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Look how they bloom in youth's fresh flower!
What promise theirs of martial power!
Mark you the civic wreath they wear,
The oaken garland in their hair?
These, these are they, whose hands shall crown
The mountain heights with many a town,
Shall Gabii and Nomentum rear,
There plant Collatia, Cora here,
And leave to after years their stamp
On Bola and on Inuus' camp:
Names that shall then be far renowned,
Now nameless spots of unknown ground.
There to his grandsire's fortune clings
Young Romulus, of Mars' true breed;
From Ilia's womb the warrior springs,
Assaracus' authentic seed.
See on his helm the double crest,
The token by his sire impressed,
That marks him out betimes to share
The heritage of upper air.
Lo! by his fiat called to birth
Imperial Rome shall rise,
Extend her reign to utmost earth,
Her genius to the skies,
And with a wall of girdling stone
Embrace seven hills herself alone—
Blest in an offspring wise and strong:
So through great cities rides along
The mighty Mother, crowned with towers,
Around her knees a numerous line,
A hundred grandsons, all divine,
All tenants of Olympian bowers.

Turn hither now your ranging eye:
Behold a glorious family,
Your sons and sons of Rome: