Viriato.
The complete fury of the countless dead
Within this city, now reduced to dust;
Their fear of pactions with the foeman made;
Their horror of subjection all unjust;
Numantia's hatreds and her rancours dread,
I hold them all within this heart as trust;
I am the heir of all her bravery:
What folly then to think of conquering me!
Belovèd land, O town unfortunate,