JOVE we call King, whose bolts rive heaven: Then a god's @3presence@1 shall be felt In Caesar, with whose power the Celt And Parthian stout in vain have striven. Could Crassus' men wed alien wives, And greet, as sons-in-law, the foe? In the foes' land (oh Romans, oh Lost honour!) end, in shame, their lives, 'Neath the Mede's sway? They, Marsians and Apulians -- shields and rank and name Forgot, and that undying flame -- And Jove still reign, and Rome still stand? This thing wise Regulus could presage: He brooked not base conditions; he Set not a precedent to be The ruin of a coming age: "No," cried he, "let the captives die, Spare not. I saw Rome's ensigns hung In Punic shrines; with sabres, flung Down by Rome's sons ere blood shed. I "Saw our free citizens with hands Fast pinioned; and, through portals now Flung wide, our soldiers troop to plough, As once they trooped to waste, the lands. "'Bought by our gold, our men will fight But keener.' What? To shame would you Add loss? As wool, its natural hue Once gone, may not be @3painted@1 white; "True Valour, from her seat once thrust, Is not replaced by meaner wares. Do stags, delivered from the snares, Fight? Then shall @3he@1 fight, who did trust "His life to foes who spoke a lie: And @3his@1 sword shatter Carthage yet, Around whose arms the cords have met, A sluggard soul, that feared to die! "Life, howe'er bought, he treasured: he Deemed war a thing of trade. Ah fie! -- Great art thou, Carthage -- towerest high O'er shamed and ruined Italy!" As one uncitizen'd -- men said -- He puts his wife's pure kiss away, His little children; and did lay Stern in the dust his manly head: Till those unequalled words had lent Strength to the faltering sires of Rome; Then from his sorrow-stricken home Went forth to glorious banishment. Yet knew he, what wild tortures lay Before him: knowing, put aside His kin, his countrymen -- who tried To bar his path, and bade him stay: He might be hastening on his way, -- A lawyer freed from business -- down To green Venafrum, or a town Of Sparta, for a holiday. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVULET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE HOUR OF DEATH by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS FRIENDSHIP'S MYSTERY, TO MY DEAREST LUCASIA by KATHERINE PHILIPS LOCHABER NO MORE by ALLAN RAMSAY THE DESPAIRING LOVER by WILLIAM WALSH (1663-1707) DEAD IN HIS BED by ADDIE LUCIA BALLOU |