No More Learning

Then Menelaus challenged
Paris to single combat; for the twain were the cause of the war,
seeing that Paris had stolen away Helen, the wife of Menelaus. Truce
was struck while the combat should take place. Paris hurled his
javelin, but did not pierce his foe's shield; Menelaus, having called
on Jove,

Shook and threw his lance; which struck through Paris' shield,
And with the strength he gave to it, it made the curets yield,
His coat of mail, his breast; yet he prevented sable death.
This taint he followed with his sword, drawn from a silver sheath,
Which lifting high, he struck his helm full where the plume did stand,
On which it piecemeal brake, and fell from his unhappy hand . . .
"Lo, now my lance hath missed his end, my sword in shivers flew,
And he 'scapes all. " With this again he rushed upon his guest,
And caught him by the horse-hair plume that dangled on his crest,
With thought to drag him to the Greeks; which he had surely done,
And so, besides the victory, had wondrous glory won.
But Cyprian Venus brake the string; and so the victor's palm
Was, for so full a man at arms, only an empty helm.
That then he swung about his head, and cast among his friends,
Who scrambled and took it up with shouts. Again then he intends
To force the life-blood of his foe, and ran on him amain,
With shaken jav'lin; when the queen that lovers love, again
Attended and now ravish'd him from that encounter quite,
With ease, and wondrous suddenly; for she, a goddess, might.
She hid him in a cloud of gold, and never made him known
Till in his chamber fresh and sweet she gently set him down.

Thereupon the truce was treacherously broken by Pandarus, who, incited
by Minerva, wounded Menelaus with an arrow; and the armies closed with
each other. Great deeds were done by Diomedes on the Greek side. But
Hector had gone back to Troy to rouse Paris; on the walls his wife
Andromache saw him.
She ran to Hector, and with her, tender of heart and hand,
Her son borne in his nurse's arms; when, like a heavenly sign
Compact of many golden stars, the princely child did shine.
Hector, though grief bereft his speech, yet smiled upon his joy.
Andromache cried out, mix'd hands, and to the strength of Troy
Thus wept forth her affection: "O noblest in desire!
Thy mind inflamed with other's good will set thyself on fire.
Nor pitiest thou my son, nor wife, that must thy widow be
If now thou issue; all the field will only run on thee. "
"Nay," answered he; "but in this fire must Hector's trial shine;
Here must his country, father, friends, be made in him divine.
Yet such a stormy day shall come (in mind and soul I know),
When sacred Troy shall shed her towers for tears of overthrow;
When Priam, all his birth and power, shall in those tears be drown'd.
But neither Troy's posterity so much my soul doth wound,
Priam nor Hecuba herself, nor all my brother's woes,
(Who, though so many, and so good must all be food for foes),
As thy sad state; when some rude Greek shall lead thee weeping hence,
These free days clouded, and a night of captive violence
Loading thy temples, out of which thine eyes must never see,
But spin the Greek wives webs of task, and their fetch-water be. "
This said, he reached to take his son; who of his arms afraid,
And then the horse-hair plume, with which he was so overlaid,
Nodded so horribly, he cling'd back to his nurse and cried.
Laughter affected his great sire, who doff'd and laid aside
His fearful helm, that on the earth cast round about its light;
Then took and kiss'd his loving son. "Afflict me not, dear wife,
With these vain griefs. He doth not live that can disjoin my life
And this firm bosom, but my fate; and fate whose wings can fly?
Noble, ignoble, fate controls. Once born, the best must die. "


II. --_Of the Battle by the Ships_

After this, Hector fought with Ajax, and neither had the better.