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Helen Oh! Oh! Maidens of Hellas, the prey of barbarian sailors! An Achaean sailor came, he came bringing tears upon tears to me. Ilion has been destroyed and is left to the enemy's fire through me, the death-giver, through my name, full of suffering. Leda sought death by hanging, in anguish over my disgrace. My husband, after much wandering in the sea, has died and is gone; and Castor and his brother, twin glory of their native land, have vanished, vanished, leaving the plains that shook to their galloping horses, and the schools of reed-fringed Eurotas, scene of youthful labors.
Helen Ah! Who was it, either from Phrygia or from Hellas, who cut the pine that brought tears to Ilion? From this wood the son of Priam built his deadly ship, and sailed by barbarian oars to my home, to that most ill-fated beauty, to win me as his wife; and with him sailed deceitful and murderous Kypris, bearing death for the Danaans. Oh, unhappy in my misfortune! But Hera, the holy beloved of Zeus on her golden throne, sent the swift-footed son of Maia. I was gathering fresh rose leaves in the folds of my robe, so that I might go to the goddess of the Bronze House; he carried me off through the air to this luckless land, and made me an object of miserable strife, of strife between Hellas and the sons of Priam. And my name beside the streams of Simois bears a false rumor.
Helen Oh, unhappy Troy! Through deeds not done by yourself, you are ruined, and have suffered pitiably; for the gift that Kypris gave me has caused much blood and many tears; it has added grief to grief and tear to tear, sorrows. . . . Mothers have lost their children and virgin sisters of the slain have cut off their hair by the swollen tide of Phrygian Skamandros. And Hellas has cried aloud, aloud, and broken forth in wailing, beating her head, and drenching her soft-skinned cheek with the bloody strokes of her nails.