... That mangled visage must be known to all. ' Fortune, high goddess of Praeneste's fane, ' Saw all her townsmen hurried to their deaths ' In one fell instant. All the hope of Rome, ' The flower of Latium , stained with blood the field ' Where once the peaceful tribes their votes declared. ' Famine and Sword, the raging sky and sea, ' And Earth upheaved, have laid such numbers low : ' But ne'er one...