Through the Roman works Driven by the wind the conflagration spread: Nor did the newness of the wood make pause The fury of the flames, which, fed afresh By living torches, 'neath a smoky pall Leaped on in fiery tongues.

Not wood alone But stones gigantic crumbling into dust Dissolved beneath the heat; the mighty mound Lay prone, yet in its ruin larger seemed.
Next, conquered on the land, upon the main They try their fortunes.

On their simple craft No painted figure-head adorned the bows Nor claimed protection from the gods; but rude, Just as they fell upon their mountain homes, The trees were knit together, and the deck Gave steady foot-hold for an ocean fight.
Meantime had Caesar's squadron kept the isles Named Stoechades (28), and Brutus (29) turret ship Mastered the Rhone.

Nor less the Grecian host -- Boys not yet grown to war, and aged men, Armed for the conflict, with their all at stake.
Nor only did they marshal for the fight Ships meet for service; but their ancient keels Brought from the dockyards.

When the morning rays Broke from the waters, and the sky was clear, And all the winds were still upon the deep, Smoothed for the battle, swift on either part The fleets essay the open; and the ships Tremble beneath the oars that urge them on, By sinewy arms impelled.