A British-Roman Song

(A. D. 406) "A Centurion of the Thirtieth" My father's father saw it not, And I, belike, shall never come To look on that so-holy spot -- That very Rome -- Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might, The equal work of Gods and Man, City beneath whose oldest height -- The Race began! Soon to send forth again a brood, Unshakable, we pray, that clings To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood -- In arduous things. Strong heart with triple armour bound, Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs, Age after Age, the Empire round -- In us thy Sons Who, distant from the Seven Hills, Loving and serving much, require Thee -- thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills The Imperial Fire!