Book XVII

BOOK XVII

BRAVE Menelaus son of Atreus now came to know that Patroclus had

fallen, and made his way through the front ranks clad in full

armour to bestride him. As a cow stands lowing over her first

calf, even so did yellow-haired Menelaus bestride Patroclus. He

held his round shield and his spear in front of him, resolute to

kill any who should dare face him. But the son of Panthous had

also noted the body, and came up to Menelaus saying, "Menelaus,

son of Atreus, draw back, leave the body, and let the

bloodstained spoils be. I was first of the Trojans and their

brave allies to drive my spear into Patroclus, let me, therefore,

have my full glory among the Trojans, or I will take aim and kill

you."

To this Menelaus answered in great anger "By father Jove,

boasting is an ill thing. The pard is not more bold, nor the lion

nor savage wild-boar, which is fiercest and most dauntless of all

creatures, than are the proud sons of Panthous. Yet Hyperenor did

not see out the days of his youth when he made light of me and

withstood me, deeming me the meanest soldier among the Danaans.

His own feet never bore him back to gladden his wife and parents.

Even so shall I make an end of you too, if you withstand me; get

you back into the crowd and do not face me, or it shall be worse

for you. Even a fool may be wise after the event."

Euphorbus would not listen, and said, "Now indeed, Menelaus,

shall you pay for the death of my brother over whom you vaunted,

and whose wife you widowed in her bridal chamber, while you

brought grief unspeakable on his parents. I shall comfort these

poor people if I bring your head and armour and place them in the

hands of Panthous and noble Phrontis. The time is come when this

matter shall be fought out and settled, for me or against me."

As he spoke he struck Menelaus full on the shield, but the spear

did not go through, for the shield turned its point. Menelaus

then took aim, praying to father Jove as he did so; Euphorbus was

drawing back, and Menelaus struck him about the roots of his

throat, leaning his whole weight on the spear, so as to drive it

home. The point went clean through his neck, and his armour rang

rattling round him as he fell heavily to the ground. His hair

which was like that of the Graces, and his locks so deftly bound

in bands of silver and gold, were all bedrabbled with blood. As

one who has grown a fine young olive tree in a clear space where

there is abundance of water--the plant is full of promise, and

though the winds beat upon it from every quarter it puts forth