Mille, mille, mille, Mille, mille, mille, Decollavimus, unus homo! Mille, mille, mille, mille, decollavimus! Mille, mille, mille, Vivat qui mille mille occidit! Tantum vini habet nemo Quantum sanguinis effudit!
Which may be thus paraphrased:
A thousand, a thousand, a thousand, A thousand, a thousand, a thousand, We, with one warrior, have slain! A thousand, a thousand, a thousand, a thousand. Sing a thousand over again! Soho!—let us sing Long life to our king, Who knocked over a thousand so fine! Soho!—let us roar, He has given us more Red gallons of gore Than all Syria can furnish of wine!
“Do you hear that flourish of trumpets?”
Yes—the king is coming! See! the people are aghast with admiration, and lift up their eyes to the heavens in reverence. He comes;—he is coming;—there he is!
“Who?—where?—the king?—do not behold him—cannot say that I perceive him.”
Then you must be blind.
“Very possible. Still I see nothing but a tumultuous mob of idiots and madmen, who are busy in prostrating themselves before a gigantic cameleopard, and endeavoring to obtain a kiss of the animal’s hoofs. See! the beast has very justly kicked one of the rabble over—and another—and another—and another. Indeed, I cannot help admiring the animal for the excellent use he is making of his feet.”
Rabble, indeed!—why these are the noble and free citizens of Epidaphne! Beasts, did you say?—take care that you are not overheard. Do you not