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TWO BARDS.

Yet spared they messengers: two came to Rome. How drooped the plume! the lance was left to trail Down in the dust behind: their cheek was pale: So came the messengers to Rome.

High in his hall the Imperator sate-- OCTAVIANUS CAESAR AUGUSTUS sate. They filled up wine-cups, wine-cups filled they up For him the highest, Jove of all their state.

The flutes of Lydia hushed before their voice, Before the messengers--the "Highest" sprung-- The god against the marble pillars, wrung By the dred words, striking his brow, and thrice Cried he aloud in anguish--"Varus! Varus! Give back my legions, Varus!"

And now the world-wide conquerors shrunk and feared For fatherland and home
The lance to raise; and 'mongst those false to Rome The death-lot rolled, and still they shrunk and feared;

"For she her face hath turned,
The victor goddess," cried these cowards--(for aye Be it!)--"from Rome and Romans, and her day Is done!"--And still be mourned And cried aloud in anguish--"Varus! Varus! Give back my legions, Varus!"

[Notes:--The battle of Cannae, B.C. 216--Hannibal's victory over the Romans.
Winfield--the probable site of the "Herrmanschladt. See SUPRA. Augustus was worshipped as a deity in his lifetime. I have taken this translation from an anonymous writer in FRASER, two years ago.]



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