Classic Poem

But ere sterne conflict mixt both strengths, faire Paris stept before
The Troyan host. Athwart his backe a Panther's hide he wore,
A crooked bow and sword, and shooke two brazen-headed darts,
With which well-arm'd, his tongue provok't the best of Grecian hearts
To stand with him in single fight. Whom when the man, wrong'd most
Of all the Greekes, so gloriously saw stalke before the host,
As when a Lion is rejoyc't (with hunger halfe forlorne)
That finds some sweet prey (as a Hart, whose grace lies in his horne,
Or Sylvane Goate) which he devours, though never so pursu'd
With dogs and men, so Sparta's king exulted when he view'd
The faire-fac'd Paris so exposde to his so thirsted wreake--
Whereof his good cause made him sure. The Grecian front did breake
And forth he rusht, at all parts arm'd, leapt from his chariot
And royally prepar'd for charge. Which seene, cold terror shot
The heart of Paris, who retir'd as headlong from the king
As in him he had shund his death. And as a hilly spring
Presents a serpent to a man full underneath his feete,
Her blew necke (swolne with poison) raisd and her sting out, to greet
His heedlesse entrie, sodainely his walke he altereth,
Starts backe amaz'd, is shooke with feare and lookes as pale as death;
So Menelaus Paris scar'd, so that divine-fac't foe
Shrunke in his beauties.