Charles Larcom Graves, Odes of Horace, Book 5 — Ode II (1921)
“ Noblest of foes, whom fate could never master, Holding his captors in a fierce disdain." Late was the night ere Virgil ceased from telling How past and present mingled in his view, And the worn features, lit by fire indwelling, Changed to the marble mask that others knew. Clearer uprose the murmur of the river Hurrying onward past the orchard lawn, And the tall poplars with their leaves aquiver Trembled and whispered in the breath of dawn. C. L. Graves. ”
