You have spoken well, lady; and may the gods grant you rewards in return for your goodness.
Though you have a body like Helen's, you do not have a mind like hers, but one very different.
May she perish miserably and never come to the streams of Eurotas; but may you, lady, be happy always.
Oh, beginning a great lamentation for my great woes, what kind of wailing shall I strive with?
ἢ τίνα μοῦσαν ἐπέλθω §166δάκρυσιν ἢ θρήνοις ἢ πένθεσιν;
Or what muse shall I approach with tears or laments or dirges?
αἰαῖ.
Alas.
§167πτεροφόροι νεάνιδες, §168παρθένοι Χθονὸς κόραι §169Σειρῆνες, εἴθʼ ἐμοῖς γόοις §170μόλοιτʼ ἔχουσαι Λίβυν §171λωτὸν ἢ σύριγγας ἢ §171aφόρμιγγας, αἰλίνοις κακοῖς §172τοῖς ἐμοῖσι σύνοχα δάκρυα· §173πάθεσι πάθεα, μέλεσι μέλεα, §174μουσεῖα θρηνήμα- §174aσι ξυνῳδὰ πέμψειε §175Φερσέφασσα §176φόνια, χάριτας ἵνʼ ἐπὶ δάκρυσι §177παρʼ ἐμέθεν ὑπὸ μέλαθρα νύχια §177aπαιᾶνα §178νέκυσιν ὀλομένοις λάβῃ.
Winged young maidens, virgin daughters of Earth, Sirens, would that to my laments you might come, bringing the Libyan pipe or panpipes or lyres, bringing tears matching my sad woes; woes for woes, songs for songs, a concert harmonious with my laments may Persephone send, a deadly strain, so that she may receive from me, beneath her dark chambers, a paean as a grace for the perished dead.
§179κυανοειδὲς ἀμφʼ ὕδωρ §180ἔτυχον ἕλικά τʼ ἀνὰ χλόαν §181φοίνικας ἁλίου πέπλους §182αὐγαῖσιν ἐν χρυσέαις §183ἀμφὶ δόνακος ἔρνεσιν §183aθάλπουσα·
By the dark blue water I happened to be, and along the curling grass the crimson robes in the golden rays of the sun over the young shoots of reed, drying them.
ποτνίας δʼ ἐμᾶς, §184ἔνθεν οἰκτρὸν ἀνεβόασεν, §185ὅμαδον ἔκλυον, ἄλυρον ἔλεγον, §186ὅτι ποτʼ ἔλακεν αἰάγμα- §186aσι στένουσα, Νύμφα τις §187οἷα Ναῒς §188ὄρεσι φυγάδα νόμον ἱεῖσα §189γοερόν, ὑπὸ δὲ πέτρινα γύαλα §189aκλαγγαῖσι §190Πανὸς ἀναβοᾷ γάμους.
Then, of my mistress, from where she uttered a piteous cry, I heard a shouting, a songless lament, whatever lament she shrieked in her groans, like some Naiad, sending forth a fugitive, mournful song in the mountains, and under the rocky hollows with cries laments the marriage of Pan.
§191ἰὼ ἰώ·
Alas, alas!
§192θήραμα βαρβάρου πλάτας, §193Ἑλλανίδες κόραι, §194ναύτας Ἀχαιῶν §195τις ἔμολεν ἔμολε δάκρυα δάκρυσί μοι φέρων.
Prey of the barbarian oar, Greek maidens, one of the Achaean sailors has come, has come, bringing tears upon tears to me.
§196Ἰλίου κατασκαφαὶ §197πυρὶ μέλουσι δαΐῳ §198διʼ ἐμὲ τὰν πολυκτόνον, §199διʼ ἐμὸν ὄνομα πολύπονον.
The destruction of Ilium is delivered to hostile fire, because of me, the bringer of much death, because of my name fraught with much trouble.
And Leda, in a noose, met her death, from grief for my shame.
§203ὁ δʼ ἐμὸς ἐν ἁλὶ πολυπλανὴς §204πόσις ὀλόμενος οἴχεται, §205κάστορός τε συγγόνου τε §206διδυμογενὲς ἄγαλμα πατρίδος §207ἀφανὲς ἀφανὲς ἱππόκροτα λέ- §208λοιπε δάπεδα γυμνάσιά τε §210δονακόεντος Εὐρώ- §210aτα, νεανιᾶν πόνον.
And my husband, widely wandering on the sea, is dead and gone, and Castor and his brother, the twin-born glory of their country, have vanished, vanished, and have left the horse-trampled plains and gymnasia of the reedy Eurotas, the labor of young men.
§211αἰαῖ αἰαῖ·
Alas, alas!
Oh, for your much-lamented fate and your fortune, lady.
§213αἰὼν δυσαίων §214τις ἔλαχεν ἔλαχεν, ὅτε σʼ ἐτέκετο ματρόθεν §215χιονόχρως κύκνου πτερῷ §216Ζεὺς πρέπων διʼ αἰθέρος· §217τί γὰρ ἄπεστί σοι κακῶν;
A life of ill fortune was allotted to you, allotted, when from your mother you were born, in the snow-white feather of a swan Zeus shining through the ether; for what evil is absent from you?
§218τίνα δὲ βίοτον οὐκ ἔτλας;
And what kind of life have you not endured?
§219μάτηρ μὲν οἴχεται, §220δίδυμά τε Διὸς οὐκ εὐ- §221δαιμονεῖ τέκεα φίλα, §222χθόνα δὲ πάτριον οὐχ ὁρᾷς, §223διὰ δὲ πόλεας ἔρχεται §224βάξις, ἅ σε βαρβάροισι, §225πότνια, παραδίδωσι λέχεσιν, §226ὁ δὲ σὸς ἐν ἁλὶ κύμασί τε λέ- §227λοιπε βίοτον, οὐδέ ποτʼ ἔτι §228πάτρια μέλαθρα καὶ τὰν §228aΧαλκίοικον ὀλβιεῖς.
Your mother is gone, and the twin beloved sons of Zeus are not happy, and you do not see your native land, and through cities goes a rumor that delivers you, lady, to a barbarian bed, while your husband has left his life in the sea and waves, and nevermore will you bless your ancestral halls and her of the Bronze House.
Alas, alas, who of the Phrygians or who from the Greek land cut down the tearful pine for Ilium?
§233ἔνθεν ὀλόμενον σκάφος §234συναρμόσας ὁ Πριαμίδας §234aἔπλευσε βαρβάρῳ πλάτᾳ §235τὰν ἐμὰν ἐφʼ ἑστίαν, §236ἐπὶ τὸ δυστυχέστατον §237κάλλος, ὡς ἕλοι, γάμων §238ἀμῶν· ἅ τε δόλιος §239ἁ πολυκτόνος Κύπρις §239aΔαναΐδαις ἄγουσα θάνατον, §240ὦ τάλαινα συμφορᾶς.
From which, having fitted together a ruined bark, the son of Priam sailed with a barbarian oar to my hearth, after my most ill-fated beauty, that he might take my marriage; and she, the deceitful, the murderous Cypris, bringing death to the Danaids, oh, wretched am I in my misfortune!
§241ἁ δὲ χρυσέοις θρόνοις §242Διὸς ὑπαγκάλισμα σεμνὸν §243Ἥρα τὸν ὠκύπουν §243aἔπεμψε Μαιάδος γόνον· §244ὅς με χλοερὰ δρεπομέναν §245ἔσω πέπλων ῥόδεα πέταλα, §245aΧαλκίοικον ὡς μόλοιμʼ, §246ἀναρπάσας διʼ αἰθέρος §247τάνδε γαῖαν εἰς ἄνολβον §248ἔριν ἔριν τάλαιναν ἔθετο §249Πριαμίδαισιν Ἑλλάδος.
But she on her golden throne, the august consort of Zeus, Hera, sent the swift-footed son of Maia; who snatched me up while I was plucking rose petals in my robes, that I might go to her of the Bronze House, and carrying me through the air to this unhappy land, and set a wretched, wretched strife for the sons of Priam and Greece.
But my name, by the streams of Simois, holds a vain reputation.
You have painful griefs, I know; but it is useful, indeed, to bear the necessary things of life as easily as possible.
§255φίλαι γυναῖκες, τίνι πότμῳ συνεζύγην;
Dear women, to what fate have I been yoked?
§256ἆρʼ ἡ τεκοῦσά μʼ ἔτεκεν ἀνθρώποις τέρας;
Did the mother who bore me give birth to a monster for mankind?
For my life and my affairs are a monster, partly because of Hera, and partly because my beauty is the cause.
§262εἴθʼ ἐξαλειφθεῖσʼ ὡς ἄγαλμʼ αὖθις πάλιν §263αἴσχιον εἶδος ἔλαβον ἀντὶ τοῦ καλοῦ, §264καὶ τὰς τύχας μὲν τὰς κακὰς ἃς νῦν ἔχω §265Ἕλληνες ἐπελάθοντο, τὰς δὲ μὴ κακὰς §266ἔσῳζον ὥσπερ τὰς κακὰς σῴζουσί μου.
Would that, wiped clean like a painting, I had received a uglier form in place of my beauty, and that the Greeks had forgotten the evil fortunes I now have, and had preserved my good fortunes, just as they now preserve my bad ones.