CX. "Lo, there the Drusi and the Decii stand, And stern Torquatus with his axe, and lo! Camilius brings in triumph to his land The Roman standards, rescued from the foe. See, too, yon pair, well-matched in equal show Of radiant arms, and, while obscured in night, Firm knit in friendly fellowship; but oh! How dire the feud, what hosts shall arm for fight, What streams of carnage flow, if e'er they reach the light! CXI. "Here from Monoecus and the Alps descends The father; there, with Easterns in array, The daughter's husband. O my sons! be friends; Cease from the strife; forbear the unnatural fray, Nor turn Rome's prowess to her own decay; And thou, the foremost of our blood, be first To fling the arms of civic strife away, And cease for lawless victories to thirst, Thou of Olympian birth, and sheath the sword, accurst. CXII. "See who from Corinth doth his march pursue, Decked with the spoils of many a Grecian foe. His car shall climb the Capitol. See, too, The man who lofty Argos shall o'erthrow, And lay the walls of Agamemnon low, And great AEacides himself destroy, Sprung from Achilles, to requite the woe Wrought on old Ilion, and avenge with joy Minerva's outraged fane, and slaughtered sires of Troy. CXIII. "Shalt thou, great Cato, unextolled remain? Cossus? the Gracchi? or the Scipios, ye Twin thunderbolts of battle, and the bane Of Libya? Who would fail to tell of thee, Fabricius, potent in thy poverty? Or thee, Serranus, scattering the seed? O spare my breath, ye Fabii; thou art he Called Maximus, their Greatest thou indeed, Sole saviour, whose delay averts the hour of need. CXIV. "Others, no doubt, from breathing bronze shall draw More softness, and a living face devise From marble, plead their causes at the law More deftly, trace the motions of the skies With learned rod, and tell the stars that rise. Thou, Roman, rule, and o'er the world proclaim The ways of peace. Be these thy victories, To spare the vanquished and the proud to tame. These are imperial arts, and worthy of thy name." CXV. He paused; and while they pondered in amaze, "Behold," he cried "Marcellus, see him stride, Proud of the spoils that tell a nation's praise. See how he towers, with all a conqueror's pride. His arm shall stem the tumult and the tide Of foreign hordes, and save the land from stain. 'Tis he shall crush the rebel Gaul, and ride Through Punic ranks, and in Quirinus' fane Hang up the thrice-won spoils, in triumph for the slain."