No temples of the gods, Not Jove's high fane on the Tarpeian rock, Not Rome's high dames nor maidens had he grudged To their most savage lust: that they should ask The worst, his wish, and love the spoils of war.
Nor feared he aught save order at the hands Of that unconquered host.

Art thou not shamed That strife should please thee only, now condemned Even by thy minions?
Shall they shrink from blood, They from the sword recoil?
and thou rush on Heedless of guilt, through right and through unright, Nor learn that men may lay their arms aside Yet bear to live?
This civil butchery Escapes thy grasp.

Stay thou thy crimes at length; Nor force thy will on those who will no more.
Upon a turfy mound unmoved he stood And, since he feared not, worthy to be feared; And thus while anger stirred his soul began: "Thou that with voice and hand didst rage but now Against thine absent chief, behold me here; Here strike thy sword into this naked breast, To stay the war; and flee, if such thy wish.
This mutiny devoid of daring deed Betrays your coward souls, betrays the youth Who tires of victories which gild the arms Of an unconquered chief, and yearns for flight.
Well, leave me then to battle and to fate! I cast you forth; for every weapon left, Fortune shall find a man, to wield it well.
Shall Magnus in his flight with such a fleet Draw nations in his train; and not to me as My victories bring hosts, to whom shall fall The prize of war accomplished, who shall reap Your laurels scorned, and scathless join the train That leads my chariot to the sacred hill?
While you, despised in age and worn in war, Gaze on our triumph from the civic crowd.
Think you your dastard flight shall give me pause?
If all the rivers that now seek the sea Were to withdraw their waters, it would fail By not one inch, no more than by their flow It rises now.

Have then your efforts given Strength to my cause?
Not so: the heavenly gods Stoop not so low; fate has no time to judge Your lives and deaths.

The fortunes of the world Follow heroic souls: for the fit few The many live; and you who terrified With me the northern and Iberian worlds, Would flee when led by Magnus.