Nor yet shall Bacchus pass unsaid,Bold warrior, nor the virgin foeOf savage beasts, nor Phoebus, dreadWith deadly bow.Alcides too shall be my theme,And Leda's twins, for horses he,He famed for boxing; soon as gleamTheir stars at sea,The lash'd spray trickles from the steep,The wind sinks down, the storm-cloud flies,The threatening billow on the deepObedient lies.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.