Paris and menelaus duel. how does it end

That one of us who wins and is proved stronger, let him take the possessions fairly and the woman, and lead her homeward. But the rest of you, having cut your oaths of faith and friendship, dwell, you in Troy where the soil is rich, while those others return home to horse-pasturing Argos, and Achaia the land of fair women.

This is quite weird. You would imagine that if the entire war could have been decided by single combat between Paris and Menelaus that this would have been proposed at the start the war, rather than at some point during the tenth year.

Menelaos echoes these sentiments. The gods send Iris, their messenger, to Helen to tell her of what is about to happen, while everyone else reflects on what is about to happen and prepares for the battle. Paris proceeds to equip himself for the battle to come, donning his armour and putting on greaves as well as ankle-guards, and so forth Il. It is worth noting at this point that, after the duel, Paris only ever appears as an archer , wounding a number of Greek heroes, including Diomedes Il.

We know from other sources that he would eventually strike down Achilles with an arrow. Menelaus is clearly the better fighter.

He then complains about this to Zeus Il. Father Zeus, no God beside is more baleful than you are. Here I thought to punish Alexandros for his wickedness; and now my sword is broken in my hands, and the spear flew vainly out of my hands on the throw before, and I have not hit him. Menelaus starts dragging Paris by his helmet towards the Greeks. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, is upset. Then Il. He turned and made again for his man, determined to kill him with the bronze spear.

But Aphrodite caught up Paris easily, since she was divine, and wrapped him in a thick mist and set him down again in his own perfumed bedchamber. When the two sides consecrate their truce with a sacrifice, soldiers in both armies pray that, should the cease-fire be broken, the guilty side be butchered and its women raped—whichever side that may be. When the cease-fire does fail and open conflict between the two armies erupts for the first time in the epic, the carnage consumes both sides with equally horrific intensity.

Indeed, the gods seem to be the only ones who take pleasure in the conflict, and the mortals, like toy soldiers, provide Hera and Athena an easy way to settle their disagreement with Zeus.

Ace your assignments with our guide to The Iliad! SparkTeach Teacher's Handbook. What started the Trojan War? Why does Achilles refuse to fight for the bulk of the poem? Why does Zeus support the Trojans? Why does Hera defend the Achaeans? Why does Achilles finally rejoin the battle? Important Quotes Explained.

Summary Books 3—4. Summary: Book 3 The Trojan army marches from the city gates and advances to meet the Achaeans. Summary: Book 4 Meanwhile, the gods engage in their own duels. Analysis: Books 3—4 While the first two books introduce the commanders of the Achaean forces, the next two introduce the Trojan forces.

Previous section Book 2 Next section Books 5—6. Test your knowledge Take the Books Quick Quiz. Popular pages: The Iliad. To whom in stern rebuke thus Hector spoke: "Thou wretched Paris, though in form so fair, Thou slave of woman, manhood's counterfeit!

Would thou hadst ne'er been born, or died at least Unwedded; so 'twere better far for all, Than thus to live a scandal and reproach. Well may the long-hair'd Greeks triumphant boast, Who think thee, from thine outward show, a chief Among our warriors; but thou hast in truth Nor strength of mind, nor courage in the fight.

How was't that such as thou could e'er induce A noble band, in ocean-going ships To cross the main, with men of other lands Mixing in amity, and bearing thence A woman, fair of face, by marriage ties Bound to a race of warriors; to thy sire, Thy state, thy people, cause of endless grief, Of triumph to thy foes, contempt to thee! Durst thou the warlike Menelaus meet, Thou to thy cost shouldst learn the might of him Whose bride thou didst not fear to bear away: Then shouldst thou find of small avail thy lyre, Or Venus' gifts of beauty and of grace, Or, trampled in the dust, thy flowing hair.

But too forbearing are the men of Troy; Else for the ills that thou hast wrought the state, Ere now thy body had in stone been cas'd.

To whom the godlike Paris thus replied: "Hector, I needs must own thy censure just, Nor without cause; thy dauntless courage knows Nor pause nor weariness; but as an axe, That in a strong man's hand, who fashions out Some naval timber, with unbated edge Cleaves the firm wood, and aids the striker's force; Ev'n so unwearied is thy warlike soul.

Yet blame not me for golden Venus' gifts: The gifts of Heav'n are not to be despis'd, Which Heav'n may give, but man could not command. But if thou wilt that I should dare the fight, Bid that the Trojans and the Grecians all Be seated on the ground; and in the midst The warlike Menelaus and myself Stand front to front, for Helen and the spoils Of war to combat; and whoe'er shall prove The better man in conflict, let him bear The woman and the spoils in triumph home; While ye, the rest, in peace and friendship sworn, Shall still possess the fertile plains of Troy; And to their native Argos they return, For noble steeds and lovely women fam'd.

He said, and Hector joy'd to hear his words: Forth in the midst he stepp'd, and with his spear Grasp'd by the middle, stay'd the Trojan ranks. At him the long-haired Grecians bent their bows, Prompt to assail with arrows and with stones; But loud the monarch Agamemnon's voice Was heard; "Hold, Argives, hold!

He said; they held their hands, and silent stood Expectant, till to both thus Hector spoke: "Hear now, ye Trojans, and ye well-greav'd Greeks, The words of Paris, cause of all this war. He asks through me that all the host of Troy And Grecian warriors shall upon the ground Lay down their glitt'ring arms; while in the midst The warlike Menelaus and himself Stand front to front, for Helen and the spoils Of war to combat; and whoe'er shall prove The better man in conflict, let him bear The woman and the spoils in triumph home, While we, the rest, firm peace and friendship swear.

Thus Hector spoke; the rest in silence heard; But Menelaus, bold in fight, replied: "Hear now my answer; in this quarrel I May claim the chiefest share; and now I hope Trojans and Greeks may see the final close Of all the labours ye so long have borne T' avenge my wrong, at Paris' hand sustain'd.

And of us two whiche'er is doom'd to death, So let him die! Bring then two lambs, one white, the other black, For Tellus and for Sol; we on our part Will bring another, for Saturnian Jove: And let the majesty of Priam too Appear, himself to consecrate our oaths, For reckless are his sons, and void of faith, That none Jove's oath may dare to violate.

For young men's spirits are too quickly stirr'd; But in the councils check'd by rev'rend age, Alike are weigh'd the future and the past, And for all int'rests due provision made. He said, and Greeks and Trojans gladly heard, In hopes of respite from the weary war. They rang'd the cars in ranks; and they themselves Descending doff'd their arms, and laid them down Close each by each, with narrow space between. Two heralds to the city Hector sent To bring the lambs, and aged Priam call; While Agamemnon to the hollow ships, Their lamb to bring, in haste Talthybius sent: He heard, and straight the monarch's voice obey'd.

Meantime to white-arm'd Helen Iris sped, The heav'nly messenger: in form she seem'd Her husband's sister, whom Antenor's son, The valiant Helicaon had to wife, Laodice, of Priam's daughters all Loveliest of face: she in her chamber found Her whom she sought: a mighty web she wove, Of double woof and brilliant hues; whereon Was interwoven many a toilsome strife Of Trojan warriors and of brass-clad Greeks, For her encounter'd at the hand of Mars.

Beside her Iris stood, and thus she spoke: "Come, sister dear, and see the glorious deeds Of Trojan warriors and of brass-clad Greeks. They who erewhile, impatient for the fight, Roll'd o'er the plain the woful tide of war, Now silent sit, the storm of battle hush'd, Reclining on their shields, their lances bright Beside them reared; while Paris in the midst And warlike Menelaus, stand prepar'd With the long spear for thee to fight; thyself The prize of conquest and the victor's wife.

Thus as she spoke, in Helen's breast arose Fond recollection of her former Lord, Her home, and parents; o'er her head she threw A snowy veil; and shedding tender tears She issu'd forth, not unaccompanied; For with her went fair AEthra, Pittheus' child, And stag-ey'd Clymene, her maidens twain.

They quickly at the Scaean gate arriv'd. Attending there on aged Priam, sat, The Elders of the city; Panthous, And Lampus, and Thymaetes; Clytius, Bold Icetaon, and Ucalegon, With sage Antenor, wise in council both: All these were gather'd at the Scaean gate; By age exempt from war, but in discourse Abundant, as the cricket, that on high From topmost boughs of forest tree sends forth His delicate music; so on Ilium's tow'rs Sat the sage chiefs and councillors of Troy.

Helen they saw, as to the tow'r she came; And "'tis no marvel," one to other said, "The valiant Trojans and the well-greav'd Greeks For beauty such as this should long endure The toils of war; for goddess-like she seems; And yet, despite her beauty, let her go, Nor bring on us and on our sons a curse. Thus they; but aged Priam Helen call'd: "Come here, my child, and sitting by my side, From whence thou canst discern thy former Lord, His kindred, and thy friends not thee I blame, But to the Gods I owe this woful war , Tell me the name of yonder mighty chief Among the Greeks a warrior brave and strong: Others in height surpass him; but my eyes A form so noble never yet beheld, Nor so august; he moves, a King indeed!

To whom in answer, Helen, heav'nly fair: "With rev'rence, dearest father, and with shame I look on thee: oh would that I had died That day when hither with thy son I came, And left my husband, friends, and darling child, And all the lov'd companions of my youth: That I died not, with grief I pine away.

But to thy question; I will tell thee true; Yon chief is Agamemnon, Atreus' son, Wide-reigning, mighty monarch, ruler good, And valiant warrior; in my husband's name, Lost as I am, I call'd him brother once.

She spoke: th' old man admiring gaz'd, and cried, "Oh bless'd Atrides, child of happy fate, Favour'd of Heav'n! In vine-clad Phrygia once I saw the hosts of Phrygian warriors wheel Their rapid steeds; and with them, all the bands Of Otreus, and of Mygdon, godlike King, Who lay encamp'd beside Sangarius' stream: I too with them was number'd, in the day When met them in the field the Amazons, The woman-warriors; but their forces all Reach'd not the number of the keen-ey'd Greeks.

Ulysses next the old man saw, and ask'd, "Tell me again, dear child, who this may be, In stature less than Atreus' royal son, But broader-shoulder'd, and of ampler chest. His arms are laid upon the fertile plain, But he himself is moving through the ranks, Inspecting, like a full-fleec'd ram, that moves Majestic through a flock of snow-white ewes.

To whom Jove's offspring, Helen, thus replied: "The wise Ulysses that, Laertes' son: Though bred in rugged Ithaca, yet vers'd In ev'ry stratagem, and deep device. As they with Trojans mix'd in social guise, When both were standing, o'er his comrade high With broad-set shoulders Menelaus stood; Seated, Ulysses was the nobler form: Then, in the great Assembly, when to all Their public speech and argument they fram'd, In fluent language Menelaus spoke, In words though few, yet clear; though young in years, No wordy babbler, wasteful of his speech: But when the skill'd Ulysses rose to speak, With down-cast visage would he stand, his eyes Bent on the ground; the staff he bore, nor back He wav'd, nor forward, but like one untaught, He held it motionless; who only saw Would say that he was mad, or void of sense; But when his chest its deep-ton'd voice sent forth, With words that fell like flakes of wintry snow, No mortal with Ulysses could compare: Then little reck'd we of his outward show.

At sight of Ajax next th' old man enquir'd; "Who is yon other warrior, brave and strong, Tow'ring o'er all with head and shoulders broad? The warlike Menelaus welcom'd him Oft in our palace, when from Crete he came.

Now all the other keen-ey'd Greeks I see, Whom once I knew, and now could call by name; But two I miss, two captains of the host, My own two brethren, and my mother's sons, Castor and Pollux; Castor, charioteer Unrivalled, Pollux, matchless pugilist. In Lacedaemon have they stay'd behind?