“Come hither, Alexander sends for thee; He now is in his chamber and at rest On his carved couch; in beauty and attire Resplendent, not like one who just returns From combat with a hero, but like one Who goes to mingle in the choral dance, Or, when the dance is ended, takes his seat.”
She spake, and Helen heard her, deeply moved; Yet when she marked the goddess’s fair neck, Beautiful bosom, and soft, lustrous eyes, Her heart was touched with awe, and thus she said:—
“Strange being! Why wilt thou delude me still? Wouldst thou decoy me further on among The populous Phrygian towns, or those that stud Pleasant Maeonia, where there haply dwells Someone of mortal race whom thou dost deign To make thy favorite. Hast thou seen, perhaps, That Menelaus, having overpowered The noble Alexander, seeks to bear Me, hated as I must be, to his home? And hast thou therefore fallen on this device? Go to him, sit by him, renounce for him The company of gods, and never more Return to heaven, but suffer with him; watch Beside him till he take thee for his wife Or handmaid. Thither I shall never go, To adorn his couch and to disgrace myself. The Trojan dames would taunt me. O, the griefs That press upon my soul are infinite!”
Displeased, the goddess Venus answered: “Wretch, Incense me not, lest I abandon thee In anger, and detest thee with a zeal As great as is my love, and lest I cause Trojans and Greeks to hate thee, so that thou Shalt miserably perish.” Thus she spake; And Helen, Jove-begotten, struck with awe, Wrapped in a robe of shining white, went forth In silence from amidst the Trojan dames, Unheeded, for the goddess led the way.
When now they stood beneath the sumptuous roof Of Alexander, straightway did the maids Turn to their wonted tasks, while she went up, Fairest of women, to her chamber. There The laughing Venus brought and placed a seat Right opposite to Paris. Helen sat, Daughter of aegis-bearing Jove, with eyes Averted, and reproached her husband thus:—