. For there is no man who abhors not Helen; ’Tis rumoured through all Greece that I betrayed My husband, and abode beneath the roofs Of wealthy Phrygia. But to Greece once more Should I return, and to the Spartan realm; When they are told, and see, how to the arts Of these contending goddesses they owe Their ruin; but that I have to my friends Been ever true, they to the rank I held ’Midst chaste and virtuous matrons, will restore me: My daughter too, whom no man dares to wed, From me her bridal portion shall receive; And I, no longer doomed to lead the life Of an unhappy vagrant, shall enjoy The treasures that our palaces contain. Had Menelaus died, and been consumed In the funereal pyre, I should have wept For him far distant in a foreign realm; But now shall I for ever be bereft Of him who lives, and seem to have escaped From every danger. Virgin, act not thus; To thee I kneel a suppliant; O confer On me this boon, and emulate the justice Of your great sire. For fair renown attends The children, from a virtuous father sprung, Who equal their hereditary worth.

THEON. Most piteous are the words which you have spoken; You also claim my pity: but I wish To hear what Menelaus yet can plead To save his life.