A-4-Porcius Latre Poem by Lynn W. Petty

So this is what the wait has been, that we
Collect a band of runaways? We flee
From whisperings? Let us at least agree,
What sort they are. Dishonor is for we
Who stay, as well as those who flee the field.
Disgrace will not be wiped away despite
A victory. To rumors we will yield?
No matter how we stand and bravely fight,
Or as successful as we Spartans be,
Already much of our renown is lost.
For here we stand debating whether we
Take flight or stay and fight? What now the cost
Since these discussions? Oh, that we may die!
The only thing I have to fear is my
Return to home. These rumors make a lie
Of Spartan arms. Old woman's tales defy
The truth and cause alarm and fright to shake
Our weapons from our hands. Now, let us stand,
Now, let us fight! Within us, though we quake,
Our valor may lie hidden. Take command,
The rest have fled. In my opinion, which
I utter for the honor and the sake
Of all of us, and Greece, they did not switch
Allegiance or desert us or forsake
Us here. They chose us as their champions.