(384 – 322 / Greece)

Hymn To Virtue - Poem by Aristotle

Virtue, to men thou bringest care and toil;
Yet art thou life's best, fairest spoil!
O virgin goddess, for thy beauty's sake
To die is delicate in this our Greece,
Or to endure of pain the stern strong ache.
Such fruit for our soul's ease
Of joys undying, dearer far than gold
Or home or soft-eyed sleep, dost thou unfold!
It was for thee the seed of Zeus,
Stout Herakles, and Leda's twins, did choose
Strength-draining deeds, to spread abroad thy name:
Smit with the love of thee
Aias and Achilleus went smilingly
Down to Death's portal, crowned with deathless fame.
Now, since thou art so fair,
Leaving the lightsome air.
Atarneus' hero hath died gloriously.
Wherefore immortal praise shall be his guerdon:
His goodness and his deeds are made the burden
Of songs divine
Sung by Memory's daughters nine,
Hymning of hospitable Zeus the might
And friendship firm as fate in fate's despite.

Comments about Hymn To Virtue by Aristotle

  • Shifu (9/8/2018 12:11:00 PM)

    computer reading this? this site! (Report)Reply

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  • Sakshi (12/16/2017 9:06:00 PM)

    😒🤔put it up in a bit simpler language (Report)Reply

    1 person liked.
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  • Herbert Rand (3/29/2017 7:02:00 AM)

    Aristotle wrote Hymn To Virtue- his only known poem- in tribute to his wife Pythias, who was killed by the Persians: he never remarried. Pythias was eighteen when they married, while Aristotle was ten years older. His last request was to be buried next to her. (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, October 12, 2010

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