This passion which inspires love for one's homeland in those with great souls<hr>
is not brought about by the geographical location of our birth. The same sun illuminates the entire<hr>
universe and we everywhere enjoy the same elements. If the sole reason for this passion<hr>
were birthplace, it would be rather weak. But the reason we love our country is<hr>
because our compatriots are all our relatives or our allies. The tie of blood or the tie of<hr>
society links us to them. The religion, laws, and customs we share mean our interests are<hr>
common. But the first sentiment nature gives to those who love their country is to chiefly love it because their parents, siblings, and loved ones reside there. Indeed, I am certain that the most passionate of Romans, returning to Rome after a long journey, would not look at the Capitol as quickly as they would the part of the city where their family or spouse resides.<hr>
Thus, let no one be surprised that Coriolanus only yielded to my tears, for who among<hr>
the Romans could he have surrendered to? All those sent to parley with him had insulted him in the past. He saw in none of them the mark of a true Roman. They had all been ungrateful to him, and he could not recognize his homeland in them. He saw Rome's walls, but not the friends he had once had. Fear dictated the words of all he encountered, and it was only through me that he was able to understand there was still something dear to him in Rome. Is it possible that such devotion could have been so poorly rewarded!? That a man so brave should have met such a sad end! That he should have been murdered by those who had chosen him as their leader! And that his place of refuge should have been the place of his execution. Could it be that my intentions, as pure and innocent as they were, led to such an outcome! Volumnia, the gods allowed all this. But Coriolanus is dead, and he died out of love for you, Volumnia, and me. His end, however, does have the benefit of having brought tears to those who caused it. Following the last breath of their leader, the Volscians themselves buried him with honor. Scarcely had they seen his blood spill before they regretted their crime. With the same weapons they used to take his life, they erected a trophy in his honor. They celebrated his funeral as that of a conqueror. His memory is cherished among them. They hung many flags and all those famous offerings that mark the valor of illustrious dead on his tomb.<hr>
As for Rome, which owes its freedom to Coriolanus, it hears of his death without mourning!<hr>
It doesn't even remember that it was lost and enslaved without him. All the Romans were ungrateful to him in life, and they will be again after his death. They do not consider him their liberator, but their enemy. They remember more the chains he was preparing for them than the ones he removed. The fear they used to have of seeing him enter Rome in triumph makes them rejoice in the knowledge that he is today in a coffin. I must admit that I feel such great sorrow that I can't help but wish that Rome were captive and that Coriolanus were still alive.<hr>
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                                                85<hr>