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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358693" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Come, O King of the Lacedaimonians</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=358693" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Kratisiklia didn't deign to allow<br>the people to see her weeping and grieving:<br>she walked in dignity and in silence.<br>Her calm face betrayed nothing<br>of her sorrow and her agony.<br>But even so, for a moment she couldn't hold back:<br>before she went aboard the detestable ship for Alexandria<br>she took her son to Poseidon's temple,<br>and once they were alone<br>she embraced him tenderly and kissed him<br>(he was "in great distress," says Plutarch, "badly shaken").<br>But her strong character struggled through;<br>regaining her poise, the magnificent woman<br>said to Kleomenis: "Come, O King of the Lacedaimonians,<br>when we go outside<br>let no one see us weeping<br>or behaving in any way unworthy of Sparta.<br>At least this is still in our power;<br>what lies ahead is in the hands of the gods."<br> <br>And she boarded the ship, going toward whatever lay "in the <br> hands of the gods."</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Constantine+P.+Cavafy">Constantine P. Cavafy</a></strong></div>

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