"Comrades, much has been done. To what remains | fear nothing. Here Mezenzio is dead | for my hands, and these that you see, | the spoils and the first fruits are | of the proud tyrant. Now to the walls | we're going to Latin. Everyone to arms | get ready: everyone trusts and promises | war and victory. You are on point, | because when good wishes hint at it | to move the field, and what purpose there is | to raise the banner, no delay | let it not stop us, either doubt or fear don't delay us. In this midst of the dead | let's give them burial, and what is due to them | it is only after death, eternal honor. | Itene therefore, and those clear souls | that they have with their own blood and life | this purchased homeland and this empire, | of last adorned gifts."