ordine; tum grati referunt miracula belli.
Quis tibi tunc, Alarice, dolor, cum Marte perirent
divitiae spoliisque diu quaesita supellex
pulsaretque tuas ululatus coniugis aures, 625
coniugis, invicto dudum quae freta marito
demens Ausonidum gemmata monilia matrum
Romanasque alta famulas cervice petebat!
never was Tanais’ pride abased by such a crushing defeat nor the horns of Ister so broken. Thirsting to drink the enemy’s hateful blood our soldiers passed by rich and varied raiment, carts laden with gold, heaps of silver, and, eager for the foe’s destruction, spurned his wealth. They held blood of more account than gold; none of them would stoop to pick up the fortune that lay at their feet but drew their swords and sated their wild fury. The crafty foe threw in the path of our advancing troops the robes of scarlet dye, and other spoils reft from Valens[59] who perished in the flames, heavy mixing-bowls looted from unhappy Argos and lifelike statues rescued from burning Corinth—all in vain, for this ill-omened booty, so far from delaying our men, reminded them of past reverses and so the more inflamed their righteous indignation.
The crowd of prisoners is loosed from its fetters and all the peoples of different tongue whom the Getae had led away captive. Freed at last by the slaughter of their captors they plant thankful kisses on the bloody hands of their deliverers and hasten back to their long-lost homes and their dear children. At each his household looks in wonder as they tell the story of their woes and then recount the marvel of welcome victory.