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.
MEN. I cannot at your knees
Fall prostrate, or with tears these eyelids stain:
For I should cover all the great exploits
Which I achieved at Ilion with disgrace,
If I became a dastard; though some hold
’Tis not unworthy of the brave to weep
When wretched. But this honourable part
(If such a part can e’er be honourable)
I will not act, because the prosperous fortunes
Which erst were mine, are present to my soul.
If then you haply are disposed to save
A foreigner who justly claims his wife,
Restore her, and protect us: if you spurn
Our suit, I am not now for the first time,
But have been often wretched, and your name
Shall be recorded as an impious woman.
These thoughts, which I hold worthy of myself,
And just, and such as greatly must affect
Your inmost heart, I at your father’s tomb
With energy will utter. Good old man,
Beneath this marble sepulchre who dwell’st,
To thee I sue, restore my wife, whom Jove
Sent hither to thy realm, that thou for me
Might’st guard her. Thou, I know, since thou art dead,
Canst ne’er have power to give her back again:
But she, this holy priestess, will not suffer
Reproach to fall on her illustrious sire,
Whom I invoke amid the shades beneath:
For this depends on her. Thee too I call,
O Pluto, to my aid, who hast received
Full many a corse, which fell in Helen’s cause
Beneath my sword, and still retain’st the prize:
Either restore them now to life, or force
Her who seems mightier than her pious father,
To give me back my wife. But of my consort
If ye resolve to rob me, I will urge
Those arguments which Helen hath omitted.
Know then, O virgin, first I by an oath
Have bound myself, your brother to encounter,
And he, or I, must perish; the plain truth
Is this. But foot to foot in equal combat.
If he refuse to meet me, and attempt
To drive us suppliants from the tomb by famine,
My consort will I slay, and with the sword
Here on this sepulchre my bosom pierce,
That the warm current of our blood may stream
Into the grave. Thus shall our corses lie
Close to each other on this polished marble:
To you eternal sorrow shall they cause,
And foul reproach to your great father’s name.
For neither shall your brother wed my Helen,
Nor any man beside: for I with me
Will bear her; if I cannot bear her home,
Yet will I bear her to the shades beneath.
But why complain? If I shed tears, and act
The woman’s part, I rather shall become
An object of compassion, than deserve
To be esteemed a warrior. If you list,
Slay me, for I can never fall inglorious.
But rather yield due credence to my words,
So will you act with justice, and my wife
Shall I recover.
CHOR. To decide the cause
On which we speak, belongs to thee, O virgin:
But so decide as to please all.
THEON. By nature
And inclination am I formed to act
With piety, myself too I revere:
Nor will I e’er pollute my sire’s renown,
Or gratify my brother by such means
As might make me seem base. For from my birth,
Hath justice in this bosom fixed her shrine:
And since from Nereus I inherited
This temper, Menelaus will I strive
To save. But now since Juno is disposed
To be your friend, with her will I accord:
May Venus be propitious, though her rites
I never have partaken, and will strive
For ever to remain a spotless maid.
But I concur with thee, O Menelaus,
In all thou to my father at his tomb
Hast said: for with injustice should I act
If I restored not Helen: had he lived,
My sire on thee again would have bestowed
Thy consort, and her former lord on Helen.
For vengeance, in the shades of Hell beneath,
And among all that breathe the vital air,
Attends on those who break their plighted trust.
The soul of the deceased, although it live
Indeed no longer, yet doth still retain
A consciousness which lasts for ever, lodged
In the eternal scene of its abode,
The liquid ether. To express myself
Concisely, all that you requested me
Will I conceal, nor with my counsels aid
My brother’s folly; I to him shall show
A real friendship, though without the semblance,
If I his vicious manners can reform
And make him more religious. Therefore find
Means to escape yourselves; for I will hence
Depart in silence. First implore the gods;
To Venus sue, that she your safe return
Would suffer; and to Juno, not to change
The scheme which she hath formed, both to preserve
Your lord and you. O my departed sire,
For thee will I exert my utmost might,
That on thy honoured name no foul reproach
May ever rest.
[_Exit_ THEONOE.
CHOR. No impious man e’er prospered:
But fairest hopes attend an honest cause.
HEL. O Menelaus, as to what depends
Upon the royal maid, are we secure:
But next doth it become you to propose
Some means our safety to effect.
MEN. Now listen
To me; thou in this palace long hast dwelt,
An inmate with the servants of the king.
HEL. Why speak you thus? for you raise hopes, as though
You could do somewhat for our common good.
MEN. Canst thou prevail on any one of those
Who guide the harnessed steeds, to furnish us
With a swift car?
HEL. Perhaps I might succeed
In that attempt. But how shall we escape
Who to these fields and this barbarian land
Are strangers? An impracticable thing
Is this you speak of.
MEN. Well, but in the palace
Concealed, if with this sword the king I slay.
HEL. His sister will not suffer this in silence
If you attempt aught ’gainst her brother’s life.
MEN. We have no ship in which we can escape;
For that which we brought hither, by the waves
Is swallowed up.
HEL. Now hear what I propose;
From woman’s lips if wisdom ever flow.
Will you permit a rumour of your death
To be dispersed?
MEN. This were an evil omen:
But I, if any benefit arise
From such report, consent to be called dead
While I yet live.
HEL. That impious tyrant’s pity
Our female choir shall move, with tresses shorn,
And chaunt funereal strains.
MEN. What tendency
Can such a project have to our deliverance?
HEL. I will allege that ’tis an ancient custom;
And of the monarch his permission crave,
That I on you, as if you in the sea
Had perished, may bestow a vacant tomb.
MEN. If he consent, how can this feigned interment
Enable us to fly without a ship?
HEL. I will command a bark to be prepared,
From whence into the bosom of the deep
Funereal trappings I may cast.
MEN. How well
And wisely hast thou spoken! but the tomb
If he direct thee on the strand to raise,
Nought can this scheme avail.
HEL. But I will say
’Tis not the usage, in a Grecian realm,
With earth to cover the remains of those
Who perished in the waves.
MEN. Thou hast again
Removed this obstacle: I then with thee
Will sail, and the funereal trappings place
In the same vessel.
HEL. ’Tis of great importance
That you, and all those mariners who ’scaped
The shipwreck, should be present.
MEN. If we find
A bark at anchor, with our falchions armed
In one collected band will we assail
And board it.
HEL. To direct all this, belongs
To you; but may the prosperous breezes fill
Our sails, and guide us o’er the billowy deep.
MEN. These vows shall be accomplished; for the gods
At length will cause my toils to cease: but whence
Wilt thou pretend thou heard’st that I was dead?
HEL. Yourself shall be the messenger; relate
How you alone escaped his piteous doom,
A partner of the voyage with the son
Of Atreus, and the witness of his death.
MEN. This tattered vest will testify my shipwreck.
HEL. How seasonable was that which seemed at first
To be a grievous loss! but the misfortune
May end perhaps in bliss.
MEN. Must I with thee
Enter the palace, or before this tomb
Sit motionless?
HEL. Here stay: for if the king
By force should strive to tear you hence, this tomb
And your drawn sword will save you. But I’ll go
To my apartment, shear my flowing hair,
For sable weeds this snowy vest exchange,
And rend with bloody nails these livid cheeks:
For ’tis a mighty conflict, and I see
These two alternatives: if in my plots
Detected, I must die; or to my country
I shall return, and save your life. O Juno,
Thou sacred queen, who shar’st the couch of Jove,
Relieve two wretches from their toils; to thee
Our suppliant arms uplifting high t’wards Heaven
With glittering stars adorned, thy blest abode,
We sue: and thou, O Venus, who didst gain
The palm of beauty through my promised ’spousals,
Spare me, thou daughter of Dione, spare;
For thou enough hast injured me already;
Exposing not my person, but my name,
To those barbarians; suffer me to die,
If thou wilt slay me, in my native land.
Why art thou still insatiably malignant?
Why dost thou harass me by love, by fraud,
By the invention of these new deceits,
And by thy magic philtres plunge in blood
Our miserable house? If thou hadst ruled
With mildness, thou to man hadst been most grateful
Of all the gods. I speak not this at random.
[HELEN _and_ MENELAUS _retire behind the tomb_.