Poem by Rudyard Kipling

A British-Roman Song

  "A Centurion of the Thirtieth" - Puck of Pook's Hill

My father's father saw it not,
  And I, belike, shall never come 
To look on that so-holy spot -
              That very Rome -

Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,
  The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height -
               The Race began!

 Soon to send forth again a brood,
   Unshakable, we pray, that clings
 To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood -
              In arduous things.

 Strong heart with triple armour bound,
   Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,
 Age after Age, the Empire round -
              In us thy Sons

 Who, distant from the Seven Hills,
      Loving and serving much, require
 Thee -- thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills
             The  Imperial Fire!

1. In the Case of Rukhmibhaio
2. Quantities of ’em
3. Quaeritur
4. Index Malorum
5. Reading the Will

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