Panthus’ house. 
  Yet Hyperenor of equestrian fame
  Lived not his lusty manhood to enjoy,
  Who scoffingly defied my force in arms, 30
  And call’d me most contemptible in fight
  Of all the Danai.  But him, I ween,
  His feet bore never hence to cheer at home
  His wife and parents with his glad return. 
  So also shall thy courage fierce be tamed, 35
  If thou oppose me.  I command thee, go—­
  Mix with the multitude; withstand not me,
  Lest evil overtake thee!  To be taught
  By sufferings only, is the part of fools. 
    He said, but him sway’d not, who thus replied. 40
  Now, even now, Atrides! thou shalt rue
  My brother’s blood which thou hast shed, and mak’st
  His death thy boast.  Thou hast his blooming bride
  Widow’d, and thou hast fill’d his parents’ hearts
  With anguish of unutterable wo; 45
  But bearing hence thy armor and thy head
  To Troy, and casting them at Panthus’ feet,
  And at the feet of Phrontis, his espoused,
  I shall console the miserable pair. 
  Nor will I leave that service unessay’d 50
  Longer, nor will I fail through want of force,
  Of courage, or of terrible address. 
    He ceased, and smote his shield, nor pierced the disk,
  But bent his point against the stubborn brass. 
  Then Menelaus, prayer preferring first 55
  To Jove,[2] assail’d Euphorbus in his turn,
  Whom pacing backward in the throat he struck,
  And both hands and his full force the spear
  Impelled, urged it through his neck behind. 
  Sounding he fell; loud rang his batter’d arms. 60
  His locks, which even the Graces might have own’d,
  Blood-sullied, and his ringlets wound about
  With twine of gold and silver, swept the dust. 
  As the luxuriant olive by a swain
  Rear’d in some solitude where rills abound, 65
  Puts forth her buds, and fann’d by genial airs
  On all sides, hangs her boughs with whitest flowers,
  But by a sudden whirlwind from its trench
  Uptorn, it lies extended on the field;
  Such, Panthus’ warlike son Euphorbus seem’d, 70
  By Menelaus, son of Atreus, slain
  Suddenly, and of all his arms despoil’d. 
  But as the lion on the mountains bred,
  Glorious in strength, when he hath seized the best
  And fairest of the herd, with savage fangs 75
  First breaks her neck, then laps the bloody paunch
  Torn wide; meantime, around him, but remote,
  Dogs stand and swains clamoring, yet by fear
  Repress’d, annoy him not nor dare approach;
  So there all wanted courage to oppose 80
  The force of Menelaus, glorious Chief. 
  Then, easily had Menelaus borne
  The armor of the son of Panthus thence,