“Com’st thou from battle? Rather would that thou Hadst perished by the mighty hand of him Who was my husband. It was once, I know, Thy boast that thou wert more than peer in strength And power of hand, and practice with the spear, To warlike Menelaus. Go then now, Defy him to the combat once again. And yet I counsel thee to stand aloof, Nor rashly seek a combat, hand to hand, With fair haired Menelaus, lest perchance He smite thee with his spear and thou be slain.”

Then Paris answered: “Woman, chide me not Thus harshly. True it is, that, with the aid Of Pallas, Menelaus hath obtained The victory; but I may vanquish him In turn, for we have also gods with us. Give we the hour to dalliance; never yet Have I so strongly proved the power of love⁠— Not even when I bore thee from thy home In pleasant Lacedaemon, traversing The deep in my good ships, and in the isle Of Cranaë made thee mine⁠—such glow of love Possesses me, and sweetness of desire.”