never resound with the twittering singing

Of birds in the Springtime. But chaos, volcanic black boulders

Of pumice lie Happy within their drear setting of cypress.

Amidst these infernal surroundings the ruler of Hades

Uplifted his head by the funeral flames silhouetted

And sprinkled with white from the ashes of corpses; and challenged

Winged Fortune in words such as these: 'Oh thou fickle controller

Of things upon earth and in heaven, security's foeman,

Oh Chance! Oh thou lover eternally faithful to change, and

Possession's betrayer, dost own thyself crushed by the power

Of Rome? Canst not raise up the tottering mass to its downfall

Its strength the young manhood of Rome now despises, and staggers

In bearing the booty heaped up by its efforts: behold how

They lavish their spoils! Wealth run mad now brings down their
destruction.

They build out of gold and their palaces reach to the heavens;

The sea is expelled by their moles and their pastures are oceans;

They war against Nature in changing the state of creation.

They threaten my kingdom! Earth yawns with their tunnels deep
driven

To furnish the stone for their madmen's foundations; already

The mountains are hollowed and now but re-echoing caverns;

While man quarries marble to serve his vainglorious purpose

The spirits infernal confess that they hope to win Heaven!

Arise, then, O Chance, change thy countenance peaceful to warlike

And harry the Romans, consign to my kingdom the fallen.

Ah, long is it now since my lips were with blood cooled and
moistened,

Nor has my Tisiphone bathed her blood-lusting body

Since Sulla's sword drank to repletion and earth's bristling harvest

Grew ripe upon blood and thrust up to the light of the sunshine!'"

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIRST.

"He spake ... and attempted to clasp the right hand of Fortuna,

But ruptured the crust of the earth, deeply cloven, asunder.

Then from her capricious heart Fortune made answer: 'O father

Whom Cocytus' deepest abysses obey, if to forecast

The future I may, without fear, thy petition shall prosper;

For no less consuming the anger that wars in this bosom,

The flame no less poignant, that burns to my marrow All favors

I gave to