Then the progeny that springs from the forests of our land,Armed with thunder, clad with wings,Shall a wider world command.Regions Caesar never knew,Thy posterity shall sway;Where his eagles never flew―None invincible as they. ―Such the bard's prophetic words, pregnant with celestial fire,Bending as he swept the chordsOf his sweet but awful lyre.She, with all a monarch's pride,Felt them in her bosom glow;Rushed to battle, fought, and died, ―Dying, hurled them at the foeRuffians! pitiless as proud,Heaven awards the vengeance due;Empire is on us bestowed, ―Shame and ruin wait for you!