Homer ("Smyrns of Chios")

O friends, be men; so act that none may feel
Ashamed to meet the eyes of other men.
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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.

Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.

Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.

Hateful to me as are the gates of hell,
Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart,
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Hateful to me as are the gates of hell,
Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart,
Utters another.

All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.

All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.

Praise me not too much,
Nor blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks
Who know me.

Praise me not too much,
Nor blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks
Who know me.