“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:⁠—