Classic Poem

L UCIUS , who art the glory of thy time,
And wilt not let the splendours of our clime,
Tagus and ancient Caius, yield in fame
To Arpi's eloquence and ancient name:
Let those who first in Hellas saw the light,
Sing of Mycenae and the Thebans' might,
Of famous Rhodes and Sparta's wrestling-game,
Where wanton Leda stripped nor thought of shame.
But let us Celts, true sons of Spanish soil,
Blush not for her to spend the midnight oil.
And bid our Muses boldly to rehearse
Our country's rugged names in grateful verse.
First, Bilbilis, whose steel doth far outshine
The Chalyb metal and the Noric mine.
Then Platea, which restless Salo rings,
Noisy with iron, and keen temper brings
To her sharp swords; and Rixamae's fair plains,
Where with the god to guide the gay dance reigns.
Then Carduae, whose revels fill the night,
And Peteris with rosy garlands bright,
And Rigae, where our fathers played of old,
And Silaë so skilled the spear to hold.
Turguntum's lake, Perusia's still mere,
And little Tuetonissa's shallows clear,
The oaks of Buradon, the god's own place,
Which even lazy travellers love to pace,
The fields of Vativesca on the hills
Which Manlius with sturdy bullocks tills.
Perhaps at this some dainty reader smiled,
And said—‘My friend, these names are rather wild,’
They may be so indeed, but I aver
That these to your Butonti I prefer.