Horace, creator; Conington, John, 1825-1869, editor

  • Hark! 'tis the death-cry of your race! look back!
  • Ulysses comes, and Pylian Nestor grey;
  • See! Salaminian Teucer on your track,
  • And Sthenelus, in the fray
  • Versed, or with whip and rein, should need require,
  • No laggard. Merion too your eyes shall know
  • From far. Tydides, fiercer than his sire,
  • Pursues you, all aglow;
  • Him, as the stag forgets to graze for fright,
  • Seeing the wolf at distance in the glade,
  • And flies, high panting, you shall fly, despite
  • Boasts to your leman made.
  • What though Achilles' wrathful fleet postpone
  • The day of doom to Troy and Troy's proud dames,
  • Her towers shall fall, the number'd winters flown,
  • Wrapp'd in Achaenan flames.”