Epodes 7 (Creech): Quo, Quo Scelesti

WHere, Mad men, where? where, so averse to Peace
Your rusty Swords that slept in ease
Why drawn? What hath not every Country flow'd
And every Sea with Roman Blood?
Not to pursue your angry Fathers hate,
And urge proud Carthage rival Fate,
Nor make the untoucht Britans Slaves to Rome
And lead them chain'd in Triumph home;
But what the Parthians often pray to view
These Arms are now prepar'd to do:
Against your self, ah me! you raise them all,
And Rome by her own hand must fall:
E'en Wolves are to more gentle thoughts inclin'd
And prey but on another kind:
What is it Madness, is it stupid Rage
That doth the brutal Arms engage?
Or is it Sin? speak, not one word will come;
'Tis cruel Fate that urges Rome:
Since Remus fell about thy rising Walls
His loud-tongued blood for Vengeance calls;
The Issue then began, and still hath flow'd,
For Blood must be reveng'd with Blood