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Archilochus' poetry (AR 31): [1] I am the servant of lord Enyalius (i.e., Ares)and skilled in the lovely gift of the Muses.[2] On my spear I have kneaded barley bread, on my spear Ismarian wine, and I drink it while leaning on my spear.[114] I have no liking for a general who is tall, walks with a swaggering gait, takes pride in his curls, and is partly shaven. Let mine be one who is short, has a bent look about the shins, stands firmly on his feet, and is full of courage.[5] Some Saian (i.e., a Thracian) exults in my shield (aspis)which I left—a faultless weapon—beside a bush against my will. But I saved myself. What do I care about that shield? To hell with it! I'll get one that's just as good another time.Fragment 15 (translated by D. Branscome): A mercenary (epikouros) is a great friend, Glaukos, as long as he fights.Fragment 19: The possessions of [the Lydian king] Gyges rich in gold are of no concern to me, not yet have I been seized with jealousy of him, I do not envy the deeds of the gods, and I have no love of tyranny (tyrannis). That is beyond my sights.

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