Book VI

The Argument
Caesar enclosing Pompey with a fence,
And trenches of a vast circumference
Endures a famine, Pompey pestilence,
Who breaking through escapes a conquerer thence.
Braue Scaeva's valour, and admired fight.
Into Thessalia Caesar takes his flight;
Great Pompey followes: the description,
And Poets tales, That Thessaly renowne.
To the dire witch Ericttho Sextus goes
This fatall warres sad issue to disclose:
She quickens a dead carcasse, which relates
To Sixtus eare, his and his fathers fates,
And craving then deaths freedome to obtaine
•s by a magicke spell dissolv'd againe.

WHen on neere hils both Generalls fierce of fight
Had pitch'd their tents, and drawne their tro•pes in sight
And the gods saw their match: Caesar in Greece
scornes to take towes, or owne the destinyes.
For any conquest, but his sonne in law's.
The worlds sad howre, that to a tryall drawes
This wars maine-chance, he wishes for alone,
That cast of fortune, that must ruine one.
Thrice on the hills his battell he array'd,
And all his threatning Eagles thrice display'd,
Shewing that he would neuer wanting be
T'ore•hrow the Roman state. But when he see
No provocations could his sonne in law
(Who close entrenched lay) to battell draw,
From thence he march'd by woody passages,
And close, to take Dyrrachiums fortresses.
Thither a neerer way great Pompey takes
Along the shore and on high Petra makes
His campe, to guard from thence Dyrrachium towne
Safe (without men) by her owne strength alone.
No human labour, no old structure made
Her fence, which would (though nere so lofty) fade
By force •f war, or eating time oretaken.
A strength, that by no engine can be shaken,
Her scite, and nature giue, the sea profound,
And steepe waue-breaking rockes enclose it round;
But for on little hill an Iland 'twere:
Ship-threatning rockes susteine the walls, and there
Th' Ionian sea rais'd by the Southwindes blasts
Her temples shakes, and frothy foamings casts
Ore houses topps War-thirsty Caesar then
Conceiv'd a cruell hope, spreading his men,
Round on the hills from every side t' enclose
With joyned trenches his vnware foes:
And all the ground surveying with his eye
Is not content alone to fortefie
His workes with brittle earth, but weighty-stone
From quarryes digs, vast rockes, houses torne downe,
And Greekish walls brought thither make a fence,
Able the rams assaulting violence,
And all wars furious engines to withstand;
Hills levell'd, valleyes rais'd make even l•nd
In Caesars workes, with trenches wide enclos'd
And tow••d castels on the hills dispos'd.
With a vast circuite he takes in the ground,
About the pastures, woods, and shelters round
As 'twere for deere, spreading a wide-stretch'd toile.
Pompey no roome, nor pasture wants; for while
He thus enclos'd by Caesars trenches is,
He remooues campes; (so many rivers rise,
And their whole course within this circuite run)
And Caesar, tir'd going to looke vpon
His workes, makes often stayes Let ancient tales
To the gods worke adscribe the Trojan wall;
Let flying Parthians still admire alone
The brittle earth-built walls of Babylon.
As far as Tigris, and Orontes run,
As the Assyrian Kings dominion
Stretch'd in the East, a suddaine worke of war
Encloses heere. Lost those great labours are.
So many hands would to Abydos put
Sestos: fill vp the Hellespont: and cut
Corinth from Pelops land: and from the seas
Take long Malea for the sa•lers ease:
Or mende some part (though nature should deny)
Of the worlds structure. Here wars quarters lye:
Here feedes that blood that in all lands must flow,
The Libyan, and Thessalian overthrow.
Wars civill fury boiles kept straitly in.
The workes first structure Pompey had not seene.
As who in middest of S••ily safe dwell,
When rough Pelorous barkes, can never •ell:
As Northren Brit•ain•s c•nn•t heare the rore
Of flowing seas against the K•nt•sh shore.
But when himselfe be•u•t to fa• he •new
By a vast trench, he from safe Petra drew
His troopes: and ore the hills dispos'd them so.
To keepe the rankes of his beseidging foe
More thin and tooke of the enclosed ground
As much in length, as in true distance found
Twixt lofty Rome, and th' A•icinian wood,
Where Scythian Dian's ador'd image stood:
As far as Tyber's streame from Romes walls ends
By straight account, not as the river bends.
No trumpets sound: piles vncommanded flye:
Mischeifes oft done as they their javelinstry.
Both cheifes are kept from fight b• greater care:
Pompey because his pasture feilds are bare;
The ground he had, by ho•se or•tram•led was,
Whose horny hoofes trode downe the springing grasse.
The war-like steed weary'd in those bar'd feilds,
When the full racke provi•der far brought yeilds,
Tasting his new-brought food falls downe and dyes
Treading the ring, fail'd by his trembling thighs.
Their bodyes wast by dire consumption;
The vnstirr'd aire drawes moist contagion
Into a pestilentiall •loud, such breath
Nasis exhales from her darke caues beneath;
Such poison'd aire, where bury'd Typhon lyes,
The ground sends forth; apace the army dyes.
The water from the aire infection taking
With costiuenesse torments the bowells aking:
Dry's their discolour'd skin their blood-swolne eyes
Doe breake: the fiery plague with bot••es flyes
All ore the face: their heavy heads fall downe.
Now more and more suddaine their death was growne:
Twixt life and death the sickenesse has no roome;
But death does with the first faint symptomes come.
By carcasses, which all vnburyed lye.
Among the living growes mortality.
Twas all the sou•d•ers buriall to be cast
Out of the tents. This plague was staid at last
By blasts of strong aire-stirring Northern winde,
Ships fraught with Corne, the shore, and sea behinde.
But Caesar free vpon the spacious hills,
No pestilence from aire or water feeles:
But (as if straight beseig'd) a famine strong
Is forc'd to suffer: corne as yet not sprong
To the full height: his wretched men he sees
Fall to beasts food, eate grasse, and rob the trees
Of leaues, and tender twigs: and venturing more
Death-threatning herbes from rootes vnknowne they tore.
What ever they could bite, soften with heat,
Or through their wounded palats downe could get,
And things, that human tables nere did know,
Content to eate, besidg'd their full fed foe.
When through the trenches Pompey pleas'd to make
His way, and freedome of all lands to take:
He seekes not th' obscure time of dusky night,
Scorning to steale a passage free from fight:
But rather force the trenches, and breake downe
The forts and passe, where ruine leades him on,
Through swords and slaughter to enforce his way.
The part of the neere trench most fitly lay
Minutius castle call'd; trees thickly set
Making a groue obscure ore shadow'd it.
Hither his Cohorts by no dust betray'd
He led, and suddenly the walls assay'd.
So many Roman Eagles glister round
The field at once, so many trumpets sound,
That now to swords the victory nought owes:
Feare had discomfited th' astonisht foes
Yet (wherein valour only could be show'd)
That ground, where first they stood, they dying strow'd
But the Pompeyans now want foes to slay:
Whole showers of Piles in vaine are throwne away.
Then fire rowl'd vp in pitchy stuffe they throw
Vpon the workes: the shaken turrets bow,
Threatning a fall, the battred bulwarks grone
Beat by the rammes impetous fury downe,
And ore the trenches Pompeys Eagles fly
To vindicate the Roman liberty.
That place, which not a thousand companyes,
Nor all the strength of Caesar could surprise,
One man alone guards from the Conquerers,
Denying Pompey's conquest, whilest he weares
A sword, and liues His name was Scaeva, once
A common souldier of those legions,
That serv'd in Gallia: then Centurion,
By blood promoted, to all mischiefe prone,
And one that knew not in a civill war
How great a crime the souldiers valours are.
He when he saw his fellowes leaving fight,
And seeking out safe places for their flight,
Whither (quoth he) base slaues, and beasts, does feare
(Vnknowne to all that armes for Caesar beare).
Driue you? can you retire without one wound?
Or are you not asham'd not to be found
Among the heape of men? though faith were gone,
Anger (me thinkes) should make you fight alone.
We are the men of all, through whom the foe
Has chose to breake; let this day bloody goe
On Pompey's side. I should farre happyer dy
In Caesars sight: but since the fates deny
Him for a witnesse, Pompey shall commend
My death; your breasts and throates vndaunted bend
Against their steele, and turne their weapons backe.
The dust far off is seene, this ruines cracke
Has by this time enter'd our generalls cares.
We conquer, fellowes; Caesar straight appeares
To challenge (though we dye) this fort; his voice
More then th' alarums first inciting noise
Their fury stirr'd: then wondring at the man,
And eager to behold the souldiers ran
To see if valour disadvantag'd so,
Surpris'd by place and number could bestow
Ought more then death. He making good alone
The falling worke, first throwes dead bodyes downe,
From the full tower to overwhelme the foes.
The posts, the wals, slaughter it selfe bestowes
Weapons on him, threatning himselfe to fall
Downe on their heads, and thrusts off from the wall
The breasts of scaling foes with poles, and stakes,
And with his sword cuts off his hand that takes
Hold on the bulwarkes top; and with vast stones
Pashes their heads in peices, breakes their bones,
And dashes out their weakely-fenced braines.
Downe on anothers haire, and face he raines
Pitch fir'd; the fire whizzes in burning eyes.
But when the pil'd vp carcasses gan rise
To aequall the walls height, as nimbly then
Into the midst of Pompey's armed men
Scaeva leapes downe from thence, as Libbards fierce
Breake thorough the besetting huntsmens speares.
Then Scaeva wedg'd in round, and by th' whole war
Enclos'd, yet where he striks is Conquerer.
His swords point dull with blood congealed growes,
And blunt; nor does it peirce, but bruise his foes.
His sword has lost the vse, and without wound
It breakes mens limmes. The foes encircling round
At him direct their weapons all, and all
Their hands aime right, and javelins rightly fall:
There fortune a strange match beholds, one man
'Gainst a whole war. His strong sheild founded than
With often strokes: his broken helmet beat
Downe to his Temples wrings with paine and heat,
And nothing else protects his vitall parts
But th' outside of his flesh stucke full of darts.
Why with light darts, and arrowes doe you striue
(Vaine fooles) such wounds, as cannot kill, to giue?
Let the Phalaricke strong her wilde fire throw,
Or massy walls of stone gainst such a foe:
Let battring Rammes, and wars vast engines all
Remooue him thence; he stands for Caesar's wall
'Gainst Pompey's course. His breast no armes now hide,
Scorning to vse a sheild, lest his left side
Should want a wound, and he be forc'd to liue
By his owne fault, what wounds the war can giue,
He takes alone; and bearing a thicke wood
Of darts vpon his breast, now wearyed stood
Choosing what foe to fall on; so at sea
Doe whales, and monstrous beasts of Libya.
So a Getulian Elephant clos'd in
By hunters round, all shafts from his thicke skin
Beates backe, and breakes: or mooving it shakes off
The sticking darts (his bowells safe enough)
And through those wounds no blood he looses; so
So many shafts, and darts cannot bestow
One death. At last a Cretan bow let flye
A sure Gortyan shaft: in the left eye
Of Scaua stucke the shaft; be voide of feares,
The ligaments, and opticke sinnewes teares,
That th' arrowes forked iron head did stay,
And kick'd the shaft with his owne eye away.
So if a Libyan looped javelin peirce
The side of a Pannonian beare, more fierce
Growne by her wound, she wheeles her selfe about,
Eager to catch the dart, and pull it out,
Which still turnes with her, Scaeua's lookes now bore,
No fiercenesse, all his face deform'd with gore.
A shout that reach'd the sky, the Conquerers raise;
So little blood (though drawne from Caesars face)
Could not haue joy'd them more. But Scaeua now
In his great heart suppressing this deepe woe,
With a milde looke, that did no valour show,
Hold Countrey-men (quoth he) forbeare me now;
Wounds further not my death, nor now neede I
Moe weapons in, but these pull'd out, to dye.
Into the campe of Pompey carry me:
Doo't for your generalls sake, let Scaeua be
Rather th' example now of Caesar left,
Then of a noble death. Aulus be left
These fained words of his vnhappily:
And did not the swords point against him see:
But as to seize him, and his armes he ventures,
His throate the lightning sword of Scaeua enters.
His valour then by this one death renew'd
Wax'd hot; who ere dares thinke Scaeua subdu'd,
Thus let him rue (quoth he,) if from this steele
Pompey seeke peace, let him to Caesar kneele.
Thought you me like your selues, fearefull, and base?
You loue not Pompey, and the Senates cause,
As I loue death. With that the dust rais'd high
Gaue them all notice Caesars troopes were nigh,
And from wars shame did the Pompeyans free,
Lest a whole troope should haue bin thought to flee
From Scaeua only. When the fight was done
He fell, and dy'd: for fight (when blood was gone)
Lent strength. His friends taking him, as he falls,
Vpon their shoulders to his funeralls
Are proud to beare him, and that breast adore,
As if some sacred deity it bore,
Or valours glorious image there did liue.
Then all from his transfixed members striue
To plucke the Piles: and therewithall they drest
The gods themselues: on Mars his naked breast,
Scaeua, they put thy armes. How great endeede
Had bin thine honour, if those men, that fled;
Had bin the warlike Celtiberians.
Germans long arm'd, or short Cantabrians.
No triumphs now; no spoiles of this sad war
Can decke the temple of the thunderer.
With how great valour, wretch, hast thou procur'd
A lord? nor did great Pompey lye immur'd
And quiet from attempting fight againe
At this repulse, no more then th' Ocean
Is tir'd, when lifted by strong Easterne blast
'Gainst the repelling rockes, and eates at last
The rockes hard side, making, though late, a way
Assaulting then the fort that neerest lay
To th' sea, he takes it by a double war,
And spreads his men over the fields afar,
Pleas'd with this liberty of changing ground.
So when full Padus swells aboue the bound
Of his safe bankes, and the neere fields oreflowes:
If any land, not able to oppose
That hill of water, yeild: that it oreruns,
Opening t' it selfe vnknowne dominions
Some owners must of force their lands foregoe,
Some gaine new lands, as Padus will bestow.
Caesar, at first not knowing it, by light
From a towres top had notice from the fight:
The dust now la'id, he sees his walls beat downe;
But when he found it past, and the foe gone,
This rest his fury stirr'd, enraged deepe
That Pompey safe on Caesar's losse should sleepe.
Resolving (though to his owne losse) to goe
On, and disturbe the quiet of his foe.
First he assaults Torquatus, who descryes
As soone his comming, as the sayler spyes
Th' approach of a Circaean storme, and takes
Downe all his sailes, when once the maine mast shakes.
His men within the inner wall doth bring,
To stand more firmely in a narrow ring.
Ore the first trenches workes Caesar was gone,
When Pompey from the hills aboue sent downe
All his whole troopes vpon th' enclosed foe.
Th' inhabitants neere Aetna feare not so
Enceladus, when the fierce Southwind blowes,
And Aetna from her fiery cavernes throwes
Her scalding entrailes forth: as Caesar's men,
By the rais'd dust orecome ere they begin
To fight; and in the cloud of this blind feare
Flying they meete their foes; terrour does beare
Them to their fate. Then might haue beene let out
The civill wars whole blood, and peace beene brought.
Pompey himselfe their furious swords restr•in'd.
Oh happy, Rome, still free hadst thou remain'd
With all thy lawes, and power, if there for thee
Sylla had conquer'd; tis, and still shall be
Caesar, our griefe, thy worst of wicked deeds
(To fight with a good sonne in law) succeedes.
Oh lucklesse fates, for Munda's bloody day
Spaine had not wept, Affricke for Vtica;
Nor had Nile borne, her streame discolouring,
A carcasse nobler then th' Aegyptian King;
Nor Iuba nak'd on Libyan sands had dy'd,
Nor had the blood of Scipio pacify'd•
Carthage dire ghosts: nor mens society
Had lost good Cato. That day, Rome to thee
Had beene the last of ills; Pharsalias day
In midst of fate had vanished away.
Caesar this ill-possessed place forsakes,
And with his mangled troopes t'Aemathia makes.
Pompey pursues his flying father in law.
Whom from that purpose his friends striue to draw,
Perswading him to turne to Italy
Now free from enemies Never, quoth he,
Will I like Caesar to my countrey come,
Nor never more vnlesse with peace, shall Rome
See my returne. In Italy I could
Haue stay'd at the beginning, if I would
Before Romes temples this sad war haue brought,
And in the midst o'th market place haue fought.
To draw the war from home, to' th'torrid zone,
Or Scythiaes farthest cold I would be gone.
Shall I a conquerer now rob Rome of rest,
Who fled, lest she should be with war opprest?
Let Caesar thinke Rome his, rather then she
Should suffer from this war. Then Easterly
He turnes his course, paths devious marching over,
Where regions vast Candavia does discover,
And to Thessalia comes, which fate for this
Sad war ordaind Thessalia bounded is
By the ••ill Ossa on the Northeast side;
Pelion, when Summer's in her height of pride,
His shade opposes 'gainst Sols rising rayes;
The woody Othrys Southward keepes away
The scorching Lions heate; Pindus his hight
Keepes off the Westerne windes, and hastens night
By hiding the Suns set; those men neere feele
(That in the bottome of Olimpus dwell)
The Northwindes rage, nor all night long can see
The shining of the Beare. The fields, that lye
A vale betwixt those hills, were heretofore
A standing poole with water cover'd ore.
The fields kept in the rivers; Tempe then
Had no vent to the sea: to fill the fen
Was all the rivers course. But when of yore
Alcides Ossa from Olimpus tore,
And Peneus suddainely the sea did fill:
Sea-borne Achilles kingdome (that had still
Beene better vnder water) first was showne;
And Phylace, that landed first vpon
The Trojan shore her ship; and Dorion
For the nine Muses anger woe-begone;
P•eleos, and Trachis, Me••baa proud
Of great Alcides shafts on her bestow'd,
Rase hire for Oeta's fire; and where men now
Over the once renowned Argos plow:
Larissa potent once: and where old tales
Describe the Echionian Theban walls;
Thither Agaue banisht, there the head,
And neck• of her dead Pentheus buryed,
Griev'd she had torne no moe limbes from her son.
The fens thus broke in many rivers run.
On the West side into th'lonian sea
Clea•e, but small, Aeas run: as small as he
Runs the Egyptian Isis fathers flood:
And Acheloiis, whose thicke streame with mud
Soiles the Echinades: Euenus ore
Meleagers Calydon stain'd with the gore
Of Nessus runs: Sperchios swiftly slides
Into th'Maliacke sea, whose channell glides
Purely along Amphrysus pasture fields,
Where Phoebus serv'd: Anauros, that nere yeilds
Nor fog, nor wind, nor exhalation:
And what ere river by it selfe not knowne
To th'sea, his waues on Peneus bestowes:
Apidanos in a swift torrent flowes:
Enipeus never swift vnlesse combin'd:
Melas: and Phaenix with Asopus join'd:
Alone his streame pure Titaresus keepes,
Though in a different named flood he creepes:
And vsing Peneus as his ground, he flowes
Aboue: from Styx (they say) this river rose:
Who (mindfull of his spring) scornes with base floods
To mixe, but keepes the reverence of the gods.
When first, these rivers gone, the fields appear'd,
Fat surrowes the Boebician plowshares reard:
Th'Aeolian husbandmen then breake the ground,
The Leleges, and Dolopes then wound
Her fertile breast; the skill'd Magnetians
In horesemanship: the sea fam'd Minyans.
In Pelethronian dens t'•xion there
A fruitfull cloud did th'halfe-wilde Centaures beare:
Thee, Monichus, that couldst on Pholoe
Breake hardest rockes: and furious Rhacus, thee,
That vp by th'rootes could strong wilde ashes teare
On Octa's mount, which Boreas blasts would beare;
Phol••, that didst Alcides entertaine:
Ravishing Nessus on the river slaine
By venom'd shafts: and thee, old Chiron, made
A constellation now, who seem'st t'invade
The Scorpion with thy Thessalian bow:
Feirce wars first seedes did from this countrey grow;
Heere the first horse for war sprang from a rocke,
Which mighty Neptune with his trident stroke;
To chew on the steele bit he not disdain'd,
And fom'd by his Thessalian rider rain'd.
From hence the first of ships the Ocean plow'd,
And seas hid paths to earth-bred mortalls show'd.
Itonus first of all Thessalia's King
To forme by hammer did hot mettalls bring;
Made silver liquid, stamp'd his coines impresse
In gold, and melted brasse in furnaces.
Hence did th'account of money first arise,
The fatall cause of war and tragedies.
Heere was that hideous serpent Python bred,
Whose skin the Delphian Tripos covered;
Whence to those games Thessalian bayes are brought.
Aloeus wicked brood 'gainst heaven here fought;
When Ossa on high Pelions top was set,
And the Celestiall orbes swift motion let.
When both the generalls in this land (by fate
Destin'd) encamp'd: the wars ensuing state
Fills all presaging mindes, all saw at hand
That hower, on which this wars last cast should stand
Cowards now trembled that wars fate so neare
Was drawne, and fear'd the worst; both hope and feare
To this yet-doubtfull tryall brought the stout.
But one (alas) among the fearefull rout
Was Sextus, Pempey's most vnworthy son;
Who afterwards a banisht man vpon
Sicilian seas, turn'd Pirate, and there stain'd.
The fam'd sea-triumphs his great father gain'd
He brooking no delay, but weake to beare
A doubtfull state, endeauoures, vrg'd by feare,
To find fates future course. Nor does he craue
From Delphian Phoebus, from the Py•hian caue,
Or that fam'd Oake fruitfull in akehornes, where
Ioues mouth giues answere, this event to heare.
Nor seekes advice from them, to whom are knowne
Birds flights, beasts entrailes, lightnings motion,
Nor the Chaldaean skill'd Astrologer,
Nor any secret wayes, that lawfull were:
But magicke damn'd by all the gods aboue,
And her detested secrets seekes to prooue,
Aide from the ghosts, and feinds below to craue,
Thinking (ah wretch) the gods small knowledge haue.
The place it selfe this vaine dire madnesse helpt,
Nere to the campe th' Aemonian witches dwelt,
Whom no invented mon••ers can excell;
Their art's what ere's incredible to tell.
Besides Thessaliaes fields, and rockes doe beare
Strange killing hearbes, and plants, and stones that heare
The charming Witches murmurs: there arise
Plants, that haue power to force the deityes.
Medea there a stranger in those fields
Gather'd worse herbes then any Colchos yeilds.
Those wretches impious charmes turne the gods cares,
Though deafe to many nations zealous prayers:
Their voice alone beares through the inmost skyes
Commands to the vnwilling deityes,
Which not their care of heavens high motions
Can turne away; when those dire murmurs once
Enter the sky, though the Aegyptians wise,
And Babylonians their deepe misteryes
Should vtter all, th'Aemonian witch still beares
From all their altars the gods forced eares.
These witches spells loues soft desires haue sent
Into the hardest hearts 'gainst fates intent;
Severe old men haue burn'd in impious loue,
Which tempered drinkes, and philtrums could not moue,
Nor that, to which the fole his damms loue owes,
The swelling flesh that on his forehead growes.
Mindes by no poyson hurt, have perished
By spells; those, whom no loue of marriage bed,
Nor tempting beautyes power could ere inflame,
By Magicke knot-ty'd thread together came;
The course of things has stay'd, to keepe out day
Night has stood still▪ the sky would not obey
The law of Nature: the dull world at their
Dire voice has beene benumn'd: great Iupiter
Vrging their course himselfe, admir'd to see
The poles not moov'd by their swift axeltree.
Showres they have made; clouded the clearest sky,
And heaven has thunder'd, Ioue not knowing why.
By the same voyce, (with haire loose hanging) they
Moist swelling clouds, and stormes haue chas'd away.
The sea without one puffe of wind has swell'd;
Againe in spite of Auster has beene still'd:
Ships sailes haue quite against the windes been sway'd:
Steepe waters torrents in their fall haue stay'd:
And rivers haue run backe. Nile not oreflowne
In Summer time: Maeander straight has run.
Arar has hasten'd, Rhodanus growne slow:
High hills sunke downe haue aequall'd vales below.
Aboue his head the cloudes Olympus saw:
In midst of Winter Scythian snowes did thaw
Without the Sunne: the tide-rais'd Ocean
Aemonian spells beat from the shore againe.
The ponderous earth out of her center tost
Her middle place in the worlds orbe has lost;
So great a weight strooke by that voyce was stirr'd,
And on both sides the face of heaven appear'd.
All deadly creatures, and for mischeife borne
Both feare, and serue by death the witches turne;
The Tigers fierce, and Lyons nobly bold
Fawne vpon them: cold snakes themselues vnfold,
And in the frosty fields lye all vntwin'd:
Dissected vipers by their power are joyn'd.
Their poison'd breathings poison'd serpents kill.
Why are the gods thus troubled to fulfill,
And fearefull their enchantments to contemne?
What bargaine has thus ty'd the gods to them?
Doe they obey vpon necessity,
Or pleasure? or some vnknowne piety
Deserues it? or some secret threats prevaile?
Or haue they jurisdiction over all
The gods? or does one certaine deity feare
Their most imperious charmes, who, what so ere
Himselfe is forc'd too, can the world compell?
By them the starres oft from the pole downe fell;
And by their voices poyson Phaebe turn'd,
Growne pale with darke, and earthly fires has burn'd,
No lesse then if debarr'd her brothers shine
By enterposall of the earth betweene
Her Orbe, and his: these labours vndergone
Has she, deprest by incantation,
Vntill more nigh she foam'd her gelly on
Their herbes. These spells of this dire nation,
And damned rites dreadfull Erictho scornes
As too too good, and this foule art adornes
With newer rites; in townes her dismall head,
Or houses roofes is never covered.
Forsaken graues, and tombes (the ghosts expell'd)
She haunts; by fiends in aestimation held.
To heare hells silent counsells, and to know
The Stygian cells, and misteryes below.
Of Dis, her breathing heere no hindrance was.
A yellow leanenesse spreads her lothed face;
Her dreadfull lookes, knowne to no lightsome aire,
With heavy hell-like palenesse clogged are.
Laden she is with long vnkemmed haires.
But when darke stormes, or clouds obscure the starres,
From naked graues then forth Ericttho stalkes
To catch the nights quicke sulphur; as she walkes
The corne burnes vp, and blasts where ere she tread;
And by her breath cleare aires are poisoned.
She prayes not to the gods, nor humbly cryes
For helpe, nor knowes she pleasing sacrifice;
But funerall flames to th'altars she preferres,
Frankincense snatch'd from burning sepulchres.
The gods at her first voice grant any harme
She askes, and dare not heare her second charme.
Liue soules, that rule their limbs, she does entombe:
Death (though vnwilling) seizes those, to whom
The fates owe yeeres; with a crosse pompe men dead
Returne from gr•ue, coarses from tombes haue fled;
Young mens hot ashes, and burnt bones she snatches
Out of the midst of funerall Piles, and catches
The kindling brand in their sad parents hand;
The funerall beds blacke smoaking fragments, and
Their ashy garments, and flesh-smelling coales.
But when she findes a coarse entombed whole,
Whose moisture is drawne out, and marrow growne
Hard by corruption, greedy havocke on
Each limbe she makes; and from their orbes doth teare
His congeal'd eyes, and stickes her knucles there.
She gnawes his nailes now pale, oregrowne, and long:
Bites halters killing knotts, where dead men hung:
Teares from the gibbetts strangled bodies downe,
And from the gallowes licks corruption.
Shee gathers dead mens limmes, which showres haue wet,
And marrow harden'd in Sols scorching •eate.
She keepes the nailes that pierc'd crucifi'd hands,
And gathers poysonous filth, and slime that stands
On the cold joynts, and biting with her fanges
The harden'd sinewes, vp from ground she hangs.
And where so ere a naked carcasse ly,
Before the beasts, and ravenous fowles sits she;
But teares, or cuts no limbe; till it be bit
By Wolves; from whose dry jawes she snatches it.
Nor spares she murdering, if life blood she need,
That from a throat new open'd must proceede.
She murders, when her sacrifices dire
Life-blood, and panting entrailes doe require:
And births abortiue by vnnaturall wayes
From wounded wombes she takes, and burning layes
Them on her wicked altars; when she lacks
Stout cruell ghosts, such ghosts forthwith she makes.
All deaths of men serue for her action.
From young mens chinns she puls the growing downe,
And dying striplings haire she cuts away.
Ericttho oft when ore the coarse she lay
Of her dead kinseman, and did seeme to kisse,
Off from his maimed head would bite a piece;
And opening his pale lips, gelled, and clung
In his dry throat she bites his cold stiffe tongue:
And whispering murmurs dire by him she sends
Her banefull secrets to the Stygian feinds.
By generall fame when Sextus notice had
Of her, in depth of night, when Titan made
At the Antipodes their noone of day,
Over the desart fields he takes his way:
The servants waiting on his folly then,
Searching through broken tombes, and graues of men,
Spy'd on a rocke at last, where Aemus bends,
And the Pharsalian lofty hills extends,
Ericttho sitting; she was trying there
Spells, which nere witch, nor magicke god did heare,
And for new purposes was framing charmes,
For fearing lest the civill warres alarmes
Should to some other land be carryed thence,
And Thessaly should want that blood's expence:
Phillippi feilds with incantations stain'd,
And sprinckled with dire iuice she did command
Not to transferre the war, meaning t'enioy
So many deaths, and the worlds blood t'employ:
The carcasses of slaughter'd Kings to maime,
And turne the Roman ashes was her aime:
To search for princes bones, and each great ghost.
But what best pleas'd her, and she study'd most,
Was what from Pompey's coarse to take away,
Or vpon which of Caesars limmes to prey.
Whom first thus Pompey's fearefull sonne bespake;
Wisest of all Thessalians, that canst make
Foreknowne all things to come, and turne away
The course of destiny, to me (I pray)
The certaine end of this wars chance relate.
I am no meane part of the Roman state,
Great Pompey's sonne, now either lord of all,
Or wofull heir of his great funerall.
My minde, though wounded now with doubtfull feare,
Is well resolv'd any knowne woe, to beare.
Oh take from chance this power, it may not fall
Vnseene, and suddaine on me; the gods call;
Or spare the gods, and force the truth out from
The ghosts below, open Elysium
Call forth grim death himselfe, bid him relate
Which of the two is given to him by fate,
Tis no meane taske, but labour worthy thee
To search what end of this great war shall be.
The impious Witch proud of a fame to spread
Replyes, young man, wouldst thou haue altered
Some meaner fate, it had beene easily done
I could haue forc'd to any action
Th' vnwilling gods. I can preserue the breath
Of him, whom all the starres haue doom'd to death:
And, though the planets all conspire to make
Him old, the midst of his lifes course can breake.
But fates; and th'order of great causes all
Worke downeward from the worlds originall,
When all mankinde depend on one successe,
If there you would, change ought, our arts confesse
Fortune has greater power: but if content
You be alone to know this wars event,
Many, and easie wayes for vs there be
To finde out truth; the earth, the sea, the sky,
The dead, the Rodopejan rockes, and fields
Shall speake to vs. But since late slaughter yeilds
Such choise of carcasses in Thessaly,
To raise vpone of those will easyest be:
That a warme new-slaine carcasse with a cleare
Intelligible voice may greete your eare.
Least (by the Sunne the organs parch'd, and spill'd)
The dismall ghost vncertaine hizzings yeild.
Then double darkenesse ore nights face she spred,
And wrapping in a foggy cloud her head,
She searches where th'unbury'd bodyes lye;
Away the wolues, and hungry vultures flye
Loosening their tallands, when Ericttho comes
To choose her prophet, griping with her thummes
Their now cold marrows, seeking where a tongue,
And lungs, with fillets whole, vnwounded hung.
The fates of those slaine men stand doubtfull all
Which of their ghosts she from the dead would call.
Had she desir'd to raise th'whole army slaine,
And to reviue them for the war againe,
Hell had obey'd: from Styx, by her strange might
The people all had beene drawne backe to fight.
When she a carcas sitting had espy'd,
An hooke she fasten'd in his throate, and ty'd
To it a fatall rope, by which the hag
Ore rockes and stones the wretched carcasse drag,
That must reviue. Vnder the hollow side
Of an high mountaine, which to this blacke deede
The witch had destin'd, she the carcasse layes.
A deepe, and vast descent of ground there was,
As low (almost) at the blinde caues of Di•:
Which a pale wood with thicke, and spreading tree
Barring the sight of heaven, and by Sol's light
Not penetrable, did oreshadow quite.
Within the caue was bred by dreary night
Pale mouldy filth, darkensse sad: no light,
But light by magicke made, ere shined there
Within the jawes of Tanar•• the aire
Is not so dull, that balefull bound twixt hell,
And vs; the princes, in those shades that dwell
Send without feare their spirits hitherto;
For though this hag can force the fates to doe
What ere she please, tis doubtfull whether here,
Or there those ghosts in their true place appeare.
She puts a various colour'd cloathing on,
And fury-like her haire loose hanging downe
Was bound about with vipers, her face hid;
But when young Sextus, and his traine she spy'd
Shaking for feare, and his astonisht eye
Fixt on the ground, banish those feares, quoth she,
His lifes true figure you shall see him take,
That cowards neede not feare to heare him speake.
But if the furyes to your eyes were showne,
The Stygian lakes, and burning Phlegeton,
The gyants bound, and Cerberus that shakes
His dreadfull curled mane of hissing snakes,
Why should yon feare, cowards, whilest I am by,
To see those fiends, that shake at sight of me?
Then with warme blood, opening fresh wounds she fills
His breast: and gore to th'inward parts distills:
Of the Moones poisonous gelly store she takes:
And all the hurtfull broodes, that nature makes
Foame of mad dogs, which sight of water dread:
The pyth of staggs with serpents nourished
Was mixed there: the dire Hyaena's knot,
The spotted Lynx his bowells wanted not:
Nor that small fish, whose strength, though Eurus rise
Can stay the course of ships: the Dragons eyes:
The sounding stone, that brooding Eagles make
Warme in their nests: th' Arabian nimble snake:
The red sea-viper, pretious gemms that kept:
Skins from th' aliue Libyan Cerastes stript:
The Phoenix ashes lay'd in Araby.
With these when vile, and namelesse poisons she
Had mixt, and leaues fill'd with enchantments strong,
And herbes which her dire mouth had spit on young,
What poyson she did on the world bestow.
Then adds a voyce to charme the gods below
More powerfull then all herbes confounding noises
Much dissonant, and far from humane voices.
There was the barke of dogs, the wolues sad howle:
The scriches wailing, hollowing of the Owle:
All voices of wilde beasts, hissing of snakes,
The sound that beat from rockes the water makes ▪
The murmur of stirr'd woods, the thunders noise
Broke from a cloud: all ••is was in her voice.
The rest Aemonian incantations tell,
And thus her voice peirces the lowest hell.
Furyes, and Stygian fiends, whose scourges wound
All guilty soules, Chaos, that wouldst confound
Vn-number'd worlds: king of the earth beneath,
That griev'st to see the gods exempt from death:
Thou Styx, and faire Elysium, which no spirit
To a Thessalian witch deserues t'enherit:
Thou, that thy mother hat'st, Persephone,
And heaven, thou lowest part of Hecate,
By whom the silent tongues of fienes with vs
Haue entercourse: hells porter Cerberus,
That currishnesse into our breasts doest put▪
You destinyes, that twice this thread must cut▪
And thou the burning streames old ferriman
Tired with ghosts brought backe to me againe:
If I invoke you with a mouth prophane,
And foule enough, to heare these prayers daine:
If with a breath fasting from humane flesh
These incantations I did nere expresse:
If womens wombes whole burdens vpon you
And luke-warme braines I often did bestow:
If one your altars heads of infants slaine
I set, and bowells, that must liue againe,
Obey my voice; no ghost, that long has felt
The Stygian shades, nor long in darkenesse dwelt,
But one that lately from the living went,
And is but yet at pale hells first descent,
And one, which (though obedient to this spell)
Could be but once transported ore to hell
I aske; let some knowne souldiers ghost relate
Before great Pompey's sonne his fathers fate,
If civill war of you haue merited.
Then lifting vp her foaming mouth and head
She saw hard by, the ghost of that dead man
Trembling to enter his old goale againe;
Fearing those cold pale members, and into
Th•• •ounded breast, and entrailes torne to go.
Ah wretch, from whom deaths gift is tane away
(To dye no more) that fates durst thus delay
Ericttho wonder'd; wrath with death, and fate
The liueles coarse with living snakes she beate•
And through earths craneys, which her charmes had; broke
Bark'd to the fiends, and thus hells silence shooke.
Maegera, and Tisiphone that slight
My voice through hell with your dire whips affright
Hither that wretched spirit, or from below
By your true names of Stygian bitches you
I will call vp, and to the Sunnes light leaue:
No dead mens graues shall harbour, or receiue
Your heads, Ile follow you observing well,
And from all tombes, and quiet vrnes expell.
False Hecate, thee to the gods Ile show,
(To whom thou vsest with bright lookes to goe)
In thy pale rotten forme and so provide
Thou shalt not thy Tartarian visage hide.
Vnder the earths vast weight, I will relate
What food destaines thee: in what wedlockes state
Thou lou'st the nights sad king, with such a staine,
That Ceres shall not wish thee backe againe
'Gainst thee, the worlds worst judge, I will set free
The giants, or let to the day to thee.
Will you obey, or shall I him invoke,
Whose name the earths foundations ever shooke?
Who without hurt th'vnvailed Gorgon sees:
Of whose strong stripes Erinnys fearefull is:
Who keepes an hell vnknowne to you; and where
You are aboue: that dare by Styx forsweare.
Then straight the clotted blood grows warme againe
Feedes the blacke wounds, and runnes through every veine
And th'outward parts: the vitall pulses beate
In his cold breast: and lifes restored heate
Mixt with cold death through parts disused runns▪
And to each joynt giues trembling motions;
The sinnews stretch: the carkasse from the ground
Rises not by degrees, but at one bound
Stands bolt vpright: the eyes with twincking hard
Are op'd: not dead, nor yet aliue appear'd
The face: his palenesse still, and stiffenesse stayes,
He stands at this revivall in amaze;
But his dumbe seal'd-vp lips no murmur made,
Only an answering tongue, and voice he had.
Speake (quoth Ericttho) what I aske, and well
Shalt thou rewarded be: if truth thou tell,
By our Haemonian art Ile set thee free
Throughout all ages, and bestow on thee
Such funeralls, with charmes so burne thy bones.
Thy ghost shall heare no incantations.
Let this the fruit of thy revivall be,
No spells, no herbs shall dare to take from thee
Thy long safe rest, when I haue made thee dy.
The gods, and Prophets answere doubtfully;
But he, that dares enquire of ghosts beneath,
And boldly goe to th'oracles of death,
Is plainly told the truth; spare not, but name
Plainely the things, and places all, and frame
A speech, wherein I may conferre with fate:
Adding a charme to make him know the state
Of whatsoere she askt; thus presently
The weeping carcasse spake; I did not see
The sisters fatall threds, so soone (alas)
Backe from those silent bankes enforc'd to passe.
But what by speech from all the spirits I gain'd,
Among the Roman ghosts fell discord reign'd:
Romes wicked war disturb'd hells quiet rest:
Some Captaines from sad hell, some from the blest
Elysian fields come forth, and there what fate
Entends to doe, they openly relate:
The happy ghosts look'd sad, the Decii then
Father and sonne, wars-expiating men:
I saw the Curii, and Camillus wailing,
Sylla himselfe against thee, fortune, railing:
His issues Libyan fate braue Scipio
Bewail'd; and Cato Carthages great foe
His nephew's bondage-scaping death did monc.
Among the blessed spirits Brutus alone
Reioyc'd, first Consul, that Romes king exil'd.
Fierce Catiline, sterne Marius, and the wilde
C•thegs breaking chaines orejoyed were:
The popular law promulging Drusi there,
And daring Gracchi shouting clapt their hands
Fetter'd for euer with strong iron bands
In Plutoes dungeons; impious ghosts had hopes
Of blessed seates; Pluto pale dungeons opes,
Prepares hard stones, and adamantine chaines,
To punish the proud Conquerour, ordaines.
Take you this comfort, in a blessed roome
The ghosts expect your side, and house to come,
And for great Pompey in Elysium
Prepare a place. The houre shall shortly come
(Envie not then the glory of so small
A life) that in one world shall lodge you all.
Make hast to meete your deaths, and with a minde
Haughty, (though from small funeralls) descen'd
To tread vpon the soules of Roman gods.
For burialls •all this mortall odds;
And the Pharsalian fight must only try
Who shall by Nile, and who by Tyber lye.
But seeke not thou thy destiny to heare,
Which fate, though I be silent, will declare:
A surer prophet shall thy father be
In Sicily, although vncertaine he
Whither to call thee, whence to bid thee flee,
Or in what coast or climate safe to be,
Teare Europe, Asia, Affricke▪ fates divide
Your funerall, as they your triumphs did.
Oh wretched house, to you the world shall yeild
No place more happy then Pharsalia's field.
Thus having spoke the carcasse did remaine
With a sad looke, and begg'd for death againe,
But could not die without a magicke spell,
And herbes: nor could the fates restore to hell
His soule once sent from thence. With that the witch
Builds vp a lofty funerall pile; to which
The dead man comes: she layes him on the fires,
Leaues him, and lets him dye, and then retires
With Sextus to his fathers campe: and now
The welkin gan Auroraes light to show:
But to the campe till Sextus take his way,
The darke charm'd night kept off approaching day,