“O boastful ones, no longer to be called Greek warriors, but Greek women! A disgrace Grievous beyond all others will be ours, If none be found in all the Achaian host To meet this Hector. May you, every one, There where ye now are sitting, turn to earth And water, craven as ye are, and lost To sense of glory! I will arm myself For this encounter. With the immortal gods Alone it rests to give the victory.”
He spake, and put his glorious armor on. Then, Menelaus, had the Trojan’s hand Ended thy life, for he was mightier far Than thou, had not the Achaian kings at once Uprisen to hold thee back, while Atreus’ son, Wide-ruling Agamemnon, took thy hand In his, and made thee listen while he spake:—
“Sure, noble Menelaus, thou art mad. Such frenzied daring suits not with the time. Restrain thyself, though thou hast cause for wrath; Nor in thy pride of courage meet in arms One so much mightier—Hector, Priam’s son, Whom every other chief regards with fear, Whom even Achilles, braver far than thou, Dreads to encounter in the glorious fight. Withdraw, then, to thy comrades, and sit down. The Greeks will send some other champion forth Against him; and though fearless, and athirst For combat, he, I deem, will gladly bend His weary knees to rest should he escape From that fierce conflict in the lists alive.”
With words like these the Grecian hero changed The purpose of his brother, who obeyed The prudent counsel; and with great delight The attendants stripped the armor from his breast. Then Nestor rose amid the Greeks and said:—
“Ye gods! A great calamity hath fallen Upon Achaia. How the aged chief Peleus, the illustrious counsellor and sage, Who rules the Myrmidons, will now lament!— He who once gladly in his palace-home Inquired of me the race and pedigree Of the Greek warriors. Were he but to know That all of them are basely cowering now In Hector’s presence, how