LXXXV. Next, Mettus, by the four-horsed chariot torn.
('Twere better, perjured Alban, to be true!)
Fierce Tullus dragged the traitor's limbs in scorn
Through brambles, dripping with the crimson dew.
Porsenna there around the city drew
His 'leaguering host. But freedom fired the blood
Of Romans. Idle was his rage, to view
How Cocles on the battered bridge withstood,
And Cloelia burst her bonds, and singly stemmed the flood.

LXXXVI. Next, Manlius guards the Capitol; see here
The straw-thatched palace. Silvered in the gold,
The fluttering goose proclaims the Gauls are near.
They, screened by darkness, thread the woods, and hold
With arms the slumbering citadel. Behold
Their beards all golden, and their golden hair,
Their white necks gleaming with the twisted gold,
Their chequered plaids. Each hand an Alpine spear
Waves, and an oblong shield their stalwart arms upbear.

LXXXVII. There danced the Salians, the Luperci reeled
Half-naked. See them sculptured in array,
With caps wool-tufted, and the sky-dropt shield.
Chaste dames, in cushioned chariots, lead the way
Through the glad city. Elsewhere, far away,
Loom Dis and Tartarus, where the guilty pine,
And Catiline, upon a rock for aye
Hangs, shuddering at the Furies. Distant shine
The just, where Cato stands, dealing the law divine.

LXXXVIII. The swelling ocean in the midst is seen,
All golden, but the billow's hoary spray
Foams o'er the blue. Dolphins of silvery sheen
Lash the white eddies with their tails in play,
Cleaving the surges. In the centre lay
The brazen fleets, all panoplied for war,
'Tis Actium's fight; Leucate's headland grey
Boils with the tumult of the distant jar,
And golden glow the waves, effulgent from afar.

LXXXIX. Augustus his Italians leads from home,
High on the stern. The Senators stand round,
The people, and the guardian gods of Rome.
With double flame his joyous brows are crowned;
The constellation of his sire renowned
Beams o'er his head. There too, his ships in line,
With winds and gods to prosper him, is found
Agrippa. Radiant on his head doth shine
The crown of golden beaks, the battle's glorious sign.

XC. Here, late from Parthia and the Red-sea coast,
With motley legions and barbaric pride,
Comes Anthony. From Egypt swarms his host,
From India and far Bactra. At his side