The Legend of Romulus and Remus
According to Roman mythology, Remus and Romulus were the sons of the princes turned Vestal Virgin Rhea Silvia and the god of war, Mars. The twins were said to be born around 771 BC. As soon as they were born, they were placed in a trough and thrown into the Tiber River. The trough came ashore and they were found by a she-wolf who suckled them.
The Legend of Romulus and Remus
The boys were discovered and raised by a shepherd, Faustulus. Reaching adulthood, the twins decided to found a town of their own, and chose the place where the she-wolf had nursed them. Remus chose the Aventine Hill, and Romulus begun to build walls on the Palatine Hill. When Remus jeered at his brother’s low walls, contemptuously leaping over them, an angry Romulus killed him. Romulus continued to build his new town, naming it
Roma after himself.
Roma after himself.
The Legend of Romulus and Remus
Not having enough wives for his men, Romulus decided to steal women from the Sabines, the neighboring tribes. He invited the Sabines to a festival and then abducted their women. The Sabianes made war on Remuls. The fighting ended when the Sabine women, who had grown fond of their Roman husbands, intervened between the fighters and begged both sides to make peace.
The Legend of Romulus and Remus
Romulus is alleged to not have died, but to have mysteriously disappeared in a violent storm after having reigned over Rome for 38 years. The Romans, believing he had changed into a god, worshipped him under the name of Quirinus. 
Romulus and Remus
All across Italy statues and paintings depicting the She-wolf suckling Romulus and Remus can be seen. This is one of the symbols of the Roman Empire.
Romulus and Remus
Romulus and Remus
Romulus and Remus
Romulus and Remus
Romulus and Remus
Travels With Dan 
\”And thou, the thunder-stricken nurse of Rome!She-wolf! whose brazen-imaged dugs impartThe milk of conquest yet within the domeWhere, as a monument of antique art,Thou standest:—Mother of the mighty heart,Which the great Founder sucked from thy wild teat,Scorched by the Roman Jove's ethereal dart,And thy limbs black with lightning—dost thou yetGuard thine immortal cubs, nor thy fond charge forget?Thou dost;—but all thy foster-babes are dead—The men of iron; and the World hath rearedCities from out their sepulchres: men bledIn imitation of the things they feared,And fought and conquered, and the same course steered,At apish distance; but as yet none have,Nor could, the same supremacy have neared,Save one vain Man, who is not in the grave—But, vanquished by himself, to his own slaves a slave…\”
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