And now in plainest prose
Some say a host of horsemen, and others say a host of foot-soldiers, and yet others say a host of ships is the most beautiful thing o[n] the black earth. But I say it is whatever anyone loves. And it is entirely easy to make this comprehensible to everyone: for she who far surpassed humans in beauty, Helen, left the [b]est husband [of all? by much?] behind and went sailing to Troy, and she remembered her child and her own dear parents not at all; instead, [Eros? Aphrodite?] led her astray . . . for . . . lightly . . . reminds me of Anactoria, who i[s not] here. I would wish to see her lovely step and the brilliant sparkle of her face, rather than the chariots of the Lydians and [foot-soldiers] fighting in armor.