in flight
  Fall vanquish’d at your billow-cleaving barks. 80
  With you is all the flower of Greece.[2] Let him
  Whose heart shall move him to encounter sole
  Illustrious Hector, from among you all
  Stand forth, and Jove be witness to us both. 
  If he, with his long-pointed lance, of life 85
  Shall me bereave, my armor is his prize,
  Which he shall hence into your fleet convey;
  Not so my body; that he shall resign
  For burial to the men and wives of Troy. 
  But if Apollo make the glory mine, 90
  And he fall vanquish’d, him will I despoil,
  And hence conveying into sacred Troy
  His arms, will in the temple hang them high[3]
  Of the bow-bender God, but I will send
  His body to the fleet, that him the Greeks 95
  May grace with rights funereal.  On the banks
  Of wide-spread Hellespont ye shall upraise
  His tomb, and as they cleave with oary barks
  The sable deep, posterity shall say—­
  “It is a warrior’s tomb; in ancient days 100
  The Hero died; him warlike Hector slew.” 
  So men shall speak hereafter, and my fame
  Who slew him, and my praise, shall never die. 
    He ceased, and all sat mute.  His challenge bold
  None dared accept, which yet they blush’d to shun, 105
  Till Menelaus, at the last, arose
  Groaning profound, and thus reproach’d the Greeks. 
    Ah boasters! henceforth women—­men no more—­
  Eternal shame, shame infinite is ours,
  If none of all the Grecians dares contend 110
  With Hector.  Dastards—­deaf to glory’s call—­
  Rot where ye sit!  I will myself take arms
  Against him, for the gods alone dispose,
  At their own pleasure, the events of war. 
    He ended, and put on his radiant arms. 115
  Then, Menelaus, manifest appear’d
  Thy death approaching by the dreadful hands
  Of Hector, mightier far in arms than thou,
  But that the Chiefs of the Achaians all
  Upstarting stay’d thee, and himself the King, 120
  The son of Atreus, on thy better hand
  Seizing affectionate, thee thus address’d. 
    Thou ravest, my royal brother! and art seized
  With needless frenzy.  But, however chafed,
  Restrain thy wrath, nor covet to contend 125
  With Priameian Hector, whom in fight
  All dread, a warrior thy superior far. 
  Not even Achilles, in the glorious field
  (Though stronger far than thou) this hero meets
  Undaunted.  Go then, and thy seat resume 130
  In thy own band; the Achaians shall for him,
  Doubtless, some fitter champion furnish forth. 
  Brave though he be, and with the toils of war
  Insatiable, he shall be willing yet,
  Seated on his bent knees, to breathe a