'Neath Fimbria's falchion: and the prison cells

Were wet with tribunes' blood. Hard by the fane

Where dwells the goddess and the sacred fire,

Fell aged Scaevola, though that gory hand (8)

Had spared him, but the feeble tide of blood

Still left the flame alive upon the hearth.

That selfsame year the seventh time restored (9)

The Consul's rods; that year to Marius brought

(Editor：family)