A British-Roman Song

(A.D. 406)

“A Centurion of the Thirtieth”

My father's father saw it not,
  And I, belike, shall never come 
To look on that so-holy spot -
              That very Rome - 

Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,
  The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height - 
              The Race began!

 Soon to send forth again a brood,
  Unshakable, we pray, that clings
 To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood - 
              In arduous things.

 Strong heart with triple armour bound,
  Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,
 Age after Age, the Empire round - 
              In us thy Sons

 Who, distant from the Seven Hills,
  Loving and serving much, require
 Thee - thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills
              The  Imperial Fire!

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