Absit Omen

For him who brake in thund rous fray the ocean power of Spain
We have rebuilt the Flavian arch of Titus, lord of Rome,
Who harried fair Jerusalem and spoiled her, mart and fane.
Beneath the arch of Titus, lo! we hail our Hero home.
Sheer and strong its columns, stark symbols of the Roman might,
When Appian Way resounded with the victor's loud acclaim,
But Rome's grim road to Empire led her down the steeps of night:
Wild spearsmen smote her helpless, and barbarians mocked her name.
For cruel lust and lusty greed had tracked her sandaled tread,
She ruled o er shackled peoples, and races shamed and cowed,
Whose toil piled up her granaries, whose rubies decked her head,
Whose one red dream was vengeance and their conqueror in a shroud.
While, then, to blast of trumpet and deafening roll of drums,
From where his brave Olympia cuts the wave with bow of steel,
In a flame of waving color on a sea of cheers he comes,
Fast stand we still for freedom-robing manhood, head to heel.
The healing as the smiting hand be ours in onward march.
We are free burghers, strange to ways of Emperors and Kings,
And when of Rome's blood-spattered stones we take the Victor's arch,
Give we new wings to Victory, love's wide, protecting wings!