Helen (0-92)

These are the lovely pure streams of the Nile, which waters the plain and lands of Egypt, fed by white melting snow instead of rain from heaven. Proteus was king of this land when he was alive,

living on the island of Pharos and lord of Egypt; and he married one of the daughters of the sea, Psamathe, after she left Aiakos’ bed. She bore two children in his palace here: a son Theoklymenos, because he spent his life in reverence of the gods,

and a noble daughter, her mother’s pride, called Eido in her infancy. But when she came to youth, the season of marriage, she was called Theonoe; for she knew whatever the gods design, both present and to come,

having received this honor from her grandfather Nereus.

My own fatherland, Sparta, is not without fame, and my father is Tyndareus; but there is indeed a story that Zeus flew to my mother Leda, taking the form of a bird, a swan,

which accomplished the deceitful union, fleeing the pursuit of an eagle, if this story is true. My name is Helen; I will tell the evils I have suffered. For the sake of beauty, three goddesses came to a deep valley on Mount Ida, to Paris:

Hera and Kypris, and the virgin daughter of Zeus, wishing to have the judgment of their loveliness decided. Kypris offered my beauty, if misfortune is beautiful, for Paris to marry, and so she won. Paris, the shepherd of Ida, left his ox-stalls

and came to Sparta, to have me in marriage.

But Hera, indignant at not defeating the goddesses, made an airy nothing of my marriage with Paris; she gave to the son of king Priam not me, but an image, alive and breathing, that she fashioned out of the sky and made to look like me;

and he thinks he has me—an idle fancy, for he doesn’t have me. And in turn the plans of Zeus added further troubles to these; for he brought a war upon the land of the Hellenes and the unhappy Phrygians, so that he might lighten mother earth

of her crowded mass of mortals, and bring fame to the bravest man of Hellas. So I was set up as the Hellenes’ spear-prize, to test the courage of the Trojans; or rather not me, but my name. Hermes caught me up in the folds of the air and

hid me in a cloud—for Zeus was not neglectful of me—and he set me down here in the house of Proteus, having selected the most self-controlled of all mankind, so that I might keep my bed pure for Menelaos. And so I am here, while my wretched husband

has gathered an army and gone over to the towers of Ilion to hunt down and recover me. And many lives have been lost for my sake by the streams of Skamandros; and I who have endured all this am accursed, and have in appearance betrayed my husband

and brought a great war to the Hellenes. Why then am I still alive? I heard the god Hermes declare that I would yet live in the glorious country of Sparta, with my husband—for Hermes knew I never went to Ilion—so that I would not go to bed with another man.

Well, as long as Proteus saw this light of the sun, I was safe from marriage; but now that he is hidden in the dark earth, the dead man’s son hunts after a marriage with me. But I, out of regard to my husband of long ago, am throwing myself down as a suppliant before this tomb of Proteus,

for him to keep my bed safe for my husband, so that, if I bear a name infamous throughout Hellas, at least my body may not incur disgrace here.

Who holds power over this fortified house? The dwelling is worthy of comparison with Ploutos’,

its royal enclosures and towering buildings. Ah! Oh gods, what sight is here? I see the hateful deadly likeness of the woman who ruined me and all the Achaeans. May the gods spurn you, so much do you look like

Helen! If I were not in a foreign land, you would have died by this well-aimed arrow as a reward for your likeness to the daughter of Zeus.

What is it, poor man—who are you, that you have turned away from me and loathe me for the misfortunes of that one?

I was wrong; I gave way to my anger more than I should, for all Hellas hates that daughter of Zeus. Forgive me for what I said, lady.

Who are you? Where have you come from, to visit this land?

I am one of those unfortunate Achaeans, lady.

Then it is no wonder that you loathe Helen. But who are you and where do you come from? Whose son should I call you?

My name is Teucer, my father is Telamon, and Salamis is the land that nurtured me.

Then why are you visiting these lands of the Nile?

I am an exile, driven out of my native land.

You must be unhappy! Who banished you from your fatherland?

My father Telamon. Could you find anyone closer to me?