Poems, Dialogues in Verse and Epigrams :: :: University of Virginia Library

Borne on white horses, which the God of Thrace
Rein'd not for wanton Glory in the race
Of Elis, when from far
Ran forth the regal car,
Even from Syracuse, across the sea,
To roll its thunder thro' that fruitless lea;
No; but on steeds whose foam
Flew o'er the helm of Rome,
Came Castor and his brother; at which sight
A shout of victory drown'd the din of fight.
O Rome! O Italy!
Doom'd are ye, doom'd to see
Nor guides divine nor high-aspiring men,
Nor proudly tread the battle-field again?
Lo! who are they who land
Upon that southern strand?
Ingenuous are their faces, firm their gait . .
Ah! but what darkness follows them? . . 'tis Fate!
They turn their heads . . and blood
Alone shows where they stood!
Sons of Bandiera! heroes! by your name
Evoked shall inextinguishable flame
Rise, and o'er-run yon coast,
And animate the host
As did those Twins . . the murderers to pursue
Till the same sands their viler blood imbue.