I have come to amuse you,
with the stories and songs I tell.
Behold, I shall tell you a tragedy.
Who are you, Pantera?
What manner of man were you, (5)
hero of Roma, exalted father?
For all the world has heard of your son.
His name endures forever,
but your name is less known.
So. I shall tell your story, for it is ours. (10)
When Pantera walked
along the golden streets
of highest exalted
he walked in full array,
sword and armor at the ready. (15)
His feet were shod
with straps of leather,
burnished bronze was upon
his back and breast.
His buckler rested on his arm. (20)
His sword was sharp enough
to cleave a god in two.
The blade was black, forged
in the fires of Caesar’s pyre.
By blood it was unstained. (25)
The hilt of the sword displayed
the face of a panther,
carved in ivory,
its white face in contrast to the blade.
It bared its teeth, in perpetual roar. (30)
Behind the roaring head,
the panther’s sleek white body
spread out, carved in mid-pounce.
The wild cat held out its claws
unsheathed. (35)
When he raised his sword,
matching the panther’s roar with his own,
courage would fill the hearts of the Romans.
When he held his hands to the sky,
The black blade would shine in the sun. (40)
There were few heroes in those days,
for the time of the old heroes,
of the Achaeans and Trojans, was past.
Men had grown weak since those days.
But Pantera walked as a man of old. (45)
In battle he was unmatched,
none could stand against him
when the panther roared in his hand.
Men of Rome would take note
when he passed them on Rome's gold streets. (50)
