Volume 5 — From The Month. The Gladiators' Song.

Round about this grim arena, by the ghosts of thousands haunted, Beckoned by our slaughtered comrades, move we on with hearts undaunted— Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant! Dark the world and always darker, none to comfort, none to love us, Grisly hell beneath us yawning, deaf or dead the gods above us— Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant! Life and flesh and soul and sinew, beating heart and thought upsoaring— Was the goblet of our being crowned but for this wild outpouring? Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant! Voices come through dreary silence, still for righteous vengeance calling— So we chant our stern defiance false relentless Rome is falling! Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant! Countless years have tortured nations learned the truth of Roman mercies— Ah! she falls in waste and carnage, 'mid the world's triumphant curses! Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant! Gleams of vengeance, long delaying, scantly sate the spirit's yearning— Guessing, groping, craving, hoping, must we go without returning? Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant! Onward to our slaughtered comrades, round the arena, shadow-haunted, On to endless night or morning pass we on with hearts undaunted! Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant!