A band of augurs—an assembled senate,
Plebeians and patricians—
A people and a nation met together
In council to avert calamity,
And all are friends. Farewell, farewell, farewell!
Favourites of Fortune what is it to die?
Ye sons of pleasure! look on him who once
Did sternly look on you—who dies for you!
Scions of Victory! how cracks the heart,
In that short moment of a bright career,