And battle-fame be ta'en from Sparta's sons, 725
In all else are ye meanest of mankind.
Chorus.
This race of old men may no man restrain,
Nor guard him 'gainst their sudden-fiery mood.
Menelaus.
O'erhastily thou rushest into railing.
I came to Phthia not for violent deeds,[1] 730
And will do nought unkingly, nor endure.
Now, seeing that my leisure serveth not,
Home will I go; for not from Sparta far
Some certain town there is, our friend, time was,
But now our foe: against her will I march, 735
Leading mine host, and bow her 'neath my sway.
Soon as things there be ordered to my mind,
I will return, will meet my marriage-kin
Openly, speak my mind, and hear reply.
And, if he punish her, and be henceforth 740
Temperate, he shall find me temperate too,
But, if he rage, shall meet his match in rage,
Yea, shall find deeds of mine to match his own.
But, for thy words, nothing I reck of them;
Thou art like a creeping shadow, voice thine all, 745
Impotent to do anything save talk.
Peleus.
Pass on, my child, sheltered beneath mine arms,
