Book IX

But the spirit of Pompey did not linger down in Egypt among the embers, nor did that handful of ashes prison his mighty ghost. Soaring up from the burning-place, it left the charred limbs and unworthy pyre behind, and sought the dome of the Thunderer. Where our dark atmosphere — the intervening space between earth and the moon's orbit — joins on to the starry spheres, there after death dwell heroes, whose fiery quality has fitted them, after guiltless lives, to endure the lower limit of ether, and has brought their souls from all parts to the eternal splieres: to those who are coffined in gold and buried with incense that realm is barred. When he had steeped himself in the true light of that region, and gazed at the planets and the fixed stars of heaven, he saw the thick darkness that veils our day, and smiled at the mockery done to his headless body. Then his spirit flew above the field of Pharsalia, the standards of bloodthirsty Caesar, and the ships scattered over the sea, till it settled, as the avenger of guilt, in the righteous breast of Brutus, and took up its abode in the heart of unconquerable Cato.

While the issue remained uncertain, and none could tell whom the civil war would make master of the world, Cato hated Magnus as well as Caesar, though he had been swept away by his country's cause to follow the Senate to Pompey's camp; but now, after the defeat of Pharsalia, he favoured Pompey with his whole heart. When his country had no guardian, he took her in charge; he revived the trembling limbs of the nation, and replaced the swords that coward hands had thrown down; and he carried on the civil war, without either seeking to be a tyrant or fearing to be a slave. He did naught in arms to serve his own ends; after the death of Magnus the whole party was the party of freedom. But they were scattered round the coasts; and, that victorious Caesar might not pick them all up in his rapid progress, Cato sought the retirement of Corcyra and carried away with him in a thousand ships the wreck of the disaster at Pharsalia. Who would have believed that an army, conveyed on so many vessels, was in flight, or that the sea had proved too narrow for a vanquished fleet.''

Next he went to Malea of the Dorians and Taenarus wher-e the dead may rise, and thence to Cythera, As the North wind sped on his keels, he shunned the shore of Greece and sailed along the coast of Crete, and the waves gave way before them. Then, when Phycus dared to close its harbour against the fleet, he overthrew it and laid in ruins a town which deserved to be sacked without mercy. Gentle breezes wafted him along the sea from here to the coast of Palinurus (for his memory is preserved not only in Italian waters, and Attica bears witness that her peaceful harbour found favour with the Trojan steersman). Then the sight of ships sailing far out at sea kept them in suspense: were those crews partners in misfortune or enemies? The speed of Caesar makes everything dreadful, and they are convinced of his presence on every ship No, these vessels were freighted with mourning and lamentation, and with a sorrow that might draw tears even from stern Cato.

For after Cornelia's prayers had fruitlessly stayed the flight of the sailors and her stepson, lest haply the corpse might be driven out to sea from the Egyptian shore, and when the flame revealed the pyre of those maimed rites, then she reproached Fortune: "Unworthy then was I to kindle my husband's pyre, to bend over the cold limbs, and throw myself upon the body; unworthy to burn my torn tresses, to gather the limbs of Magnus scattered in the sea, to pour a flood of tears into every wound, and to fill my bosom with the bones and warm ashes, with the purpose of sprinkling in the temples of the gods whatever I might gather from the extinguished flame. The pyre burns on with no funeral honours; perhaps some Egyptian hand proffered this service which the dead resents. Well is it that the remains of the Crassi lie unburied; the fire that was granted to Pompey shows greater spite on the part of Heaven. Shall my sad lot ever repeat itself? Shall I never be allowed to give due burial to a husband? Shall I never mourn over an urn that contains ashes? But what need is there of a grave, or why does grief require any trappings? Do I not, undutiful wife, carry Pompey in my whole breast? Does not his image cling to my inmost heart? Let a wife who intends to survive her husband seek his ashes. But now this fire, which shines far away with scanty light, as it rises from the Egyptian shore, still shows me some part of you, Magnus. The flame has now died down, and the smoke that carries Pompey away fades at sunrise, and the hated winds are stretching the sails of my ship. With sorrow (if my words may be beheved) I leave the coast of Egypt. More welcome is it to me than any conquered country which provided Pompey with triumphs, more welcome than the car which rolled over the pavement of the lofty Capitol. The Magnus of prosperous days has passed from my memoiy; the Magnus I require is he whom the Nile possesses; and complain that I may not cling to the guilty land; its very guilt endears the strand to me. I bid you, Sextus, face the hazards of war and carry on your father's warfare over all the world. For Pompey left this message for his sons, and it is treasured up in my memory: 'When the destined hour shall have condemned me to death, I bid you, my sons, take over civil war; and never, while any scion of my stock remains on earth, let the Caesars reign in peace. Rouse up by the glory of our name either kings or States that are strong in their own freedom; I leave you this part to play and these resources. A Pompey who takes to the sea will always find fleets, and my successor shall rouse all nations to war; only let your hearts be ever tameless and mindful of your father's power. Cato, and Cato alone, you may fitly obey, if he shall rally a party in defence of freedom.' I have fulfilled my promise to Magnus and done his bidding; his device has been successful, and thus deceived I lived on, that might not break faith and carry to the grave the words of his message. But now I will follow my husband through empty chaos and through Tartarus, if such a place there be. How distant the death to which I am doomed I know not; ere it comes, I shall punish my life for lasting too long. It had the heart to see Magnus murdered and not to take refuge in death; it shall end, bruised by blows from my hands; it shall melt away in tears; never shall I resort to the sword or noose or a headlong fall through the air; shame to me it I cannot die of grief alone, when he is dead." When she had spoken thus, she covered her head with a mourning veil; determined to endure darkness, she hid in the hold of the ship, and, clasping closely her cruel sorrow, she makes tears her joy and loves her grief in place of her husband. Heedless of the waves, of the East wind that howled in the rigging, and of the shouting that rose higher as the danger grew, she lay in the attitude of death; what the frightened sailors prayed to escape, she prayed to suffer; and she took the side of the storms.

Cyprus with its foaming waves first received their ship; and then the East wind, still ruling the sea but with less fury, drove them to the land of Libya and Cato's camp. From the shore young Magnus looked in sorrow, for the mind that fears intensely forebodes evil, at his brother and the companions of his father; then he rushed headlong right into the waves." Brother, say where is our father. Is the head and crown of the world still standing, or are we destroyed, and has Magnus taken with him to the shades all that was Rome?" Thus Gnaeus spoke; and his brother answered him: "Happy are you, whom destiny drove to other lands, and who only hear the horror: my eyes are guilty, brother, because they looked on at my father's death. He did not fall by Caesar's arms, and no worthy hand laid him low. In the power of the foul monarch who rules the land of Nile, relying on the gods of hospitality and on the great boon he had conferred upon the dynasty, he fell, to atone for having given to them the crown. These eyes saw them hacking at the breast of our noble father; and, not believing that the king of Egypt had possessed such power as that, I supposed that Caesar already stood on the shore of the Nile. But the blood and wounds of our aged sire moved me less than the carrying of his head through the city: I saw it borne aloft on a pike driven through it; men said that it was being kept for the cruel conqueror to view, and that the king desired proof of his crime. As to the body, I know not whether the dogs and greedy vultures of Egypt tore it to pieces, or whether it was destroyed by the surreptitious fire that we saw. Whatever outrage of destiny made away with those limbs, I pardon Heaven for that crime; but I complain of the part that was preserved." When young Magnus heard such a tale, he did not pour forth his grief in groans or tears; but, maddened by rightful love for a father, he cried: "Hurry down your ships, ye sailors, from the dry land; driven by the rowers, let the fleet burst out in the teeth of the wind: and go forth with me, ye leaders — nowhere was so great a prize offered to the fighters in civil war — to inter the unburied body of Magnus and appease his anger with the blood of the effeminate king. Shall I not drag forth the body of Alexander from its shrine and sink it, together with the Macedonian city, beneath the sluggish waters of Lake Mareotis.'' Shall I not hale out Amasis and the other kings from their tombs in the Pyramids, and send them swimming down the current of the Nile? Let all their tombs make atonement to Magnus who has none at all. I shall rifle the grave of Isis, now worshipped over the world; the limbs of Osiris, swathed in linen, I shall scatter in the public streets; I shall lay the gods as fuel whereon to burn my father's head. And the land I shall punish too; I shall leave their fields with none to till them; the Nile shall rise, and there shall be none to use it; men and gods shall be expelled from Egypt, and you, my father, alone shall possess the land." Thus he spoke, and sought in his rage to launch the ships with speed; but Cato, while praising the youth, restrained his fury.

Meanwhile, when the death of Pompey was reported, all along the shore the sound of beaten breasts was heard, till the sky rang with it; unexampled was that mourning, and unknown to any age — that the common people should lament the death of a great man. But when Cornelia was seen disembarking, having wept till she could weep no more, and with her loosened hair falling down over her face, still more the people renewed their lamentation with redoubled blows. As soon as she reached the shore of a friendly land, she gathered together the garments and badges of her hapless husband, his weapons, and the robes, embroidered with gold, which he once had worn, and the toga of many colours — the dress which supreme Jupiter had thrice beheld — and placed them all upon a funeral fire. They were the ashes of her husband to her sad heart. Her example was followed by all loving hearts; and pyres were raised all along the shore, and gave their due of fire to the men who died at Pharsalia. So, when the Apulian burns the soil, in order to make grass grow on the close-cropped plains and get fresh herbage for winter, then Mount Garganus and the fields of Vultur and the pastures of warm Matinussend forth light together. Though all alike dared to revile Heaven, and blamed the gods for Pompey's death, yet a tribute as welcome to the shade of Magnus came in the words of Cato: few they were, but they came from a heart fraught with truth. He said: "The citizen who has fallen, though far inferior to our ancestors in recognising the limits of what is lawful, was yet valuable in our generation, which has shown no respect for justice. He was powerful without destroying freedom; he alone, when the people were willing to be his slaves, remained in private station; he ruled the Senate, but it was a Senate of kings. He based no claims upon the right of armed force; what he wished to receive, he wished that others should have the power to refuse him. He acquired enormous wealth; but he paid into the treasury more than he kept back. He snatched the sword; but he knew how to lay it down. He preferred war to peace; but he was a lover of peace even when he wielded the weapons of war. It pleased him to accept office, and it pleased him also to resign it. His household was pure and free from extravagance, and never spoilt by the greatness of its master. His name is illustrious and revered among all nations, and did much service to our own State. Sincere belief in Rome's freedom died long ago, when Sulla and Marius were admitted within the walls; but now, when Pompey has been removed from the world, even the sham belief is dead. No tyrant need blush in future: there will be no pretence of military command, and the Senate will never again be used as a screen. Fortunate was he, because his last day followed close on defeat, and because the Egyptian butchers forced upon him the death he should have courted. He might perhaps have stooped to go on living under the tyranny of his kinsman. Happiest of all men are those who know when to die; and next come those upon whom death is forced. For myself, if destiny bring us into the power of others, I pray that Fortune will make Juba play the part of Ptolemy: I am willing enough that he should keep me for Caesar, on condition that he keeps me with my head cut off."

By these words greater honour in death was rendered to the noble shade than if the Rostrum at Rome had sounded his praise. Meanwhile the soldiery were loud in mutiny; they were weary of the camp and warfare now that Pompey was dead; and then Tarcondimotus raised the signal for deserting Cato. He snatched his ships for flight, but Cato followed him to the edge of the shore, and thus rebuked him: "Do you go forth again to practise robbery on the seas, you Cilician who have never accepted peace? Fortune has taken Magnus away, and at once you return to the sea as a pirate." Then he looked at them all, as they crowded together in haste; and one of them, whose intention to fly was clear, thus addressed the general: Pardon us, Cato. It was love of Pompey, not of civil war, that roused us to arms, and we took sides out of favour for him. But he lies low, whom the world preferred to peace, and our cause has ceased to exist; suffer us to return to our native homes, our deserted households and the children of our love. For what end will there ever be of fighting, if neither Pharsalia nor the death of Pompey ends it? Our lifetime has been wasted; let our last days find a refuge; let our old age look forward to due funeral rites; civil war can hardly provide graves even for leaders. We are defeated, but no foreign rule awaits us; cruel Fortune does not threaten me with oppression from Armenian or Scythian; I pass into the power of Roman citizens. Whoever was second to Magnus while Magnus lived, shall now rank first with me. But high honour shall I pay to the sacred dead: though I shall acknowledge the master whom defeat forces upon me, I shall acknowledge no leader but Magnus. Him alone I followed to war; now he is dead, I shall follow destiny; for I may not hope for good fortune, nor would it be permitted. All things are hemmed in by Caesar's greatness; his victory has scattered the army of Pharsalia; the hopes of the unfortunate have shrunk to little compass, and he alone in the world has the will and the power to grant their lives to the vanquished. Civil war, which was loyalty while Pompey lived, is criminal now that he is slain. If you, Cato, are always a faithful follower of national law and your country's cause, then let us seek the standards which the Roman consul bears." With these words he sprang on board, and his soldiers in disorder went with him.

The cause of Rome was as good as lost, and all the rabble, at a loss for want of a master, swarmed upon the shore. But utterance came with a rush from the sacred breast of Cato: "It seems then, soldiers, that you too fought with the same desire as others, in defence of tyranny — that you were the troops of Pompey, and not of Rome. You no longer suffer in order to set up a tyrant; your life and death belong to yourselves, not to your leaders; there is no one for whom you gain the whole world, and now you may safely conquer for yourselves alone. Yet now you desert the ranks; you miss the yoke when your neck is relieved, and you cannot endure existence without a tyrant. But you have now a quarrel worthy of brave men. Pompey was suffered to make full use of your life-blood: now, when freedom is in sight, do you refuse to fight and die for your country? Out of three masters Fortune has spared but one. Shame on you! The court of Egypt and the bow of the Parthian soldier have done more for the cause of lawful government. Depart, degenerate men, neglectful alike of Ptolemy's gift and your own weapons. Who would suppose that your hands were ever stained with bloodshed Caesar will take your word for it that you were quick to turn your backs to him, and first in the flight from Philippi in Thessaly. Go and fear not: if Caesar be your judge, you, who were not subdued by battle or siege, have deserved to have your lives spared. Base slaves I your former master is dead, and you welcome his heir. Why do you not seek to earn a greater reward than mere life and pardon? Seize the hapless wife of Magnus and daughter of Metellus, and carry her over the sea; lead captive the sons of Pompey; and so outdo the gift of Ptolemy, Also, whoever bears my head to the hated tyrant will receive no small reward for his gift. By the price of my head your troops will learn that they did well to follow my standard. Rouse up therefore, commit a mighty crime, and gain your reward. Mere flight is the crime of cowards." By this speech he recalled all the ships from mid-sea. Even so, when the swarm deserts the cells that have hatched their young, they forget the comb; their wings are no longer intertwined, but each bee flies independently and plays truant, ceasing to suck the bitter thyme; but, if the sound of Phrygian brass rebukes them, at once in alarm they stop their flight and go back to their task of bearing pollen, and renew their love of scattered honey; the shepherd on the meadow of Hybla is relieved, and rejoices that the wealth of his cottage is safe. Thus by Cato's words the resolution to endure lawful warfare was impressed upon his men.

And now by works of war and continuous tasks he resolved to keep busy men who knew not how to remain inactive. First the soldiers toiled till they were weary, digging the sand upon the shore; their next task was against the walls and fortifications of Cyrene; when shut out from there, Cato took no harsh revenge — the only penalty he exacted from the conquered was to have conquered them. Next it was resolved to seek the realm of Libyan Juba that borders on the Moors; and, though Nature barred their way by placing the Syrtes between, daring valour hoped to defeat Nature.

When Nature first gave shape to the world, either she left the Syrtes to be disputed by sea and land alike; for the land did not sink down deep, so as to admit the water of the ocean, nor yet defend itself against the sea, but the region lies untravelled, owing to the uncertain conditions that prevail there — sea broken by shoals, and dry land severed by sea — and the waves strike beach after beach before they collapse with a roar. So unkindly has Nature deserted this part of herself, and demands no service of it. Or else, the Syrtis was once more richly supplied with deep sea, and lay far below the surface; but the parching sun, feeding his light with ocean, sucked up the water, which is near the torrid zone; and thus, though now the sea still resists the drying action of the sun, ere long, when injurious time brings his heat close, the Syrtis will become dry land; for already the waves that cover it are shallow, and the water, soon to disappear, is everywhere scantily supplied.

As soon as the sea, driven by the oars, bore onward all the heavy fleet, a black South wind roared with incessant rain. Raging against its own domain, it protected by a hurricane the waters on which the ships had ventured, driving the waves far from the Syrtes and breaking up the sea with intervals of land. Next, if it caught the sails of any ship with mast erect, it tore them from the sailors' grasp; in vain the cordage strove to rescue the sails from the wind, and the canvas stretched out beyond the ship, its folds flapping out further than the prow. If any prudent mariner had brailed up all his sails to the top of the yard, he was defeated and driven out of his course with bare poles. Those ships fared better which rode upon deep water and were tossed upon a sea that was sea indeed. But if any were lightened by cutting away the masts, and thus allowed the driving blast to pass over them, then the tide, free from control, swept them in the opposite direction to the gale, and carried them away, conquering them and driving them against the opposing South wind. These were left stranded by the shallows, where land, broken by sea, wrecks them; exposed to a double danger, half the vessel is aground, while half floats on the waves. Then, as the ships were driven further, the sea contracted and the dry land constantly emerged and struck them: the waves, though tossed by the South wind, often fail to rise above the sandbanks. Far from all the fields, a rampart of dry sand rises up on the surface of the sea and defies the water; the hapless sailors stick fast: though their keel is aground, no shore is visible. Thus the sea destroyed some of the ships, but the larger part, following the guidance of the helm, were saved by flight; and finding pilots familiar with the shore, they reached unharmed the sluggish lake of Triton.

This lake, as legend tells, is dear to the god, who is heard by all the sea-shore as he fills the waters with the music of his windy shell; and dear to Pallas too. When she was born from her father's head, she alighted on Libya before any other land; for Libya, as its heat alone proves, is nearest the sky; and there she saw her face in the still water of the pool, and stood by its brink, and called herself Tritonis after the lake she loved. Near it silently steals past the river of Lethon, which, as legend tells, carries forgetfulness from its source in the lower world; and here is the Garden of the Hesperides, once the charge of the sleepless dragon but now impoverished by the rifling of its branches. Churlish is he who robs hoary antiquity of its fame and demands the truth from poets. There was once a golden grove, whose trees bowed beneath their riches and the tawny fruit of their branches; and a band of maidens guarded that glittering grove; and a serpent, whose eyes were never doomed to close in sleep, coiled round the trees that bent beneath the ruddy metal. But Alcides robbed the trees of their prize and eased the grove of its task, when he left the branches without their weight of wealth and carried back the shining apples to the king of Argos.

Thus the ships, driven from their course and cast forth from the Syrtes, remained in this region, on the shore of the better part of Libya, with Pompeius as commander; nor did they sail further on the Garamantian waters. But brave Cato was unwilling to stand still: emboldened by his armed strength, he dared to trust his soldiers to lands unknown and to march round the Syrtis on foot. Winter also, by closing the sea against them, prompted this course, and rains were welcome to men who feared excessive heat: the season might save them from suffering from either sun or freezing cold, and temper their march by the climate of Africa on the one hand and by winter on the other. And before he set foot upon the barren desert, Cato made them this speech:

"Men who have chosen this one path of safety — to follow my standard to the death with spirits unsubdued, prepare your minds for a high feat of valour and for utmost hardships. We march towards barren plains and the furnace of the world, where the sun's heat is excessive and water is seldom found in the springs, and where the parched fields are foul with venomous serpents. Hard is the path to freedom, and hard to win the love of our country in her fall. Let those march through the heart of Africa, seeking a path where there is none, who do not regard escape as a thing to be at all desired, and are content merely to march on. For I do not intend to deceive any man, nor to draw the army on by concealing the danger. I seek as my companions men who are attracted by the risks themselves, men who think it glorious and worthy of a Roman to endure even the worst, with me to watch them. But if any man craves a guarantee of safety and is tempted by the sweetness of life, let him take an easier path and go to a master. Foremost I shall tread the desert, and foremost set foot upon the sand; let the heat of the sky then beat upon me and the poisonous serpent stand in my path; and test your perils beforehand by what befalls me. If any man see me drinking, or seeking the shade of trees, or riding in front of the marching troops, then let him feel thirst and heat and weariness — if there is any distinction to mark whether I am the general or a soldier in the ranks. Serpents, thirst, burning sand — all are welcomed by the brave; endurance finds pleasure in hardship; virtue rejoices when it pays dear for its existence. Africa alone, with all her plagues, can bring it about, that to have fled is no disgrace to the brave." Thus he fired their frightened hearts with courage and love of hardship, and began, by a track through the desert, that march from which there was no returning. For Africa, that was to hide his sacred name in a humble grave, laid hold upon the last days of Cato, but Cato cared not. Libya is the third continent of the world, if one is willing in all things to trust report; but, if you judge by the winds and the sky, you will find it to be part of Europe. For the banks of the Nile are not further than the northern Tanais from Gades in the far West, at which point Europe diverges from Libya and the curvature of the sliores has made room for the sea. But a larger part of the world has gone to form Asia alone. For, whereas Europe and Africa in partnership send forth the West wind, Asia, while touching the left side of the North and the right side of the South, stretches away to the East and has a monopoly of the East wind. The fertile part of Africa lies towards the West, but even this has no streams to break it up; occasionally, when the North winds blow, it gets the northern rains and refreshes its fields by our fair weather. The soil is not violated to secure wealth of any kind; it is not smelted for the sake of copper or gold; its clods are innocent, and its earth is merely earth, even far below the surface. The land is rich in nothing but the timber of Mauretania; and, ignorant how to make use of this wealth, the people lived content with the leafy shade of the citrustree. But our axes have invaded the unknown forest, and we have sought tables as well as dainties from the end of the earth. But all that coast which surrounds the shifting Syrtis, as it lies flat under the scorching sun and near the parched sky, burns up corn-crops and smothers the vine with dust; and the powdery soil is bound together by no roots of plants. The temperate air that life needs is not found there, and Jupiter pays no heed to the land; Nature is inactive; the lifeless expanse, with sands that are never ploughed, is unconscious of the seasons. Yet this barren soil here and there sends forth grass which is gathered by the Nasamonians, a rude and naked race who dwell close by the sea; and the savage Syrtis feeds them by the plunder of the world. For the wrecker lies in wait on the sandy shore, and he is familiar with wealth, though no ship reaches harbour there; thus, by means of shipwrecks, the Nasamonians trade with all nations. Through this land Cato is bidden march by his stern valour. There the soldiers, reckoning on no gales and dreading no storms on land, endured the fears that belong to the sea. For the South wind falls more fiercely upon the dry shore of the Syrtis than upon the deep, and does more damage to the land. Libya has no mountains to oppose the rising wind and break its force, no cliffs to drive it back and scatter it, or to turn its hurricane to clear breezes; it does not fall upon forests and wear itself out by bending ancient oaks: all the land is level, and the wind travels freely and wreaks the fury of Aeolia all over the desert. There is no rain in the cloud of whirling dust which it drives furiously in circles; most of the land is lifted up by it and is suspended in the air, as the eddying motion is continuous. The needy Nasamonian sees his possessions flying in the wind and his dwelling blown to pieces; the Garamantian is laid bare, and his hut, beginning with the roof, is snatched away and flies aloft. Fire does not carry what it seizes to a greater height: as high as smoke may rise up and mar the face of day, so great is the dust that fills the air. And now, even fiercer than its wont, the wind attacked the Roman column; and the staggering men can find no footing on the sand, when even the spot they tread on is carried away. If Africa had a solid framework, so that the heavy weight of its cliffs might confine the South wind within hollow caverns, the wind would overset the whole world and wrench it from its foundations; but because the soil is easily driven about with its drifting sands, it remains stable by offering resistance at no point, and the lower stratum stands fast because the upper is dispersed. Driving furiously, the blast snatched up the men's helmets and shields and javelins, and rushed on, carrying them through the mighty void of heaven. Perhaps they were a portent in some remote and distant country, and men there fear the armour that fell down from heaven, supposing that what was torn from the arms of men has been sent down by the gods. In this way the shields, which chosen patricians carry on their shoulders, surely fell before Numa as he performed sacrifice: the South wind or the North had robbed the bearers of those shields which now are ours. When the wind tormented the region thus, the Roman soldiers prostrated themselves, fearing to be carried away; buckling their garments tight, they clutched the ground; effort as well as mere weight kept them where they lay; and even so they could scarce resist the storm, which rolled huge heaps of sand over them and covered their bodies with the soil. Held fast by great piles of dust, the men were hardly able to rise from the ground. Where they stood, a great rampart of sand by their sides kept them prisoners; and they were prevented from moving by the rising surface. The wind broke walls to pieces, dislodged the stones and carried them far away, and dropped them at a distance — a strange mishap, when those who saw no houses saw the fragments of them falling. And now their path was utterly hidden and all landmarks were lost; they found their way by the stars; and the horizon which bounds the African continent does not display the constellations entire, but many are concealed by the curvature of the earth's rim. Then, when heat expanded the air which had been contracted by the gale, and the day grew burning hot, sweat poured from their limbs and their mouths were parched with thirst. A rivulet with scanty flow was sighted at a distance; and a soldier, snatching the water with difficulty from the dust, poured it into the hollow of his helmet and offered it to the general. Every throat was furred with sand, and the general himself, holding in his hands a mere drop of water, was an object of envy. "Degenerate soldier," said he; "did you consider me the one man without fortitude in this army? Did I seem so effeminate, so unable to endure the first onset of heat? How much more you yourself deserve this punishment — that you should drink while all around thirst!" So in wrath he emptied out the helmet, and there was water enough for all.

They came to the temple in the land of the savage Garamantians — the only temple which the nations of Africa possess. Men say that Jupiter has an oracular seat there; but Amnion does not wield the thunderbolt, nor is he like our Jupiter, but has curving horns. The African nations have built no rich temple there; nor are there treasure-chambers glittering with Eastern gems. Though the Ethiopians and Indians and wealthy Arabians have no god but Jupiter Ammon, yet the god is still poor, and his dwelling-place has remained for ages unblemished by wealth; and the deity, true to the good old fashion, defends his shrine against Roman gold. But the presence of gods is attested by trees — the only green trees that exist in the whole of Libya. For all the expanse of dry sand that divides burning Berenicis from the lesser heat of Leptis knows nothing of leaves; for Amnion has taken all the trees for himself. These trees owe their origin to a local spring, which binds the powdery soil together, mastering and cementing the sand by its waters. But even here the sun finds no hindrance, when the orb of day stands poised in the zenith: the trees can scarce shelter their own trunks — so small is the compass of the shadow thrown by his rays. It has been ascertained that this is the spot where the circle of the upper solstice strikes the Zodiac, equidistant from the poles. But the shadow of people (if such there be) who are separated from us by the heats of Libya falls to the South, whereas ours falls northwards. The slow-moving Little Bear rises up into their view; and they suppose that the unwetted Wain sinks in the sea, and they have no star overhead which never touches ocean; either pole is equally distant from them; and the flying Zodiac sweeps on all its constellations through the centre of the sky. These do not move obliquely: Scorpius, when emerging from the horizon, is no nearer the perpendicular than Taurus; nor does Aries make over any of his risingtime to Libra; nor does Virgo cause Pisces to set slowly. Sagittarius mounts as high as Gemini, and rainy Capricorn as high as burning Cancer; and Leo mounts no higher than Aquarius.

Before the doors of the temple stood messengers from the East, seeking to learn the future by the warning of horned Jupiter. But these gave place to the Roman general; and his officers begged Cato to test the deity so famous through all the land of Libya, and to pass sentence on a reputation of such long standing. Labienus especially urged him to use the voice divine in order to pry into the future. "Chance," said he, ''and the hazard of our march have put in our way the word of this mighty god and his divine wisdom; his powerful guidance we can enjoy through the Syrtes, and from him discover the issues appointed for the war. I cannot believe that Heaven would reveal mysteries and proclaim truth to any man more than to the pure and holy Cato. Assuredly you have ever ruled your life in accordance with divine law, and you are a follower after God. And now behold! power is given you to speak with Jupiter; ask then concerning the end of Caesar the abhorred, and search into the future condition of our country: will the people be allowed to enjoy their laws and liberties, or has the civil war been fought in vain? Fill your breast with the god's utterance; a lover of austere virtue, you should at least ask now what Virtue is and demand to see Goodness in her visible shape."

Cato, inspired by the god whom he bore hidden in his heart, poured forth from his breast an answer worthy of the oracle itself: "What question do you bid me ask, Labienus? Whether I would rather fall in battle, a free man, than witness a tyranny? Whether it makes no difference if life be long or short? Whether violence can ever hurt the good, or Fortune threatens in vain when Virtue is her antagonist? Whether the noble purpose is enough, and virtue becomes no more virtuous by success? I can answer these questions, and the oracle will never fix the truth deeper in my heart. We men are all inseparable from the gods, and, even if the oracle be dumb, all our actions are predetermined by Heaven. The gods have no need to speak; for the Creator told us once for all at our birth whatever we are permitted to know. Did he choose these barren sands, that a few might hear his voice? did he bury truth in this desert? Has he any dwelling-place save earth and sea, the air of heaven and virtuous hearts? Why seek we further for deities? All that we see is God; every motion we make is God also. Men who doubt and are ever uncertain of future events — let them cry out for prophets: I draw my assurance from no oracle but from the sureness of death. The timid and the brave must fall alike; the god has said this, and it is enough." With these words he departed from the altar, preserving the credit of the temple, and left Ammon, untested by him, for the nations to worship.

Carrying his javelin in his own hand, he marched on foot in front of his gasping soldiers; issuing no order, he taught them by his example to endure hardship; he was never borne at ease on the shoulders of men or seated in a carriage; of sleep he was more sparing than any. When at last a spring was discovered, and the thirsty men must be forced to look on at it, he was the last to drink and stood still till the camp-followers drank. — If great renown is won by true merit, and if virtue is considered in itself and apart from success, then all that we praise in any of our ancestors was Fortune's gift. Who ever gained so great a name by winning battles and shedding the blood of nations? I would choose to lead this triumphant march through the Syrtes and the remotest parts of Libya rather than ascend the Capitol thrice over in Pompey's car, or break Jugurtha's neck.' Behold the true father of his country, a man most worthy to be worshipped by Romans; to swear by his name will never make men blush; and if they ever, now or later, free their necks from the yoke and stand upright, they will make a god of Cato. — Now the heat grew more intense; they trod that region that forms the southern limit ordained for man's habitation, and water grew scarcer. Right in the desert a single spring was discovered, and its waters were copious, but a host of serpents beset it, almost more than the ground could contain: parched asps had their station on its brink, and thirsty dipsades filled the pool itself. When Cato saw that the men would die if they shunned the spring, he thus spoke to them: "Soldiers, the appearance of death that terrifies you is delusive; do not hesitate to swallow the harmless water. The poison of snakes is only deadly when mixed with the blood; their venom is in their bite, and they threaten death with their fangs. There is no death in the cup." He spoke and drank down the dreaded poison; and in all the Libyan desert this was the only spring where he asked to taste the water first.

Why the clime of Libya abounds in such plagues and teems with death, or what bane mysterious Nature has mingled with her soil — this no study and pains of ours avail to discover; but a worldwide legend has taken the place of the true cause and deceived mankind. In the furthest parts of Libya, where the hot earth admits the Ocean heated by the sun when he sets, lay the broad untilled realm of Medusa, daughter of Phorcys — a realm not shaded by the foliage of trees nor softened by the plough, but rugged with stones which the eyes of their mistress had beheld. In her body malignant Nature first bred these cruel plagues; from her throat were born the snakes that poured forth shrill hissings with their forked tongues. It pleased Medusa, when snakes dangled close against her neck; in the way that women dress their hair, the vipers hang loose over her back but rear erect over her brow in front; and their poison wells out when the tresses are combed. These snakes are the only part of ill-fated Medusa that all men may look upon and live. For who ever felt fear of the monster's face and open mouth? Who that looked her straight in the face was suffered by Medusa to die? She hurried on the hesitating stroke of doom and anticipated all fear; the limbs were destroyed while the breath remained; and the spirit, before it went foith, grew stiff beneath the bones. The tresses of the Eumenides raised madness only, Cerberus lowered his hissing when Orpheus played, and Amphitryon's son looked on the hydra when he was conquering it; but this monster was dreaded by Phorcys, her own father and second ruler of the sea, by her mother, Ceto, and even by her sister Gorgons; she had power to threaten sky and sea with strange paralysis, and clothe the world with stone. Birds grew heavy suddenly and fell down from the sky; beasts remained motionless on their rocks; and whole tribes of the neighbouring Ethiopians were turned to statues. No living creature could endure to look on her, and even her serpents bent backward to escape her face. She turned to stone Atlas, the Titan who supports the Pillars of the West; and when the gods in time past dreaded the serpent-legged Giants at Phlegra, she changed the rebels into high mountains, till that awful battle of the gods was won by the Gorgon on the centre of the breast of Pallas. To this land came Perseus, sprung of Danae's womb and the shower of gold; he was borne aloft on the Parrhasian wings of that Arcadian god who invented the lyre and the wrestler's oil. And when, as he flew, he suddenly lifted the scimitar of the Cyllenian — a scimitar red with the blood of another monster; for he had already laid low the guardian of the heifer loved by Jupiter — the maiden Pallas brought aid to her winged brother. She bargained to have the monster's head, and then bade Perseus when he reached the border of the Libyan land, to turn towards the rising sun and fly backwards through the Gorgon's realm; and she put in his left hand a glittering shield of tawny bronze, in which she told him to view Medusa that turned all things to stone. Medusa slept; but the slumber that was to bring upon her the unending rest of death did not overcome her wholly: much of her hair kept watch, and the snakes leaned forward from the tresses to protect the head, while the rest of the hair fell right over the face, covering the closed eyes with darkness and doubling the veil of sleep. Pallas herself directed Perseus in his haste; her right hand guided the shaking scimitar of the Cyllenian which he held with his face averted; and thus she clove the place where the great snaky neck joined the body. How looked the Gorgon then, when her head was severed by the stroke of the curving blade! What fell poison must I suppose was breathed forth by her mouth, and how deadly the discharge from her eyes! Even Pallas could not look upon her; and the eyes would have frozen the face of Perseus, though his back was turned, had not Tritonia ruffled the thick hair and used the snakes to veil the face. Thus he seized the Gorgon's head and flew upwards in safety. He thought to shorten his way and lessen his flight through the air by flying directly above the cities of Europe; but Pallas bade him spare the nations and do no hurt to the cornbearing lands. For who would not look up into the sky, when so mighty a thini flew past? The hero turned his flight with the West wind and passed above Libya, a land entirely uncultivated and fully exposed to sky and sun; the sun's path is directly above it and burns up the soil; in no land does the shadow of the earth rise higher in the sky 'and obstruct the moon's course, if the moon, forgetting her slanting orbit, has moved straight along the Zodiac, without passing to north or south of the shadow. Though that land is barren and those fields give increase to no good seed, yet they drank in poison from the gore of the dripping Medusa head — drank in from that savage blood a ghastly dew, which was made more potent by the heat and burnt into the crumbling sand.

In this land the blood, when it first stirred a head above the sand, sent up the asp whose swollen neck puts men to sleep; in no snake is more poison condensed; for more blood and a drop of clotted venom fell down here. Needing heat, the asp never of its own accord passes into cold regions, but traverses the desert as far as the Nile and no further. But we -shall we never be ashamed of gain? — import the bane of Africa to Italy and have made the asp an article of commerce. And there the huge haemorrhois, which will not suffer the blood of its victim to stay in the veins, opens out its scaly coils; there is the chersydros, created to inhabit the Syrtis, half land and half sea; the chelydrus, whose track smokes as it glides along; the cenchris, which moves ever in a straight line — its belly is more thickly chequered and spotted than the Theban serpentine with its minute patterns; the ammodytes of the same colour as the scorched sand and indistinguishable from it; the cerastes which wanders about as its spine makes it turn; the scytale, which alone can shed its skin while the rime is still scattered over the ground; the dried-up dipsas; the fell amphisbaena, that moves towards each of its two heads; the natrix, which pollutes waters, and the iaculus, that can fly; the parias, that is content to plough a track with its tail; the greedy prester, that opens wide its foaming mouth; the deadly seps, that destroys the bones with the body; and there the basilisk terrifies all the other snakes by the hissing it sends forth, and kills before it bites; it compels all the inferior serpents to keep their distance, and lords it over the empty desert. Dragons also, glittering with the sheen of gold, though worshipped in all other countries as harmless and divine, are made deadly by the heat of Africa: they draw in the air of heaven, birds and all; pursuing whole herds, they coil round mighty bulls and slay them with blows from their tail; nor is the elephant saved by his bulk — all things they consign to destruction, and need no poison to inflict death. Amidst these plagues Cato travels on his waterless way with his hardy soldiers, witnessing the cruel fate of man after man, and strange forms of death accompanied by a trifling wound. So Aulus, a standard-bearer of Etruscan blood, trod on a dipsas, and it drew back its head and bit him. He had hardly any pain or feeling of the bite; the mere appearance of the deadly wound was innocent, nor did the injury threaten any consequences. But lo! the hidden venom rises; devouring flame catches hold of the marrow and kindles the inmost parts with destroying fire. The poison dried up the moisture that surrounds the vital organs, and began to consume the tongue in the parched mouth; no sweat was left to run down over the suffering limbs, and the flow of tears deserted the eyes. The man was on fire; and neither national pride nor the authority of grief-stricken Cato could stop him: boldly he threw down the standard and searched everywhere in his frenzy for the water which the thirsty poison at his heart demanded. If he were plunged into the Tanais, the Rhone, or the Po, he would go on burning, or if he drank of the Nile when it floods the fields. But Libya made death more deadly; and the dipsas, when aided by the heat of that country, deserves less fame for its powers of destruction. Aulus searches for water deep down in the barren sand, and then returns to the Syrtes, and swallows the brine; the sea-water gives him pleasure, but there is not enough of it. The nature of his suffering and his death by poison were unperceived by him: he thought it was merely thirst, and ventured to open his swollen veins with his sword, and fill his mouth with the blood.

Cato ordered the army to march away in haste: none was allowed to learn that thirst could go so far. But a death more dreadful than that of Aulus was full in their view. When a tiny seps stuck in the leg of hapless Sabellus and clung there with barbed fang, he tore it off and pinned it to the sand with his javelin. Though this reptile is small in size, no other possesses such deadly powers. For the skin nearest the wound broke and shrank all round, revealing the white bone, until, as the opening widened, there was one gaping wound and no body. The limbs are soaked with corrupted blood; the calves of the legs melted away, the knees were stripped of covering, all the muscles of the thighs rotted, and a black discharge issued from the groin. The membrane that confines the belly snapped asunder, and the bowels gushed out. The man trickles into the ground, but there is less of him than an entire body should supply; for the fell poison boils down the limbs, and the manner of death reduces the whole man to a little pool of corruption. The whole human frame is revealed by the horrible nature of the mischief: the ligaments of the sinews, the structure of the lungs, the cavity of the chest, and all that the vital organs conceal, — every part is laid bare by death. The shoulders and strong arms turn to water; the neck and head are liquefied; snow does not melt and vanish more quickly before the warm South wind, nor will wax be affected faster by the sun. It is little to say that the flesh was consumed and dripped away in the form of matter: fire also can do this, but no pyre ever made the bones disappear. They also vanish: following the corrupted marrow, they suffer no traces of the quick death to survive. Among the plagues of Africa the seps bears off the palm for destruction: all the rest take life, but it alone carries off the dead body.

But lo! a form of death is seen, the opposite to death by liquefaction. Nasidius, once a tiller of Marsian soil, was smitten by a burning prester. His face grew fiery red, and swelling distended the skin till all shape was lost and all features were confounded; then, as the strong poison spread, the hurt, larger than the whole body or than any human body, was blown out over all the limbs; the man himself was buried deep within his bloated frame, nor could his breast-plate contain the growth of his swollen chest. The foaming cloud of steam pours forth less strongly from a heated caldron; and smaller are the curves of bellying sails in a tempest. The distended limbs can no longer be contained by the body — a round and featureless mass with no distinct parts. The body remained untouched by the beaks of birds, and menaced death to wild beasts that feasted on it; the soldiers dared not consign it to a pyre, but fled from it, leaving it still swelling, with a growth not yet arrested.

But even greater marvels were shown by the serpents of Africa. Tullus, a courageous youth who worshipped Cato, was bitten by a fierce haemorrhois. And as Corycian saffron, when turned on, is wont to spout from every part of a statue at once, so all his limbs discharged red poison together instead of blood. His tears were blood; blood flowed abundantly from all the openings that the body's moisture uses; his mouth and open nostrils were filled with it; he sweated blood; all his limbs streamed with the contents of his veins; his whole body was one wound. Next, a serpent of the Nile froze the blood of hapless Laevus and stopped his heart. By no pain did he confess the wound, but suffered death by sudden unconsciousness, and went down by the way of sleep to join the ghosts of his comrades. The ripened poisons plucked by the wizards of Sais — poisons whose deadly stalks resemble the twigs of Arabia — do not infect the cup with so swift a death.

Behold! a fierce serpent, called by Africa iaculus, aimed and hurled itself at Paulus from a barren tree far off; piercing the head and passing through the temples, it escaped. Poison played no part there: death simultaneous with the wound snatched him away. Men discovered then how slow was the flight of the bullet from the sling, and how sluggish the whizz of the Scythian arrow through the air.

Ill-starred Murrus drove his spear through a basilisk, but that availed him nothing: the poison sped swiftly along the weapon and fastened on his hand. At once he bared his sword and cut it off with one stroke, right from the shoulder; and there he stood safe while his hand was destroyed, watching the semblance of the pitiful death that would have been his own. Who could suppose that the scorpion was fatal, or large enough to inflict speedy death? Yet heaven bears witness' that the scorpion, threatening with its knotted tail and fierce with its sting erect, won the glory of defeating Orion. Who would fear to tread on the lair of the salpuga? Yet even to it the Stygian sisters gave power over their spinning.

So neither bright day nor black night brought rest to the wretched men: they could not trust the ground they lay on. For no piled-up leaves reared up beds for them, nor was straw heaped beneath them: leaving then bodies exposed to death, they lie down upon the ground, and their warmth attracts the snakes that suffer from the cold at night; and for long they warm with their limbs the open mouths that are harmless while the poison is numbed. With only the stars to guide them, they know not in what direction they have marched, or how far; and often they cry aloud this complaint:' Ye gods, restore to us wretches the battle from which we fled: give us back Pliarsalia. We swore to use the sword: why then do we suffer a coward's death? The vipers fight in Caesar's place, and the adders win the civil war. Fain would we go to the torrid zone, where the ecliptic is burnt by the sun's steeds; we had rather impute our death to the sky's agency and be killed by heaven. I do not blame Africa, nor Nature: Nature had taken from men and assigned to serpents a region so fertile of monsters: the soil would bear no corn, and she condemned it to lie untilled; she intended that the poisonous fangs should find no men to bite. We are trespassers in a land of serpents: let us pay the penalty to that unknown Power which loathes the traffic of nations, and therefore fenced off a region with a scorching zone on one hand and the shifting Syrtes on the other, and set death in the strip between the two. Through his secret retreat civil war marches on; and the soldiers, sharing his knowledge of this mysterious region, beat on the gates that shut in the West. Worse things perhaps await us when we enter there: fire and hissing water meet, and the sky sinks lower down; but, on our present course, there lies no land more remote than the gloomy kingdom of Juba, known to us by report alone. Perhaps we shall yet regret this land of serpents: this clime has one consolation — that life is still found here. I do not ask for my native fields, nor for Europe and Asia that see another sun; but where is Africa? In what quarter of the sky or region of the earth did I come out of it? But lately there was winter's frost at Gyrene; has a short march had power to invert the order of the year? We are marching towards the opposite pole, evicted from the world, and turning our backs for the South wind to strike; perhaps Rome itself is now beneath my feet. To comfort us in our doom, we ask that our foes may come here, and that Caesar may follow the line of our flight." Thus stubborn endurance throws off the burden of its complaints. They are constrained to bear such hardships by the heroism of their leader, who keeps guard lying on the bare sand and challenges destiny every hour. Though but one, he is present at every death-struggle; wherever they call him, he hastens and confers a mighty benefit, greater even than life, by giving them courage to die; and the soldier was ashamed, when watched by Cato, to die with a groan upon his lips. Against himself no plague could have any power. He conquered calamities in the hearts of others, and proved by his mere presence that sore pain was powerless.

Reluctantly and late did Fortune, wearied of inflicting such dangers, give aid to their wretched plight. Of the races that inhabit the earth there is but one, the Psylli of Marmarica, who are unhurt by the fell bite of serpents. Their voice has the efficacy of powerful drugs; their very blood is protected and can keep out all poison, even without the use of charms. The nature of their land has bidden them live unliarmed in the midst of serpents. By making their abode where poison surrounds them, they have gained this advantage, that death has granted them a safe-conduct. Great is their reliance upon their blood: whenever a new-born babe falls to earth, fearing some contamination of foreign breed, they test the suspected infant by means of a venomous asp. As the bird of Jove turns his un feathered eaglets, when hatched from the warm egg, to face the rising sun — those who prove able to endure the beams, and can gaze without flinching straight at the light, are kept alive for the service of the god; but those whom the sun has mastered are neglected — so the Psylli are convinced that the breed is true, if the babe shrinks not to touch snakes and makes a plaything of the serpent given him. And that race, not satisfied with safety for themselves, keep guard for strangers and aid mankind against deadly monsters. They followed the Roman army now; and, as soon as the leader ordered the tents to be pitched, they began by purifying the sand within the circuit of the rampart with spells and charms to banish the snakes. The limits of the camj) were surrounded by a fire of fumigation, in which elder-wood crackled and foreign galbanum bubbled; the tamarisk of scanty leaf. Eastern costos, powerful all-heal, Thessalian centaury, fennel, and Sicilian thapsos made a noise in the flame; and the natives also burned larchwood, and southernwood whose smoke snakes loathe, and horns of deer — deer whose birthplace is far from Africa. Thus the soldiers were protected at night. But if any man was smitten by day and near death, then the wondrous powers of the people were displayed, and there was a mighty battle between the Psylli and the poison absorbed. The native begins by marking the part with the touch of his spittle; this arrests the venom and confines it to the wound; and then his foaming lips rehearse full many a spell with unbroken muttering; for the speed of the ailment suffers him not to draw breath, nor does death permit a moment's silence. Often indeed the bane, after it has lodged in the blackened marrow, is expelled by incantation; but, whenever the poison is slow to obey, and resists when it is summoned forth and commanded to come out, then the healer leans over and licks the bloodless place, sucking up the venom and draining the limbs with his teeth, until victorious he drags out the death from the cold body, and spits it out of his mouth. And it is a simple thing for the Psylli to tell by the taste of the poison what kind of snake it was whose bite the healer has mastered.

So, relieved at last by their aid, the Roman soldiers wandered far and wide over the barren plains. Twice had the moon lost her light and twice regained it, while her rising and setting witnessed Cato lost in the desert. But now he felt the sand grow ever firmer under his feet, and the soil of Africa became solid ground again; and now the leaves of trees began here and there to rise in the distance, and rude huts raised with piles of straw. How the sufferers rejoiced to have reached a better country, when first they saw facing them fierce lions only! Leptis was the nearest city; and in those peaceful quarters they spent all winter, unvexed by storms or heat.

When Caesar had taken his fill of the slaughter and left Pharsalia, he cast off the burden of all other cares and turned his attention wholly to his son-inlaw. In vain he followed Pompey's scattered traces over the land, and then report guided him to the sea. He sailed along the Thracian straits and the waters made famous by the lovers, and past Hero's turrets on the melancholy shore where Helle, tidaughter of Nephele, robbed a sea of its name. Nowhere does a smaller stretch of water sever Asia from Europe, although the channel is narrow by which the Euxine divides Byzantium from the, oyster-beds of Calchedon, and the opening is small 'by which the Propontis carries in its course the waters of the Euxine. Emulous of ancient glory, Caesar visited the sands of Sigeum and the stream of Simois, Rhoeteum famous for the Grecian's grave, and the dead who owe so much to the poet's verse.

He walked round the burnt city of Troy, now only a famous name, and searched for the mighty remains of the wall that Apollo raised. Now barren woods and rotting tree-trunks grow over the palace of Assaracus, and their worn-out roots clutch the temples of the gods, and Pergama is covered over with thorn-brakes: the very ruins have been destroyed. He sees Hesione's rock and the secret marriage-chamber of Anchises in the wood; the cave in which Paris sat as umpire, and the spot from which the boy was carried off to the sky; he sees the peak on which the Naiad Oenone lamented. A legend clings to every stone. The stream trickling through the dry dust, which he crossed without knowing it, was the Xanthus. When he stepped carelessly over the rank grass, the native bade him not to walk over the body of Hector. When scattered stones preserving no appearance of sanctity, lay before them, the guide asked: "Do you mean to pass over the altar of Zeus Herceos?'

How mighty, how sacred is the poet's task! He snatches all things from destruction and gives to mortal men immortality. Be not jealous, Caesar, of those whom fame has consecrated; for, if it is permissible for the Latin Muses to promise aught, then, as long as the fame of Smyrna's bard endures, posterity shall read my verse and your deeds; our Pharsalia shall live on, and no age will ever doom us to oblivion.

When Caesar had satisfied his eyes with venerable antiquity, he reared in haste an altar of piled-up sods, and uttered prayers and vows over the incense-burning flame; and both were fulfilled." All ye spirits of the dead, who inhabit the ruins of Troy; and ye household gods of my ancestor Aeneas, who now dwell safe in Lavinium and Alba, and upon their altar still shines fire from Troy; and thou, Pallas, famous pledge of security, whom no male eye may behold in thy secret shrine — lo! I, most renowned descendant of the race of Iulus, here place incense due upon your altars, and solemnly invoke you in your ancient abode. Grant me prosperity to the end, and I will restore your people: with grateful return the Italians shall rebuild the walls of the Phrygians, and a Roman Troy shall rise." When he had spoken thus, Caesar went back to his ships and spread full sails to favouring winds. The gale drove him on, and he was eager to make up for his delay at Troy, so that he sailed past wealthy Asia and left Rhodes unvisited in its foaming sea. The West wind never slackened the cordage of the ships until the seventh night revealed the coast of Egypt by the flame of Pharos. But day dawned and veiled that beacon of night before he sailed into the quiet waters. There he found the shore filled with disturbance, and heard voices that muttered in uncertainty and confusion. Therefore he kept his ships away from land fearing to trust himself to a treacherous kingdom. But a minion of the king, bearing his master's ghastly gift, put out into midstream; he carried the head of Magnus wrapped in linen of Egypt, and first he tried with infamous speech to put a fair face on foul deeds: "Conqueror of the world and mightiest of the Roman race, you are made safe, though you are ignorant of it as yet, by the slaying of your son-in-law. The Macedonian king spares you the toil of war by land and sea, and presents you with the one thing lacking to the victory of Pharsalia. The civil war has been won for you without your presence; when Magnus sought to rebuild the fortunes ruined at Pharsalia, he was laid low by our sword. By so dear a pledge have we bought you, Caesar; by this blood our treaty with you was concluded. We give you the kingdom, to be yours without bloodshed; we give you power over the Nile's waters; we give all that you yourself would have given for Pompey's head; reckon us then as adherents worthy of your army, because Fortune willed that we should have such power against your kinsman. Nor must you undervalue our service, because we conferred it by an execution that cost us nothing. Pompey was our friend of old; he had restored the throne to our king's banished father. Need I say more? You must find a name for this great deed; or else ask what the world says of it. If crime it be, then you admit a greater debt to us, because your own hand is not guilty of the crime." With these words he took off the covering from the head, and held it in his hands. By now the features, relaxed by death, had changed the aspect of that familiar face. When Caesar first saw it, he did not condemn the gift nor turn away: his eyes were fixed upon the face till he could be sure. Then, when he saw the proof of the crime, and thought it safe at last to be the loving kinsman, he shed crocodile tears and forced out groans while his heart rejoiced. By tears alone was he able to hide his obvious delight; and thus he belittles the king's horrid service, preferring to mourn the severed head of his kinsman rather than owe obligation for it. Though he had trampled on corpses of senators with face unmoved, and had beheld dry-eyed the field of Pharsalia, to Magnus alone he dares not deny the tribute of tears. Oh, harsh decree of Fortune! Did you, Caesar, pursue with impious arms this man, for whom you had yet to weep? Does the bond of kinship appeal to you at last? Do your daughter and her child at last bid you grieve? Do you believe that this grief will serve your cause among the nations who love the name of Pompey? Perhaps you are jealous of Ptolemy, resenting that another had such power against the person of Magnus, his prisoner; and you complain that war's vengeance has been lost, and that your kinsman has been snatched from the disposal of his haughty conqueror. Whatever the impulse that forced you to weep, it was far removed from sincere affection. Is this forsooth the purpose that hurries you over land and sea — that your kinsman may not be slain in some secret corner? Well is it that the power to pass sentence on him was taken from you. How deep the stain cruel Fortune spared the honour of Rome when she would not suffer a traitor like you to have mercy on Magnus while he yet lived. — Yet Caesar ventured to speak deceitful words, and sought to gain belief for the sorrow feigned by his brow.

'Take from my sight the ghastly gift of the king you serve. Your crime has done more disservice to Caesar than to Pompey: you have taken from me the one privilege of civil war — the power of granting life to the defeated. If the king of Egypt did not hate his sister, I might have made a fitting return for such a gift by sending him the head of Cleopatra. Why did he draw the sword independently and thrust his weapon into the conflict of Romans? Did I then on the field of Pharsalia grant licence to the Macedonian steel? Was it my object that your rulers should do what they liked.'' Shall I, who could not suffer Pompey to rule Rome together with me, suffer Ptolemy as a partner.' In vain have I convulsed the world with civil war, if there is any authority on earth save mine, if any land owns more than one lord. I might have steered the Roman prows away from your coast; but care for my reputation prevented me: it might seem that I did not condemn bloodstained Egypt, but rather feared her. Do not fancy that you deceive the conqueror: the same reception on the shore was prepared for me too, and I may thank Pharsalia that my head is not carried like his. The risk we ran in warfare was really greater than could be apprehended: I feared only exile, and the threats of my kinsman and Rome; but the penalty of defeat was — Ptolemy. Yet spare his youth and pardon his crime. Let your master learn that pardon is the highest reward this shedding of blood can earn. You must lay in the grave the head of the great general, and not in such a way that the earth merely hides your guilt: give incense to fitting sepulture, ask pardon of the head, collect the ashes strewn on the shore, and let the scattered remains meet in a single urn. Let the dead man be aware that his kinsman is here; let him hear the voice of my love and sorrow. Because he preferred all things to me and would rather owe his life to his Egyptian client, therefore the nations have been deprived of a joyful day, and the world has lost our reconciliation. My prayer found no favour with Heaven — my prayer that I might lay down successful arms and then embrace Pompey; that I might beg of him to love me as of old, and to go on living; that I might ask for myself to be his equal; and I should have been content with this, as a sufficient reward for my hardships. Then, with peace and confidence between us, I should have enabled him to pardon Heaven for his defeat, and he would have enabled Rome to pardon me." Thus he spoke, but found none to share his weeping; nor did the hearers believe his complaint; they hid their sorrow and veiled their feelings with a mask of rejoicing; though Caesar mourns, they dare — how gracious the privilege! — to look with cheerful faces at that sight of blood and crime.