Fabius, whose nine stout grandsons
That day were in the field,

And Manlius, eldest of the Twelve
Who keep the Golden Shield;

And Sergius, the High Pontiff,
For wisdom far renowned;

In all Etruria's colleges
Was no such Pontiff found.

And all around the portal,
And high above the wall,

Stood a great throng of people,
But sad and silent all;

Young lads and stooping elders
That might not bear the mail,

Matrons with lips that quivered,
And maids with faces pale.

Since the first gleam of daylight,
Sempronius had not ceased

To listen for the rushing
Of horse-hoofs from the east.

The mist of eve was rising,
The sun was hastening down,

When he was aware of a princely pair
Fast pricking towards the town.

So like they were, man never
Saw twins so like before;

Red with gore their armor was,
Their steeds were red with gore.

XXXVIII
``Hail to the great Asylum!

Hail to the hill-tops seven!
Hail to the fire that burns for aye,

And the shield that fell from heaven!
This day, by Lake Regillus,

Under the Porcian height,
All in the lands of Tusculum

Was fought a glorious fight.
Tomorrow your Dictator

Shall bring in triumph home
The spoils of thirty cities

To deck the shrines of Rome!''
XXXIX

Then burst from that great concourse
A shout that shook the towers,

And some ran north, and some ran south,
Crying,``The day is ours!''

But on rode these strange horsemen,
With slow and lordly pace;

And none who saw their bearing
Durst ask their name or race.

On rode they to the Forum,
While laurel-boughs and flowers,

From house-tops and from windows,
Fell on their crests in showers.

When they drew nigh to Vesta,
They vaulted down amain,

And washed their horses in the well
That springs by Vesta's fane.

And straight again they mounted,
And rode to Vesta's door;

Then, like a blast, away they passed,
And no man saw them more.

XL
And all the people trembled,

And pale grew every cheek;
And Sergius the High Pontiff

Alone found voice to speak:
``The gods who live forever

Have fought for Rome to-day!
These be the Great Twin Brethren

To whom the Dorians pray.
Back comes the chief in triumph,

Who, in the hour of fight,
Hath seen the Great Twin Brethren

In harness on his right.
Safe comes the ship to haven,

Through billows and through gales,
If once the Great Twin Brethren

Sit shining on the sails.
Wherefore they washed their horses

In Vesta's holy well,
Wherefore they rode to Vesta's door,

I know, but may not tell.
Here, hard by Vesta's temple,

Build we a stately dome
Unto the Great Twin Brethren

Who fought so well for Rome.
And when the months returning

Bring back this day of fight,
The proud Ides of Quintilis,

Marked evermore with white,
Unto the Great Twin Brethren

Let all the people throng,
With chaplets and with offerings,

With music and with song;
And let the doors and windows

Be hung with garlands all,
And let the knights be summoned

To Mars without the wall:
Thence let them ride in purple

With joyous trumpet-sound,
Each mounted on his war-horse,

And each with olive crowned;
And pass in solemn order

Before the sacred dome,
Where dwell the Great Twin Brethren

Who fought so well for Rome.''
Virginia

A collection consisting exclusively of war-songs would give an
imperfect, or rather an erroneous, notion of the spirit of the

old Latin ballads. The Patricians, during more than a century
after the expulsion of the Kings, held all the high military

commands. A Plebeian, even though, like Lucius Siccius, he were
distinguished by his valor and knowledge of war, could serve only

in subordinate posts. A minstrel, therefore, who wished to
celebrate the early triumphs of his country, could hardly take

any but Patricians for his heroes. The warriors who are mentioned
in the two preceding lays, Horatius, Lartius, Herminius, Aulus

Posthumius, 锟絙utius Elva, Sempronius Atratinus, Valerius
Poplicola, were all members of the dominant order; and a poet who

was singing their praises, whatever his own political opinions
might be, would naturally abstain from insulting the class to

which they belonged, and from reflecting on the system which had
placed such men at the head of the legions of the Commonwealth.

But there was a class of compositions in which the great families
were by no means so courteously treated. No parts of early Roman

history are richer with poetical coloring than those which relate
to the long contest between the privileged" target="_blank" title="a.有特权的；特许的">privileged houses and the

commonality. The population of Rome was, from a very early
period, divided into hereditary castes, which, indeed, readily

united to repel foreign enemies, but which regarded each other,
during many years, with bitter animosity. Between those castes