Um poema de Aristóteles

Virtue, whom men attain by constant struggle, our noblest aim in life, a goddess pure, in Greece we deem it sweet to die for you or anguish and unending toil endure. You fill our hearts with such immortal gifts – dearer than parents, gold, or sleep’s soft rays – that Hercules, Zeus’ son, and Leda’s twins aspired through labours to bring home your bays. For love of you Achilles and Ajax both left the clear day of men for Hades’ night. For your dear sake, Atameus’ noblest son forsook this upper world of sun and light. Therefore, immortal, famed for virtuous deeds, the Muses nine with honour him attend, daughters of Memory, who thus honour Zeus, the god of guests, and the firm love of friends.