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