Ajax The Great Himself A

Most Grievous Of All Deaths It Is To Die Of Hunger.

...if Fifty Bands Of Men Surrounded Us/ And Every Sword Sang For Your Blood,/ You Could Make Off Still With Their Cows And Sheep.

Men Grow Tired Of Sleep, Love, Singing And Dancing Sooner Than Of War.

O Friends, Be Men; So Act That None May Feel Ashamed To Meet The Eyes Of Other Men. Think Each One Of This Children And His Wife, His Home, His Parents, Living Yet And Dead. For Them, The Absent Ones, I Supplicate, And Bid You Rally Here, And Scorn To Fly.

Goddess Of Song, Teach Me The Story Of A Hero.