CHOROS.
Who may he have been that named thus wholly with exactitude —
(Was he someone whom we see not, by forecastings of the future
Guiding tongue in happy mood?)
— Her with battle for a bridegroom, on all sides contention-wooed,
Helena? Since — mark the suture! —
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Ship’s-Hell, Man’s-Hell, City’s-Hell,
From the delicately-pompous curtains that pavilion well,
Forth, by favour of the gale
Of earth-born Zephuros did she sail.
Many shield-bearers, leaders of the pack,
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Sailed too upon their track,
Theirs who had directed oar,
To Simois’ leaf-luxuriant shore —
For sake of strife all gore!
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To
Wrath, fulfilling her intent,
This marriage-care — the rightly named so — sent:
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In after-time, for the tables’ abuse
And that of the hearth-partaker Zeus,
Those who honoured with noisy throat
The honour of the bride, the hymenseal note
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Which did the kinsfolk then to singing urge.
But, learning a new hymn for that which was,
The ancient city of Priamos
Groans probably a great and general dirge,
The man that miserably marries: —
She who, all the while before,
A life, that was a general dirge
For citizens’ unhappy slaughter, bore.
From God it was-some priest
Of Até, in the house, by nurture thus increased.
At first, then, to the city of Ilion went
A soul, as I might say, of windless calm —
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An eyes’-dart bearing balm,
Love’s spirit-biting flower.
But — from the true course bending —
She brought about, of marriage, bitter ending:
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Ill-resident, ill-mate, in power
Passing to the Priamidai — by sending
Erinus for a bride, — to make brides mourn, her dower.
Approach then, my monarch, of
the sacker, of Atreus the son!
How ought I address thee, how ought I revere thee, — nor yet overhitting
Nor yet underbending the grace that is fitting?
Many of mortals hasten to honour the seeming-to-be —
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Passing by justice: and, with the ill-faring, to groan as he groans all are free.
But no bite of the sorrow their liver has reached to:
They say with the joyful, — one outside on each, too,
As they force to a smile smileless faces.
But whoever is good at distinguishing races
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In sheep of his flock — it is not for the eyes
Of a man to escape such a shepherd’s surprise,
As they seem, from a well-wishing mind,
In watery friendship to fawn and be kind.
Thou to me, then, indeed, sending an army for Helena’s sake,
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(I will not conceal it) wast — oh, by no help of the Muses! — depicted
Not well of thy midriff the rudder directing. — convicted
Of bringing a boldness they did not desire to the men with existence at stake.
But now — from no outside of mind, nor unlovingly — gracious thou art
To those who have ended the labour, fulfilling their part;
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And in time shalt thou know, by inquiry instructed,
Who of citizens justly, and who not to purpose, the city conducted.
