Book II

The Argument
Th' author complaines that future fates are known,
The sorrow of affrighted Rome is showne.
An old man calls to minde the civill crimes
Of Marius, and Syla's bloudy times.
Brutus with Cato does conferre; to whom
Chast Martia come from dead Hortensius Tombe
Againe is married in a funerall dresse.
Pompey to Capua flyes. What Fortresses
By Caesar are surprisde; who without fight,
Puts Sylla, Scipio, Lentulus to flight,
And takes Domitius at Corfinium.
Pompey's Oration. From Brundusium
He sends his eldest Sonne to bring from farre
The Easterne Monarchs to this civill Warre.
But there besiedg'd by Caesar scarse can he
Scape safe away by nights obscurity.

NOw the gods wrath was seene: playne signes of warre
The world had given: forespeaking nature farre
From her true course, tumultuous monsters made,
Proclaiming woe, Oh Ioue, why dost thou adde
This care to wretched men, to let them see,
By direpo•tents their following misery?
Whether the worlds Creator when he did
From the darke formlesse Chaos light divide,
Stablisht eternall Lawes, to which he ty'de
The creatures, and himselfe, and did divide
The worlds set ages by vnchanged fate:
Or whither (nothing preordain'd) the state
Of mortall things chance rules: yet let that be
Secret that thou entendst: let no eye see
His future Fate, but hope as well as feare.
When the sad City had conceiu'd how deare
Heavens truth would cost the world: her generall woe,
Proclaim'de a Fast: the mourning Senate goe
Like the Plebeians clad: the Consuls ware
No purple Roabes: no words their griefe declare:
Mute is their sorrow; such a silent woe
A dying man's amazed houshold show,
Before his funerall conclamation,
Before the mothers lamentation
Call on the servants weeping; but when she
Feeles his stiffe limmes, dead lookes, and standing eye,
Then tis no feare but griefe: downe she doth fall,
Howling vpon him. So Romes Matrons all
Leaue off their habits, and attires of grace,
And in sad troopes the Altars doe embrace.
One weepes before the gods; one he• torne lockes
Throwes in the sacred porch: another knocks
Her breast against the ground: the god, whose eares
Were vide to prayers, now onely howling heares:
Nor to Ioues temple did they all repaire:
They part the gods: no altar wants his share
Of envy-making mothers: but one there
Her pl•int-brusde armes, & moystned cheekes did teare
Now, now, quoth she, oh mothers teare your haire,
Now beat your breasts; doe not this griefe deferre
Till the last ills: while the Cheifes doubtfull are;
We may lament: when one is conquerer,
We must reioyce; thus griefe it selfe did mooue.
Such just complaints against the powers aboue
The Souldiers make, that to each army turne:
Oh miserable men, that were not borne
When Carthage warr'de, at Trebia's overthrow,
Or Cannae's mortall field; nor beg we now
For peace, oh gods; stirre each fierce Nation,
Raise mighty Cities: let the world in one
Conspire: let Median powers from Susae come,
Nor let cold Ister hold his Scythians from
This war: the Suevians from the Northren clime
Let Albis send, and the rude head of Rhine:
Make vs all peoples foes, so not our owne:
Here let the Daci, there the Getes come on:
Let one his forces against Spaine employ;
Gainst th'Easterne bowes let tothers Egles fly:
Let Rome haue war with all; or if our names
You gods would ruine, let the sky to flames
Dissolv'd fall downe, and quite consume our coasts;
Or thunder strike both Captaines with their hosts
While they be guiltlesse, Ioue; seeke they to try
With so much mischeife who Romes Lord shall be?
'Twere scarse worth civill war that none should reigne;
Thus then did bootlesse piety complaine.
But the old men mov'd with particular griefe
Curse their old age, and ill prolonged life,
Their yeares reserv'd againe to civill war:
One seeking presidents for their great feare;
Such woes, quoth he, the gods intended vs,
When after both his triumphs, Marius
His flying head among the reedes and sedge
Once hid; the Fennes then cover'd Fortunes pledges
But taken he endur'd a prison's stinch,
And his old limmes did iron shackles pinch.
To dye a Consull, happy, and in Rome
Before hand suffered be for guilt to come,
Death fled him oft, and power to shed his blood
In vaine a Cimbrian. had, who trembling stood:
Offring a stroke, his faultring hand the sword
Let fall; his dungeon did strange light afford.
Th' affrighted Cimbrian furyes seem'd to see,
And heard what Marius afterward should be:
Thou canst not touch this life to fate he owes
Thousands of liues, ere he his owne can loose:
Cease thy vaine fury: if you Cimbrians wou'd
Revenge on Rome your slaughtred Nations blood,
Saue this old man, whom their sterne will to serue
Not the gods loue, but anger did preserue:
A cruell and fit man, when Fate contriu'de
Romes ruine: he on Libyan coasts arriu'de
Wandred through empty cottages vpon
Triumphed Iugurth's spoil'd dominion,
And Punicke ashes troad: each others state
Carthage and Marius there commiserate,
And both cast downe, both now the gods excus'd:
But into Marius minde that ayre infusde
A Libian rage; when Fortune turn'de againe,
Slaues from their Lords, & prisoners frō the chaine
He free'de, and arm'de: no man his Ensignes bore,
But who the badge of some knowne mi•chief• wore,
And brought guilt to the campe: oh Fates how sad
A day was that, when conquering Marius had
Surpris'de the walls? how swift flew cruell death?
Senators with Plebeians lost their breath.
The sword rag'd vncontrol'de: no breast was free:
The temples stainde with blood, and slippery
Were the red stones with slaughter, no age then
Was free, the neere spent time of aged men
They hasten'de on; nor sham'de with bloody knife
To cut the Infants new span thread of life.
What crime had lnfants done to merit death?
But 'twas enough that they could loose their breath.
Fury directs them, guilty liues to take
A lone, seem'd too remisse; for number sake
Some fall; one cutt' off heads he does not know,
Whilst empty-handed hee's a sham'd to goe.
No hope to scape, but kisse the bloud-staind hand
Of Marius; though a thousand swords did stand
Ready, base People, did you not disdaine
At such a price a life, though long, to gaine,
Much lesse a time so short, so troublesome,
And breath but respited till Sylla come?
Who now has time to waile Plebejan fates?
Scarce can we thine, braue Babim, whom the hates
Of the fierce multitude in pieces tore:
Nor thine Antonius that thy death before
Couldst prophesie, whose gray-head bleeding yet
On Marius table the rude Souldier sett.
Torne are the headlesse Crassi, impious wood
Is stain'd with sacred Tribunitiall blood.
Thou Scavola that didst a kisse disdaine
Of Marius hand, at Vestaes Altar slaine,
And never quenched fires; but ages drought
Left thee not so much blood; as would put cut
The flame. His seventh Consulship now come,
Old Marius dies: a man, that had orecome
Fortunes worst hate, and her best loue enjoy'de,
And tasted all that Fates for man provide.
How many neere the Colline port were kill'd,
How many Carcasses on heapes were pil'de
At Sacriportum? where almost her seate
Had the worlds E•pire chang'd, and S•mnis yet
Hop'd deeper farre to wound the Roman name,
Then at the Caudine Forkes; then Sylla came
With a revenge more bloody: His sword reft
Rome of that little blood before was left,
Whilst cutting off (cruell Chirurgian)
Th' affected parts, too farre his lancing hand
Followes the sore; first guilty men are slaine,
At last when none but guilty could remayne
Their hates take greater freedome; forth they breake
Without the curbe of any law; they wreake
Their private angers now: for Sylla's sake
All is not done: for every one fulfills
Their owne blood thirsty, and revengefull wills
Pretending his command; with impious steele
Servants their masters, sonnes their fathers kill;
Which sonne shall be the parricide by strife
They seeke: a brother sels a brothers life.
Some hide themselues in tombes: liue men remaine
Among the dead: beasts dennes can scarse containe
The flying multitude; one strangled dyes
By his owne hand; one from a precipice
Dyes broken with the fall, preventing so
The tyranny of his insulting foe.
His funerall pyle one making, ere he dyes
Leapes in, and whilest he may, those rites enjoyes.
Great Captaines heads born throgh the streets on spears
Are pil'de vp in the Market; there appeares
Each secret murder; not so many heads
In stables of the tyrant Diomed's
Thrace saw; nor Lybia on Antaeus wall,
Nor mourning Greece in Oenomaus hall.
Limmes putrifi'de, which all knowne markes had left
Worne out by eating time, by fearefull theft
The wretched parents take, and beare away:
My selfe (I still remember that sad day)
Desirous those forbidden rites to do
To my slaine brothers head, searcht to and fro
The carkasses of Sylla's peace, to see
What trunke 'mongst all, would with that head agree.
What neede I tell how Catulus was paide
With blood, how Marius a sad offring made
And wretched sacrifice before the tombe
Of his perchance vnwilling foe did come.
His mangled joynts, as many wounds as limmes
We saw: yet no wound deadly given him
Through his spoyl'd body, an example rare
Of cruelty, a dying life to spare.
His hands chopt off, his tongue cut out as yet
Wagg'de, and the ayre did with dumbe motions beat:
One slits his nostrils, one cuts off his eares;
His eyes out last of all another teares,
Left in till then his mangled limmes to see,
A thing past credit, one poore man should be
The subject of so many cruelties.
A lumpe deform'd his mangled body lyes
So strangely slaughter'd, not disfigur'de more
Floates a torne shipwrackt carkasse to the shore
From the mid-Sea. The fruit of all your toile
Why doe you loose, and Marius face so spoile,
That none can now discerne him; 'twere more neede
Silla should know him to applaud the deed.
Praneste's fortune saw her men all dye
In one death's space, the flowre of Italy,
The onely youth of Latium sadly slaine
Did wretched Romes Ovilia distaine.
So many men to cruell death at once
Oft Earthquakes, Shipwrackes, or infections
Of Aire or Earth, Famine, or Warre hath sent:
Never before a doome of punishment
The souldiers throng'de could scarcely weild at all
Their killing hands, the slaine could hardly fall
Supported so; but number did oppresse
The dying people, and dead carcasses
Encreasde the slaughter, falling heavily
On living bodies; his strange cruelty
Secure and fearelesse Sylla from aboue
Beheld▪ nor could so many thousands mooue
His heart, by him commanded all to dye.
I' th' Tyrthene gulfe their pil'de vp bodies lye.
The first throwne in vnder the water lay,
The last on bodies; strongest ships they stay,
And Tiber parted by that fatall bay
Sends one part to the Sea; carkasses stay
The other; till the violent streame of blood
Enforc'd the waters course to Tibers flood.
Nor can the bankes the River now containe▪
But ore the fields the bodies floate againe
Rowling at last into the Tyrrhene maine,
On the blew waues it sets a purple staine.
For this did Silla merit to be stil'de
Happy, and saviour, and in Mars his field
To be interr'de? but these blacke mischiefes are
To be endurd againe; this cruell war
Will the same order, and conclusion take,
But feares more horrid suppositions make,
And in this war mankind shall suffer more.
The exil'de Maris sought but to restore
Themselues againe; and Sylla's victories
Sought but the ruine of his enemies.
Their aymes are higher; both long powerfull take
Vp armes; and neither civill war would make
To doe as Sylla did. Thus wayles old age,
Remembring past, and fearing future rage.
This terror strooke not noble Brutus heart,
Nor in this frightfull stir was he a part
Of the lamenters; but at midnight he
(When now her waine Parrhasian Helice
Turn'de) at his unkle Catoes no large house
Knockes; him he findes waking and anxious,
For Rome, and the whole State a fearefull man,
Not for himselfe; when Brutus thus began.
Banisht, and flying vertue's onely hold,
And refuge, which no storme of fortune could
Ere reaue thee off? guide thou this wavering heart,
And to my thoughts a certaine strength impart
At Caesars side, or Pompeye's others stand,
Ore Brutus none but Cato shall command.
Wilt thou keepe peace, and in this doubtfull age
Vnshaken stand? or mingling with the rage
Of the mad rout, this civill war approue?
Others to this sad war bad causes mooue:
One his stain'd house in peace, and feare of Lawes,
Another fights for want, mingling that cause
With the worlds wracke; blind fury leades on none▪
All drawne with gainefull hopes; but thee alone
The war it selfe affects▪ What bootes it thee
T'haue beene so long from the times vices free?
This onely meede of thy long vertue take,
The warres find others guilty, thee they make.
But let not wicked war haue power t' employ
These hands, O gods, let not thy lavelin flye
'Mongst others in a thicke skie darkning cloude:
Let not such vertue be in vaine bestowde.
The warres whole chance will cast it selfe on thee.
Who would not dye vpon that sword, and be
Cato's offence, though slaine by another hand?
Thou might'st alone, and quiet better stand,
As starres in heaven still vnshaken are,
When lightnings, stormes and tempest rend the ayre,
Nearer to earth: Windes rage, and Thunders spight▪
Plaine grounds must suffer; when Olympus height
Plac'd by the gods aboue the cloudes, •s free;
Small things jarres vexe, the great ones quiet be▪
'Twill glad proud Caesar, in this war, to heare
So great a Citizen has deign'de t'appeare:
Nor will it grieue him that great Pompeye's side
Is chose, not his; 'twill be enough his pride
That Cato has approu'd of civill war.
Romes Senate, and both Consuls armed are
Vnder a private man, and many moe
Of note and worth, to these adde Cato too
Vnder command of Pompey, none liues free
In all the world but Caesar; but if we
Doe for our countreyes, Lawes, and freedome goe
To war; then Brutus is not Caesars foe,
Nor Pompeys, but the Conquerours, who ere:
Thus Brutus spake; when for an inside cleare
These sacred words drew Cato; We confesse,
Brutus, that civill war's great wickednesse:
But where the Fates will leade, vertue shall goe
Securely on; to make me guilty now
Shall be the gods owne crime, who would endure
To see the world dissolue, himselfe secure?
Who could look on, when heaven should fal, earth faile,
And the confusde world perish, and not waile?
Shall vnknowne Nations in our Roman war
Engage themselues? and forreine Kings from far
Crossing the Seas? and shall I rest alone?
Farre be it, gods, the Daci, and Getes should mone
Their losses in Rome's fall, and Cato lie
Secure: as parents, when their children die,
In person mourne, build vp with their owne hands
The funerall pyle, and light the fatall brands;
I will not leaue thee, Rome, till I embrace
Thy hearse, and liberty, thy dying face,
And fleeting Ghost with honour doe attend.
So let it goe; let th' angry gods intend
A compleate Romane sacrifice; no blouds
Will we defraud the war of; would the gods
Of heaven, and Ereb•• would now strike dead
For all our crimes this one condemned head.
Devoted Decius by his foes could fall:
Me let both Roman hosts assault, and all
Rhines barbarous troupes; let me i'th midst receiue
All darts, all wounds, that this sad war can giue.
Let me redeeme the people: let my Fate
What ere Romes manners merit, expiate,
Why should the easily conquer'd people die,
That can endure a Lord? Strike onely me,
Me with all swords, and Piles, that all in vaine
Our wronged lawes, and liberties maintaine:
This throate shall peace to Italy obtaine.
After my death he that desires to raigne,
Need not make war: but now let's follow all
The common Ensignes, Pompey generall.
Though he orecome, 'tis not yet knowne that he
Meanes to himselfe the worlds sole Monarchy.
Ile helpe him conquer, lest he should suppose
He conquers for himselfe. From this arose
Young Brutus courage: this graue speech too farre
Made the young man in loue with civill war.
Now Phoebus driving the cold darke away,
They heard a noyse at doore; chast Martiae
Come from Hortensius tombe, stood knocking there:
Once given a Mayd in marriage happier:
But when the fruit, and price of wedlocke she
Three births had payd: another Family
To fill, was fruitfull Martia lent a Bridle,
To joyne two houses by the Mothers side.
Now when Hortensius ashes vined rest,
She in her funerall robes, beating her breast
With often strokes and tearing her loose haire,
Sprinkled with ashes from the Sepulchre,
To please sowre Cato, with a gesture sad
Thus speakes: Whilst blood, & childing strength I had,
Cato, I did thy will, two husbands tooke:
Now worne away, and with oft travell broke
I come, no more to part: grant now our old
Wedlocks vntasted rites: grant me to hold
The empty name of wife, and on my Tombe
Write Cato's Martia, lest in time to come
It may be ask'de whether I left the bed
Of my first Lord bestow'de or banished.
Nor c•me I now prosperity to share,
But to partake thy labours, and sad care.
Let me attend the Campe; leaue me not heere
In peace, Cornelia to the war so neere.
These speaches mou'd the man; though these times are
Vnfit for Hymen, when Fate cals to war,
Without vaine pompe to tye a nuptiall knot
In the gods presence, he refuses not.
No garlands on the marriage doores were worne▪
Nor linnen fillets did the posts adorne:
No bridall Tapers shone: no bed on high
With Ivory steps, and gold embrodery:
No Matron in a towred crowne, that led
The Bride, forbid her on the threshold tread:
No yellow veile cover'd her face, to hide
The fearefull blushes of a modest Bride:
No precious girdle guirded her loose Gowne:
No Chaine adornd her necke; nor linnen downe
From off her shoulders her nak'de armes orespred;
So as she was, funerall habited,
Even like her Sonnes, her Husband she embrac'de,
A funerall robe aboue her purple plac'de.
The vsuall Iests were sparde: the husband wants,
After the Sabine vse, his marriage tants.
None of their kindred met; the knot they tye
Silent: content with Brutus auspicy.
His ore-growne haire he from that sacred face
Shaues not, nor will in his sad lookes embrace
One joy (since first that wicked war begun
He lets his vnshorne hoary lockes fall downe
Ore his rough front, and a sad beard to hide
His cheekes▪ for he alone from factions free'd,
Or hate, had leasure for mankinde to weepe)
Nor in his bridall bed would Cato sleepe,
Even lawfull loue could continence reject.
These were his manners, this sowre Cato's sect,
To keepe a meane, hold fast the end, and make
Nature his guide, dye for his Countreys sake.
For all the world, not him, his life was lent
He thinks; his feasts but hungers banishment;
His choisest buildings were but fence for cold:
His best attire rough gownes, such as of old
Was Roman weare; and nothing but desire
Of progeny in him warm'd Venus sire:
Father, and husband both to Rome was he,
Servant to justice, and strict honesty:
For th'publike good, in none of Catoes acts
Creepes selfe borne pleasure, or her share exacts
Now with his fearefull troopes Pompey the great
To Trojan Capua fled, mean't there to seate
The war: his scatter'd strength there to vnite,
And his aspiring foes assaults to meete.
Where Apenine rais'd somewhat higher fills
The midd'st of Italy with shady hills?
Then which no part of earth dooes swell more high
In any place, nor neerer meetes the sky.
The mountaine twixt two seas extended stands
Th'vpper, and lower sea: on the right hand
Is Pisae seated on the Tyrrhene shore:
Ancona on the left vex'd evermore
With stormes and windes that from Dalmatia blow.
Heere from vast fountaines doe great rivers flow,
And into th'double seas divorce doe slide
In severall channells; downe on the left side
Metaurus swift, and strong Crustumium flow,
Isapis ioyn'd t'Isaurus, Sonna too
And Aufidus the Adriaticke beates:
Eridanus, then which no river gets
More ground; whole forrests rowles into the sea
Oreturn'd: and robs of rivers Italy.
They say that Poplars on this rivers side
First grew, when Phaeton amisse did guide
The day; his wandring Chariot burnt the skie,
And scorcht the earth: all rivers then were drye
But this; whose streames did Phoebus fires withstand,
Not lesse then Nile, if on playne Libyan sand
It flow'd like Nile: not lesse then Ister 'twere,
Vnlesse that Ister running every where
The streames that fall into all seas, does meet,
And not alone the Scythian Ocean greet
From springs, that downe the hils right side doe flow;
Rutuba, Tyber, swift Vulturnus grow:
Night-ayre infecting Sarnus, Liris too
Runnes, strength'ned by the Vestine rivers, through
Maricars wooddy lands: Siler that glides
Through Salerne's fields; Macra whose Ford abides
No ships, into the sea neere Luna fall.
The hill (where he in length extended all
Meeting the bending Alpes France oversees)
Tot• 'Vmbrians, Marsians, and Sabellians is
Fertile, and does with wooddy armes embrace
The people of the ancient Latine race:
Nor leaues he Italy, before he end
In the Scyllaean cavernes, and extend
Vnto Lacinian Iuno's house his hill.
Longer he was then Italy, vntill
The sea divided him, and water forc'd
The land; then when two meeting seas divorc'd
What was conjoyn'd, part of the hill the sea
Gaue to Pelorus in Sicilia.
Caesar now mad of war loues not to finde,
But make his way by blood, nor is his minde
Ioy'd that in Italy he sees no foes,
No Countreys guarded from him, meetes no blowes:
But counts his journey lost; desires to breake
Not open gates, and loues his march to make
By fire and sword, not sufferance; thinkes it shame
To tread permitted paths, and beare the name
Of Citizen The Italian Cities are
Doubtfull which way to leane; and though when warre
Makes her first fear'd approach, all easily
Will yeeld: with Bulwarkes yet they fortify
Their walls, dig trenches round about below:
Vast stones and weapons from aboue to throw
They get, and engines on their walles provide.
The People most encline to Pompey's side:
But faith with terrour fights: so when we see
The South-windes horrid blastes possesse the sea.
The waues all follow him, till by the stroke
Of Aeolus his Speare, the open'd Rocke
To the rough seas lets out the Fasterne winde:
They still retaine, though new assaults they finde,
The old, though th'Eastwind th'aire with darke stormes fill,
The Ocean d•es the Southwind challenge still.
But peoples minds feare changes easily,
And Fortune swayes their wavering loyaltie.
By Libo's flight Etruria's naked left,
And Vmbria, Thermus gone, of freedome rest:
Sylla farre differing from his fathers fame
In civill war, flyes hearing Caesars name.
Varus, before the first assault forsakes
Auximum's walles, and flight disorder'd takes
Ore rockes and desarts: Le•tuius is beate
From As•ulum: the foes pursuing get
His men; that now alone the Captaine flies
With empty Standards rest of Companies.
Thou Scipio, leau'st the trust committed thee
Luceria's Fort, though in thy Campe there be
The valiantst Youth, whom feare of Parthian war
From Caesar tooke, whom Pompey to repaire
His French losse, lent him; and while he thought good
Bestow'd on Caesar th'vse of Romane blood.
But faire Corfinium's well fenc'd walls containe
Thee, slout Domitius: in thy Campe remaine,
Those that arraigned Milo did inclose.
He when a cloude of dust from far arose,
And on bright Armes the Sunne reflecting shone,
And glittering swords, cries, run my Souldiers, run
Downe to the river, drowne the bridge, and thou
Encreas'd from all thy empti'd fountaines now
Rise swelling streame: breake downe and beate away
This scatter'd bridge: there let the war now stay:
Let thy bankes make our furious enemy
Linger a while: weele count it victory
That Caesar first staies here. This said, in vaine
He sends swift Cohorts from the towne amaine.
For Caesar first, when from the fields he spy'de.
His passage lost by bridge, enraged cry'de,
Cannot your walles, base cowards, shelter you
Enough, but that the fields and rivers too
Must helpe? Ile passe, through Ganges in my way
Rowl'd all his strength: no streame shall Caesar stay
Since Rubicon is past; goe winged Horse,
Second bold foote, the bridge now falling force.
Thus spake he: foorth the winged Horse-men ride,
And like a storme of Haile on tother side
The water, their well brandisht Iavelins light:
Caesar then takes the river, puts to flight
The Souldiers all that were in station
To guard the banke, and safe before the towne
Is come: when straight vp lofty workes are throwne,
And Engines rais'd the walles to batter downe.
When lo (oh shame of war) opening the gate
The Souldiers brought their Captaine bound, and at
The feet of his proud Foe present: but he
With lookes not shaming high Nobility
Offers his throate vndaunted: Caesar sees
Death's sought▪ and mercy fear'd, then thus replies,
Liue, though thou wouldst not, by our bounty liue,
Enjoy this light, and to the conquer'de giue
Good hope: th' example of our clemency
Be thou: or else againe warres fortunes trie:
Naught for this pardon Caesar from thy hands
Expects, if thou orecome: with that commands
T'vnbinde him: had his death the Conquerour pleas'd▪
How much a Romans blush had fortune easde.
For following Romes, the Senates, Pompey's armes,
Pardon t' a Roman was the worst of harmes.
He yet vnfear'd, his anger doth retaine,
Speakes thus t'himselfe: Wilt thou, base man, againe
See Rome, or seeke peacefull retirements? No,
Rather into warres fury dying goe,
Rush boldly through the midst, sure ende to make,
Of this loath'de life, and Caesars gift forsake.
Pompey, not knowing he was tane, provides
Forces, to strengthen with joyn'd power his side;
Meaning his Campe next morning to remoue,
The Souldiers spirits before their march to proue,
He thus with a majesticke voice bespake
His silent troopes; guilt-punishers, that take
The better side, you truely Roman band,
Arm'de by the State, no private mans command,
Feare not to fight: Italy's wasted all
By barbarous troopes: throgh the cold Alpes the Gaule
Is broken loose: blood has already dy'de
Caesars polluted swords: the gods provide
Well that the mischiefe there begins, and we
First suffer wrong; oh n•w let Rome by me
Take punishment: nor can you call it here
True war, but ouer revenging countrye's ire:
Nor is this more a war, then that wherein
Nak'de-arm'de Cethegus, and fierce Catiline
Meant to fire Rome, Lentulus, and their mates▪
Oh madnesse to be pittyed▪ when the Fates
Would with Camillus, and Metellus joyne
Thee Caesar, thou to Marius shouldst encline,
And Ci••a; fall thou shalt, as Lepidus
Fell vnder Gatulus, Carbe by vs
Beneaded then, that in Sicilia lyes,
And he that made the Spaniards fierce to rise
Banisht Se•to•i••: though I grudge with those
Thou Caesar should be plac'd: and Rome oppose
My armes 'gainst thee Would from the Parthian war
Crassus had safe return'd, and conquerer:
That thou in such a cause as Spartacus
Mightst fall: but if the gods intend to vs
Thou shalt one title adde: this arme a dart
Can ably brandish yet: about this heart
The blood is hote; know then not all that loue
To liue in peace, in war will cowards proue:
Nor let my age affright you, though he call
Me worne, and weake: let an old Generall
Be in this campe; in that old souldiers be.
I haue attain'd what ere a people free
Can giue, and nothing but Monarchie
About me left: he that in Rome would be
Greater then I, no private state demands.
Heere both Romes Consuls, heere her Senate stands
Shall Caesar then subdue the Senate? sure
Th'art not quite shamelesse fortune, to endure
Things should so blindly turne Does rebell France
So long a taming, and those wartes advance
His thoughts so high? because from Germany
He fled; and calling a small streame a sea
On the sought Brittaines turn'd his flying backe?
Or swells he cause all Rome, though arm'd, forsake
The Citie, hearing his fierce troops are nigh?
Ah foole they flie not thee, all follow me.
My glorious Ensignes on the Ocean borne.
Ere Cynthia twice had fill'd her waned hornes,
All Pirats fled the seas, and at my hand
Humbly crav'd dwellings in a narrow Land.
I that stout King, that stayd Romes growth, did force
Flying along the Scythian seas divorce,
(Which Sylla ne'r could bring to passe) to dye
By his owne hand: no land from me is free:
My Trophees all that Titan sees possesse.
Going from thence Ph•sis cold river sees
Me conquerour in the North: in the hote Zone
Knowne Aegypt, and Syene, that at noone
No shadow spreads: my lawes the West obeyes,
Baetis, that meets the farthest Westerne seas▪
Me tam'd Arabia knowes, th'Aenio he bold,
And Colchos fam'd for her stolne fleece of gold
The Cappadorians from my Colours flie,
And lewes that serue an vnknowne Deitie:
Me soft Sophene feares, th' Armenians,
Taurus, and the subdu'd Cilicians:
What warres for him, but civill, doe I leaue?
These words his souldiers with no shout receiue,
Nor are they eager of the fight: their feares.
Great Pompey sees, and backe his Standard beares,
Loath in so great a war to venture men
Orecome with same of Caesar yet not seene.
As a Bull beat in the first fight he tries,
Through th'empty fields, and desart forrests flies
Exil'd, and tries 'gainst ev'ry tree his hornes,
Nor till his strength be perfited, returnes
To pasture, then recovering his command,
Maugure the Heardsman, leads them to what land
He lift: so now as weakest, Italy
Dooes Pompey leaue, and through Apulia fly,
Himselfe immuring in Brundufirm's hold,
A towne by Cretan colonies of old
Possest, that in th' Athenian nauy fled,
When lying sailes reported Theseus dead.
Hence Italy's now straightned coast extends
Her selfe in forme of a thin tongue, and bends
Her hornes t'inclose the Adriaticke sea:
Nor yet could these straight shut vp waters be
A haven, if high cliffes winds violence
Did not restraine, and the tir'd waters fence
On both sides, Nature, the windes tyranny
To stop high cliffes opposes to the sea;
That ships by trembling cables held may stand.
Hence all the Maine lyes ope, if to thy land
We saile Corcyra, or our courses bend
On the left hand, where Epidamnus tends
To the Ionian; thither Saylers flye
When th'Adrian's rough, and cloudes obscure the high
Ceraunian mountaines, and with violent dash
The foaming seas Calabrian Sason wash.
When of forsaken Italy there was
No hope at all, nor that the war could passe
Into the Spanish coast, for twixt that land
The lofty Alpes did interposed stand.
Thus th'eldest of his noble progeny
Pompey bespake; the worlds far Regions try
Nile and Euphrates, wheresoere my name
Is spread: and all the Cities where Romes fame
I haue advaunc'd; bring backe vnto the seas
The now dispers'd Cicilian colonies.
The strength Pharnaces holds I charge thee bring:
Arme my Tigranes, and th'Aegyptian King.
Those that inhabit both Armenia's ore,
And the fierce nation by the Euxine Shore:
Riphaean bands, and those, where Scythian carres
On his slow back congeal'd Maeotis beares.
Why speake I more? through all the East my Sonne
Carry this war; through every conquer'd towne
I'th' world: to vs all triumph'd regions joyne.
But you, whose names the Latian feasts doe signe,
To Epire saile with the first Northeast winde,
Through Greece and Macedon new strength to finde
While winter giues vs respite from the war.
To his commands they all obedient are,
And from th'Italian shore their anchors weigh,
Caesar impatient of warres long delay,
Or rest, lest changing fates might ought withstand,
His flying Sonne in law pursues at hand.
So many townes at first assault surpriz'de,
And Forts disarmed others had suffic'de:
Rome the worlds head, warres greatest booty, left
A prey; but Caesar in all actions swift,
Thinking nought done, whilst ought vndone remain'd,
Feircely pursues, and though he haue obtain'de
All Italy, and that great Pompey liues
In th' vtmost edge, that both are there, he grieues:
Nor would he let his foes passe foorth againe
By Sea, but seekes to stop the watry maine,
And with vast hills damme vp the Ocean:
But this great labour is bestow'de in vaine:
The Sea those mountaines swallowes, mixing all
With sands below; so if high Erix fall
Into the midst of the Aegaean Sea,
No land aboue the water seene can be;
Or if the lofty Gaurus quite torne downe
Were to the bottome of Avernus throwne.
But when no earth throwne in would firmely stand,
Then with a bridge of fastned ships the Land
He joynes; each Galley doe foure anchors stay:
Once ore the Sea proud Xerxes such a way
Made by report: when ioyn'd by bridge he saw
Sestos t'Abydos, Europe t'Asia;
And fearing not th'Eastwinde, nor Wests affront
Walk'd ore the curled backe of Hellespont,
When ships their sayles round about Athos spread;
So now this Haven's mouth Ships straightened,
On which their Bulwarkes vp apace they raise,
And lofty towers stand trembling on the seas.
When Pompey saw that a new land orespread
The ocean's face: care in his brest is bred
To ope the sea, and carry foorth the warre.
Fill'd sailes, and stretching shrowds the Ships oft bare
Against these works, breaking them downe made roome
Into the Sea for other ships to come▪
Oft well driven engines lighten'd the darke night
With flying fires. When time for their stolne flight
Was come: he warnes his men, no Sailers noyse
Might on the shore be heard: nor trumpets voice
Divide the houres: nor cornets sound at all
The marriners should to their charges call.
Now neere her end Virgo began to be;
And Libra followes his first day to see.
The silent fleete departs: the anchors made
No noise, when from thicke sands their hookes are weigh'd
Silent, while they the sayle-yard bow, and reare
The maine-mast vp the fearefull masters are:
The Saylers softly spread their sailes, nor dare
Shake their strong shrowds within the whizzing aire.
The Generall makes his prayer, Fortune, to thee
To giue him leaue t'abandon Italy,
Since thou'lt not let him keepe it; but alas
The Fates will scarce grant that: the waters flash,
And furrow'd with so many keeles at once
The stemme beat sea with a vast murmur grones.
The foes let in by gates, and vp the wall
(Which faith by Fortune turn'd had open'd all)
Along the havens stagge-like Hornes they runne
Swiftly to shore, griev'd that the fleete was gon.
Is Pompey's flight so small a victory?
A straighter passage let him out to sea,
Then where th'Eubaean channell Chaleis beates.
Here stuck two shipps, which fast the engine gets.
In fight, and neere the shore the skirmish tri'de:
Heere first the Sea with civill blood was dy'de.
The Fleet escap'd of those two ships bereft:
So when Thessalia Iasons Argo left
For Colchos bound, Cyanean Isles at sea
Shot foorth; the tayle-maim'd Ship escap'd away
Amidst the rockes: in vaine the Ilands beat
The empty sea: she comes a sayler yet▪
Now that the Sunne was neere the Easterne skie
Declar'd, palefac'd before his rosie dye:
The Plejades grow dimme: each neerer star
Looses his light: Bootes lazy carre
Turnes to the plaine complexion of the skies,
And Lucifer, the great starres darkned, flies
From the hot day: and now wert thou at sea
Pompey, not with such Fate, as when from thee
The fearefull Pirats through all seas retir'd:
Fortune revolts with thy oft triumphs tyr'd:
Now with thy Countrey, Houshold gods, thy Sonne,
And Wife, art thou a mighty exile gone.
A place for thy sad death is sought afar,
Not that the gods enuy thee Sepulcher
At home; but damn'd is Aegypt to that crime,
And Latium spar'd: that Fates in forreine clime
May hide this mischiefe, and the Romane land
Cleare from the blood of her deare Pompey stand.