For rarely are sons similar to their fathers: most are worse, and a few are better than their fathers.

O Friends, be men, and let your hearts be strong And let no warrior in the heat of fight, Do what may bring him shame in others' eyes

One omen is best, to fight in defense of one's country.

Nor can one word be chang'd but for a worse.

And his good wife will tear her cheeks in grief, his sons are orphans and he, soaking the soil red with his own blood, he rots away himself-more birds than women flocking round his body!

Let him submit to me! Only the god of death is so relentless, Death submits to no one—so mortals hate him most of all the gods. Let him bow down to me! I am the greater king, I am the elder-born, I claim—the greater man.

Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above With ease can save each object of his love; Wide as his will extends his boundless grace.