Whither, whither, reckless Romans, br Are you rushing, sword in hand? br Has not yet the blood of brothers, br Fully stained the sea and land? br br Not that raging conflagration br Should o’er fallen Carthage play; br Not that the unconquered Briton br Should descend the sacred way. br br "Rome," exclaims the joyful Parthian, br "Ruin for herself prepares; br Wolves with wolves are never savage, br Lion lion never tears." br br Is this fury? is it madness? br Speedy answer I demand; br Foolish, blinded, guilty Romans, br Silent, stupefied you stand. [590] br br Thus ’tis fated, blood of brothers br Must atone for brothers’ guilt, br Since the blood of injured Remus br Romulus in anger spilt.