Though your torn feet slip on the bloody steel, Though your body faint and your senses reel, Dizzied with agony, blind and numb, You shall crawl the rungs till the end is come; Though the sun flare out and the heavens crack, Nor god nor devil can turn you back! This is the prize that Defeat accords! Courage! Courage! The Ladder of Swords! Yes, by the gods! Caesar, the day is yours, You rule the world--while you debauch the State. Yet, somewhere, beyond all, there still endures, That pure Republic: and its white walls shine, Proudly, a dream no conquests can dispel. Your hosts toil uselessly; no force can take Those walls. Your legionaries break and break, In vain. Ever, before each bleeding line, It rises still, the Vision Invincible! TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.