Shall now Quirinus take his turn,Or quiet Numa, or the stateProud Tarquin held, or Cato stern,By death made great?Ay, Regulus and the Scaurian name,And Paullus, who at Cannae gaveHis glorious soul, fair record claim,For all were brave.Thee, Furius, and Fabricius, thee,Rough Curius too, with untrimm'd beard,Your sires' transmitted povertyTo conquest rear'd.Marcellus' fame, its up-growth hid,Springs like a tree; great Julius' lightShines, like the radiant moon amidThe lamps of night.Dread Sire and Guardian of man's race,To thee, O Jove, the Fates assignOur Caesar's charge; his power and placeBe next to thine.