Helen of Troy [28]
quest began
From Argos did they seem,--a weary while, -
Becalm'd in sultry seas Egyptian,
A long day's voyage from the mouths of Nile.
L.
But there the Gods had pity on them, and there
The ancient Proteus taught them how to flee
From that so distant deep,--the fowls of air
Scarce in one year can measure out that sea;
Yet first within Aegyptus must they be,
And hecatombs must offer,--quickly then
The Gods abated of their jealousy,
Wherewith they scourge the negligence of men.
LI.
And strong and fair the south wind blew, and fleet
Their voyaging, so merrily they fled
To win that haven where the waters sweet
Of clear Eurotas with the brine are wed,
And swift their chariots and their horses sped
To pleasant Lacedaemon, lying low
Grey in the shade of sunset, but the head
Of tall Taygetus like fire did glow.
LII.
And what but this is sweet: at last to win
The fields of home, that change not while we change;
To hear the birds their ancient song begin;
To wander by the well-loved streams that range
Where not one pool, one moss-clad stone is strange,
Nor seem we older than long years ago,
Though now beneath the grey roof of the grange
The children dwell of them we used to know?
LIII.
Came there no trouble in the later days
To mar the life of Helen, when the old
Crowns and dominions perish'd, and the blaze
Lit by returning Heraclidae roll'd
Through every vale and every happy fold
Of all the Argive land? Nay, peacefully
Did Menelaus and the Queen behold
The counted years of mortal life go by.
LIV.
"Death ends all tales," but this he endeth not;
They grew not grey within the valley fair
Of hollow Lacedaemon, but were brought
To Rhadamanthus of the golden hair,
Beyond the wide world's end; ah never there
Comes storm nor snow; all grief is left behind,
And men immortal, in enchanted air,
Breathe the cool current of the Western wind.
LV.
But Helen was a Saint in Heathendom,
A kinder Aphrodite; without fear
Maidens and lovers to her shrine would come
In fair Therapnae, by the waters clear
Of swift Eurotas; gently did she hear
All prayers of love, and not unheeded came
The broken supplication, and the tear
Of man or maiden overweigh'd with shame.
O'er Helen's shrine the grass is growing green,
In desolate Therapnae; none the less
Her sweet face now unworshipp'd and unseen
Abides the symbol of all loveliness,
Of Beauty ever stainless in the stress
Of warring lusts and fears;--and still divine,
Still ready with immortal peace to bless
Them that with pure hearts worship at her shrine.
NOTE
[In this story in rhyme of the fortunes of Helen, the theory that she
was an unwilling victim of the Gods has been preferred. Many of the
descriptions of manners are versified from the Iliad and the Odyssey.
The description of the events after the death of Hector, and the
account of the sack of Troy, is chiefly borrowed from Quintus
Smyrnaeus.]
The character and history of Helen of Troy have been conceived of in
very different ways by poets and mythologists. In attempting to
trace the chief current of ancient traditions about Helen, we cannot
really get further back than the Homeric poems, the Iliad and
Odyssey. Philological conjecture may assure us that Helen, like most
of the characters of old romance, is "merely the Dawn," or Light, or
some other bright being carried away by Paris, who represents Night,
or Winter, or the Cloud, or some other power of darkness. Without
discussing these ideas, it may be said that the Greek poets (at all
events before allegorical explanations of mythology came in, about
five hundred years before Christ) regarded Helen simply as a woman of
wonderful beauty. Homer was not thinking of the Dawn, or the Cloud
when he described Helen among the Elders on the Ilian walls, or
repeated her lament over the dead body of Hector. The Homeric poems
are our oldest literary documents about Helen, but it is probable
From Argos did they seem,--a weary while, -
Becalm'd in sultry seas Egyptian,
A long day's voyage from the mouths of Nile.
L.
But there the Gods had pity on them, and there
The ancient Proteus taught them how to flee
From that so distant deep,--the fowls of air
Scarce in one year can measure out that sea;
Yet first within Aegyptus must they be,
And hecatombs must offer,--quickly then
The Gods abated of their jealousy,
Wherewith they scourge the negligence of men.
LI.
And strong and fair the south wind blew, and fleet
Their voyaging, so merrily they fled
To win that haven where the waters sweet
Of clear Eurotas with the brine are wed,
And swift their chariots and their horses sped
To pleasant Lacedaemon, lying low
Grey in the shade of sunset, but the head
Of tall Taygetus like fire did glow.
LII.
And what but this is sweet: at last to win
The fields of home, that change not while we change;
To hear the birds their ancient song begin;
To wander by the well-loved streams that range
Where not one pool, one moss-clad stone is strange,
Nor seem we older than long years ago,
Though now beneath the grey roof of the grange
The children dwell of them we used to know?
LIII.
Came there no trouble in the later days
To mar the life of Helen, when the old
Crowns and dominions perish'd, and the blaze
Lit by returning Heraclidae roll'd
Through every vale and every happy fold
Of all the Argive land? Nay, peacefully
Did Menelaus and the Queen behold
The counted years of mortal life go by.
LIV.
"Death ends all tales," but this he endeth not;
They grew not grey within the valley fair
Of hollow Lacedaemon, but were brought
To Rhadamanthus of the golden hair,
Beyond the wide world's end; ah never there
Comes storm nor snow; all grief is left behind,
And men immortal, in enchanted air,
Breathe the cool current of the Western wind.
LV.
But Helen was a Saint in Heathendom,
A kinder Aphrodite; without fear
Maidens and lovers to her shrine would come
In fair Therapnae, by the waters clear
Of swift Eurotas; gently did she hear
All prayers of love, and not unheeded came
The broken supplication, and the tear
Of man or maiden overweigh'd with shame.
O'er Helen's shrine the grass is growing green,
In desolate Therapnae; none the less
Her sweet face now unworshipp'd and unseen
Abides the symbol of all loveliness,
Of Beauty ever stainless in the stress
Of warring lusts and fears;--and still divine,
Still ready with immortal peace to bless
Them that with pure hearts worship at her shrine.
NOTE
[In this story in rhyme of the fortunes of Helen, the theory that she
was an unwilling victim of the Gods has been preferred. Many of the
descriptions of manners are versified from the Iliad and the Odyssey.
The description of the events after the death of Hector, and the
account of the sack of Troy, is chiefly borrowed from Quintus
Smyrnaeus.]
The character and history of Helen of Troy have been conceived of in
very different ways by poets and mythologists. In attempting to
trace the chief current of ancient traditions about Helen, we cannot
really get further back than the Homeric poems, the Iliad and
Odyssey. Philological conjecture may assure us that Helen, like most
of the characters of old romance, is "merely the Dawn," or Light, or
some other bright being carried away by Paris, who represents Night,
or Winter, or the Cloud, or some other power of darkness. Without
discussing these ideas, it may be said that the Greek poets (at all
events before allegorical explanations of mythology came in, about
five hundred years before Christ) regarded Helen simply as a woman of
wonderful beauty. Homer was not thinking of the Dawn, or the Cloud
when he described Helen among the Elders on the Ilian walls, or
repeated her lament over the dead body of Hector. The Homeric poems
are our oldest literary documents about Helen, but it is probable