THE ILIAD (Completed)

BOOK 3

WHEN by their sev'ral chiefs the troops were rang'd, With noise and clamour, as a flight of birds, The men of Troy advanc'd; as when the cranes, Flying the wintry storms, send forth on high Their dissonant clamours, while o'er the ocean stream They steer their course, and on their pinions bear Battle and death to the Pygmaean race.

On th' other side the Greeks in silence mov'd, Breathing firm courage, bent on mutual aid. As when the south wind o'er the mountain tops Spreads a thick veil of mist, the shepherd's bane, And friendly to the nightly thief alone, That a stone's throw the range of vision bounds; So rose the dust-cloud, as in serried ranks With rapid step they mov'd across the plain. But when th' opposing forces near were met, A panther's skin across his shoulders flung, Arm'd with his bow and sword, in front of all Advanc'd the godlike Paris; in his hand He pois'd two brass-tipp'd jav'lins, and defied To mortal combat all the chiefs of Greece.

Him when the warlike Menelaus saw With haughty strides advancing from the crowd; As when a lion, hunger-pinch'd, espies Some mighty beast of chase, or antler'd stag, Or mountain goat, and with exulting spring Strikes down his prey, and on the carcase feeds, Unscar'd by baying hounds and eager youths: So Menelaus saw with fierce delight The godlike Paris; for he deem'd that now His vengeance was at hand; and from his car, Arm'd as he was, he leap'd upon the plain. But when the godlike Paris saw him spring Defiant from the ranks, with quailing heart, Back to his comrades' shelt'ring crowd he sprang, In fear of death; as when some trav'ller spies, Coil'd in his path upon the mountain side, A deadly snake, back he recoils in haste, His limbs all trembling, and his cheek all pale; So back recoil'd, in fear of Atreus' son, The godlike Paris 'mid the Trojan host.

To whom in stern rebuke thus Hector spoke: "Thou wretched Paris, though in form so fair, Thou slave of woman, manhood's counterfeit! Would thou hadst ne'er been born, or died at least Unwedded; so 'twere better far for all, Than thus to live a scandal and reproach. Well may the long-hair'd Greeks triumphant boast, Who think thee, from thine outward show, a chief Among our warriors; but thou hast in truth Nor strength of mind, nor courage in the fight. How was't that such as thou could e'er induce A noble band, in ocean-going ships To cross the main, with men of other lands Mixing in amity, and bearing thence A woman, fair of face, by marriage ties Bound to a race of warriors; to thy sire, Thy state, thy people, cause of endless grief, Of triumph to thy foes, contempt to thee! Durst thou the warlike Menelaus meet, Thou to thy cost shouldst learn the might of him Whose bride thou didst not fear to bear away: Then shouldst thou find of small avail thy lyre, Or Venus' gifts of beauty and of grace, Or, trampled in the dust, thy flowing hair. But too forbearing are the men of Troy; Else for the ills that thou hast wrought the state, Ere now thy body had in stone been cas'd."

To whom the godlike Paris thus replied: "Hector, I needs must own thy censure just, Nor without cause; thy dauntless courage knows Nor pause nor weariness; but as an axe, That in a strong man's hand, who fashions out Some naval timber, with unbated edge Cleaves the firm wood, and aids the striker's force; Ev'n so unwearied is thy warlike soul. Yet blame not me for golden Venus' gifts: The gifts of Heav'n are not to be despis'd, Which Heav'n may give, but man could not command. But if thou wilt that I should dare the fight, Bid that the Trojans and the Grecians all Be seated on the ground; and in the midst The warlike Menelaus and myself Stand front to front, for Helen and the spoils Of war to combat; and whoe'er shall prove The better man in conflict, let him bear The woman and the spoils in triumph home; While ye, the rest, in peace and friendship sworn, Shall still possess the fertile plains of Troy; And to their native Argos they return, For noble steeds and lovely women fam'd."

He said, and Hector joy'd to hear his words: Forth in the midst he stepp'd, and with his spear Grasp'd by the middle, stay'd the Trojan ranks. At him the long-haired Grecians bent their bows, Prompt to assail with arrows and with stones; But loud the monarch Agamemnon's voice Was heard; "Hold, Argives, hold! ye sons of Greece, Shoot not! for Hector of the glancing helm Hath, as it seems, some message to impart."