The gallant Philopœmen; who to arms
Turn’d the luxurious pomp he could not cure;
Or toiling on his farm, a simple swain;
Or, bold and skilful, thundering in the field.
‘Of rougher front, a mighty people comes!
A race of heroes! in those virtuous times
Which knew no stain, save that with partial flame
Their dearest country they too fondly loved:
Her better Founder first, the light of Rome,
Numa, who soften’d her rapacious sons;