They were dying, the Romans, and they knew it:
fewer sandals took to their roads, and wars
were getting pricier, bloodier; less satisfying, too.
Once fear got hold of the Romans,
it never released them. Their solution was walls,
higher walls: the blind ecstasy of mortar and brick.
The more spirited ones threw lavish parties,
orgies – their spirits sinking as each of their guests
abandoned sinful pleasures for the sanctity of the Cross.
Some blamed it all on the polluting barbarians,
and edicts were passed to outlaw the mixing of races.
Of all their flawed remedies, it would be their last.