Whatever dwells upon Numantian soil.
I see most truly what the tokens are
That our dear land must sink in awful gloom;
Nor need these Roman ministers of war
Decree our ruin and adjudge our doom:
Our own, who reckon it more fearful far
That we should drag out life within a tomb,
Have given sentence that we end our days,
A stern decree, but worthy of all praise.
They now have raised within the public square