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LXXXVIII.

[Æl.]
When pencils of our famous fight shall say,
Each one will marvel at the valiant deed;
Each one will wish that he had seen the day,
And bravely helped to make the foemen bleed.
But for their help our battle will not need,
Our force is force enough to stay their hand.

64

We will return unto this verdant mead,
O'er corpses of the foemen of the land.
Now to the war let all the slogans sound,
The Dacian troops appear on yonder rising ground.