But she has titles, nobler far, to praise.
Hers the seed-bed, harvest, ever have been
Of men, of fighters, hardened, sharp, and keen,
Bred north and south, east and west, with, from Rome,
Chiefs to lead forth, and bring them victors home.
Band of mighty Shades! Ah! mightiest Thou
Who schoolest the insolent Hindoo now,
How weak is strength, valour no better than
Cowardice, when our Cæsar leads the van!
Hail to Giver of wane, and oil, and corn!