Phrygian: It happened that I, in Phrygian style, was wafting the breeze
past Helen's curls with a round feather-fan, stationed before her
face; and she the while, as eastern ladies use, was twisting flax
on her distaff with her fingers, but letting her yarn fall on the
floor, for she was minded to embroider purple raiment as an offering
from the Trojan spoils, a gift for Clytemnestra at her tomb.
Then to the Spartan maid Orestes spake, "Daughter of Zeus, quit thy
chair and cross the floor to a seat at the old altar of Pelops, our
ancestor, to hear something I have to say." Therewith he led the way
and she followed, little guessing his designs. Meantime his accomplice,
the Phocian miscreant, was off on other business. "Out of my way!
Well, Phrygians always were cowards." So he shut them up in different
parts of the house, some in the stables, others in private chambers,
one here, one there, disposing of them severally at a distance from
their mistress.
Studies
