Classic Poem

We are the terror of the state,
And yet its joy;
Our blows are pitiless as fate
When we destroy.

We are the mighty army's heart;
Our glittering shields,
When seen, make haughty Romans start
On battle-fields.

Unhampered course our valiant steeds
On plain and shore,
Held by a wreath of twisted reeds
And nothing more.

Our ears are gemmed with ocean pearls;
We are revered,
And we have perfume in our curls
And on our beard.

Agile and fearless everywhere,
The foe we meet,
Dealing forth danger and despair,
Death and defeat.

A thousand Romans by our spears
Have lost their lives,
And in our camp, with wine that cheers,
We hold their wives.

The vestals and the maids of Rome
Our couch adorn;
Our gaudy tents become their home
From dusk to morn.

The courtesans of Malqua come
To sell delight;
With spicy food and birds that hum
We pass the night.

Without us, Carthage in despair
Would surely fall;
The banners of the state we bear
High over all.

The strength of great Melcarth is ours,
Stronger than brass!
Bow to the dust, and strew with flowers
The path we pass!