How long will you lie idle? When will you young men take courage? Don't our neighbors make you feel ashamed, so much at ease? You look to sit at peace, but all the country's in the grip of war!
And throw your last spear even as you die. For proud it is and precious for a man to fight defending country, children, wedded wife against the foe. Death comes no sooner than the Fates have spun the thread; so charge, turn not aside, will levelled spear and brave heart in behind the shield from the first moment that the armies meet. A man has no escape from his appointed death, not though his blood be of immortal stock. Men sometimes flee the carnage and the clattering of spears, and meet their destiny at home, but such as these the people do not love or miss: the hero's fate is mourned by high and low. Everyone feels the loss of the stout-hearted man who dies; alive, he ranks with demigods, for in the people's eyes he is a tower of strength, his single efforts worth a company's.