For what crime?
Twas cause enough for death that they could die.
The fury grew: soon 'twas a sluggard's part To seek the guilty: hundreds died to swell The tale of victims.

Shamed by empty hands, The bloodstained conqueror snatched a reeking head From neck unknown.

One way of life remained, To kiss with shuddering lips the red right hand (5).
Degenerate people! Had ye hearts of men, Though ye were threatened by a thousand swords, Far rather death than centuries of life Bought at such price; much more that breathing space Till Sulla comes again (6).

But time would fail In weeping for the deaths of all who fell.
Encircled by innumerable bands Fell Baebius, his limbs asunder torn, His vitals dragged abroad.

Antonius too, Prophet of ill, whose hoary head (7) was placed, Dripping with blood, upon the festal board.
There headless fell the Crassi; mangled frames 'Neath Fimbria's falchion: and the prison cells Were wet with tribunes' blood.