Helen (1525-1540)

so many sailors, with whom you were sent.

When the daughter of Zeus had left this royal house and started for the sea, delicately picking her way, she most cleverly began to mourn her husband, though he was close at hand and not dead.

When we reached the enclosure of your dockyards, we began to launch the Sidonian ship on her first voyage, with her fifty benches and full measure of rowers. Task gave way to task: one set up the mast, another set up the oars

. . . and the rudders were lowered by their cross-bars. And during this labor, men of Hellas who had been fellow-voyagers with Menelaos were watching us, it seems, and they drew near to the beach, clad in the rags of shipwrecked men,

handsome, but rough to look upon. And the son of Atreus, when he saw them approach, spoke to them, craftily introducing the reason for his mourning: Unhappy sailors, how have you arrived? From the wreckage of what Achaean ship?