Book IV

But Caesar in Iberian fields afar,
Ev'n to the western ocean, spreads the war;
And though no hills of slaughter heap the plain,
No purple deluge leaves a guilty stain;
Vast is the prize, and great the victor's gain.
For Pompey, with alternative command.
The brave Petreius and Afranius stand:
The chiefs in friendship's just conditions join.
And, cordial to the common cause, combine;
By turns they quit, by turns resume the sway.
The camp to guard, or battle to array:
To these their aid the nimble Vectons yield,
With those who rill Asturia's hilly field;
Nor wanted then the Celtiberians bold,
Who draw their long descent from Celtic Gauls of old.
Where rising grounds the fruitful champain end
And unperceiv'd by soft degrees ascend,
An ancient race their city chose to found,
And with Ilerda walls the summit crown'd.
Fast by the mountain pours his gentle stream.
A stable bridge runs cross from side to side,
Whose spacious arch transmits the passing tide,
And jutting peers the wintry floods abide.
Two neighbouring hills their heads distinguish'd raise:
The first great Pompey's ensigns high displays;
Proud Caesar's camp upon the next is seen;
The river interposing, glides between.
Wide spread beyond, an ample plain extends.
Far as the piercing eye its prospect sends:
Upon the spacious level's utmost bound.
The Cinga rolls his rapid waves around.
But soon in. full Iberus' channel lost.
His blended waters seek Iberia's coast
He yields to the superior torrent's fame,
And, with the country, takes his nobler name.
Now 'gan the lamp of Heaven the plains to gild,
When moving legions hide the' embattled field;
When front to front oppos'd in just array.
The chieftains each their hostile powers display:
But whether conscious shame their wrath repress'd,
And soft reluctance rose in every breast;
Or virtue did a short-liv'd rule resume.
And gain'd one day for liberty and Rome;
Suspended rage yet linger'd for a space,
And to the west declin'd the sun in peace.
Night rose, and blackening shades involv'd the sky,
When Caesar, bent war's wily arts to try
Through his extended battle gives command,
The foremost lines in order fix'd shall stand
Meanwhile the last, low lurking from the foe,
With secret labour sink a trench below:
Successful, they the destin'd task pursue,
While closing files prevent the hostile view.
Soon as the morn renew'd the dawning gray,
He bids the soldier urge his speedy way,
To seize a vacant height that near Ilerda lay.
This saw the foe; and, wing'd with fear and shame.
Through secret paths with swift prevention came.
Now various motives various hopes afford.
To these the place, to those the conquering sword:
Oppress'd beneath their armour's cumbrous weight,
The' assailants labouring tempt the steepy height;
Half bending back, they mount with panting pain,
The following crowd their foremost mate sustain;
Against the shelving precipice they toil.
And prop their hands upon the steely pile;
On cliffs, and shrubs, their steps, some climbing stay.
With cutting swords some clear the woody way;
Nor death, nor wounds, their enemies annoy.
While other uses now their arms employ.
Their chief the danger from afar survey'd,
And bade the horse f)y timely to their aid.
In order just the ready squadrons ride,
Then wheeling to the right and left divide,
To flank the foot, and guard each naked side.
Safe in the middle space retire the foot,
Make good the rear, and scorn the foes' pursuit;
Each side retreat, though each disdain to yield.
And claim the glory of the doubtful field.
Thus far the cause of Rome by arms was tried.
And human rage alone the war supplied;
But now the elements new wrath prepare.
And gathering tempests vex the troubled air.
Long had the earth by wintry frost been bound.
And the dry north had numb'd the lazy ground.
No furrow'd fields were drench'd with drisly rain.
Snow hid the hills, and hoary ice the plain:
All desolate the western climes were seen,
Keen with the blasts, and sharp the blue serene,
To parch the fading herb, and nip the springing T green.
At length, the genial heat began to shine,
With stronger beams in Aries vernal sign;
Again the golden day resum'd its right.
And mix'd in just equation with the night;
The moon her monthly course had now begun.
And with increasing horns forsook the son;
When Boreas, by night's silver empress driv'n.
To softer airs resign'd the western Heav'n.
Then with warm breezes gentler Eurus came,
Glowing with India's and Arabia's flame.
The sweeping wind the gathering vapours press'd'
From every region of the furthest east;
Nor hang they heavy in the midway sky,
But speedy to Hesperia driving fly;
To Calpe's hills the sluicy rains repair,
From north and south, the clouds assemble there,
And darkening storms lour in the sluggish air.
Where western skies the utmost ocean bound,
The watery treasures heap the welkin round;
Thither they crowd and, scanted in the space,
Scarce between Heaven and earth can find a place.
Condens'd at length, the spouting torrents pour,
Earth smokes, and rattles with the gushing show'r
Jove's forky fires are rarely seen to fly,
Extinguish'd in the deluge, Soon they die;
Nor e'er before did dewy Ills show
Such lady colours, or so maim'd a bow:
Unvaried by the light's refracting beam,
She stoop'd to drink from ocean's briny stream;
Then to the dropping sky restor'd the rain:
Again the falling waters sought the main.
Then first the covering snows began to flow
From off the Pyrenean's hoary brow;
Huge hills of frost, a thousand ages old,
O'er which the summer suns had vainly roll'd,
Now melting, rush front every side amain
Swell every brook, and deluge all the plain.
And now o'er Caesar's camp the torrents sweeps
Bear down the works, and fill the trenches deep.
Here men and arms in mix'd confusion swim,
And hollow tents drive with the' impetuous stream;
Lost in the spreading floods the landmarks lie.
Nor can the forager his way descry.
No beasts for food the floating pastures yield',
Nor herbage rises in the watery field:
And now, to fill the measure of their fears,
Her baleful visage meagre famine rears;
Seldom alone, she troops among the fiends,
And still on war and pestilence attends.
Unpress'd, unstraiten'd by besieging foes.
All miseries of want the soldier knows.
Gladly he gives his little wealth to eat;
And buys a morsel with his whole estate.
Curs'd merchandize"! where life itself is sold.
And avarice consents to starve for gold!
No rock, no rising 'mountain rears his head,
No single river winds along the mead,
But one vast lake o'er all the land is spread.
No lofty grove, no forest-haunt is found.
But in His den deep lies the savage drown'd:
With headlong rage, resistless in its course,
The rapid torrent whirls the snorting horse;
High o'er the sea the foamy freshes ride,
While backward Tethys turns her yielding tide.
Meantime continu'd darkness veils the skies,
And suns with unavailing ardor rise;
Nature no more her various face can boast,
But form is huddled up in night, and lost.
Snell are the climes beneath the frozen zone
Where cheerless Winter plants her dreary throne
No golden stars their gloomy heavens adorn.
Nor genial seasons to their earth return:
But everlasting ice and snows appear.
Bind up the summer signs, and curse the barren year
Almighty sire I who dust supremely reign;
And thou, great ruler of the raging main!
Ye gracious gods! in mercy give command.
This desolation may for ever stand.
Thou Jove! for ever cloud thy stormy sky
Thou Neptune! bid thy angry waves run high:
Heave thy huge trident for a mighty blow,
Strike the strong earth, and bid her fountains flow;
Bid every river-god exhaust his urn.
Nor let thy own alternate tides return;
Wide let their blended waters waste around,
These regions, Rhine, and those of Rhone confound.
Melt, ye hoar mountains of Riphaean snow;
Brooks, streams, and lakes, let all your sources go;
Your spreading floods the guilt of Rome shall spare,
And save the wretched world from civil war.
But fortune stay'd her short displeasure here.
Nor urg'd her minion with too long a fear;
With large increase her favours full return'd,
As if the gods themselves his anger mourn'd;
As if his name were terrible to Heaven,
And Providence could sue to be forgiven.
Now 'gan the welkin clear to shine serene,
And Phoebus potent in his rays was seen.
The scattering clouds disclos'd the piercing lights
And hung the firmament with fleecy white;
The troublous storm had spent his wrathful store,
And clattering rains were heard to rush no more
Again the woods their leafy honours raise.
And herds upon the rising mountains graze
Day's genial heat upon the damps prevails.
And ripens into earth the slimy vales.
Bright glittering stars adorn night's spangled air,
And ruddy evening skies foretel the morning fair
Soon as the falling Sicoris begun
A peaceful stream within his banks to run.
The bending willow into barks they twine
Then line the work with spoils of slaughter'd kine:
Such are the floate Venetian fishers know.
Where in dull marshes stands the settling Po;
On such to neighbouring Gaul, allur'd by gain,
The bolder Britons cross the swelling main;
Like these, when fruitful Egypt lies afloat.
The Memphian artist builds his reedy boat
On these embarking bold with eager haste.
Across the stream his legions Caesar pass'd:
Straight the tall woods with sounding strokes are fell'd,
And with strong piles a beamy bridge they build;
Then mindful of the flood so lately spread,
They stretch the lengthening arches o'er the mead:
And, lest his bolder waters rise again.
With numerous dikes they canton out the plain,
And by a thousand streams the suffering river drain.
Petreius now a fate superior saw,
While elements obey proud Caesar's law;
Then straight Ilerda's lofty walls forsook
And to the farthest west his arms betook;
The nearer regions faithless all around.
And basely to the victor bent, be found.
When with just rage and indignation fir'd,
He to the Celtiberians fierce retir'd;
There sought, amidst the world's extremest parts.
Still daring hands, and still unconquer'd hearts.
Soon as be view'd the neighbouring mountain's head
No longer by the hostile camp o'erspread,
Caesar commands to arm. Without delay
The soldier to the river bends his way;
None then with cautious care the bridge explor'd.
Or sought the shallows of the safer ford;
Arm'd at all points, they plunge amidst the flood.
And with strong sinews make the passage good:
Dangers they scorn, that might the bold affright.
And stop ev'n panting cowards in their flight.
At length the further bank attaining safe,
Chill'd by the stream, their dropping limbs they chafe;
Then with fresh vigour urge the foes' pursuit,
And in the sprightly chase the powers of life recruit.
Thus they; till half the course of life was run
And lessening shadows own'd the noon-day sun;
The fliers now a doubtful fight maintain,
While the fleet horse in squadrons scour the plain;
The stragglers scatt'ring round, they force to yield,
And gather up the gleanings of the field.
Midst a wide plain two lofty rocks arise,
Between the cliffs an humble valley lies;
Long roves of ridgy mountains run behind.
Where ways obscure and secret passes wind.
But Caesar, deep within his thought, foresees
The foes attempt the covert strong to seize:
So may their troops at leisure range afar,
And to the Celtiberians lead the war.
"Be quick, (he cries) nor minding just array.
Swift to the combat wing your speedy way.
See! where yon cowards to the fastness haste.
But let your terrors in their way be plac'd;
Pierce, not the fearful backs of those that fly.
But on your meeting javelins let 'em die."
He said. The ready legions took the word,
And hastily obey their eager lord;
With diligence the coming foe prevent,
And stay their marches, to the mountains bent.
Near neighbouring now the camps intrench'd are seen.
With scarce a narrow interval between.
Soon as their eyes o'ershoot the middle space,
From either hosts, sires, sons, and brothers trace
The well-known features of some kindred face,
Then first their hearts with tenderness were struck.
First with remorse for civil rage they shook;
Stiffening with horror cold, and dire amaze.
Awhile in silent interviews they gaze:
Anon with speechless signs their swords salute.
While thoughts conflicting keep their masters mote.
At length, disdaining still to be repress'd,
Prevailing passion rose in every breast,
And the vain rules of guilty war transgress'd.
As at a signal, both their trenches quit.
And spreading arms in close embraces knit:
Now friendship runs o'er all her ancient claims,
Guest and companion are their only names;
Old neighbourhood they fondly call to mind.
And how their boyish years in leagues were join'd.
With grief each other mutually they know,
And hud a friend in every Roman foe.
Their falling tears their steely arms bedew.
While interrupting sighs each kiss pursue;
And though their hands are yet unstain'd by guilt,
They tremble for the blood they might have spilt.
But speak, unhappy Roman! speak thy pain.
Say for what woes thy streaming eyes complain?
Why dost thou groan? why beat thy sounding breast?
Why is this wild fantastic grief express'd?
Is it, that yet thy country claims thy care?
Dost thou the crimes of war unwilling share?
Ah! whither art thou by thy fears betray'd?
How canst thou dread that power thyself hast made?
Do Caesar's trumpets call thee? scorn the sound.
Does be bid march? dare thou to keep thy ground.
So rage and slaughter shall to justice yield.
And fierce Erinnys quit the fatal field:
Caesar in peace a private state shall know.
And Pompey be no longer call'd his foe.
Appear, thou heavenly Concord! bless'd appear!
And shed thy better influences here.
Thou, who the warring elements dost bind,
Life of the world, and safety of mankind,
Infuse thy sovereign balm, and heal the wrathful mind.
But if the same dire fury rages yet,
Too well they know what foes their swords shall meet;
No blind pretence of ignorance remains.
The blood they shed must flow from Roman veins.
Oh! fatal truce! the brand of guilty Rome!
From thee worse wars and redder slaughters come.
See! with what tree and unsuspecting love.
From camp to camp the jocund warriors rove;
Each to his turphy table bids his guest,
And Bacchus crowns the hospitable feast.
The grassy fires refulgent lend their light.
While conversation sleepless wastes the night:
Of early feats of arms by turns they tell.
Of fortunes that in various fields befel,
With well-becoming pride their deeds relate,
And now agree, and friendly now debate:
At length, their unauspicious hands are join'd,
And sacred leagues with faith renew'd they bind.
But oh! what worse could cruel fate afford!
The furies smil'd upon the curs'd accord,
And died with deeper stains the Roman sword.
By busy fame Petreius soon is told.
His camp, himself, to Caesar all are sold;
When straight the chief indignant calls to arm.
And bids the trumpet spread the loud alarm.
With war encompass'd round he takes his way,
And breaks the short-liv'd truce with fierce affray;
He drives the' unarm'd and unsuspecting guest,
Amaz'd and wounded, from the' unfinish'd feast;
With horrid steel he cuts each fond embrace,
And violates with blood the new-made peace:
And lest the fainting flames of wrath expire,
With words like these he fans the deadly fire.
"Ye herd! unknowing of the Roman worth,
And lost to that great cause which led you forth;
Though victory and captive Caesar were
Honours too glorious for your swords to share;
Yet something, abject as you are, from you.
Something to virtue and the laws is due:
A second praise ev'n yet you may partake;
Fight, and be vanquish'd for your country's sake.
Can you, while fate as yet suspends our doom.
While you have blood and lives to lose for Rome,
Can you with tame submission seek a lord;
And own a cause by men and gods abhor'd
Will you in lowly wise his mercy crave?
Can soldiers beg to wear the name of slave?
Would you for us your suit to Caesar move?
Know we disdain his pardoning power to prove:
No private bargain shall redeem this head;
For Rome, and not for us, the war was made.
Though peace a specious poor pretence afford,
Baseness and bondage lurk beneath the word.
In vain the workmen search the steely mine,
To arm the field, and bid the battle shine;
In vain the fortress lifts her towery height;
In vain the warlike steed provokes the fight;
In vain our oars the foamy ocean sweep;
In vain our floating castles hide the deep;
In vain by land, in vain by sea we fought,
If peace shall e'er with liberty be bought.
See! with what constancy, what pliant pride,
Our steadfast foes defend an impious side!
Bound by their oaths, though enemies to good.
They scorn to change from what they once have vow'd.
While each vain breath your slackening faith withdraws:
Yours! who pretend to arm for Rome and laws;
Who find no fault, but justice in your cause.
And yet, methinks, I would not give you o'er,
A brave repentance still is in your pow'r;
While Pompey calls the utmost east from far.
And leads the Indian monarchs on to war.
Shall we (oh, shame!) prevent his great success.
And bind his hands by our inglorious peace?"
He spoke; and civil rage at once returns,!
Each breast the fonder thought of pity scorns,
And ruthless with redoubled fury burns.
So when the tiger, or the spotted pard,
Long from the woods and savage haunts debar'd,
From their first fierceness for a while are won,
And seem to put a gentler nature on;
Patient their prison, and mankind they bear.
Fawn on their lords, and looks less horrid wear:
But let the taste of slaughter be renew'd,
And their fell jaws again with gore imbru'd
Then dreadfully their wakening furies rise,
And glaring fires rekindle in their eyes;
With wrathful roar their echoing dens they tear,
And, hardly ev'n the well-known keeper spare;
The shuddering keeper shakes, and stands aloof for fear.
From friendship freed, and conscious nature's tie,
To undistinguish'd slaughters loose they fly;
With guilt avow'd their daring crimes advance,
And scorn the' excuse of ignorance and chance.
Those whom so late their fond embraces press'd,
The bosom's partner, and the welcome guest,
Now at the board unhospitable bleed,
While streams of blood the flowing bowl succeed.
With groans at first each draws the glittering brand
And lingering death stops in the' unwilling hand;
Till urg'd at length, returning force they feel,
And catch new courage from the murdering steel
Vengeance and hatred rise with every blow,
And blood paints every visage like a foe.
Uproar and horror through the camp abound.
While impious sons their mangled fathers wound
And, lest the merit of the crime be lost,
With dreadful joy the parricide they boast
Proud to their chiefe the cold pale heads they bear,
The gore yet dropping from the silver hair.
But thou, oh Caesar! to the gods be dear
Thy pious mercy well becomes their care;
And though thy soldier falls by treacherous peace,
Be proud, and reckon this thy great success.
Not all thou ow'st to bounteous fortune's smile,
Not proud Massilia, nor the Pharian Nile,
Not the full conquest of Pharsalia's field,
Could greater fame, or nobler trophies yield:
Thine and the cause of justice now are one,
Since guilty slaughter brands thy foes alone.
Nor dare the conscious leaders longer wait.
Or trust to such unhallow'd hands their fate;
Astonish'd and dismay'd they shun the fight,
And to Ilerda turn their hasty flight
But ere their march achieves its destin'd course,
Preventing Caesar sends the winged horse:
The speedy squadrons seize the' appointed ground,
And hold their foes on bills encompass'd round.
Pent up in barren heights, they strive in vain
Refreshing springs and flowing streams to gain;
Strong hostile works their camp's extension stay,
And deep-sunk trenches intercept their way.
Now deaths in unexpected forms arise,
Thirst and pale famine stalk before their eyes.
Shut op and close besieg'd, no more they need!
The strength or swiftness of the warlike steed
But doom the generous coursers all to bleed,
Hopeless at length, and bar'd around from flight.
Headlong they rush to arms, and urge the fight:
But Caesar, who with wary eyes beheld
With what determin'd rage they sought the field.
Restrain'd his eager troops. "Forbear! (he cried)
Nor let your sword in madmen's blood be dyed.
But since they come devoted by despair, -
Since life is grown unworthy of their care,
Since 'tis their time to die, 'tis ours to spare.
Those naked bosoms that provoke the foe.
With greedy hopes of deadly vengeance glow;
With pleasure shall they meet die pointed steel,-
Nor smarting wounds, nor dying anguish feel.
If, while they bleed, your Caesar shares the pain
And mourns his gallant friends among the slain.
Rut wait awhile, this rage shall soon be past.
This blaze of courage is too fierce to last
This ardour for the fight shall faint away,
And all this fond desire of death decay."
He spoke; and at the word the war was stay'd
Till Phoebus fled from night's ascending shade.
Ev'n all the day, embattled on the plain,
The rash Petreians urge to arms in vain:
At length the weary fire began to cease.
And wasting fury languish'd into peace;
The' impatient arrogance of wrath declin'd.
And slackening passions cool'd upon the mind.
So when, the battle roaring loud around.
Some warrior warm receives a fatal wound;
While yet the griding sword has newly pass'd.
And the first pungent pains and anguish last;
While full with life the turgid vessels rise.
And the warm juice the sprightly nerve supplies;
Each sinewy limb with fiercer force is press'd.
And rage redoubles in the burning breast:
Bat if, as conscious of the' advantage gain'd,
The cooler victor stays his wrathful hand;
Then sinks his thrall with ebbing spirits low.
Hie black blood stiffens, and forgets to flow;
Cold damps and numbness close the deadly stound.
And stretch him pale, and fainting, on the ground.
For water now on every side they try.
Alike the sword and delving spade employ;
Earth's bosom dark, laborious they explore.
And search the sources of her liquid store;
Deep in the hollow hill the well descends.
Till level with the moister plain it ends.
Not lower down from cheerful day decline
The pale Assyrians, in the golden mine;
In vain they toil, no secret streams are found
To roll their murmuring tides beneath the ground;
No bursting springs repay the workman's stroke.
Nor glittering gush from out the wounded rock;
No sweating caves in dewy droppings stand.
Nor smallest rills run gurgling o'er the sand.
Spent and exhausted with the fruitless pain,
The fainting youth ascend to light again.
And now less patient of the drought they grow.
Than in those cooler depths of earth below;
No savoury viands crown the cheerful board,
Ev'n food, for want of water, stands abhor'd;
To hunger's meager refuge they retreat.
And since they cannot drink, refuse to eat.
Where yielding clods a moister clay confess,
With griping hands the clammy glebe they press
Where'er the standing puddle loathsome lies,
Thither in crowds the thirsty soldier flies;
Horrid to sight, the miry filth they quaff.
And drain with dying jaws the deadly draff.
Some seek the bestial mothers for supply.
And draw the herds' extended udders dry;
Till thirst, unsated with the milky store.
With labouring lips drinks in the putrid gore.-
Some strip the leaves, and suck the morning dews;
Some grind the bark, the woody branches bruise,
And squeeze the sapling's unconnected juice.
Oh! happy those to whom the barbarous kings
Left their envenom'd floods, and tainted springs!
Caesar be kind, and every bane prepare.
Which Cretan rocks or Libyan serpents bear:
The Romans to thy poisonous stream shall fly,
And, conscious of the danger, drink, and die.
With secret flames their withering entrails burn,
And fiery breathings from their lungs return;
Hie shrinking veins contract their purple flood,
And urge, laborious, on the beating blood;
The heaving sighs through straiter passes blow,
And scorch the painful palate as they go;
The parch'd rough tongue night's humid vapours draws,
And restless rolls within the clammy jaws;
With gaping mouths they wait the falling rain,
And want those floods that lately spread the plain.
Vainly to heaven they turn their longing eyes.
And fix 'em on the dry relentless skies.
Nor here by sandy Afric are they curs'd,
Nor Cancer's sultry line inflames their thirst;
But to enhance their pain, they view below,
Where lakes stand full, and plenteous rivers flow;
Between two streams expires the panting host,
And in a land of water are they lost!
Now, press'd by pinching want's unequal weight.
The vanquish'd leaders yield to adverse fate:
Rejecting amis, Afranius seeks relief.
And sues submissive to the hostile chief.
Foremost himself, to Caesar's camp he leads
His famish'd troops; a fainting band succeeds.
At length, in presence of the victor plac'd,
A fitting dignity his gesture grac'd.
That spoke his present fortunes, and his past.
With decent mixture in his manly mien.
The captive and the general were seen:
Then with a free, secure, undaunted breast.
For mercy thus his pious suit be press'd:
Had fate and my ill-fortune laid me low.
Beneath the power of some ungenerous foe;
My sword hung ready to protect my fame,
And this right hand had sav'd my soul from shame:
But now with joy I bend my suppliant knee.
Life is worth asking, since 'tis given by thee!
No party zeal our factious arms inclines.
No hate of thee, or of thy bold designs:
War with its own occasions came unsought.
And found us on the side for which we fought:
True to our cause, as best becomes the brave.
Long as we could we kept that faith we gave
Nor shall our arms thy stronger fate delay.
Behold! our yielding paves thy conquering way:
The western nations all at once we give.
Securely these behind thee shalt thou leave:
Here while thy full dominion stands confess'd.
Receive it as an earnest of the east.
Nor this thy easy victory disdain,
Bought with no seas of blood, nor hills of slain;
Forgive the foes that spare thy sword a pain.
Nor is the boon for which we sue too great.
The weary soldier begs a last retreat;
In some poor village, peaceful at the plough.
Let 'em enjoy the life thou dost bestow.
Think, in some field, among the slain we lie,
And lost to thy remembrance, cast us by.
Mix not our arms in thy successful war.
Nor let thy captives in thy triumph share.
These unprevailing bands their fate have tried.
And prov'd that fortune fights not on their side.
Guiltless, to cease from slaughter we implore;
Let us not conquer with thee, and we ask no more,"
He said. The victor, with a gentler grace,
And mercy softening his severer face.
Bade his attending foes their fears dismiss,
Go, free from punishment, and live in peace.
The trace on equal terms at length agreed.
The waters from the watchful guard ave freed:
Eager to drink, down rush the thirsty crowd.
Hang o'er the banks, and trouble all the flood.
Some, while too fierce the fatal draughts they drain.
Forget the gasping lungs that heave in vain;
No breathing airs the choking channels fill,
But every spring of life at once stands still.
Some drink, nor yet the fervent pest assuage,
With wonted fires their bloated entrails rage;
With bursting sides each bulk enormous heaves,
While still for drink the' insatiate fever craves.
At length,.returning health dispers'd the pain.
And lusty vigour strung the nerves again.
Behold! ye sons of luxury behold
Who scatter in excess your lavish gold;
You, who the wealth of frugal ages waste,
To' indulge a wanton supercilious taste:
For whom all earth, all ocean are explor'd.
To spread the.various proud voluptuous board:
Behold I bow Little thrifty nature craves.
And what a cheap relief the lives of thousands saves!
No costly wines these fainting legions know,
Mark'd by old consuls many a year ago;
No waiting slaves the precious juices pour.
From Myrrhine goblets, or the golden ore:
At with pare draughts they cool the boiling blood,
And seek their succour from the crystal flood.
Who, but a wretch, would think it worth his care
The toils and wickedness of war to share,
When all we want thus easily we find
The field and river can supply unkind.
Dismiss'd, and safe from danger and alarms,
The vanquish'd to the victor quits his arms;
Guiltless, fro camps to cities he repairs,
And in his native land forgets his cares.
There in his mind he runs, repenting o'er
The tedious toils and perils once he bore;
Pis spear and sword of battle stand accurs'd,
He hates the weary march, and parching thirst;
And wonders much, that e'er with pious pain
Pe pray'd so oft for victory in vain;
For victory; the corse of those that win;
The fatal end where still new woes begin.
Pet the proud masters of the horrid field
Count all the gains their dire successes yield;
Then let 'em think what wounds they yet must feel,
Ere they can fix revolving Fortune's wheel;
As yet the' imperfect task by halves is done,
Blood, blood remains, more battles must be won,
And many a heavy labour undergone:
Still conquering, to new guilt they shall succeed,
Wherever restless fate and Caesar lead.
How happier lives the man to peace assign'd.
Amidst this general storm that wrecks mankind!
In his own quiet house ordain'd to die,
He knows the place in which his bones shall lie
No trumpet warns him 'put his harness on,
Though Faint, and all with weariness foredone:
But when night falls, he lies securely down.
And calls the creeping slumber all his own.
His kinder fates the warrior's hopes prevent,
And ere the time, the wish'd dismission sent;
A lowly cottage, and a tender wife.
Receive him in his early days of life;
His boys, a rustic tribe, around him play.
And homely pleasures wear the vacant y.
No factious parties here the mind engage,
Nor work the' imbitter'd passions up to rage:
With equal eyes the hostile chiefs they view.
To this their faith, to that their lives are due:
To both oblig'd alike, no part they take,
Nor vows for conquest, nor against it, make.
Mankind's misfortunes they behold from far,
Pleas'd to stand neuter, while the world's at war.
But fortune, bent to check the victor's pride,
In other lands forsook her Caesar's side;
With changing cheer the fickle goddess frown'd,
And for awhile her fav'rite cause disown'd
Where Adria's swelling surge Salonae laves,
And warm Jader rolls his gentle waves,
Bold in the brave Curictan's warlike band,
Antonius 'camps upon the utmost, strand:
Begirt around by Pompey's floating pow'r.
He braves the navy from his well-fenc'd shore.
But while the distant war no more he fears.
Famine, a worse, resistless foe, appears:
No more the meads their grassy pasture yield.
Nor waving harvests crown the yellow field;
On every verdant leaf the hungry feed.
And snatch the forage from the fainting steed;
Then ravenous on their camp's defence they fI,
And grind with greedy jaws the turfy wall.
Near on the neighbouring coast at length they spy,
Where Basilus with social sails draws nigh;
While led by Dolabella's bold command,
Their Caesar's legions spread the' Illyrian strand:
Straight with new hopes their hearts recovering beat,
Aim to elude the foe, and meditate retreat.
Of wondrous form a vast machine they build,
New, and unknown upon the floating field.
Here, nor the keel its crooked length extends.
Nor o'er the way the rising deck ascends;
By beams and grappling chains compacted strong,
Light skiffs, and casks, two equal rows prolong:
O'er these, of solid oak securely made,
Stable and tight, a flooring firm is laid;
Sublime, from hence, two planky towers run high,
And nodding battlements the foe defy:
Securely plac'd, each rising range between,
The lusty rower plies his task unseen.
Meanwhile, nor oars upon the sides appear.
Nor swelling sails receive the driving air:
But living seems the mighty mass to sweep,
And glide, self-mov'd, athwart the yielding deep.
Three wondrous floats, of this enormous size,
Soon by the skilful builder's craft arise;
The ready warriors all aboard them ride.
And wait the turn of the retiring tide.
Backward, at length, revolving Tethys flows.
And ebbing waves the naked sands disclose:
Straight by the stream the launching piles are born,
Shields, spears, and helms, their nodding towers adorn
Threatening they move, in terrible array,
And to the deeper ocean bend their way.
Octavius now, whose naval powers command
Adria's rode seas, and wide Illyria's strand.
Full in their course his fleet advancing stays,
And each impatient combatant delays:
To the bine offing wide he seems to bear,
Hopeful to draw the' unwary vessels near;
Aloof he rounds 'em, eager on his prey.
And tempts 'em with an open roomy sea.
Thus, when the wily huntsman spreads his nets.
And with his ambient toil the wood besets;
While yet his busy hands, with skilful care.
The meshy hayes and forky props prepare;
Ere yet the deer the painted plumage spy.
Snuff the strong odour from afar, and fly;
His mates, the Cretan hound and Spartan, bind.
And muzzle all the loud Molossian kind;
The quester only to the wood they loose.
Who silently the tainted track pursues:
Mute signs alone the conscious haunt betray.
While fix'd he points, and trembles to the prey.
'Twas at the season when the tainting light,
Just in the evening's close, brought on the night;
When the tall towery floats then isle forsook.
And to the seas their course, advent'rous, took
But now the fam'd Cicilian pirates, skill'd
In arts and warfare of the liquid field,
Their wonted wiles and stratagems provide,
To aid their great acknowledg'd victor's side.
Beneath the glassy surface of die main,
From rock to rock they stretch a pondrous chain
Loosely the slacker links suspended flow.
To' enwrap the driving fabrics as they go.
Urg'd from within, and wafted by the tide
Smooth o'er the boom the first and second glide;
The third the guileful latent chain enfolds.
And in his steely grasp entwining holds:
From the tall rocks the shouting victors roar,
And drag the resty captive to the shore.
For ages past an ancient cliff there stood,
Whose bending brow hung threatening o'er the flood
A verdant grove was on the summit plac'd,
And o'er the waves a gloomy shadow cast;
While near the base wild hollows sink below,
There roll huge seas, and bellowing tempests blow:
Thither whate'er die greedy waters drown.
The shipwreck, and the driving corps, are thrown e
Anon, the gaping gulf the spoil restores.
And from his lowest depths loud-spouting pours.
Not rude Charybdis roars in sounds like these,
When thundering, with a burst, she spews the foamy seas.
Hither, with warlike Opitergians fraught,
The third ill-fated prisoner float was brought:
The foe, as at a signal, speed their way.
And haste to compass in the destin'd prey
The crowding sails from every station press,
While armed bands the rocks and shores possess
Too late the chief, Vulteius, found the snare.
And strove to burst the toil with fruitless care:
Driv'n by despair at length, nor thinking yet
Which way to fight, or whither to retreat,
He turns upon the foe; and though distress'd.
By wiles entangled, and by crowds oppress'd.
With scarce a single cohort to his aid,
Against the gathering host a stand he made.
Fierce was the combat fought,- with slaughter great.
Though thus on odds unequally they meet.
One with a thousand match'd, a ship against a fleet
But soon on dusky wings arose the night.
And with her friendly shade restrains the fight
The combatants from war, consenting, cease
And pass the hours of darkness o'er in peace.
When to the soldier, anxious for his fate.
And doubtful what success the dawn might wait.
The brave Vulteius thus his speech address'd,
And thus compos'd the cares of every beating breast.
My gallant friends! whom our hard fates decree,
This night, this short night only, to be free;
Think what remains to do, but think with haste,
Ere the brief hour of liberty be past.
Perhaps, reduc'd to this so hard extreme.
Too short to some, the date of life may seem;
Yet know, brave youths, that none untimely fall.
Whom death obeys, and comes but when they call.
'Tis true, the neighb'ring danger waits us nigh;
We meet but that from which we cannot fly;
Yet think not but with equal praise we die
Dark and uncertain is man's future doom,
If years' or only moments are to come;
All is but dying; he who gives an hour,
Or he who gives an age, gives all that's in his pow'r.
Sooner or late all mortals know the grave;
But to choose death distinguishes the brave.
Behold where, waiting round, yon hostile band,
Our fellow-citizens, our lives demand.
Prevent we then their cruel hands, and bleed;
'Tis but to do what is too sure decreed,
And where our fate woo'd drag us on, to lead.
A great conspicuous slaughter shall we yield.
Nor lie the carnage of a common field;
Where one ignoble heap confounds the slain.
And men, and beasts, promiscuous strow the plain,
Plac'd on this float by some diviner hand.
As on a stage, for public view we stand.
Illyria's neighbouring shores, her isles around.
And every cliff with gazers shall be crown'd;
The seas, and earth, our virtue shall proclaim.
And stand eternal vouchers for our fame;
Alike the foes and fellows of our cause
Shall mark the deed, and join in vast applause.
Bless'd be thou. Fortune, that has mark'd us forth,
A monument of unexampled worth;
To latest times our story shall be told,
Ev'n rais'd beyond the noblest names of old,
Distinguish'd praise shall crown our daring youth.
Our pious honour and unshaken truth.
Mean is our offering, Caesar, we confess;
For such a chief, what soldier can do less?
Yet oh! this faithful pledge of love receive!
Take it, 'tis all that captives have to give.
Oh! that to make the victim yet more dear,
Our aged sires, our children had been here:
Then with full horror should the slaughter rise
And blast our paler foes' astonish'd eyes;
Till aw'd beneath that scorn of death we wear,
They bless the time our fellows 'scap'd their snare:
Till with mean tears our fate the cowards mourn
And tremble at the rage with which we burn.
Perhaps, they mean our constant souls to try.
Whether for life and peace we may comply.
Oh! grant, ye gods! their offers may be great.
That we may gloriously disdain to treat;
That this last proof of virtue we may give,
And show we die not no w, because we could not live;
That valour to no common heights must rise,
Which he, our godlike chief, himself shall prize.
Immortal shall our truth for ever stand,
If Caesar thinks this little faithful band
A loss, amidst the host of his command.
For me, my friends, my fix'd resolve is ta'en,
And fate, or chance, may proffer life in vain;
I scorn whatever safety they provide,
And cast the worthless trifling thought aside.
The sacred rage of death devours me whole.
Reigns in my heart, and triumphs in my soul:
He spoke. The band his potent tone confess'd
And generous ardour burn'd in every breast.
No longer now they view, with watery eyes,
The swift revolving circle of the skies;
No longer think the setting stars in haste,
Nor wonder slow Bootes moves so fast:
But with high hearts exulting all and gay.
They wish for light, and call the tardy day.
Yet, nor the heavenly Axis long delays.
To roll the radiant signs beneath the seas:
In Leda's twins now rose the warmer sun,
And near the lofty Crab exalted shone;
Swiftly night's shorter shades began to move.
And to the west Thessalian Chiron drove.
At length the morning's purple beams disclose
The wide horizon cover'd round with foes;
Each rock and shore the crowding Istrians keep,
While Greeks and fierce liburnians spread the deep;
When yet, ere fury lets the battle loose,
Octavius wooes 'em with the terms of truce:
If haply Pompey's chains they choose to wear.
And captive life to instant death prefer.
But the brave youth, regardless of his might.
Fierce in the scorn of life, and hating light;
Fearless, and careless, of whate'er may come.
Resolv'd, and self-determin'd to their doom.
Alike disdain the threatening of the war.
And all the flattering wiles their foes prepare.
Calmly the numerous legions round they view.
At once by land and sea the fight renew:
Relief, or friends, or aid, expect they none
But fix one certain trust — in death alone.
In opposition firm awhile they stood.
But soon were satisfied with hostile blood:
Then turning from the foe, with gallant pride,
"Is there a generous youth (Vulteius cried)
Whose worthy sword may pierce your leader's side i"
He said: and at the word, from every part,
A hundred pointed weapons reach'd his heart;
Dying, he prais'd 'em all, but him the chief.
Whose eager duty brought the first relief:
Deep in his breast he plung'd his deadly blade.
And with a grateful stroke the friendly gift repaid.
At once all rush, at once to death they fly.
And on each other's sword alternate die;
Greedy to make the mischief all their own.
And arrogate the guilt of war alone.
A fate like this did Cadmus harvest prove,
When mortally the earth-born brethren strove;
When by each other's hands of life bereft,
An omen dire to future Thebes they left.
Such was the rage inspir'd the Colchian foes,
When from the dragons' wondrous teeth they rose;
When urg'd by charms, and magic's mystic pow'r.
They dy'd their native field with streaming gore;
Till ev'n the fell enchantress' stood dismay'd.
And wonder'd at the mischiefs which she made.
Furies more fierce the dying Romans feel,
And with bare breasts provoke the lingering steel;
With fond embraces catch the deadly darts,
And press 'em plunging to their panting hearts.
No wound imperfect, for a second calls;
With certain aim the sure destruction falls.
This last best gift, this one unerring blow,
Sires, sons, and brothers mutually bestow;
Nor piety, nor fond remorse prevail,
And if they fear, they only fear to fail.
Here with red streams the blushing waves they stain,
Here dash their mangled entrails in the main.
Here with a last disdain they view the skies,
Shout out heaven's hated light with scornful eyes,
And with insulting joy the victor-foe despise.
At length the heapy slaughter rose on high.
The hostile chiefs the purple pile descry;
And while the last accustom'd rites they give.
Scarcely the unexampled deed believe:
Much they admire a faith by death approv'd.
And wonder lawless power could e'er be thus belov'd.
Wide through mankind eternal fame displays
This hardy crew, this single vessel's praise.
But oh! the story of the godlike rage
Is lost upon a vile degenerate age;
The base, the slavish world will not be taught,
With how much ease their freedom may be bought;
Still arbitrary power on thrones commands.
Still liberty is gall'd by tyrants' bands.
And swords in vain are trusted to our hands.
Oh, death! thou pleasing end of human woe,
Thou cure for life, thou greatest good below;
Still may'st thou fly the coward and the slave,
And thy soft slumbers only bless the brave.
Nor war's pernicious god less havoc yields.
Where swarthy Libya spreads her sun-burn'd fields:
For Curio now the stretching canvass spread.
And from Sicilian shores his navy led;
To Afric's coast he cuts the foamy way.
Where low the once victorious Carthage lay.
There landing, to the well-known camp he hies.
Where from afar the distant seas he spies;,
Where Bagrada's dull waves the sands divide,
And slowly downward roll their sluggish tide.
From thence he seeks the heights renown'd by fame,
And hallow'd by the great Cornelian name;
The rocks and hills which, long traditions say.
Were held by huge Antaeus' horrid sway.
Here, as by chance he lights upon the place,
Curious he tries the reverend tale to trace.
When thus, in short, the ruder Libyans tell,
What from their sires they heard, and bow e case befel.
The teeming earth, for ever fresh and young,
Yet, after many a giant-son, was strong;
When labouring here with e prodigious birth,
She brought her youngest-born Antaeus forth.
Of all the dreadful brood which erst she bore,
In none the fruitful beldame gloried more:
Happy for those above, she brought him not,
Till after Phlegra's doubtful field was font.
That this, her darling, might in force excel,
A gift she gave; whene'er to earth he fell,
Recruited strength he from his parent drew.
And every slackening nerve was strung anew.
Yon cave his den he made; where-e oft for food.
He snatch'd the mother lion's horrid brood:
Nor leaves, nor shaggy hides his couch prepar'd
Torn from the tiger, or the spotted pard:
But stretch'd along the naked earth he lies:
New vigour still the native earth supplies.
Whate'er he meets his ruthless hands invade,
Strong in himself, without his mother's aid.
The strangers that, unknowing, seek the shore.
Soon a worse shipwreck on the land deplore
Dreadful to all, with matchless might he reigns,
Robs, spoils, and massacres the simple swains,
And all unpeopled lie the Libyan plains.
At length, around the trembling nations spread.
Fame of the tyrant to Alcides fled.
The godlike hero, born by Jove's decree.
To set the seas and earth from monsters free;
Hither in generous pity bent his course.
And set himself to prove the giant's force.
Now met, the combatants for fight provide.
And either doffs the lion's yellow hide.
Bright in Olympic oil Alcides shone,
Anteus with his mother's dust is strown,
And seeks her friendly force to aid his own.
Now seizing fierce, their grasping hands they mix
And labour on the swelling throat to fix;
Their sinewy arms are writh'd in many a fold,
And front to front they threaten stem and bold.
Unmatch'd before, each bends a sullen frown.
To find a force thus equal to his own.
At length the godlike victor Greek prevail'd,
Nor yet the foe with all his force assail'd.
Faint dropping sweats bedew the monsters brows,
And panting thick with heaving sides he blows;
His trembling head the slackening nerves confess'd.
And from the hero shrunk his yielding breast.
The conqueror pursues, his arms entwine.
Infolding gripe, and strain his crashing chine.
While his broad knee bears forceful on his groin.
At once' his faltering feet from earth he rends,
And on the sands his mighty length extends.
The parent earth her vanquish'd son deplores,
And with a touch his vigour lost restores:
From his faint limbs the clammy dews she drains,
And with fresh streams recruits his ebbing veins
The muscles swell, the hardening sinews rise.
And bursting from the' Herculean grasp he flies.
Astonish'd at the sight Alcides stood:
Nor more he wonder'd, when in Lerna's flood
The dreadful snake her falling heads renew'd.
Of all his various labours, none was seen
With equal joy by heaven's unrighteous queen;
Pleas'd she beheld what toil, what pains he prov'd,
He who had borne the weight of heaven unmov'd.
Sodden again upon the foe he flew.
The falling foe to earth for aid withdrew;
The earth again her fainting son supplies.
And with redoubled forces bids him rise:
Her vital powers to succour him she sends
And earth herself with Hercules contends.
Conscious at length of such unequal fight,
And that the parent touch renew'd his might,
No longer shalt thou fall, (Alcides cried)
Henceforth the combat standing shall be tried;
If thou wilt lean, to me alone incline,
And rest upon no other breast but mine."
He said; and as he saw the monster stoop.
With mighty arms aloft he rears him up;
No more the distant earth her son supplies.
Lock'd in the hero's strong embrace he lies;
Nor thence dismiss'd, nor trusted to the ground.
Till death in every frozen limb was found.
Thus, fond of tales, our ancestors of old
The story to their childrens' children told;
From thence a title to the land they gave,
And call'd this hollow rock Antaeus' cave.
But greater deeds this rising mountain grace.
And Scipio's name ennobles much the place;
While fixing here his famous camp, he calls
Fierce Hannibal from Rome's devoted walls.
As yet the mouldering works remain in view.
Where dreadful once the Latian eagles flew.
"Fond of the prosperous victorious name.
And trusting fortune would be still the same.
Hither his hapless ensigns Curio leads.
And here his unauspicious camp he spreads.
A fierce superior foe his arms provoke.
And rob the hills of all their ancient luck.
O'er all the Roman powers in Libya's land.
Then Atius Varus bore supreme command;
Nor trusting in the Latian strength alone.
With foreign force he fortified his own
Summon'd the swarthy monarchs all from fer
And call'd remotest Juba forth to war.
O'er many a country runs his wide command.
To Atlas huge, and Gades' western strand;
From thence to horned Ammon's fane renown'd.
And the waste Syrts unhospitable bound:
Southward as far he reigns, and rules alone
The sultry regions of the burning zone.
With him, unnumber'd nations march along,
The' Autololes with wild Numidians throng
The rough Getulian, with his ruder steed;
The Moor, resembling India's swarthy breed
Poor Nasamon's, and Garamantines join'd.
With swift Marmaridans that match the wind;
The Mazax, bred the trembling dart to throw.
Sure as the shaft that leaves the Parthian bow:
With these Massylia's nimble horsemen ride.
They nor the bit nor curbing rein provide.
But with light rods the well-taught courser guide.-
From lonely cots the Libyan hunters came,.
Who still unarm'd invade the savage game.
And with spread mantles tawny lions tame.
But not Rome's fate, nor civil rage alone.
Incite the monarch Pompey's cause to own;
Stung by resenting wrath, the war be sought.
And deep displeasures past by Curio wrought.
He, when the tribune's sacred power he gain'd.
When justice, laws, and gods were all profan'd
At Juba's ancient sceptre aim'd his hate,
And strove to rob him of his royal seat:
From a just prince would tear his native right.
While Rome was made a slave to lawless might.
The king, revolving causes from afar.
Looks on himself as party to the war.
That grudge, too well remembering. Curio knew
To this he joins his troops to Caesar new;
None of those old experienc'd faithful bands.
Nurs'd in his fear, and bred to his commands;
But a loose, neutral, light, uncertain train.
Late with Corfinium's captive fortress ta'en.
That wavering pause, and doubt for whom to strike.
Sworn to both sides, and true to both alike.
The careful chief beheld, with anxious heart.
The faithless centinels each night desert:
Then thus, resolving, to himself he cried,
By daring shows our greatest fears we hide;
Then let me haste to, bid the battle join,
And lead my army, while it yet is mine;
Leisure and thinking still to change incline.
Let war, and action, busy thought control.
And find a full employment for the soul.
When with drawn swords determin'd soldiers stand.
When shame is lost, and fury prompts the hand,
What reason then can find a time to pause,
To weigh the differing chiefs, and juster cause?
That cause seems only just for which they fight;
Each likes his own, and all are in the right.
On terms like these, within the' appointed space.
Bold gladiators gladiators face:
Unknowing why, like fiercest foes they greet,
And only hate, and kill, because they meet."
He said; and rang'd his troops upon the plain,')
While fortune met him with a semblance vain
Covering her malice keen, and all his future pain,
Before him Varus' vanquish'd legions yield.
And with dishonest flight forsake the field;
Expos'd to shameful wounds their backs he views,
And to their camp the fearful rout pursues.
Juba with joy the mournful news receives.
And haughty in his own success believes.
Careful his foes in error to maintain.
And still preserve them confident and vain;
Silent he marches on in secret sort.
And keeps his numbers close from loud report.
Sabbura, great in the Numidian race,
And second to their swarthy king in place,
First with a chosen slender band precedes,
And seemingly the force of Juba leads:
While hidden he, the prince himself, remains.
And in a secret vale his host constrains.
Thus oft the' Ichneumon on the banks of Nile,
Invades the deadly aspic by a wile;
While artfully his slender tail is play'd.
The serpent darts upon the dancing shade;
Then turning on the foe with swift surprise,
Full at his throat the nimble seizer flies:
The gasping snake expires beneath the wound,
His gushing jaws with poisonous floods abound,
And shed the fruitless mischief on the ground.
Nor fortune fail'd to favour his intent
But crown'd the fraud with prosperous event.,
Curio, unknowing of the hostile pow'r,
Commands his horse the doubtful plain to scour;
And ev'n by night the regions round explore.
Himself, though oft forewarn'd by friendly care,
Of punic frauds and danger to beware,
Soon as the dawn of early day was broke,
His camp, with all the moving foot, forsook.
It seem'd, necessity inspir'd the deed,
And fate requir'd the daring youth should bleed.
War, that curs'd war which he himself begun,
To death and ruin drove him headlong on.
O'er devious rocks, long time, his way he takes,
Through rugged paths, and rude incumbering brakes;
Till from afar, at length the hills disclose,
Assembling on their heights his distant foes.
Of hasty flight with swift retreat they feign,
To draw the' unwary leader to the plain.
He, rash and ignorant of Libyan wiles,
Wide o'er the naked champain spreads his files;
When, sudden, all the circling mountains round
With numberless Numidians thick are crown'd:
At once the rising ambush stands confess'd.
And dread strikes cold on every Roman breast.
Helpless they view the' impending danger nigh.
Nor can the valiant fight, nor coward fly.
The weary horse neglects the trumpet's sound,
Nor with impatient ardour paws the ground;
No more he champs the bit, nor tugs the rein
Nor pricks his ears, nor shakes his flowing mane:
With foamy sweat his smoking limbs are spread.
And all o'er-labour'd hangs his heavy head:
Hoarse, and with pantings thick, his bread) he draws,
While ropy filth begrimes his clammy jaws;
Careless the rider's heartening voice he hears,
And motionless the wounding spur he bears.
At length, by swords and goading darts compil'd,
Dronish he drags his load across the field;
Nor once attempts to charge, but drooping goes
To bear his dying lord amidst his foes.
Not so the Libyans fierce their onset make;
With thundering hoofs the sandy soil they shake;
Thick o'er the battle wavy clouds arise,
As when through Thrace, Bistonian Boreas flies,
Involves the day in dust, and darkens all the skies.
And now the Latian foot encompass'd round,
Are massacred, and trodden to the ground;
None in resistance vainly prove their might.
But death is all the business of the fight.
Thicker than hail the steely showers descend;
Beneath the weight the falling Romans bend.
On every side the shrinking front grows less,
And to the centre madly all they press:
Fear, uproar, and dismay, increase the cry,
Crushing and crush'd, an armed crowd they die
Ev'n thronging on their fellows' swords they run.
And the foes' business by themselves is done.
But the fierce Moors disdain a crowd should share
The praise of conquest, or the task of war:
Rivers of blood they wish, and hills of slime,
With mangled carcases to strow the plain.
Genius of Carthage! rear thy drooping head.
And view thy fields with Roman slaughter spread
Behold, oh Hannibal, thou hostile shade!
A large amends by fortune's hand is made,
And the lost Punic blood is well repaid.
Thus do the gods the cause of Pompey bless?
Thus! is it thus they give our arms success?
Take, Afric, rather take the horrid good.
And make tuy own advantage of our blood.
The dust, at length, in crimson floods was laid,
And Curio now the dreadful field survey'd.
He saw 'twas lost, and knew it vain to strive,
Yet bravely scorn'd to fly, or to survive;
And though thus driven to death, he met it well.
And in a crowd of dying Romans fell.
Now what avail thy popular arts and fame,
Thy restless mind that shook thy country's frame;
Thy moving tongue that knew so well to charm,
And urge the madding multitude to arm?
What boots it, to have sold the Senate's right.
And driven the furious leaders on to fight?
Thou, the first victim of thy war, art slain;
Nor shalt thou see Pharsalia's fatal plain.
Behold! ye potent troublers of the state.
What wretched ends on curs'd ambition wait t
See i where, a prey, unburied Curio lies,
To every fowl that wings the Libyan skies.
Oh! were the gods as gracious, as severe,
Were liberty, like vengeance, still their care;
Then, Rome! what days, what people might'st thou see,
If Providence would equally decree,
To punish tyrants, and preserve thee free.
Nor yet, oh generous Curio! shall my verse
Forget thy praise, thy virtues, to rehearse;
Thy virtues, which with envious time shall strive.
And to succeeding ages long survive.
In all our pregnant mother's tribes, before,
A son of nobler hope she never bore:
A soul more bright, more great she never knew.
While to thy country's interest thou wert true.
But thy bad fate o'er-rul'd thy native worth.
And in an age abandon'd brought thee forth;
When vice in triumph through the city pass'd.
And dreadful wealth and power laid all things waste.
The sweeping stream thy better purpose cross'd,
And in the headlong torrent wert thou lost.
Much to the ruin of the State was done,
When Curio by the Gallic spoils was won;
Curio, the hope of Rome, and her most worthy son!
Tyrants of old, whose former times record.
Who rul'd, and ravag'd with the murdering sword;
Sylla, whom such unbounded power made proud;
Marius, and Cinna, red with Roman blood;
Caesar's mighty race, who lord it now,
Before whose throne the subject nations bow.
All bought that power which lavish Curio sold
Curio, who barter'd liberty for gold.