Parerga/The Elopement of Helen
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THE ELOPEMENT OF HELEN.
FROM THE AGAMEMNON. (402-421.)
Λιποῦσα δ᾽ ἀστοῖσιν ἀσπίστορας
Κλόνους λογχίμους τε καὶ ναυβάτας ὁπλισμοὺς,
Ἄγουσά τ᾿ ἀντίφερνον Ἰλίῳ φθορὰν,
Βέβακε ῥίμφα διὰ πυλᾶν,
Ἄτλητα τλᾶσα· κ.τ.λ.
Κλόνους λογχίμους τε καὶ ναυβάτας ὁπλισμοὺς,
Ἄγουσά τ᾿ ἀντίφερνον Ἰλίῳ φθορὰν,
Βέβακε ῥίμφα διὰ πυλᾶν,
Ἄτλητα τλᾶσα· κ.τ.λ.
Daring a deed that none should dare,
O'er the threshold of her home
Lightly stept the lady fair—
She is o'er the ocean-foam,
Fleeing from the Spartan strand,
Bequeathing to her native land
Musterings, throngings to the bay,
The clanging of the spear and shield,
The vengeful galley's swift array,
The rush to many a bloody field.
And with her to the Trojan shore
Destruction she for dowry bore.
O'er her flight her nation's seer
Wailed in strains of woe and fear.
Woe to the house!—yea, double woe
On those who were its heads is poured!
Woe for the dishonour'd bed!
Woe for the track of her who fled,
But once had loved her lord!
O'er the threshold of her home
Lightly stept the lady fair—
She is o'er the ocean-foam,
Fleeing from the Spartan strand,
Bequeathing to her native land
Musterings, throngings to the bay,
The clanging of the spear and shield,
The vengeful galley's swift array,
The rush to many a bloody field.
And with her to the Trojan shore
Destruction she for dowry bore.
O'er her flight her nation's seer
Wailed in strains of woe and fear.
Woe to the house!—yea, double woe
On those who were its heads is poured!
Woe for the dishonour'd bed!
Woe for the track of her who fled,
But once had loved her lord!
[1]Lo! he is here, silent and still;
He knows the tale of shame and ill;
But no curse or raging word
From his pallid lips is heard.
All his bosom-hopes have died;—
Never may he see again
Her, the fair but faithless bride.
His heart is with her o'er the main;
And in unreposing grief
He wanders round his desolate halls,
Looking like a phantom-chief
Ruling in the royal walls.
In vain before the husband's eyes
The Lost-one's lovely statues rise:
That imaged form may ill supply
The longing soul's vacuity;
The pictured charm is dim.
It still is fair to gaze upon,
But all the grace of Love is gone,
And hateful 'tis to him.
He knows the tale of shame and ill;
But no curse or raging word
From his pallid lips is heard.
All his bosom-hopes have died;—
Never may he see again
Her, the fair but faithless bride.
His heart is with her o'er the main;
And in unreposing grief
He wanders round his desolate halls,
Looking like a phantom-chief
Ruling in the royal walls.
In vain before the husband's eyes
The Lost-one's lovely statues rise:
That imaged form may ill supply
The longing soul's vacuity;
The pictured charm is dim.
It still is fair to gaze upon,
But all the grace of Love is gone,
And hateful 'tis to him.
- ↑ The following reading has been adopted:Πάρεστι σῖγ', ἄτιμος,
Ἀλοίδορος,
Ἄπιστος ἀφεμέναν ἰδεῖν. κ.τ.λ.