After Cannae

One consul killed; one to Venusia fled,
Or to Liternum; the Aufidus runs o'er
From dead and arms; lightning has struck full sore
The Capitol; the bronze sweats, and the heavens look dread

Vainly the God's feast has the Pontiff spread,
And twice the Sibyl's Oracle did implore,
The grandsire, widow, orphan, weep yet more,
Till Rome in consternation bows her head.

Each evening to the aqueducts they swarm:
Plebs, slaves, the women, children, the deform—
All that the prison or the slum can spew—

To see, on Sabine Mount of blood-hued dyes,
Seated on elephant Gaetulian, rise
The one-eyed Chieftain to their anxious view.