Book V

Thus equal fortune holds awhile the scale,
And bids the leading chiefs by turns prevail;
In doubt the goddess yet their fate detains.
And keeps 'em for Emathia's fatal plains.
And now the setting Pleiades grew low,
The hills stood hoary in December's snow;
The solemn season was approaching near,
When other names e renew'd, the Fasti wear,
And double Janus leads the coming year.
The consuls, while their rods they yet maintain'd,
While yet some show of liberty remain'd,
With missives round the scatter'd fathers greet,
And in Epirus bid the Senate meet.
There the great rulers of the Roman state.
In foreign seats, consulting, meanly sate.
No face of war the grave assembly wears.
But civil power in peaceful pomp appears:
The purple order to their plac. resort,
While waiting lictors guard the crowded court
No faction these, nor party, seem to be.
But a full Senate, legal, just, and free.
Great as he is, here Pompey stands confess'd
A private man, and one among the rest.
Their mutual groans, at length, and murmurs cease,-
And every mournful sound is hush'd in peace;
When from the consular distinguish'd throne.
Sublimely rais'd, thus Lentulus begun:
"If yet our Roman virtue is the same,
Yet worthy of the race from which we came,
And emulates our great forefather's name;
Let not our thoughts, by sad remembrance led,
Bewail those captive walls from whence we fled;
This time demands that to ourselves we turn.
Nor, fathers, have we leisure now to mourn;
But let each early care, each honest heart.
Our Senate's sacred dignity assert.
To all around proclaim it, wide and near,
That power which kings obey, and nations fear,
That only legal power of Rome is here.
For whether to the northern Bear we go.
Where pale she glitters o'er eternal snow;.
Or whether in those sultry climes we burn,
Where night and day with equal hours return;
The world shall still acknowledge us its head,
And empire follow wheresoe'er we lead.
When Gallic flames the burning city felt.
At Veiae Rome with her Camillus dwelt.
Beneath forsaken roofs proud Caesar reigns.
Our vacant courts and silent laws constrains;
While slaves obedient to his tyrant will,
Outlaws and profligates, his Senate fill;
With him a banish'd guilty crowd appear,
All that are just and innocent are here.
Dispers'd by war, though guiltless of its crimes, -
Our Older yielded to these impious times;
Rome possessed by Caesar
At length, retaining each from his retreat,
In happy hour the scatter'd members meet.
The gods and fortune greet us on the way,
And with the world lost Italy repay.
Upon Illyria's favourable coast,
Vulteius with his furious band are lost;
While in bold Curio the Libyan plain,
One half of Caesar's senators lie slain.
March then, ye warriors! second fate's design,
And to the leading gods your ardour join:
With equal constancy to battle come,
As when you shun'd the foe, and left your native Rome.
The period of the consuls' power is near.
Who yield our Fasces with the ending year:
But you, ye fathers, whom we still obey,
Who rule mankind with undetermin'd sway.
Attend the public weal, with faithful care.
And bid our greatest Pompey lead the war."
In loud applause the pleas'd assembly join,
And to the glorious task the chief assign:
His country's fate they trust to him alone.
And bid him fight Rome's battles, and his own.
Next, to their friends their thanks are dealt around,
And some with gifts, and some with praise are crown'd;
Of these, the chief are Rhodes, by Phoebus lov'd
And Sparta rough, in virtue's lore approv'd:
Of Athens much they speak; Massilia's aid
Is with her parent Phocis' freedom paid.
Deiotarus? his truth they much commend,
Their still unshaken faithful Asian friend.
Brave Cotys, and His valiant son, they grace,
With bold Rhasipolis from stormy Thrace.
While gallant Juba justly is decreed
To his paternal sceptre to succeed.
And thou too, Ptolemy (unrighteous te!)
Wert rais'd, unworthy, to the regal state;
The crown upon thy perjur'd temple shone.
That once was borne by Philip's godlike son.
O'er egypt shakes the boy his cruel sword
(Oh! that he had been only Egypt's lord!)
But the dire gift more dreadful mischiefs wait,
While Lagos' sceptre gives him Pompey's de:
Preventing Caesar's, and his sister's hand,
He seiz'd his parricide, and her command.
The' assembly rose, and all on war intent
Bustle to arms, and blindly wait the' event.
Appius alone, impatient to be taught.
With what the threatening future times were fraught.
With busy curiosity explores
The dreadful purpose of the heavenly powers.
To Delphos straight he flies, where long the god
In silence had possess'd his close abode
His oracles had long been known to cease,
And the prophetic virgin liv'd in peace.
Between the ruddy west and eastern skies,
In the mid-earth, Parnassus' tops arise:
To Phoebus, and the cheerful god of wine,
Sacred in common, stands the hill divine.
Still as, the third revolving year comes round,
The Maenades with leafy chaplets crown'd.
The double deity, in solemn songs resound.
When o'er the world the deluge wide was spread,
This only mountain rear'd his lofty head;
One rising rock, preserv'd, a bound was giv'n.
Between the vasty deep, and ambient Heav'n.
Here, to revenge long-vex'd Latona's pain,
Python by infant Paean's darts was slain.
While yet the realm was held by Themis' righteous reign.
But when the god perceiv'd, how from below
The conscious caves diviner breathings blow
How vapours could unfold the' inquirer's doom,
And talking winds could speak of things to come;
Deep in the hollows plunging be retir'd.
There, with foretelling fury first inspir'd,
From thence the prophet's art and honours he acquir'd.
So runs the tale. And oh! what god indeed
Within this gloomy cavern's depth is hid?
What power divine forsakes the Heaven's fair lit,
To dwell with earth, and everlasting night?
What is this spirit, potent, wise, and great.
Who deigns to make a mortal frame his seat?
Who the long chain of secret causes knows,
Whose oracles the years to come disclose?
Who through eternity at once foresees,
And tells that fate which be himself decrees?
Part.of that soul, perhaps, which moves in all.
Whose energy informs the pendant ball.
Through this dark passage seeks the realms above,
And strives to re-unite itself to Jove.
Whate'er the Daemon, when he stands confess'd
Within his raging priestess' panting breast.
Dreadful his godhead from the virgin breaks.
And thundering from her foamy mouth he speaks.
Such is the burst of bellowing Etna's sound.
When fair Sicilia's pastures shake around
Such from Inarime Typheus roars.
While rattling rocks bestrew Campania's shores,.
The listening god, still ready with replies,
To none his aid or oracle denies;
Yet wise and righteous ever, scorns to hear
The fool's fond wishes, or the guilty's pray'r;
Though vainly in repeated vows they trust,
None e'er find grace before him but the just;
Oft to a banish'd wandering, houseless race,
The sacred dictates have assign'd a place:
Oft from the strong he saves the weak in war;
This truth, ye Salaminian seas declare!
And heals the barren land, and pestilential air.
Of all the wants with which this age is curs'd.
The Delphic silence surely is the worst.
But tyrants justly fearful of their doom,
Forbid the gods to tell us what's to come.
Meanwhile the prophetess may well rejoice,
And bless the ceasing of the sacred voice:
Since death too oft her holy task attends,
And immature her dreadful labour ends.
Torn by the fierce distracting rage she springs.
And dies beneath the god for whom she sings.
These silent caves, these Tripods long unmov'd,
Anxious for Rome, inquiring Appius prov'd:
He bids the guardian of the dread abode
Send in the trembling priestess to the god.
The reverend sire the Latian chief obey'd,
And sudden seiz'd the unsuspecting maid,
Where careless in the peaceful grove she stray'd.
Dismay'd, aghast, and pale, he drags her on;
She stops and strives the fatal task to shun:
Subdued by force, to fraud and art she flies.
And thus to turn the Roman's purpose tries.
What curious hopes thy wand'ring fancy move,
The silent Delphic oracle to prove?
In vain, Ausonian Appius, art thou come;
Long has our Phoebus and his cave been dumb.
'Whether, disdaining us, the sacred voice
Has made some other distant land its choice;
Or whether, when the fierce Barbarians' fires
Low in the dust had laid our lofty spires,
Jn heaps the mouldering ashes heavy rod,
And chok'd the channels of the breathing god:
Or Whether Heaven no longer gives replies,
But bids the Sibyls' mystic verse suffice;
When Delphos was taken and sacked, and the temple
Or if he deigns not this bad age to bear,
And holds the world unworthy of his care:
Whate'er the cause, our god has long been mute,
And answers not to any suppliant's suit."
But all! too well her artifice is known.
Her fears confess the god, whom they disown.
Howe'er each rite she seemingly prepares,
A fillet gathers up her foremost hairs;
While the white wreath and bays her temples bind,
And knit the looser locks which flow behind.
Sudden the stronger priest, though yet she strives,
The lingering maid within the temple drives:
Rut still she fears, still shuns the dreadful shrine.
Lags in the outer space,.and feigns the rage divine.
But far unlike the god, her calmer breast
No strong enthusiastic throes confess'd;
No terrors in her starting hairs were seen.
To cast from off her brow the wreathing green;
No broken accents half obstructed hung,
Nor swelling murmurs roll her labouring tongue.
From her fierce jaws no sounding horrors come,
No thunders bellow through the working foam,
To rend the spacious cave, and shake the vaulted dome.
Too plain the peaceful groves and fane betray'd
The wily, fearful, god-dissembling maid.
The furious Roman soon the fraud espied.
And "Hope not thou to 'scape my rage (he cried);
Sore shalt thou rue thy fond deceit, profane!
(The gods and Appius are not mock'd in vain)
Unless thou cease thy mortal Sounds to tell.
Unless thou plunge thee in the mystic cell,
Unless the gods themselves reveal the doom
Which shall befal the warring world and Rome.
He spoke, and, aw'd by the superior dread,
The trembling priestess to the Tripod fled:
Close to the holy breathing vent she cleaves,
And largely the unwonted god receives.
Nor age the potent spirit had decay'd,
But with fall force he Alls the heaving maid;
Nor e'er so strong inspiring Paean came.
Nor stretch'd, as now, her agonizing frame:
The mortal mind driven out, forsook her breast,
And the sole godhead every part possess'd.
Now swell her veins, her turgid sinews rise.
And bounding frantic through the cave she flies;
Her bristling locks the wreathy fillet scorn.
And her fierce feet the tumbling Tripods spurn.
Now wild she dances o'er the vacant fane,
And whirls her giddy head, and bellows with the pain.
Nor yet the less, the' avenging wrathful god.
Pours in his fires, and shakes his sounding rod:
He lashes now, and goads her on amain;
And now he checks her, stubborn to the rein.
Curbs in her tongue, just labouring to disclose.
And speak that fate which in her bosom glows.
Ages on ages throng, a painful load,
Myriads of images, and myriads crowd;
Men, times, and things, or present, or to come.
Work labouring up and down, and urge for room.
Whatever is, shall be, or e'er has been.
Rolls in her thought, and -to her sight is seen.
The ocean's utmost bounds her eyes explore,
And number eveiy sand on every shore;
Nature, and all her works, at once they see, be.
Know when she first begun, and when her end shall
And as the Sibyl once in Cumae's cell.
When vulgar Fates she proudly ceas'd to tell,
The Roman destiny distinguish'd took,
And kept it careful in her sacred book;
So now, Phemonoe in crowds of thought.
The single doom of Latian Appius sought.
Nor in that mass, where multitudes abound,
A private fortune can with ease be found.
At length her foamy mouth begins to flow.
Groans more distinct, and plainer murmurs go:
A doleful howl the roomy cavern shook,
And thus the calmer maid in fainting accents spoke:
While guilty rage the world tumultuous rends,
In peace for thee, Euboea's vale attends;
Thither, as to thy refuge, shalt thou fly,
There find repose, and unmolested lie."
She said; the god her labouring tongue suppress'd,
And in eternal darkness veil'd the rest.
Ye sacred Tripods, on whose doom we wait!
Ye guardians of the future laws of late!
And thou, O Phoebus! whose prophetic skill
Reads the dark counsels of the heavenly will;
Why did your wary oracles refrain
To tell what kings, what heroes, must be slain,
And how much blood the blushing earth should T stain?
Was it that, yet, the guilt was undecreed?
That yet our Pompey was not doom'd to bleed?
Or chose you wisely, rather, to afford
A just occasion to the patriot's sword?
As if you fear'd to' avert the tyrant's doom,
And hinder Brutus from avenging Rome?
Through the wide gales at length, by force display'd,
Impetuous sallies the prophetic maid;
Nor yet the holy rage was all suppress'd,
Part of the god still heaving in her breast:
Urg'd by the Daemon, yet she rolls her eyes,
And wildly wanders o'er the spacious skies.
Now horrid purple flushes in her face,
And now a livid pale supplies the place;
A double madness paints her cheeks by turns.
With fear she freezes, and with fury burns:
Sad breathing sighs with heavy accent go,
And doleful from her fainting bosom blow.
So when no more the storm sonorous sings.
But noisy Boreas hangs his weary wings,
In hollow groans the falling winds complain.
And murmur o'er the hoarse-resounding main.
Now by degrees the fire ethereal fail'd.
And the dull human sense again prevail'd;
While Phoebus, sudden, in a murky shade.
Hid the past vision from the mortal maid.
Thick clouds of dark oblivion rise between.
And snatch away at once the wondrous scene;
Stretch'd on the ground the fainting priestess lies.
While to the Tripod, back, th' informing spirit flies,
Mean-while fond Appius, erring in his fate,
Dream'd of long safety, and a neutral state;
And ere the great event of war was known,
Fix'd on Euboean Chalcis for his own.
Fool! to believe that power could ward the blow,
Or snatch thee from amidst the general woe!
In times like these, what god but death can save?
The world can yield no refuge but the grave.
Where struggling seas Charystos rude Constrains,
And, dreadful to the proud, Rhamnusia'" reigns;
Where by the whirling current barks are toss'd
From Chalcis to unlucky Aulis' coast;
There shalt thou meet the god's appointed doom,
A private death, and long-remember'd tomb.
To other wars the victor now succeeds.
And his proud eagles from Iberia leads:
When the chang'd gods his min seem'd to threat,-
And cross the long successful course of fate.
Amidst his Camp, and fearless of his foes,
Sodden he saw where inborn dangers rose.
He saw those troops that long had faithful stood,
Friends to his cause, and enemies to good,
Grown weary of their chief, and satiate with blood.
Whether the trumpet's sound too long had ceas'd
And slaughter slept in unaccustom'd rest:
Or whether, arrogant by mischief made,
The soldier held his guilt but half repay'd:
Whilst avarice and hope of bribes prevail,
Tom against Caesar, and his cause, the scale,
And set the mercenary sword to sale.
Nor, e'er before, so truly could he read
What dangers strow those paths the mighty tread.
Then first he found on what a faithless base
Their nodding towers ambition's builders place:
He who so late, a potent faction's head.
Drew in the nations, and the legions led;
Now strip'd of all, beheld in every hand
The warrior's weapons at their own command;
Nor service now, nor safety they afford.
But leave him single to his guardian sword.
Nor is this rage the grumbling of a crowd.
That shun to tell their discontents aloud;
Where all with gloomy looks suspicious go,
And dread of an informer chokes their woe:
But, bold in numbers, proudly they appear.
And scorn the bashful mean restraints of fear.
For laws, in great rebellions, lose their end.
And all go free, when multitudes offend.
Among the rest, one thus: At length, 'tis time
To quit thy cause, oh Caesar! and our crime:
The world around for foes thou hast explor'd.
And lavishly expos'd us to the sword;
To make thee great, a worthless crowd we fall.
Scatter'd o'er Spain, o'er Italy, and Gaul;
In every clime beneath the spacious sky,
Our leader conquers, and his soldiers die.
What boots our march beneath the frozen zone,
Or that lost blood which stains the Rhine and Rhone!
When scar'd with wounds, and worn with labours hard.
We come with hopes of recompense prepar'd,
Thou giv'st us war, more war, for our reward.
Though purple rivers in thy cause we spilt.
And stain'd our horrid hands in every guilt;
With unavailing wickedness we toil'd.
In vain the gods, in vain the Senate spoil'd;
Of virtue, and reward, alike bereft,.
Our pious poverty is all we've left.
Sy to what height thy daring arms would rise?
If Rome's too little, what can e'er suffice
Oh, see at length! with pity, Caesar, see,
These withering arms, these hairs grown white for thee.
In painful wars our joyless days have past,
Let weary age lie down in peace at last:
Give us on beds our dying limbs to lay.
And sigh at home our parting souls away.
Nor think it much we make the bold demand,
And ask this wondrous favour at thy hand:
Let our poor babes and weeping wives be by,-
To close our drooping eyelids when we die.
Be merciful, and let disease afford
Some other way to die, beside the sword;
Let us no more a common carnage burn,-
But each be laid in his own decent urn.-
Still wilt thou urge us ignorant and blind,
To some more monstrous mischief yet behind
Are we the only fools forbid to know
How much we may deserve by one sure blow?
Thy head, thy head is ours, whene'er we please;
Well has thy war Inspir'd such thoughts as these:
What laws, what oaths can urge their feeble bands
To hinder these determin'd daring hands?
That Caesar, who was once ordain'd our head.
When to the Rhine our lawful amis he led,
Is now no more our chieftain, but our mate;
Guilt equal, gives equality of state.
Nor shall his foul ingratitude prevail.
Nor weigh our merits in his partial scale;
He views our labours with a scornful glance.
And calls our victories the works of chance:
But his proud heart, henceforth, shall learn to own
His power, his fate, depends on us alone.
Yes, Caar, spite of all those rods that wait,
With mean obsequious service, on thy state;
Spite of thy gods, and thee, the war shall cease,
And we, thy soldiers, will command a peace."
He spoke, and fierce tumultuous rage inspir'd,
The kindling legions round the camp were fir'd,
And with loud cries their absent chief requir'd,
Permit h thus, ye righteous gods, to be;
Let wicked hands fulfil your great decree;
And since lost faith and virtue are no more,
Let Caesar's bands the public peace restore.
What leader had not now been chill'd with fear,
And heard this tumult with the last despair?
But Caesar, form'd for perils hard and great.
Headlong to drive, and brave opposing fate;
While yet with fiercest fires their furies flame,
Secure, and scornful of The danger, came.
For was he wroth to see the madness rise,
And mark the vengeance threat'ning in their eyes;
With pleasure could he crown their curs'd designs,
With rapes of matrons, and the spoils of shrines:
Had they but ask'd it, well he could approve
The waste and plunder of Tarpeian Jove:
No mischief he, no sacrilege, denies,
But would himself bestow the horrid prize.
With joy he sees their souls by rage possess'd,
Soothes and indulges every frantic breast,
And only fears what reason may suggest.
Still, Caesar, wilt thou tread the paths of blood?
Wilt thou, thou singly, hate thy country's good!
Shall the rude soldier first of war complain.
And teach thee to be pitiful, in vain?
Give o'er at length, and let thy labours cease,
Nor vex the world, but learn to suffer peace.
Why should'st thou force each now unwilling hand.
And drive them on to guilt, by thy command?
When ev'n relenting rage itself gives place.
And fierce Enyo seems to shun thy face."
High on a turfy bank the chief was rear'd,
Fearless, and therefore worthy to be fear'd;
Around the crowd be cast an angry look.
And, dreadful, thus with indignation spoke.
"Ye noisy herd! who in so fierce a strain
Against your absent leader dare complain:
Behold! where naked and unarm'd he stands,
And braves the malice of your threatening hands.
Here find your end of war, your long-sought rest,
And leave your useless swords in Caesar's breast.
But wherefore urge I the bold deed to you?
To rail is all your feeble rage can do.
In grumbling Actions yon are bold and load,
Can sow sedition, and increase a crowd;
You I who can loath the glories of the great,
And poorly meditate a base retreat.
But hence! be gone from victory and me.
Leave me to what my better fates decree:
New friends, new troops, my fortune shall afford.
And find a hand for every vacant sword.
Behold, what crowds on flying Pompey wait.
What multitudes attend his abject state!
And shall success, and Caesar, droop the while?
Shall I want numbers to divide the spoil.
And reap the fruits of your forgotten toil
Legions shall come to d the bloodless war.
And shouting follow my triumphal car:
While you, a vulgar, mean abandon'd race.
Shall view our honours with a downward face.
And curse yourselves in secret as we pass.
Can your vain aid, can your departing force,
Withhold my conquest, "of delay my course?
So trickling brooks their waters may deny.
And hope to leave the mighty ocean dry;
The deep shall still be full, and scorn the poor supply.
Nor think such vulgar souls as yours were giv'n.
To be the task of fate, and care of heav'n:
Few are the lordly, the distinguish'd great.
On whom the watchful gods, like guardians, wait:
The rest for common use were all design'd.
An unregarded rabble of mankind.
By my auspicious name, and fortune led,
Wide o'er the world your conquering arms were spread;
But say, what had you done wi Pompey at your t
Vast was the fame by Labienus won,
When rank'd amidst my warlike friends he shone:
Now mark what follows on his faithful change,
And see him with his chief new-chosen range
By land and sea, where'er my arms he spies.
An ignominious runagate he flies.
Such shall you prove. Nor is it worth my care,
Whether to Pompey's aid your arms you bear:
Who quits his leader, wheresoe'er he go.
Flies like a traitor, and becomes my foe.
Yes, ye great gods! your kinder care I own.
You made the faith of these false legions known;
You warn me well to change these coward bands.
Nor trust my fate to such betraying hands.
And thou too, fortune! point'st me out the way,
A mighty debt thus cheaply to repay:
Henceforth my care regards myself alone,
War's glorious gain shall now be all my own.
For you, ye vulgar herd, in peace return.
My ensigns shall by manly hands be borne.
Some few of you, my sentence here shall wait.
And warn succeeding factions by your fate.
Down! groveling down to earth, ye traitors, bend,
And with your prostrate necks my doom attend.
And you, ye younger striplings of the war;
You, whom I mean to make my future care;
Strike home! to blood, to death, inure your hands,
And learn to execute my dread commands."
He spoke; and at the' impious sound dismay'd
The trembling unresisting crowd obey'd:
No more their late equality they boast.
But bend beneath his frown, a suppliant host.
Singly secure, he stands confess'd their lord.
And rules, in spite, of him, the soldier's sword.
Doubtful at first, their patience be surveys.
And wonders why each haughty heart obeys
Beyond his hopes he sees the stubborn bow,
And bare their breasts obedient to the blow;
Till ev'n his cooler thoughts the deed disclaim.
And would not find their fiercer souls so tame.
A few at length selected from the rest.
Bled, for example e and the tumult ceas'd:
While the consenting host the victims view'd.
And in that blood their broken faith renew'd.
Now to Brundusium's walls he bids 'em tend, -
Where ten long days their weary marches end;
There he commands assembling barks to meet.
And furnish from the neighbouring shores his fleet.
Thither the crooked keels from Leuca glide.
From Taras old, and Hydrus winding tide;
Thither with swelling sails their way they take,
From lowly Sipus, and Salapia's lake;
From where Apulia's fruitful mountains rise,
Where high along the coast Garganus lies,
And beating seas and fighting winds defies.
Meanwhile,'the chief to Rome directs his way.
Now fearful, aw'd, and fashion'd to his sway.
There, with mock prayers, the suppliant vulgar wait.
And urge on him the great Dictator's state.
Obedient he, since thus their wills ordain,
A gracious tyrant condescends to reign.
His mighty name the joyful Fasti wear.
Then was the time, when sycophants began
To heap all titles on one lordly man;
Then learn'd our sires that fawning lying strain.
Which we, their slavish sons, so well retain:
Then first were seen to join an ill-match'd pair.
The axe of justice with the sword of war;
Fasces and eagles, mingling, march along.
And in proud Caesar's train promiscuous throng.
And while all powers' in him alone unite.
He mocks the people with the shows of right.
The Martian held the' assembling tribes receives.
And each his unregarded suffrage gives;
Still with the same solemnity of face,
The reverend augur seems to fill his place:
Though now he hears not when the thunders roll,
Nor sees the flight of the ill-boding owl.
Then sunk the state and dignity of Rome,
Thence monthly consuls nominally come:
Just as the sovereign bids, their names appear.
To head the calendar, and mark the year.
Then too, to finish out the pageant show,
With formal rites to Alban Jove they go;
By night the festival was huddled o'er.
Nor could the god unworthy ask for more;
He who look'd on, and saw such foul disgrace,
Such slavery befal his Trojan race.
Now Caesar, like the flame tuat cuts the skies,
And swifter than the vengeful tigress, flies,
Where waste and overgrown Apulia lies;
O'er-passing soon the wide abandon'd plains,
Brundusium's crooked shores and Cretan walls he gains.
Loud Boreas there his navy close confines.
While wary seamen dread the wintry signs.
But he, th' impatient chief, disdains to spare
Those hours that better may be spent in war:
He grieves to see his ready fleet withheld.
While others boldly plough the watery field.
Eager to rouse their sloth, "Behold, (he cries)
The constant wind that rules the wintry skies;
With what a settled certainty it flies!
Unlike the wanton fickle gales, that bring
The cloudy changes of the faithless spring.
Nor need we now to shift, to tack, and veer:
Steady the friendly north commands to steer.
Oh! that the fury of the driving blast
May.swell the sail, and bend the.lofty mast:
So shall our navy soon.be wafted o'er,
Ere yon Phaeacian galleys dip the oar.
And intercept the wish'd-for Grecian shore,
Cut every cable then, and haste away
The waiting winds and seas upbraid our long delay."
Low in the west the setting sun was laid,
Up rose the night in glittering stars array'd,
And silver Cynthia cast a lengthening shade;
When loosing from the shore the moving fleet.
All hands at once unfurl the spreading sheet;
The slacker tacklings let the canvass flow,
To gather all the breath the winds can blow.
Swift for a while they scud before the wind,
And leave Hesperia's lessening shores behind;
When, lo! the dying breeze begins to fail,
And flutters on the mast the flagging sail:
The duller waves with slower heavings creep.
And a dead calm benumbs the lazy deep.
As when the winter's potent breath constrains
The Scythian Euxine in her icy chains;
No more the Bosphori their streams maintain.
Nor rushing Ister heaves the languid main;
Each keel inclos'd, at once forgets its course.
While o'er the new-made champion bounds the horse:
Bold on the crystal plains the Thracians ride,
And print with sounding heels the stable tide.
So still a form the' Ionian waters take,
Dull as the muddy marsh, and standing lake;
No breezes o'er the curling surface pass,
Nor sun-beams tremble in the liquid glass;
No usual turns revolving Tethys knows.
Nor with alternate rollings ebbs and flows:
But sluggish ocean sleeps in stupid peace,
And weary nature's motions seem to cease.
With differing eyes the hostile fleets beheld
The falling winds, and useless watery field.
There Pompey's daring prows attempt, in vain.
To plough their passage through the' unyielding main;
While, pinch'd by want, proud Caesar's legions here
The dire distress of meagre famine fear.
With vows, unknown before, they reach the skies,
That waves may dash, and mounting billows rise;
That storms may with returning fury reign.
And the rude ocean be itself again!
At length the still, the sluggish darkness fled.
And cloudy morning rear'd its lowering head.
The rolling flood the gliding navy bore.
And hills appear'd to pass upon the shore.
Attending breezes w 'em to the land.
And Caesar's anchors bite Palaeste's strand.
In neighbouring camps the hostile chiefs sit down,
Where Genusus the swift, and Apsus run;
Among the' ignobler crowd of rivers, these
Soon lose their waters in the mingling seas:
No mighty streams nor distant springs they know,
But rise from muddy lakes, and melting snow.
Here meet the rivals who the world divide.
Once by the tenderest bands of kindred tied.
The world with joy their interview beheld.
Now only parted by a single field,
Fond of the hopes of peace, mankind believe
Whene'er they come thus near they must forgive.
Vain hopes! for soon they part to meet no more.
Till both shall reach the curs'd Egyptian shore;
Till the proud father shall in arms succeed.
And see his vanquish'd son untimely bleed;
Till be beholds his ashes on the strand.
Views his pale head within a villain's hand;
Till Pompey's fate shall Caesar's tears demand.
The latter yet his eager rage restrains
While Antony' the lingering troops detains.
Repining much, and griev'd at war's delay,
Impatient Caesar often chides his stay.
Oft he is heard to threat, and humbly oft to pray.
Still shall the world (he cries) thus anxious wait?
Still wilt thou stop the gods, and hinder fate?
What could be done before was done by me:
Now ready fortune only stays for thee.
What holds thee then? do rocks thy course withstand?
Or Libyan Syrts oppose their faithless strand?
Or dost thou fear new dangers to explore?
I call thee not but where I pass'd before.
For all those hours thou losest I complain.
And sue to heaven for prosperous winds in vain.
My soldiers (often has their faith been tried)
If not withheld, had hasten'd to my side.
What toil, what hazards, will they not partake?
What seas and shipwrecks scorn, for Caesar's sake?
Nor will I think the gods so partial are,
To give thee fair Ausonia for thy share;
While Caesar and the Senate are forgot,.
And in Epirus bound their barren lot"
In words like these, he calls him oft in vain,
And thus the hasty missives oft complain.
At length the lucky chief, who oft had found
What vast success his rasher darings crown'd;
Who saw how much the favouring gods had done.
Nor would be wanting, when they urg'd him on;
Fierce, and impatient of the tedious stay.
Resolves by night to prove the doubtful way:
Bold in a single skiff be means to go,
And tempt those seas that navies dare not plough.
'Twas now the time when cares and labour case,
And ev'n the rage of arms was hush'd to peace:
Snatch'd from their guilt and toil, the wretched lay.
And slept the sounder for the painful day.
Through the still camp the night's third hour re sounds.
And warns the second watches to their rounds;
When through the horrors of the murky shade,
Secret the careful warrior's footsteps tread.
His train, unknowing, slept within his tent.
And fortune only follow'd where he went.
With silent anger he perceiv'd around,
The sleepy centinels bestrew the ground:
Yet unreproving, now be pass'd them o'er.
And sought with eager haste the winding shore.
There through the gloom his searching eyes explor'd.
Where to the mouldering, rock a bark was moor'd.
The mighty master of this little boat
Securely slept within a neighbouring cot:
No massy beams support his humble hall.
But reeds and marshy rushes wove the wall;
Old shatter'd planking for a roof was spread.
And cover'd in, from rain, the needy shed.
Thrice on the feeble door the warrior strook,
Beneath the blow the trembling dwelling shook.
"What wretch forlorn (the poor Amyclas criers)
Driv'n by the raging seas and stormy skies.
To my poor lowly roof for shelter flies i"
He spoke; and hasty left his homely bed,
With oozy flags and withering sea-weed spread.
Then from the hearth the smoking match he takes
And in the tow the drowsy fire awakes;
Dry leaves, and chips, for fuel he supplies.
Till kindling sparks and glittering flames arise;
Oh happy poverty! thou greatest good
Bestow'd by heaven, but seldom understood!
Here, nor the cruel spoiler seeks his prey.
Nor ruthless armies take their dreadful way:
Security thy narrow limits keeps.
Safe are thy cottages, and sound thy sleeps.
Behold! ye dangerous dwellings of the great.
Where gods and godlike princes choose their seat;
See in what peace the poor Amyclas lies.
Nor starts, though Caesar's call commands to rise.
What terrors had you felt that call to hear?
How had your towers nd ramparts shook with r fear,
And trembled, as the mighty man drew near!
The door unbar'd: "Expect (the leader said)
Beyond thy hopes, or wishes, to be paid;
If in this instant hour thou waft me o'er.
With speedy haste, to yon' Hesperian shore.
No more shall want thy weary hand constrain,
To work thy bark upon the boistrous main:
Henceforth, good days and plenty shall betide;
The gods and I will for thy age provide.
A glorious change attends thy low estate,
Sudden and mighty riches round thee wait;
Be wise, and use the lucky hour of fate."
Thus he; and though in humble vestments dress'd,
Spite of himself, his words his power express'd;
And Caesar in his bounty stood confess'd.
To him the wary pilot thus replies:
A thousand boding signs my soul affright,
And warn me not to tempt the seas by night.
In clouds the setting sun obscur'd his head,
Nor painted o'er the ruddy west with red;
Now north, now south he shot his parted beams,
And tip'd the sullen black with golden gleams:
Pale shone his middle orb with faintish rays,
And suffer'd mortal eyes at ease to gaze.
Nor rose the silver queen of night serene,
Supine and dull her blunted horns were seen,
With foggy stains, and cloudy blots between.
Dreadful awhile she shone all fiery red.
Then sicken'd into pale, and hid her drooping head.
Nor less I fear from that hoarse hollow roar,
In leafy groves, and on the sounding shore.
In various turns the doubtful dolphins play.
And thwart, and run across, and mix their way.
The cormorants the watery deep forsake.
And soaring hems avoid the plashy lake;
While, wadling on the margin of the main.
The crow bewets her, and prevents the rain.
Howe'er, if some great enterprise demand,
Behold, I proffer thee my willing hand:
My venturous bark the troubled deep shall try.
To thy wish'd port her plunging prow shall ply.
Unless the seas resolve to beat us by."
He spoke; and spread his canvass to the wind,
Unmoor'd his boat, and left the shore behind.
Swift flew the nimble keel; and as they pass'd.
Long trails of light the shooting meteors cast;
Ev'n the fix'd fires above in motion seem,
Shake through the blast, and dart a quivering beam;
Black horrors on the gloomy ocean brood.
And in long ridges rolls the threatening flood;
While loud and louder murmuring winds arise.
And growl from every quarter of the skies.
When thus the trembling master, pale with fear,
Behold what wrath the dreadful gods prepare;
My art is at a loss; the various tide
Beats my unstable bark on every side:
From the north-west the setting current swells.
While southern storms the driving rack foretels.
Howe'er it be, our purpos'd way is lost,
Nor can one relic of our wreck be tost
By winds, like these, on fair Hesperia's coast
Our only means of safety is to yield.
And measure back with haste the foamy field;
To give our unsuccessful labour o'er,
And reach, while yet we may, the neighbouring shore."
But Caesar, still superior to distress.
Fearless, and confident of sure success.
Thus to the pilot loud: The seas despise.
And the vain threatening of the noisy skies.
Though gods deny thee yon' Ausonian strand;.
Yet go, I charge thee, go at my command.
Thy ignorance alone can cause thy fears.
Thou know'st not what a freight thy vessel bears;
Thou know'st not I am he, to whom 'tis giv'n
Never to want the care of watchful heav'n.
Obedient fortune waits my humble thrall,
And, always ready, comes before I call.
Let winds, and seas, loud wars at freedom wage,
And waste upon themselves their empty rage;
A stronger, mightier Daemon is thy friend,
Thou, and thy bark, on Caesar's fate depend!
Thou stand'st amaz'd to view this dreadful scene;
And wonder'st what the gods and fortune mean!
But artfully their bounties thus they raise.
And from my dangers arrogate new praise;
Amidst the fears of death they bid me live,
And still enhance what they are sure to give.
Then leive yon shore behind, with all thy haste,
Nor shall this idle fury longer last.
'Thy keel auspicious shall the storm appease.
Shall glide triumphant o'er the calmer seas.
And reach Brundusium's safer port with ease.
Nor can the gods ordain another now,
'Tis what I want, and what they must bestow."
'Thus, while in vaunting words the leader spoke,
Full on his bark the thundering tempest strook;
Off rips the rending canvass from the mast.
And whirling flits before the driving blast;
In every joint the groaning alder sounds.
And gapes wide-opening with a thousand wounds.
Now, rising all at once, and unconfin'd,
From every quarter roars the rushing wind:
First from the wide Atlantic ocean's bed.
Tempestuous Corns rears his dreadful head;
The' obedient deep his potent breath controls.
And, mountain-high, the foamy flood he rolls.
Him the north-east encount'ring fierce defied.
And back rebuff'd the yielding tide.
The curling surges loud conflicting meet,
Dash their proud heads, and bellow as they beat;
While piercing Boreas, from the Scythian strand,
Ploughs op the waves, and scoops the lowest sand.
Nor Eurus then, I ween, was left to dwell.
Nor showery Notus in the' Aeolian cell;
But each from every side, his power to boast,
Rang'd his proud forces to defend his coast.
Equal in might, alike they strive in vain,
While in the midst the seas unmov'd remain:
In lesser wars they yield to stormy heav'n,
And captive waves to other deeps are driv'n;
The Tyrrhene billows dash gean shores,
And Adria in the mix'd Ionian roars.
How then must Earth the swelling ocean dread.
When floods ran higher than each mountain's head!
Subject and low the trembling beldame lay,
And gave herself for lost, the conquering water's prey.
What other worlds, what seas unknown before,
Then drove their billows on our beaten shore!
What distant deeps, their prodigies to boast.
Heav'd their huge monsters on the' Ausonian coast!
So when avenging Jove long time had hurl'd.
And tir'd his thunders on a harden'd world:
New wrath, the god, new punishment display'd.
And call'd his watry brother to his aid:
Offending earth to Neptune's lot he join'd.
And bade his floods no longer stand confin'd:
At once the surges o'er the nations rise.
And seas are only bounded by the skies.
Such now the spreading deluge had been seen,
Had not the' Almighty ruler stood between:
Proud waves, the cloud-compelling sire obey'd.
Confess'd his hand suppressing, and were stay'd.
Nor was that gloom the common shade of night,
Tile friendly darkness that relieves the light;
But fearful, black, and horrible to tell,
A murky vapour breath'd from yawning hell:
So thick the mingling seas and clouds were hung,
Scarce could the struggling lightning gleam along.
Through nature's frame the dire convulsion strook,
Heaven groan'd, the labouring pole and axis shook:
Uproar and Chaos old prevail'd again.
And broke the sacred elemental chain:
Black fiends, unhallow'd, sought the bless'd abodes,
Profan'd the day, and mingled with the gods.
One only hope, when every other tail'd.
With Caesar, and with nature's self, prevail'd;
The storm that sought their ruin, prov'd 'em strong.
Nor could they fall who stood that shock so long
High as Leucadia's lessening cliffs arise,
On the tall billow's top the vessel flies;
While the pale master, from the surge's brow.
With giddy eyes surveys the depth below;
When straight the gaping main at once divides,
On naked sands the rushing bark subsides,
And the low liquid vale the topmast hides.
The trembling shipman, all distraught with fear.
Forgets his course, and knows not how to steer;
No more the useless rudder guides the prow,
To meet the rolling swell, or slum the blow.
But lo! the storm itself assistance lends.
While one assaults, another wave defends:
This lays the sidelong alder on the main.
And that restores the leaning bark again.
Obedient to the mighty winds she plies.
Now seeks the depths, and now invades the skies;
There home aloft, she apprehends no more.
Or shoaly Sason, or Thessalia's shore;
High lulls she dreads, and promontories now,
And fears to touch Ceraunia's airy brow.
At length the universal wreck appear'd
To Caesar's self, ev'n worthy to be fear'd,
"Why all these pains, this toil of fate, (he cries)
This labour of the seas, and earth, and skies?
All nature, and the gods, at once alarm'd.
Against my little boat and me are arm'd.
If, oh ye powers divine! your will decrees
The glory of my death to these rude seas:
If warm, and in the fighting field to die,
If that, my first of wishes, you deny:
My soul no longer at her lot repines,
But yields to what your providence assigns.
Though immature I end my glorious days,
Cut short my conquest, and prevent new praise;
My life, already, stands the noblest theme,
To fill long annals of recording fame.
Far northern nations own me for their lord,
And envious factions crouch beneath my sword;
Inferior Pompey yields to me at home.
And only fills a second place in Rome.
My country has my high behests obey'd.
And at my feet her laws obedient laid:
All sovereignty, all honours are my own,
Consul, dictator, I am all alone!
Bat thou, my only goddess, and my friend,
Thou, on whom all my secret prayers attend,
Conceal, oh Fortune I this inglorious end.
Let none on earth, let none beside thee, know
While tumbling billows toss'd thee on the main,
We slept at ease, unknowing of thy pain.
Were we the came, oh shame! unworthy we,
That urg'd thee on to brave the raging sea?
Is there a slave whose head thou hold'st so light,
To give him up to this tempestuous night?
While Caesar, whom the subject earth obeys.
To seasons such as these his sacred self betrays.
Still wilt thou weary out indulgent heaven,
And scatter all the lavish gods have given?
Dost thou the care of providence employ.
Only to save thee when the seas run high?
Auspicious Jove thy wishes would promote;
Thou ask'st the safety of a leaky boat:
He proffers thee the world's supreme command;
Thy hopes aspire no further than to land,
And cast thy shipwreck on the' Hesperian strand.
In kind reproaches thus they waste the night.
Till the grey east disclos'd the breaking light:
Serene the sun his beamy face display'd.
While the tir'd storm and weary waves were laid.
Speedy the Latian chiefs unfurl their sails.
And catch the gently-rising northern gales:
In fair appearance the tall vessels glide,
The pilots, and the wind, conspire to guide.
And waft 'em fitly o'er the smoother tide:
Decent they move, like some well-order'd band,
In rang'd battalions marching o'er the land.
Night fell at length, the winds the sails forsook.
And a dead calm the beauteous order broke.
So when, from Strymon's wintry banks, the cranes.
In feather-'d legions, cut the' ethereal plains;
To warmer Nile they bend their airy way,
Form'd in long lines, and rank'd in just array:
Bat if some rushing storm the journey cross.
The wingy leaders all are at a loss:
Now close, now loose, the breaking squadrons fly.
And scatter in confusion o'er the sky.
The day return'd; with Phoebus Auster rose.
And hard upon the straining canvass blows.
Scudding afore him, swift the fleet he bore,
O'er passing Lyssus to Nymphaeum's shore;
There, safe from northern winds, within the port they moor.
While thus united Caesar's arms appear.
And fortune draws the great decision near;
Sad Pompey's soul uneasy thoughts infest,
And his Cornelia pains his anxious breast.
To distant Lesbos fain he would remove.
Far from the war, the partner of his love.
Oh! who can speak, what numbers can reveal,
The tenderness whi pious lovers feel?
Who can their secret pangs and sorrows tell,
With all the crowd of cares that in their bosoms dwell?
See what new passions now the hero knows,
Now first he doubts success, and fears his foes;
Rome and the world he hazards in the strife,
And gives up all to fortune, but his wife.
Oft he prepares to speak, but knows not how.
Knows they must part, but cannot bid her go;
Defers the killing news with fond delay,
And, lingering, puts off fate from day to day.
The fleeting shades began to leave tte sky.
And slumb soft forsook the drooping eye:
When, with fond arms, the fair Cornelia press'd
Her lord, reluctant, to her snowy breast.
Wondering, she found he shun'd her just embrace.
And felt warm tears upon his manly face.
Heart-wounded with the sudden woe, she griev'd.
And scarce the weeping warrior yet believ'd.
When, with a groan, thus he: "My truest wife,
To say how much I love thee more than life.
Poorly expresses what my heart would show.
Since life, alas! is grown my burden now;
That long, too long delay'd, that dreadful doom.
That cruel parting hour at length is come.
Fierce, haughty, and collected in his might.
Advancing Caesar calls me to the fight.
Haste then, my gentle love, from war retreat;
The Lesbian isle attends thy peaceful seat:
Nor seek, oh! seek not to increase my cares.
Seek not to change my propose with thy pray'rs;
Myself, in vain, the fruitless suit have tried.
And my own pleading heart has been denied.
Think not thy distance will increase thy fear:
Ruin, if min comes, will soon be near,
Too soon the fatal news shall reach thy ear.
Nor burns thy heart with just and equal fires,
Nor dost thou love as virtue's law requires;
If those soft eyes can ev'n thy husband bear.
Red with the stains of blood, and guilty war.
When horrid trumpets sound their dire alarms,!
Shall I indulge my sorrows with thy charms,
And rise to battle from these tender arms?
Thus mournful, from thee rather let me go,
And join thy absence to the public woe.
But thou be hid, be safe from every fear.
While kings and nations in destruction share:
Shun thou the crush of my impending fate.
Nor let it fall on thee with all its weight.
Then, if the gods my overthrow ordain.
And the fierce victor chase me o'er the plain,
Thou shalt be left me still, my better part,
To soothe my cares, and heal roy broken heart;
Thy open arms I shall be sure to meet.
And fly with pleasure to the dear retreat."
Stun'd and astonish'd at the deadly stroke,
All sense, at first, the matron sad forsook.
Motion, and life, and speech, at length returns,
And thus in words of heaviest woe she mourns:
"No, Pompey! 'tis not that my lord is dead,
Tis not the hand of fate has rob'd my bed;
But like some base Plebeian I am curs'd,
And by my cruel husband stand divorc'd
But Caesar bids us part! thy father comes!
And we must yield to what that tyrant dooms!
Is thy Cornelia's faith so poorly known,
That thou shouldst think her safer whilst alone?
Are not our loves, our lives, our fortunes one?
Canst thou, inhuman, drive me from thy side.
And bid my single head the coming storm abide?
Do I not read thy purpose in thy eye?
Dost thou not hope, and wish, ev'n now' to die?
And can I then be safe? Yet death is free,
That last relief is not denied to me;
Though banish'd by thy harsh command I go,
Yet I will join thee in the realms below.
Thou bidst me with the pangs of absence strive.
And, till I hear thy certain loss, survive.
My vow'd obedience, what it can, shall bear;
But oil! my heart's a woman, and I fear.
If the good gods, indulgent to my pray'r,
Should make the laws of Rome and thee their care;
In distant climes I may prolong my woe.
And be the last thy victory to know.
On some bleak rock that frowns upon the deep,
A constant watch thy weeping wife shall keep;
There from each sail misfortune shall I guess.
And dread the bark that brings me thy success.
Nor shall those happier tidings end my fear.
The vanquish'd foe may bring new danger near;
Defenceless, I may still be made a prize,
And Caesar snatch me with him as he flies:
With ease my known retreat he shall explore.
While thy great name distinguishes the shore:
Soon shall the Lesbian exile stand reveal'd,
The wife of Pompey cannot live conceal'd.
But if the' o'erruling powers thy cause forsake,
Grant me this only last request I make:
When thou shalt be of troops and friends bereft,
And wretched flight is all thy safety left;
Oh! follow not the dictates of thy heart.
But choose a refuge in some distant part.
Where'er thy inauspicious bark shall steer,
Thy sad Cornelia's fatal shore forbear,
Since Caesar will be sure to seek thee there."
So saying, with a groan the matron fled.
And, wild with sorrow, left her holy bed:
She sees all lingering, all delays are vain.
And rushes headlong to possess the pain;
Nor will the hurry of her griefs afford
One last embrace from her forsaken lord.
Uncommon cruel was the fate, for two,
Whose lives had lasted long, and been so true,
To lose the pleasure of one last adieu!
In all the woful days that cross'd their bliss.
Sure never hour was known so sad as this.
By what they suffer'd now, inur'd to pain,
They met all after-sorrows with disdain,
And fortune shot her envious shafts in vain.
Low on the ground the fainting dame is laid;
Her train officious hasten to her aid:
Then gently rearing, with a careful hand.
Support her, slow-descending o'er the strand.
There, while with eager arms she grasp'd the shore,
Scarcely the mourner to the bark they bore.
Not half this grief of heart, these pangs, she knew,
When from her native Italy she flew:
Lonely, and comfortless, she takes her flight,
Sad seems the day, and long the sleepless night.
In vain her maids the downy couch provide,
She wants the tender partner of her side.
When weary oft in heaviness she lies.
And dozy slumber steals upon her eyes;
Fain, with fond arms, her lord she would have press'd.
But weeps to find the pillow at her breast.
Though raging in her veins a fever burns,
Painful she lies, and restless oft she turns;
She shuns his sacred side with awful fear.
And would not be convinc'd be is not there.
But, oh! too soon the want shall be supplied.
The gods too cruelly for that provide:
Again, the circling hours bring back her lord.
And Pompey shall be fatally restor'd.