When a soldier ran crying to Pelopidas, “We are fallen among the enemies, and are lost!” “How are we fallen among them any more than they among us?” replied the undaunted spirit. And when the soldiers of Marius complained of thirst, being encamped where there was no water, he pointed to a river running close to the enemy’s trenches, and bade them take the drink which valor could give them in that direction.—James T. Fields.
(597)
“Evils faced are half-conquered.” Such seems to be the purport of this poem by John Finley:
I’d have the driving rain upon my face—
Not pelting its blunt arrows on my back,
Goading with blame along its ruthless track,
But flinging me defiance in the race.
And I would go at such an eager gait
That whatsoe’er may fall from heaven of wo