Then the fierce trumpet-flourish From earth to heaven arose, The kites know well the long stern swell That bids the Romans close.

    Then the good sword of Aulus Was lifted up to slay； Then, like a crag down Apennine, Rushed Auster through the fray.

    But under those strange horsemen Still thicker lay the slain； And after those strange horses Black Auster toiled in vain.

    Behind them Rome's long battle Came rolling on the foe, Ensigns dancing wild above, Blades all in line below. So comes the Po in flood-time Upon the Celtic plain； So comes the squall, blacker than night, Upon the Adrian main. Now, by our Sire Quirinus, It was a goodly sight To see the thirty standards Swept down the tide of flight. So flies the spray of Adria When the black squall doth blow So corn-sheaves in the flood-time Spin down the whirling Po.

    False Sextus to the mountains Turned first his horse's head； And fast fled Ferentinum, And fast Lanuvium fled. The horsemen of Nomentus Spurred hard out of the fray； The footmen of Velitr* Threw shield and spear away. And underfoot was trampled, Amidst the mud and gore, The banner of proud Tusculum, That never stooped before： And down went Flavius Faustus, Who led his stately ranks From where the apple blossoms wave On Anio's echoing banks, And Tullus of Arpinum, Chief of the Volscian aids, And Metius with the long fair curls, The love of Anxur's maids, And the white head of Vulso, The great Arician seer, And Nepos of Laurentum The hunter of the deer；

    And in the back false Sextus Felt the good Roman steel, And wriggling in the dust he died, Like a worm beneath the wheel： And fliers and pursuers Were mingled in a mass； And far away the battle Went roaring through the pass.