Callous behind his armor
A mighty gaul clenches his curved sword
The eighteen inch blade beats against his parmula
Pulsing to the same accent of his heart
He stands, feet among the mighty sands of Rome
Before him, thousands of rustic spectators
Fearlessly demanding bloodshed
Safe and secure in their stone pews
They chant and howl down upon the arena
Wielding no weapon other than lousy wine
Enslaved to this lewd nation, Crixus
Must contest for his freedom
Eyes fixed within his challenger, he rivets
Seeking the aid of a divine will
He is rendered no sign
For this day
Will dawn a slave uprising
For this day
Will be the inception to the ruin of
A Roman Republic
Christian Hudak
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gauls-crixus/
