Mighty bulls to crown the altars, or to draw the conqueror's car
Up the Sacred Way in triumph when he rideth from the war.
Here the spring is longest, summer borrows months beyond her own;
Twice the teeming flocks are fruitful, twice the laden orchards groan.
In thy plains no tigers wander, nor the lions nurse their young;
Evil root of treacherous poison doth no wretched gatherer wrong,
Never serpent rears its crest, or drags its monstrous coils along.
Lo! where rise thy noble cities, giant works of men of old,
Towns on beetling crags piled heavenward by the hands of builders bold—
Antique towers round whose foundations still the grand old rivers glide,
And the double sea that girds thee like a fence on either side.
******
Such the land which sent to battle Marsian footmen stout and good,
Sabine youth, and Volscian spearmen, and Liguria's hardy brood;
Hence have sprung our Decii, Marii, mighty names which all men bless,
Great Camillus, kinsmen Scipios, sternest men in battle's press!
Hence hast thou too sprung, great Cæsar, whom the farthest East doth fear,
So that Mede nor swarthy Indian to our Roman lines come near!
Hail, thou fair and fruitful mother, land of ancient Saturn, hail!
