Thus as he spoke, he donn’d his dazzling arms. Then, Menelaus, had thine end approach’d By Hector’s hands, so much the stronger he, Had not the Kings withheld thee and restrain’d. Great Agamemnon’s self, wide-ruling King, Seizing his hand, address’d him thus by name: “What! Heav’n-born Menelaus, art thou mad? Beseems thee not such folly; curb thy wrath, Though vex’d; nor think with Hector to contend, Thy better far, inspiring dread in all. From his encounter in the glorious fight, Superior far to thee, Achilles shrinks; But thou amid thy comrades’ ranks retire; Some other champion will the Greeks provide; And, fearless as he is, and of the fight Insatiate, yet will Hector, should he ’scape Unwounded from the deadly battle-strife, Be fain, methinks, to rest his weary limbs.” He said, and with judicious counsel sway’d His brother’s mind; he yielded to his words, And gladly his attendants doff’d his arms. Then Nestor rose, and thus address’d the Greeks: “Alas, alas! what shame is this for Greece! What grief would fill the aged Peleus’ soul, Sage chief in council, of the Myrmidons Leader approv’d, who often in his house Would question me, and lov’d from me to hear Of all the Greeks the race and pedigree, Could he but learn how Hector cow’d them all! He to the Gods with hands uprais’d would pray His soul might from his body be divorc’d, And sink beneath the earth! Oh would to Jove, To Pallas and Apollo, such were now My vig’rous youth, as when beside the banks Of swiftly-flowing Celadon, the men Of Pylos with th’ Arcadian spearmen fought, By Pheia’s walls, around Iardan’s streams. Then from the ranks, in likeness as a God, Advanc’d their champion, Ereuthalion bold. The arms of Areithous he wore: Of godlike Areithous, whom men And richly-girdled women had surnam’d The Macebearer; for not with sword or bow He went to fight, but with an iron mace Broke through the squadrons: him Lycurgus slew, By stealth, not brav’ry, in a narrow way, Where nought avail’d his iron mace from death To save him; for Lycurgus, with his spear, Preventing, thrust him through the midst; he fell Prostrate; and from his breast the victor stripp’d His armour off, the gift of brass-clad Mars; And in the tug of war he wore it oft; But when Lycurgus felt th’ approach of age, He to his faithful follower and friend, To Ereuthalion gave it; therewith, arm’d, He now to combat challeng’d all the chiefs. None dar’d accept, for fear had fallen on all; Then I with dauntless spirit his might oppos’d, The youngest of them all; with him I fought, And Pallas gave the vict’ry to my arm. Him there I slew, the tallest, strongest man; For many another there beside him lay. Would that my youth and strength were now the same; Then soon should Hector of the glancing helm A willing champion find; but ye, of Greece The foremost men, with Hector fear to fight.”