43 You have no business with a life of fear, This seeming peace which is a beggars skulk, Killing to yourself, insulting to the Gods, Wholly miserable and cowardly. The enemy embraces such a man, Humiliated, scorned by everyone, Lacking even power to bring in food, In clothes, both for himself and for his people, Glory is wounded by indifference; Pity wounds it too, inaction too, And fear. The man without potent desire Will never taste the highest living taste. Pull yourself up and out of evil, take New heart from iron. Find who you are again. The people of a brave and forceful king, Following the lio^s courageous trail, Find delight in heaven, though their kind Suffers a run of evil luck in war.