Quintili Vare, Legiones Redde

I was at ease. Now, pinched, in pain,
burdened beyond the years I bear.
Summer is sunk in Autumn rain,
on legions lost I dream, despair!

High eagles fell low in fell enemy’s lair,
my legions in slime die, lie slain,
Rome’s raped reputation mourns careworn and bare,
shall she ever arise again?

Shall some stronger scion Dame Fortune’s dice dare?
harry the Hun, shatter the bane,
regain sacred standards, and offer up prayer,
saving us from the shame, the pain?