There as you move, “Ho! Triumph, ho!Great Triumph!” once and yet againAll Rome shall cry, and spices strowBefore your train.Ten bulls, ten kine, your debt discharge:A calf new-wean'd from parent cow,Battening on pastures rich and large,Shall quit my vow.Like moon just dawning on the nightThe crescent honours of his head;One dapple spot of snowy white,The rest all red.He whom thou, Melpomene,Hast welcomed with thy smile, in life arriving,Ne'er by boxer's skill shall beRenown'd abroad, for Isthmian mastery striving;