Then Menelaus charged at him spear in hand, with a plea to Father Zeus and as Euphorbus drew back stabbed him at the base of the throat, with all his weight behind the blow, trusting in his strength. So saying, he struck Menelaus on his firm round-shield, but its stout defence resisted deflecting the sharp point. The issue must not remain unresolved, whether our duel ends in flight or victory.’ Surely it will console them in their sorrow if I take your head and armour and place them in Panthous’ and lady Phrontis’ hands. Even a fool knows trouble when it comes.’īut Euphorbus was undeterred by this, and answered: ‘Menelaus, ward of Zeus, you will pay the price now for my brother’s death, you boaster, you who made a widow of a new bride, and brought my parents untold pain and grief. Better be off though, and hide among the ranks, rather than do so, and come to harm. Stand and face me and I’ll do for you, as well. He failed to make it home on his own two feet, I think, to bring joy to his dear wife and noble parents. Red-haired Menelaus, deeply angered, replied: ‘Father Zeus, how vile, such arrogance as this! Leopards, lions, vicious wild boars the bravest of the brave among creatures, show less effrontery than these sons of Panthous with their ash spears! Yet Hyperenor, the horse-tamer, had small profit from his youth, when he jeered at me and my attack, calling me the most contemptible of Danaans. Now grant me my fair fame among the Trojans, or I’ll hurl this weapon at you, and rob you of that life that seems sweet as honey.’ I was the first, among these Trojans and their allies, to strike Patroclus with my spear in the thick of the fighting. Then Euphorbus, who had watched peerless Patroclus die, approached with his ash spear, and called to Menelaus, beloved of Ares: ‘Zeus-nurtured son of Atreus, leader of armies, withdraw, forget this corpse and its blood-stained armour. ‘Menelaus carries the body of Patroclus from the battlefield’ - Workshop of Bernard Picart, 1710 There, red-haired Menelaus stood grasping his handy round-shield and his spear, ready to kill any man who tried to seize the corpse. Menelaus, son of Atreus, dear to Ares, was no sooner aware of Patroclus’ loss to the Trojans than he thrust his way to the front, and pushing past the warriors clad in bright bronze, straddled the dead man as a heifer stands lowing plaintively over its first born calf.
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