“Why, Glaucus, are we honored, on the shores Of Lycia, with the highest seat at feasts, And with full cups? Why look men up to us As to the gods? And why do we possess Broad, beautiful enclosures, full of vines And wheat, beside the Xanthus? Then it well Becomes us, foremost in the Lycian ranks To stand against the foe, where’er the fight Is hottest; so our well-armed Lycian men Shall say, and truly: ‘Not ingloriously Our kings bear rule in Lycia, where they feast On fatlings of the flock, and drink choice wine; For they excel in valor, and they fight Among our foremost.’ O my friend, if we, Leaving this war, could flee from age and death, I should not here be fighting in the van, Nor would I send thee to the glorious war But now, since many are the modes of death Impending o’er us, which no man can hope To shun, let us press on and give renown To other men, or win it for ourselves!”