The Iliads of Homer. Homer

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       The fair-fac'd Paris so expos'd to his so thirsted wreak,

       Whereof his good cause made him sure. The Grecian front did break,

       And forth he rush'd, at all parts arm'd, leapt from his chariot,

       And royally prepar'd for charge. Which seen, cold terror shot

       The heart of Paris, who retir'd as headlong from the king

       As in him he had shunn'd his death. And as a hilly spring

       Presents a serpent to a man, full underneath his feet,

       Her blue neck, swoln with poison, rais'd, and her sting out, to

       greet

       His heedless entry, suddenly his walk he altereth,

       Starts back amaz'd, is shook with fear, and looks as pale as death;

       So Menelaus Paris scar'd; so that divine-fac'd foe

       Shrunk in his beauties. Which beheld by Hector, he let go

       This bitter check at him; "Accurs'd, made but in beauty's scorn,

       Impostor, woman's man! O heav'n, that thou hadst ne'er been born,

       Or, being so manless, never liv'd to bear man's noblest state,

       The nuptial honour! Which I wish, because it were a fate

       Much better for thee than this shame. This spectacle doth make

       A man a monster. Hark! how loud the Greeks laugh, who did take

       Thy fair form for a continent of parts as fair. A rape

       Thou mad'st of nature, like their queen. No soul, an empty shape,

       Takes up thy being; yet how spite to ev'ry shade of good

       Fills it with ill! for as thou art, thou couldst collect a brood

       Of others like thee, and far hence fetch ill enough to us,

       Ev'n to thy father; all these friends make those foes mock them

       thus

       In thee, for whose ridiculous sake so seriously they lay

       All Greece, and fate, upon their necks. O wretch! Not dare to stay

       Weak Menelaus? But 'twas well; for in him thou hadst tried

       What strength lost beauty can infuse, and with the more grief died

       To feel thou robb'dst a worthier man, to wrong a soldier's right.

       Your harp's sweet touch, curl'd locks, fine shape, and gifts so

       exquisite,

       Giv'n thee by Venus, would have done your fine dames little good,

       When blood and dust had ruffled them, and had as little stood

       Thyself in stead; but what thy care of all these in thee flies

       We should inflict on thee ourselves. Infectious cowardice

       In thee hath terrified our host; for which thou well deserv'st

       A coat of tombstone, not of steel in which, for form, thou

       serv'st."

       To this thus Paris spake, (for form, that might inhabit heav'n)

       "Hector, because thy sharp reproof is out of justice giv'n,

       I take it well; but though thy heart, inur'd to these affrights,

       Cuts through them as an axe through oak, that more us'd more

       excites

       The workman's faculty, whose art can make the edge go far,

       Yet I, less practis'd than thyself in these extremes of war,

       May well be pardon'd, though less bold; in these your worth

       exceeds,

       In others mine. Nor is my mind of less force to the deeds

       Requir'd in war, because my form more flows in gifts of peace.

       Reproach not, therefore, the kind gifts of golden Cyprides.

       All heav'n's gifts have their worthy price; as little to be scorn'd

       As to be won with strength, wealth, state; with which to be

       adorn'd,

       Some men would change state, wealth, or strength. But, if your

       martial heart

       Wish me to make my challenge good, and hold it such a part

       Of shame to give it over thus, cause all the rest to rest,

       And, 'twixt both hosts, let Sparta's king and me perform our best

       For Helen and the wealth she brought; and he that overcomes,

       Or proves superior any way, in all your equal dooms,

       Let him enjoy her utmost wealth, keep her, or take her home;

       The rest strike leagues of endless date, and hearty friends become;

       You dwelling safe in gleby Troy, the Greeks retire their force

       T' Achaia, that breeds fairest dames, and Argos, fairest horse."

       He said, and his amendsful words did Hector highly please,

       Who rush'd betwixt the fighting hosts, and made the Trojans cease,

       By holding up in midst his lance. The Grecians noted not

       The signal he for parley used, but at him fiercely shot,

       Hurl'd stones, and still were leveling darts. At last the king of

       men,

       Great Agamemnon, cried aloud: "Argives! for shame, contain;

       Youths of Achaia, shoot no more; the fair-helm'd Hector shows

       As he desir'd to treat with us." This said, all ceas'd from blows,

       And Hector spake to both the hosts: "Trojans, and hardy Greeks,

       Hear now what he that stirr'd these wars, for their cessation

       seeks.

       He bids us all, and you, disarm, that he alone may fight

       With Menelaus, for us all, for Helen and her right,

       With all the dow'r she brought to Troy; and he that wins the day,

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