"I beg you by those you left behind, so far from here,
your wife, your father who bred and reared you as a boy,
and Telemachus, left at home in your halls, your only son.
Well I know when you leave this lodging of the dead
that you and your ship will put ashore again
at the island of Aeaea – then and there,
my lord, remember me, I beg you! Don’t sail off
and desert me, left behind unwept, unburied, don’t,
or my curse may draw god’s fury on your head.
No, burn me in full armor, all my harness,
heap my mound by the churning gray surf –
a man whose luck ran out –
so even men to come will learn my story.
Perform my rites, and plant on my tomb that oar
I swung with mates when I rowed among the living."
– Homer