Dare make their way with fearless feet,
And, wheresoe'er they dwell, despoil
The famed and far-off Serians:
In vain all these, for 'tis the soul380
That makes the king. He needs no arms,
No steeds, no ineffectual darts
Such as the Parthian hurls from far
In simulated flight; for him
No engines huge with far-hurled rocks385
Lay waste the hostile city's walls.