Rise up, warriors, take your stand at one another's sides, your feet set wide and rooted like oaks in the ground.
Then bide your time, biting your lip, for you were born from the blood of Heracles, unbeatable by mortal men, and the god of gods has never turned his back on you.
So cast off whatever fears arise at the armored legions they'll muster before you, hedge yourself round with hollow shields, and learn to love death's ink-black shadow as much as you love the light of dawn.
So that when the hour comes, the battle lines drawn, you won't hang back beyond javelin and stone but,marshaled into ranks, advance as one to engage your enemy hand to hand. Then hefting your bronze-tipped spears and raking the air with your broadswords, set foot to foot, battle dress to weaponry, horsehair crest to polished mail, and --- helmet to helmet, eye to eye --- mangle their gear, hack off limbs, lay open the organs that warm their chests, then beat them down until the plain runs red with enemy blood and you still stand, breathlessly gripping your wet sword's hilt.
ARETE by Tyrtaeus #Spartan