PALLINODE

HELEN IN EGYPT

Book One

1

We all know the story of Helen of Troy but few of us have followed her to Egypt. How did she get there? Stesichorus of Sicily in his Pallinode, was the first to tell us. Some centuries later, Euripides repeats the story. Stesichorus was said to have been struck blind because of his invective against Helen, but later was restored to sight, when he reinstated her in his Pallinode. Euripides, notably in The Trojan Women, reviles her, but he also is "restored to sight." The later, little understood Helen in Egypt, is again a Pallinode, a defence, explanation or apology.

According to the Pallinode, Helen was never in Troy. She had been transposed or translated from Greece into Egypt. Helen of Troy was a phantom, substituted for the real Helen, by jealous deities. The Greeks and the Trojans alike, fought for an illusion.

Do not despair, the hosts surging beneath the Walls, (no more than I) are ghosts;

do not bewail the Fall, the scene is empty and I am alone, yet in this Amen-temple,

I hear their voices, there is no veil between us, only space and leisure

and long corridors of lotus-bud furled on the pillars, and the lotus-flower unfurled,

with reed of the papyrus; Amen (or Zeus we call him) brought me here;

fear nothing of the future or the past, He, God, will guide you, bring you to this place,

as he brought me, his daughter, twin-sister of twin-brothers and Clytaemnestra, shadow of us all;

the old enchantment holds, here there is peace for Helena, Helen hated of all Greece.

2✓

Lethe, as we all know, is the river of forgetfulness for the shadows,
passing from life to death. But Helen, mysteriously transposed to Egypt,
does not want to forget. She is both phantom and reality

#

The potion is not poison,
it is not Lethe and forgetfulness
but everlasting memory,

3/4

the glory and the beauty of the ships,
the wave that bore them onward
and the shock of hidden shoal,

the peril of the rocks,
the weary fall of sail,
the rope drawn taut,

the breathing and breath-taking
climb and fall, mountain and valley
challenging, the coast

drawn near, drawn far,
the helmsman's bitter oath
to see the goal receding

in the night; everlasting, everlasting
nothingness and lethargy of waiting;
O Helen, Helen, Daemon that thou art,

we will be done forever
with this charm, this evil philtre,
this curse of Aphrodite;

so they fought, forgetting women,
hero to hero, sworn brother and lover,
and cursing Helen through eternity.

3

Her concern is with the past, with the anathema or curse. But
to the Greeks who perished on the long voyage out, or who died impre-
cating her, beneath the Walls, she says, "you are forgiven." They did
not understand what she herself can only dimly apprehend. She may
perceive the truth, but how explain it? Is it impossible that it all
happened, the ruin, it would seem not only of Troy, but of the "holocaust
of the Greeks" of which she speaks later, in order that two souls or
two soul-mates should meet? It almost seems so?

Alas, my brothers,
Helen did not walk
upon the ramparts,

she whom you cursed
was but the phantom and the shadow thrown
of a reflection;

you are forgiven for I know my own,
and God for his own purpose
wills it so, that I

stricken, forsaken draw to me,
through magic greater than the trial of arms,
your own invincible, unchallenged Sire,

Lord of your legions, King of Myrmidons,
unconquerable, a mountain and a grave,
Achilles;

few were the words we said,
nor knew each other,
nor asked, are you Spirit?

are you sister? are you brother?
are you alive?
are you dead?

the harpers will sing forever
of how Achilles met Helen
among the shades,

but we were not, we are not shadows;
as we walk, heel and sole
leave our sandal-prints in the sand,

though the wounded heel treads lightly
and more lightly follow,
the purple sandals.

Had they met before? Perhaps, Achilles was one of the princely suitors for her hand, at the court of her earthly father, Tyndareus of Sparta. But this Helen is not to be recognized by earthly splendour nor this Achilles by accoutrements of valour. It is the lost legions that have conditioned their encounter, and "the sea-enchantment in his eyes"

How did we know each other?
was it the sea-enchantment in his eyes
of Thetis, his sea-mother?

what was the token given?
I was alone, bereft,
and wore no zone, no crown,

and he was ship-wrecked,
drifting without chart,
fanished and tempest-driven

the fury of the tempest in his eyes,
the bane of battle
and the legions lost;

for what was victory
and Troy-gates broken
to memory of the Body,

wounded, stricken,
the insult of the charioteer,
the chariot furiously driven,

the Furies' taunt?
take heart Achilles, for you may not die,
immortal and invincible;

though the Achilles-heel treads lightly,
still I feel the tightening muscles,
the taut sinews quiver,

as if I, Helen, had withdrawn
from the bruised and swollen flesh,
the arrow from its wound.

6.

The great Amen, Ammon or Amûn temple still stands, so we may wander
there with Helen. She and we need peace and time to reconstruct the
legend, Karnak? Luxor? Thebes, certainly. This is the oldest city
in the world. Homer knew it. But we look back, not so far geographically
and historically. They had met on the coast in the dark. Achilles has
been here with her; no doubt, he will come again. But for the moment,
she wants to assess her treasure, realize the transcendental in material
terms. For their meeting in eternity was timeless, but in time it was
short, and "few were the words we said."

How did we greet each other?
here in this Amen-temple,
I have all-time to remember;

he comes, he goes;
I do not know that memory calls him,
or what Spirit-master
summons him to release
(as God released him)
the imprisoned, the lost;

few were the words we said,
but the words are graven on stone,
minted on gold, stamped upon lead;

they are coins of a treasure
or the graded weights
of barter and measure;

"I am a woman of pleasure,"
I spoke ironically into the night,
for he had built me a fire,

he, Achilles, piling brushwood,
finding an old flint in his pouch,
"I thought I had lost that";

few were the words we said,
"I am ship-wrecked, I am lost,"
turning to view the stars,

swaying as before the mast,
"the season is different,
we are far from #from-"

1/3

8

8

She is afraid, too. So she needs this protection. She has tried to conceal her identity with mockery, "I am a woman of pleasure." She knows what the Greeks think of her, and here is Greece-incarnate, the here-god; true, he is ship-wrecked, nevertheless though wounded, he carries with him the threat of autocracy. She has lost caste. He is still Achilles. Or who is she? She says that Helen upon the ramparts was a phantom. Then, what is this Helen? Are they both ghosts? And if she is convinced of this, why does she entreat the flame that Achilles kindled, "let me love him, as Thetis, his mother"? Is she afraid of losing even her phantom integrity? And what of it? Thetis is an Aphrodite, it was not her fault.

O no, but through eternity, she will be blamed for this and she feels it coming. She will blacken her face like the prophetic femme noir of antiquity. But it does not work. Achilles is here to impeach her. Why? We must blame someone. Hecate is a witch, a vulture, and finally, as if he had run out of common invective, he taunts her with a hieroglyph. This is almost funny, she must stop him, he is after all, the son of the sea-goddess. She has named Isis, the Egyptian Aphrodite, the primal cause of all the madness. But another, born-of-the-sea, is nearer, his own mother. Again, she thinks of her and reminds Achilles of his divine origin, "O child of Thetis." This is quite enough. Can you throttle a phantom? He tries. The end is inevitable.

How could I hide my eyes?
how could I veil my face?
with ash or charcoal from the embers?

I drew out a blackened stick,
but he snatched it,
he flung it back,

"what sort of enchantment is this?
what art will you wield with a fagot?
are you Hecate? are you a witch?

a vulture, a heiroglyph,
the sign or the name of a goddess?
what sort of goddess is this?

where are we? who are you?
where is this desolate coast?
who am I? am I a ghost?"

"you are living, O child of Thetis,
as you never lived before"
then he caught at my wrist,

"Helena, cursed of Greece,
I have seen you upon the ramparts,
no art is beneath your power,

13

#

3

We were right. Helen herself denies an actual intellectual knowledge
of the temple-symbols. But she is nearer to them than the instructed
scribe; for her, the secret of the stone-writing is repeated in natural
or human symbols. She herself is the writing.

#

I said, I was instructed in the writ;
but I had only heard of it,
when our priests decried

papyrus fragments,
travellers brought back,
as crude, primeval lettering;

I had only seen a tattered scroll's
dark *outline* of a caravel
with a great sun's *drawing*, *out* *line*,

Tracing /

but inked-in, as with shadow;
it seemed a shadow-sun,
the boat, a picture of a toy;

I was not interested,
I was not instructed,
nor guessed the inner sense of the heiratic,

3

but when the bird swooped past,
that first evening,
I seemed to know the writing,

as if God made the picture
and matched it
with a living heiroglyph;

how did I know the vulture?
why did I invoke the mother?
why was he seized with terror?

in the dark, I must have looked
an inked-in shadow; but with his anger,
that ember, I became

what his accusation made me,
Isis, forever with that Child,
the Hawk Horus.

Helen is a Greek, a Spartan, born from a sea-faring people. Although in Egypt, it is not the primitive caravel, as she calls the shadow or death-ship of Osiris, that she visualizes, when she would recall the host of Spirits. Her vision is wholly Greek, though she returns to the sacred Egyptian lily for her final inspirations.

This is the spread of wings,
whether the Straits claimed them
or the Cyclades,

whether they floundered on the Pontic seas
or ran aground before the Hellespont,
whether they shouted Victory at the gate,

whether the bowmen shot them from the Walls,
whether they crowded surging through the breach,
or died of fever on the smitten plain,

whether they rallied and came home again,
in the worn hulks, half-rotted from the salt
or sun-warped on the beach,

whether they scattered or in companies,
or three or two sought the old ways of home,
whether they wandered as Odysseus did,

encountering new adventure, they are one;
no, I was not instructed, but I "read" the script,
I read the writing when he seized my throat,

this was his anger,
they were mine, not his,
the un-numbered host;

mine, all the ships,
mine, all the thousand petals of the rose,
mine, all the lily-petals,

mine, the great spread of wings,
the thousand sails,
the thousand feathered darts

that sped them home,
mine, the one dart in the Achilles-heel,
the thousand-and-one, mine.

8

So being Helen of Troy, whether or not she ever walked upon the ram+
parts, she flings knowledge away. Let the temple walls flower with "the
incipherable Amen-script." It is not necessary to "read" the riddle.
The pattern in itself is sufficient and it is beautiful.

Is Fate inexorable?
does Zeus decree that, forever,
Love should be born of War?

O Eros of flaming wings,
O Horus of golden feathers,
let my heart be filled with peace,

let me draw him back to this place;
alone, does he pace the beach,
does he question the wandering stars,

swaying as before the mast,
"the season is different,
we are far from Σ from Σ"

what heart-break, what unappeasable
ache, burning within his sinews,
as he remembers the arrow

that stole Immortality
and made him a Mortal;
let Helen's imperious quest

through this temple, to solve the riddle
written upon the Walls,
be shed, as a priestess' mantle;

no priestess calls him to me,
I care not, nor care to know
what is or is not the answer,

whether as Orpheus, he dared the depth of hell,
whether as Phaeton, challenged the car of the sun,
whether he stole, as Prometheus stole

forbidden knowledge from heaven,
whether he broke the law,
(forgive me, O Zeus, the law-giver),

whether he changed, as Circe changed,
men into swine;
whether he flouted his power,

19

8. (continued)

while women fell, as the scythe
of his visored glance swept them over;
whether he laughed as they fell;

whether he found, here and there,
a girl for a change in pleasure,
when weary after the fray.

his elect slept in their tents;
whether here and there he stole a child,
here and there, everywhere,

luring youth into battle;
whether he cheated, he lied
(he was brave? an immortal

to challenge mortality?)
whether he razed a city,
a woman, or wore a crown

unearned by his merit
he drew as a magnet drew
the ore from the rock?

gold from dross?
death from life?
was War inevitable?

Amen-Zeus, let me not ask,
but claim him and know the Sun,
hidden behind the sun of our visible day.

Book Three

1

Now they are both here in the temple, but Helen does not like the
fixed stare of Achilles. This is not the "sea-enchantment in his eyes."
She mistrusts this metallic glitter. He is thinking of the Battle. She
speaks of the Greek islands in order to recall him, but, apparently, he
is unmoved for she would dismiss him, "go, follow the ways of the sea."
But he speaks her name, Helena, and seemingly not altogether in character,
asks an enigmatic question.

I say, "what island shall we seek,"
to keep him from staring out
between the painted stele,

"shall it be Cos or Crete?"
I would rather forget,
I would rather forget,

but a phantom pursues him;
shall a phantom threaten my peace?
what does it matter,

who won, who lost?
must the Battle be fought and fought
in his memory?

and do I care,
do I care greatly
to keep him eternally?

I was happier alone,
why did I call him to me?
must I forever look back?

must I summon the names of home,
an enchantment to hold him here?
"shall we seek Cyprus' rose

or Naxos' purple grape?"
O do not turn, do not turn,
go, follow the ways of the sea;

but he turns, he speaks to me,
"Helena, which was the dream,
which was the veil of Cytheraea?"

goal 10

23

Achilles attacked her, certainly. But Helen returns again and again
to "that first night on the desolate beach." We may surmise that this
"attack" meant more to her than the approaches of her husband, Menelaus,
or the seduction of her lover, Paris. (Provided of course, that Helen
had ever been lured from Sparta to Troy.) And though Helen speaks of the
"invisible host surrounding and helping me," she can also ask, "can one
weigh the thousand ships against one kiss in the night?"

Much has happened
in timeless-time,
here in the Amen-temple,

but he had not questioned me,
he had never spoken of Beauty;
the rasp of a severed wheel

seemed to ring in the dark,
the spark of a sword on a shield,
the whirr of an arrow,

the crack of a broken lance,
then laughter mingled with fury,
as host encountered host;

but that had never been;
how long did he hesitate
in time or in timeless-time,

while his fingers tightened their grip?
why did he let me go?
did he hear the whirr of wings,

did he feel the invisible host
surrounding and helping me?
was he afraid of the dead?

27

Is the "veil of Cytheraea" or of Love, Death? Is the disguise of
Death or the "veil" of Death, Love? This is too difficult a question
to answer. Helen only knows that without the souls or "the sails of
the thousand ships", her encounter with Achilles would have "burnt out
in a flash" or burnt her out, like Semele, when Zeus at her request,
"revealed himself." The dream? The veil? She does understand. But
there must be an intermediate dimension or plane. She asks, "are we
homesick for what has been?"

The harpers will sing forever
of the unveiled Aphrodite,
a portent, an apparition;

but without the Galaxy,
the sails of the thousand ships,
the Glory that compassed me

when I faced his anger,
we would have burnt out in a flash,
as Semele when Zeus

revealed himself; her request
to confront God openly,
was answered by Death:

was Death the answer?
the Hawk with the thousand pinions,
the thousand-and-one darts?

the rise and fall of the sea,
the veil of Cytheraea?
are we home-sick for what has been?

I place my hand on a pillar
and run my hand as the blind,
along the invisible curve

or the line of chick or bee;
where are we?
and what is the answer?

4

28

8

But still Helen wants "some simple answer." She feels that Achilles
can give it to her. But she delays asking the direct question that will
tell her everything. When she introduces it, it is in a round about way.
She knows that her name was Helen, in Sparta, in Greece. But she wants
to know of that other, "walking upon the ramparts." She does not directly
ask Achilles, if he recognises in her, the Helen of his first accusation,
"I have seen you upon the ramparts." Is this Helen actually that Helen?
Achilles seems grudgingly, to apologise for his first boorishness, "I
was afraid." Who indeed would not be, at sudden encounter with the admitted
first-cause" of all-time, of all-history." Fate, Death, Reintegration,
Resurrection? What was she then, if she was there, at all, in Troy? His
answer is unequivocal and final, "a fountain of water in that desert ...
we died of thirst"

"Were you rapt in prayer?"

2 1/2

"no, Achilles, I wanted some simple answer
to your question";

"my question?"

"which was the dream";

"I asked you which was the veil;

the sea-roads lie between
you and the answer";

"you called me Helena";

"that was your name";

"was my name?"

"in Sparta, in Greece";

"and walking upon the ramparts?"

"I can see you still, a mist
or a fountain of water

in that desert; we died of thirst";

"but you never spoke my name
till you called me

"hist enough

I was afraid of evil,
in an evil place."

29

Book Four

Foolish

So at last we see, with the eyes of Achilles, Helen upon the
Walls:

#

Achilles:

You say, I could not see,
but God had given to me,
the eyes of an eagle;

you say, I could not know
how many paces there were
from turret to turret;

there was bitter discussion and hate,
she could leave by a secret gate,
and the armies be saved;

why does she hold us here?
the winters were ruthless and bleak,
the summer burnt up the plain

and the army with fever;
they fell as the ears of wheat
when a reaper harvests the grain;

is this the harvest?
year after year, we fought
to enter a prison, a fortress;

was she a prisoner?
did she wanton, awake?
or asleep, did she dream of home?

an arrow would settle it,
but no man dared aim at the mark
that taunted and angered us;

and we asked, would an arrow pierce
a Daemon's heart? a devil?
had she enchanted us

with a dream of daring, of peril,
as yet un-writ in the scrolls of history,
un-sung as yet by the poets?

Now Achilles himself admits defeat. For what had he lost "the rule of the world and Greece"? For two things, "the turn of a Greek wrist" and "a ship's mast that measured the stars"

I only remember the turn
of a Greek wrist,
knotting a scarf;

I only remember
the sway of a ship's mast,
that measured the stars;

I only remember
a struggle to free
my feet from a tangle of chords,
and a leap in the dark;
I only remember
the shells, whiter than bone

on the ledge of a desolate beach;
I only remember
a broken strap

that had lost Achilles
the rule of the world and Greece;
I only remember

how I had questioned Command;
for this weakness, this wavering,
I was shot like an underling,

like the least servant,
following the last luggage-carts
and the burdened beasts.

38

7.

The Command or the adamant rule of the inner circle of the warrior
caste was "bequest from the past". Equally, each group or circle had its
responsibility to the future. Had Achilles broken the connection of
"the present to aeons to come"? Was this the punishment for his "game
of prophecy"? Has he "lost in a game of chance"?

3

The Command was bequest from the past,
from father to son,
the Command bound past to the present

and the present to aeons to come,
the Command was my father, my brother,
my lover, my God;

it was not the Command that betrayed,
it was Another;
She is stronger than God, they say,

She is stronger than Fate
and a chaffing greave,
loose at the ankle,

but is She stronger, I asked,
stronger than Hercules?
for I felt Herculean strength

return when I saw Her face;
I remembered my Power
and the world that I had lost;

was it a trivial thing
to have bartered the world
for a glance?

but I had not bartered or bargained,
I had lost
in a game of chance.

mal 15

8.

It seems so. Achilles himself might be thought to lose stature by
apology. Can he apologize? Or does he bargain, in a sense, play for
time? Superficially now, they appear to accept second-best. Actually,
they are both occupied with the thought of reconstruction, he "to re-claim
the coast with the Pharos, the light-house," she to establish or re-establish
the ancient Mysteries?

No I spoke evil words,
forget them, repeat them not;
only answer my question,

how are Helen in Egypt
and Helen upon the ramparts,
together yet separate?

how have the paths met?
how have the circles crossed?
how phrase or how frame the problem?

I, too, question and wonder
though I am not rapt apart
as you in this Amen-temple,

and I am seldom here;
while I work to re-claim the coast
with the Pharos, the light-house,

ask the oracle to declare,
Helena, which was the dream,
which was the veil of Cytheraea.

Book Five

1

"How have the paths met?" This is indeed the lesser personal mystery.
"The harpers will sing forever of how Achilles met Helen among the shades,"
but perhaps they can not tell us why they met, for exactly what reason
"the circles crossed." This is part of the Greater Mystery. Helen will
not force an answer from the oracle. She will take her time about it."

No, I will not challenge
the ancient Mystery,
the Oracle; I will walk

with measured step
the length of the Porch,
I will turn and walk back;

I will count the tread of my feet,
as a dancer counts,
faster or slower,

but never changing the beat,
the rhythm; I will go
from pillar to pillar,

from stele to pillar;
and round again to the river;
here, there are iron-rings

where the boats, in ancient times,
made fast, but the Nile
has changed its course;

only the temple-lake
contains the holy water;
it is enough; it was long ago

that the ships swayed here by the wharf;
it is stone and heavily built;
it was built to last forever.

3

We are back now with our first meeting of Helen, in the Great Temple,
when she says, "Amen (or Zeus we call him) brought me here." So recalling
this Father, she remembers as on that first occasion, her "twin-brothers
and Clytaemnestra, shadow of us all." It is as if Helen wanted to recall
her immediate "family", as protection or balance against the overwhelming
fact of her Fate or Destiny, this meeting with Achilles.

I am not happy without her,
Clytaemnestra, my sister;
as I turn by the last pillar,

I find Isis with Nephthys,
the Child's other mother;
the two are inseparable

as substance and shadow,
as shadow and substance are;
is she Nemesis or Astarte,

or Nepenthe, forgetfulness?
I would change my place for hers,
wherever she is, O Father,

why should Helen be given
peace through eternity,
and Clytaemnestra doomed,

and slain by her son, Orestes?
or is it a story told,
a shadow of a shadow,

has it ever happened,
or is it yet to come?
do I myself invent

this tale of my sister's fate?
Hermione, my child,
and Iphigenia, her child, are one.

44

5

Why does Helen recall Iphigenia? Does she identify herself with her sister's child? Does she feel that she, like Iphigenia, was a pledge to Death" and that like Iphigenia, she had been rescued at the last moment? She reminds us that Iphigenia was summoned to Aulis, on the pretext of a marriage to Achilles.

I will call my sister Nepenthe,
forgetfulness of the past,
remembrance of childhood together;

what did she care for the trumpet,
the herald's cry at the gate,
war is over;

it is true she lay with her lover,
but she could never forget
the glint of steel at the throat

of her child on the altar;
Artemis snatched away
the proffered sacrifice,

but not even Artemis could veil
that terrible moment,
could make Clytaemnestra forget

the lure, the deception, the lie
that had brought her to Aulis;
"we will pledge, forsooth, our child

to the greatest hero in Greece;
bring her here
to join hand with hand

in the bridal pledge at the altar";
but the pledge was a pledge to Death,
to War and the armies of Greece.

45

‡

6.

#

By identifying Clytaemnestra with Iphigenia, "as one before the altar",
it seems as if Helen were trying to re-instate her or dismiss her tragic
story. It is as if Helen were re-living her own story and visualizing
her own fate in terms of that of her twin-sister. Helen has been so sig-
nally favoured. She would recall Clytaemnestra and "remembrance of child-
hood together".

la

She was a bride, my sister,
with a bride's innocence,
she was a lover of flowers

and she wound in her hair,
the same simple weeds
that Iphigenia wore;

she stepped forward,
they stood together
as one, before the altar;

O Word of the Goddess,
O Harmony and Grace,
it was a moment

of infinite beauty,
but a war-Lord
blighted that peace.

Book Six

#

1

#

*Initiation? Does Helen brush aside all the traditional philosophy and wisdom, to imply that enlightenment comes or does not come, as a gift, a whim "of this ancient Child, Egypt," rather than as formal reward for recognised achievement?*

#

3

You may ask why I speak of Thoth-Amen,
of Amen-Zeus or Zeus separately,
you may think I invoke or recall

a series of multiple gods,
a Lion, a Hawk or an Ibis,
as we were taught to think

of the child-like fantasy
of this ancient Child, Egypt;
how can you understand

what few may acknowledge and live,
what many acknowledge and die?
He is **One**, yet the many

manifest separately; He may manifest
as a jackal and hound you to death?
or is He changeable like air,

and like air, invisible?
God is beyond the manifest?
He is ether and limitless space?

you may ask forever, you may penetrate
every shrine, an initiate,
and remain unenlightened at last.

"God does not weave a loose web", no. Perhaps it is the beauty and
proportion of the pattern that amazes Helen. It is not "in the oracles
of Greece or the hieroglyphs of Egypt" that she finds the answer. It
is in the simple remembrance of her first meeting with Achilles, and his
recognition of her.

Artemis brought her to Tauris,
where her brother Orestes
with his friend Pylades, found her;

but there was another marriage,
as yet unconsummate;
God does not weave a loose web,

nor do his Daughters, the Fates;
it was years, it was centuries,
it was a fleeting moment,

but the Balance waited
the inevitable weight
of feather with feather;

how can you find the answer
in the oracles of Greece
or the heiroglyphs of Egypt?

you may work or steal your way
into the innermost shrine
and the secret escape you;

some say a bowman from the Walls,
let fly the dart, some say it was Apollo,
but I, Helena, know it was Love's arrow.

For she suddenly feels alone. She would share her happiness, she
would proclaim the miracle, she would re-establish the Egyptian Mysteries
in Greece, she would pledge herself anew to Achilles' work, "to keep and
maintain the Pharos", and to the "sea-enchantment in his eyes".

7

#

Surely, I am not alone,
there must be priestess or priest,
there must be a family

of this ancient Dynasty,
a Pharaoh and a Pharaoh's wife?
have I imprisoned myself

in my contemplation?
has my happiness set me apart
from the rest of Egypt?

Achilles said, he had work to do,
to reclaim the coast,
to keep and maintain the Pharos,

a light and a light-house for ships,
for others like ourselves,
who are not shadows nor shades,

but entities, living a life
unfulfilled in Greece:
can we take our treasure,

the wisdom of Amen and Thoth,
back to the islands,
that enchantment may find a place

where desolation ruled,
and a warrior race,
Agamemnon and Menelaus?

Real 21

55

Helen with her brothers shall be deified, because of that "Love,
begot of the Ships and of War."

The Lords have passed a decree,
the Lords of the Hierarchy,
that Helen be worshipped,

be offered incense
upon the altars of Greece,
with her brothers, the Dioscuri;

from Argos, from distant Sythia,
from Delos, from Arcady,
the harp-strings will answer

the chant, the rhythm, the metre,
the syllables H-E-L-E-N-A;
Helena, reads the decree,

shall be shrined forever;
in Melos, in Thessaly,
they shall honour the name of Love,

begot of the Ships and of War;
one indestructible name,
to inspire the Scribe and refute

the doubts of the dissolute;
this is the Law,
this, the Mandate:

let no man strive against Fate,
Helena has withstood
the rancour of the time and of hate.

Clytaemnestra's problem or Clytaemnestra's "war" was not Helen's,
but her Lord Agamemnon and Achilles have the iron-ring of the war or the
death-cult in common. But Agamemnon, after the war and his rape or
concubinage of Cassandra, the priestess of Apollo, meets dishonourable
death, while Achilles falls before the Scaean Gate, with the "flash in
the heaven at noon that blinds the sun," Helen upon the Walls.

The War is over and done
for us in the precinct;
the war she endured was different,
yet her Lord resembled Achilles;
when they reach a certain degree,
they are one, alike utterly;

could they have chosen
another way, another Fate?
each could ⌜ Agamemnon, Achilles,
but would they?
they would not;
but the Balance sways,

another Star appears,
as they step from the gold
into the iron-ring;

as a *flash* in the heaven at noon
that blinds the sun,
is their Meeting.

mal 24

8✓
#

64

The Dream? The Veil? Obviously, Helen has walked through time into another dimension. But the timeless, hieratic symbols can be parallelled with symbols in-time. Helen herself had realized this, on her first meeting with Achilles, "the shape of this bird is a letter, they call it the hieroglyph." There are other hieroglyphs, Thetis has reminded her, a grasshopper, a flying fish, an octopus & these are Greek symbols of a Greek sea-goddess & "Helen & come home."

Strive not to wake the dead;
the incomparable host
with Helen and Achilles

are not dead, not lost;
the isles are fair (nor far),
Paphos, the Cyclades;

a simple spiral-shell may tell
a tale more ancient
than these mysteries;

dare the uncharted seas,
Achilles waits, and life;
beyond these pylons and these gates,

is magic of the wind, the gale;
the mystery of a forest-tree,
whispering its secrets upon Cithaeron,

holds subtler meaning
than this written stone
or leaves of the papyrus;

let rapture summon
and the foam-flecked sand,
and wind and hail,

rain, sleet and the bewildering snow
that lifts and falls,
conceals, reveals,

(the actual
and the apparent veil),
Helen & come home.

4