In Greece their horns blow up the dawn, in Spain they stand a wall.
And still upon her Seven Hills Rome rules the seas and tides,
The earth and all that in it is, while that stern strength abides.
Hail for the last time, Mother! Your sons stand here at bay.
Still you have sons for conquest. We fall the Roman way!
Our cheers still ringing, our short swords drawn,
We die here singing, but Rome, Rome goes on!
Ah! Yes, Valerius, I will answer them.
Comrades! I know these terms are but a trap:
Yet I would rather die by Parthian swords