The woeful end, most terrible and grand,
Of our Numantia, since I know it well:
For she shall fall, and by the hands austere
Of those who are to her most near and dear.
The Romans ne'er shall victory obtain
O'er proud Numantia; still less shall she
A glorious triumph o'er her foemen gain;
Twixt friends and foes, both brave to a degree,
Think not that settled peace shall ever reign
Where rage meets rage in strife eternally.