No Man Or Woman Born, Coward Or

Nay If Even In The House Of Hades The Dead Forget Their Dead, Yet Will I Even There Be Mindful Of My Dear Comrade.

Few Sons Are Equal To Their Fathers; Most Fall Short, All Too Few Surpass Them.

And Endless Are The Modes Of Speech, And Far Extends From Side To Side The Field Of Words.

If Not Yet Lost To All The Sense Of Shame.

These Nights Are Endless, And A Man Can Sleep Through Them, Or He Can Enjoy Listening To Stories, And You Have No Need To Go To Bed Before It Is Time. Too Much Sleep Is Only A Bore. And Of The Others, Any One Whose Heart And Spirit Urge Him Can Go Outside And Sleep, And Then, When The Dawn Shows, Breakfast First, Then Go Out To Tend The Swine Of Our Master. But We Two, Sitting Here In The Shelter, Eating And Drinking, Shall Entertain Each Other Remembering And Retelling Our Sad Sorrows. For Afterwards A Man Who Has Suffered Much And Wandered Much Has Pleasure Out Of His Sorrows.