"Rimini"



WHEN I left Rome for Lalageís sake
By the Legionsí Road to Rimini,
She vowed her heart was mine to take
With me and my shield to Riminió
(Till the Eagles flew from Riminió)
And Iíve tramped Britain, and Iíve tramped Gaul,
And the Pontic shore where the snow-flakes fall
As white as the neck of Lalageó
(As cold as the heart of Lalage!)
And Iíve lost Britain, and Iíve lost Gaul,
And Iíve lost Rome and, worst of all,
Iíve lost Lalage!

When you go by the Via Aurelia,
As thousands have travelled before,
Remember the Luck of the Soldier
Who never saw Rome any more!
Oh dear was the sweetheart that kissed him
And dear was the mother that bore,
But his shield was picked up in the heather
And he never saw Rome any more!

And he left Rome, etc.

When you go by the Via Aurelia
That runs from the City to Gaul,
Remember the Luck of the Soldier
Who rose to be master of all!
He carried the sword and the buckler,
He mounted his guard on the Wall,
Till the Legions elected him Cśsar,
And he rose to be master of all!

And he left Rome, etc.

Itís twenty-five marches to Narbo,
Itís forty-five more up the Rhone,
And the end may be death in the heather
Or life on an Emperorís throne.
But whether the Eagles obey us,
Or we go to the Ravensóalone,
Iíd sooner be Lalageís lover
Than sit on an Emperorís throne!

Weíve all left Rome for Lalageís sake, etc.