And such fresh horror as you see, driv’n through the wrinkled waves By rising Zephyr, under whom the sea grows black, and raves; Such did the hasty gath’ring troops’ of both hosts make to hear; Whose tumult settled, ’twixt them both, thus spake the challenger: “Hear, Trojans, and ye well-arm’d Greeks, what my strong mind, diffus’d Through all my spirits, commands me speak: Saturnius hath not us’d His promis’d favour for our truce, but, studying both our ills, Will never cease, till Mars, by you, his rav’nous stomach fills With ruin’d Troy, or we consume your mighty sea-borne fleet. Since then the gen’ral peers of Greece in reach of one voice meet, Amongst you all, whose breast includes the most impulsive mind, Let him stand forth as combatant, by all the rest design’d. Before whom thus I call high Jove, to witness of our strife:— If he with home-thrust iron can reach th’ exposure of my life, Spoiling my arms, let him at will convey them to his tent, But let my body be return’d, that Troy’s two-sex’d descent May waste it in the fun’ral pile. If I can slaughter him, Apollo honouring me so much, I’ll spoil his conquer’d limb, And bear his arms to Ilion, where in Apollo’s shrine I’ll hang them, as my trophies due; his body I’ll resign To be disposed by his friends in flamy funerals, And honour’d with erected tomb, where Hellespontus falls Into Ægæum, and doth reach ev’n to your naval road, That, when our beings in the earth shall hide their period, Survivors, sailing the black sea, may thus his name renew: ‘This is his monument whose blood long since did fates imbrue, Whom, passing far in fortitude illustrate Hector slew.’ This shall posterity report, and my fame never die.” This said, dumb silence seiz’d them all; they shaméd to deny, And fear’d to undertake. At last did Menelaus speak, Check’d their remissness, and so sigh’d, as if his heart would break: “Ah me! But only threat’ning Greeks, not worthy Grecian names![2] This more and more, not to be borne, makes grow our huge defames, If Hector’s honourable proof be entertain’d by none. But you are earth and water all, which, symboliz’d in one, Have fram’d your faint unfi’ry spirits; ye sit without your hearts, Grossly inglorious; but myself will use acceptive darts, And arm against him, though you think I arm ’gainst too much odds; But conquest’s garlands hang aloft, amongst th’ Immortal Gods.” He arm’d, and gladly would have fought; but Menelaus, then, By Hector’s far more strength, thy soul had fled th’ abodes of men, Had not the kings of Greece stood up, and thy attempt restrain’d; And ev’n the king of men himself, that in such compass reign’d, Who took him by the bold right hand, and sternly pluck’d him back: “Mad brother, ’tis no work for thee, thou seek’st thy wilful wrack! Contain, though it despite thee much, nor for this strife engage Thy person with a man more strong, and whom all fear t’ enrage; Yea whom Æacides himself, in men-renowning war,