To them who of man's seed are born,

Whom woman's milk hath fed.

Thou wast not made for lucre,

For pleasure, nor for rest; Thou, that art sprung from the War

And hast tugged at the she-wolf's

15.

"From sunrise unto sunset

All earth shall hear thy fame: A glorious city thou shalt build, And name it by thy name:

And there, unquenched through ages

Like Vesta's sacred fire,

Shall live the spirit of thy nurse,

The spirit of thy sire.

16.

"The ox toils through the furrow,

Obedient to the goad;

The patient ass, up flinty paths,
Plods with his weary load:
With whine and bound the spaniel
His master's whistle hears;

And the sheep yields her patiently
To the loud clashing shears.

17.

"But thy nurse will hear no master,
Thy nurse will bear no load;
And woe to them that shear her,
And woe to them that goad!
When all the pack, loud baying,
Her bloody lair surrounds,
She dies in silence, biting hard,

Amidst the dying hounds.

18.

"Pomona loves the orchard;

And Liber loves the vine;

And Pales loves the straw-built shed

Warm with the breath of kine;

He loves to drink the steam that reek

From the fresh battle-field:

He smiles a smile more dreadful

Than his own dreadful frown,

When he sees the thick black cloud of

Go up from the conquered town.

20.

"And such as is the War-god,
The author of thy line,

And such as she who suckled thee,
Even such be thou and thine.

Leave to the soft Campanian

His baths and his perfumes; Leave to the sordid race of Tyre Their dyeing-vats and looms:

A A

Leave to the sons of Carthage

The rudder and the oar:

Leave to the Greek his marble Nymphs
And scrolls of wordy lore.

66

21.

Thine, Roman, is the pilum:

Roman, the sword is thine,

The even trench, the bristling mound,

The legion's ordered line;

And thine the wheels of triumph,

Which with their laurelled train

Move slowly up the shouting streets
To Jove's eternal fane.

22.

"Beneath thy yoke the Volscian
Shall vail his lofty brow:
Soft Capua's curled revellers

Before thy chairs shall bow:

The Lucumoes of Arnus

Shall quake thy rods to see;

And the proud Samnite's heart of steel

Shall yield to only thee.