XXIII.

Thus Menelaüs, while his brazen spear Thirsting for Paris’ blood is brandished high, No longer sees the slender youth appear, But riseth cloud to thwart his vengeance nigh, Which Aphrodite gliding from the sky (So sings Mæonia’s bard) doth interpose; And even while glares Atrides’ conquering eye, And to his men the adulterer’s helm he throws, The mist o’erspreads his form and shields from deathful blows.