Of famine, while I live, thou shalt not die.
Fosse deep and wall of strength shall be o’erleaped,
And death confronted, and yet warded off!
The bread the bloody Roman eats to-day
Shall from his lips be torn and placed in thine;—
My arms shall hew a passage for thy life;—
For death is naught when I behold thee thus.
Food thou shall have, in spite of Roman power,
If but these hands are such as once they were.
Lira.