t, hangs on the crest
Of purple Apennine; 25

IV

From lordly Volaterrae,[5]
Where scowls the far-famed hold
Piled by the hands of giants
For godlike kings of old;
From seagirt Populonia, 30
Whose sentinels descry
Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops
Fringing the southern sky;

V

From the proud mart of Pisse,[6]
Queen of the western waves, 35
Where ride Massilia's triremes[7]
Heavy with fair-haired slaves,
From where sweet Olanis[8] wanders
Through corn and vines and flowers,
From where Cortona lifts to heaven 40
Her diadem of towers.

VI

Tall are the oaks whose acorns
Drop in dark Auser's[9] rill;
Fat are the stags that champ the boughs
Of the Ciminian hill;[10] 45
Beyond all streams Clitumnus[11]
Is to the herdsman dear;
Best of all pools the fowler loves
The great Volsinian mere.[12]

VII

But now no stroke of woodman 50
Is heard by Auser's rill;
No hunter tracks the stag's green path
Up the Ciminian hill;
Unwatched along Clitumnus
Grazes the milk-white steer; 55
Unharmed the waterfowl may dip
In the Volsinian mere.

VIII

The harvests of Arretium,[13]
This year, old men shall reap,
This year, young boys in Umbro[14] 60
Shall plunge the struggling sheep;
And in the vats of Luna,
This year, the must[15] shall foam
Round the white feet of laughing girls
Whose sires have marched to Rome.

IX

There be thirty chosen prophets,
The wisest of the land,
Who alway by Lars Porsena
Both morn and evening stand:
Evening and morn the Thirty 70
Have turned the verses o'er,
Traced from the right[16] on linen white
By mighty seers of yore,

X

And with one voice the Thirty
Have their glad answer given: 75
"Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena;
Go forth, beloved of Heaven:
Go, and return in glory
To Clusium's royal dome;
And hang round Nurscia's[17] altars 80
The golden shields[18] of Rome."

XI

And now hath every city
Sent up her tale[19] of men:
The foot are fourscore thousand,
The horse are thousands ten. 85
Before the gates of Sutrium[20]
Is met the great arra