Book X

The Argument.
Paulus great Valour, and what Slaughters he
At Cannae made. He is advis'd to flee;
But Thoughts of Flight rejects. By Hannibal,
Christa, with his six Sons, together fall.
Servilius, by Viriathus slain,
By Paulus Hand is soon reveng'd again;
And, fighting 'midst his Foes, at length he dies:
The Libyan Celebrates his Obsequies,
Commends his Valour, and his Noble End.
Their Counsels, who their Countrey did intend
To quit, by Scipio are suppress'd. To Rome,
Without all Pomp, doth Consul Varro come.
The Multitude, incens'd against him, are
By Fabius appeas'd. The Slaves for War
Are Arm'd: the Senate passeth a Decree,
That none, that Captiv'd are, shall ransom'd be.

WHEN Paulus saw, the Adverse Fight encreas't;
As, when, with Spears encompass'd, a wilde Beast
Leaps on their Points, and by his Wounds doth know,
Where to direct his Rage, and choose a Fo:
Into the thickest of the Globes he goes,
And to all Dangers doth himself expose,
And seeks a Death from ev'ry valiant Hand:
Upbraiding thus his flying Men; Oh! stand,
Stand stoutly to 't, and in your Breasts receive
The Sword; nor, wounded in your Backs, thus leave
The World: there nothing now remains, at all,
For Us, but the sole Glory of our Fall.
Me, to the Shades below, you all shall finde
Your Leader. Then swift, as the Northern Winde,
Or winged Shafts (which, in dissembled Flight,
The Parthian backward shoots into the Fight)
And, where, unmindfull of his tender Age,
Paetus (like Mars, in Courage) did engage,
He rush'd into the mid'st of all his Foes,
And the Youth, whom light Vascons did enclose;
And fierce Cantabrians did with Darts surround,
Freed from their cruel Arms: while they gave Ground,
And Trembling fled. As when a Goat, in View,
Through a large Plain, the Huntsmen close pursue;
And, in the Chase, the weary Beast so nigh
Approach, they think to catch't: if suddenly,
Gnashing his Teeth, a Lyon, from his Den,
Before their Eys appears; their Colour, then,
And Blood flies from their Cheeks, their Weapons all,
Inferiour to their Danger, they let fall,
And, flying, think no more upon their Prey.
Now, with his Sword, on such, as in his Way
Oppose, he press'd: and such, whom baser Fear
Made fly, with Darts he follows in the Rear.
Fury, and Rage delight him; and, to Crown
His Deeds with Honour, by his Hand alone
A multitude of Nameless People fall.
And, if another Paulus, there, 'mong all
The Dardan Tro[…]p[…] had been Cannae its Name
Had surely lost, and Ha[…]nibal his Fame.
At length, his Wing declin'd, and suddenly
The Front gives Way, and all together fly.
There Labi[…]nus fell[…] whom Cingulum
Sent from her lofty Walls: there Ocris, whom,
With Opiter, Vine-bearing Setia sent,
From fertile Hills. Their Deaths were different,
Though the Sidonian join'd the Time: for there,
Shot through the Hip, fell Labien[…] ; here
One through the Shoulder, t' other through the Knee
The Brothers, wounded, him accompany.
And there Macaenas; who, of antient Fame,
Through the Maeonian Land, his Noble Name
From Tyrrhen Kings deriv'd, wounded quite through
The Groin, a Tyrian Jav'lin, likewise Slew.
But, through the thickest, Paulus, […]corning all
Desires of Life; and, […]eeking Hannibal,
Charg'd furiously, and thought his Destiny
Could onely cruel be, if he should dy,
And Hannibal survive. Fearing this Rage
(For that, if once in Fight they did engage,
So great a Storm, and Tempest could not be
Without great Mischief) Iuno instantly,
Frighted Metellus Shape assuming, Why
Consul (said She) sole Hope of Italy!
Dost thou Renew thy Rage in Vain, while Fate
Resists? if Paulus live, the Romane State
May stand; if otherwise, thou draw'st with Thee
All Italy. Oh Paulus! Can it be
That thou wilt, while the State thus totters, go
To hazard 'gainst so insolent a Fo
Thy Sacred Head? For, now, so flush'd in War
Is Hannibal, that with the Thunderer
He dares contend: and Varro (I beheld,
When first He wheel'd about) hath left the Field,
Himself reserving for a better Day.
Allow the Fates their Time, and, while you may,
From Death redeem your Soul, that's greater far
Then Ours; You soon may have another War.
To this, with Sighs, the General reply'd.
And is't not Cause enough (if Nought beside
Did move Me) that I now should wish to dy
In Arms, when to an Act, so Monstrous, I
Metellus urging hear? Thou, Fool! away.
Fly; Oh! fly hence with Speed, nor (Heav'n I pray
Thee in the Back may Hostile Weapons wound!
But with thy Varro mayst thou safe, and sound,
Enter the Walls of Rome! Dost Thou think Me
Worthy so base a Life, and not to be
As worthy (Coward) of a Nobler End:
Because the Libyan, who dares contend
(Forsooth!) with Iove, permits it? Oh, thou base
Degen'rate Issue of a Valiant Race!
When should I choose to fight? With whom should I
Desire to Cope, but such an One, that by
My Hand subdu'd, or I by his, might give
To Me a Name, that after Death shall live?
Thus chiding, 'mong his Foes himself he threw:
And, as Acherras covertly withdrew
From the throng'd Maniples, and sought Retreat
To the Main Body, with more nimble Feet,
Him through the thickest Ranks, with Targets fill'd,
And constipated Arms, pursu'd, and kill'd.
So Belgick Hounds an hidden Boar pursue,
And with Sagacious Noses, drown'd in Dew,
Through devious Ways, the doublings of the Beast
Detect, and all his Footsteps closely prest,
Through thickest Groves, where Hunts-men cannot come
To beat, still follow, nor desist they from
The Chase, untill they have him in the Winde,
And, in some Thicket, close at Covert, finde.
When Iuno saw, that Paulus could not be
By Words diverted, but went on, strait She
Gelastes Shape puts on, and Hannibal,
As Slow, exciting, thus to Fight doth call.
This way thy Weapons turn; hither thine Aid,
Eternal Fame of Carthage, bring (She said)
To such, as it implore: the Consul near
The River fights, and horrid Slaughter there
Commits: nor canst thou greater Honour gain
By any Fo, that shall by Thee be slain.
Thus She to sev'ral Conflicts doth divide
The furious Youth; while, near the River's Side,
Old Christa, with's six Sons, their valiant Hands
Employ'd, and sore opprest the Libyan Bands.
Tuder, where he was born, no wealthy Town
Was held, yet (not Obscure) was of Renown,
As Warlike, 'mong the Vmbrian People, where
Her Youth in Feats of Arms, and Slaughters, were
Train'd up; whence this old, chearfull Captain led
A Valiant Phalanx: who, when they had fed
Their Swords with Humane Slaughter, overthrew,
With frequent Wounds, an Elephant, and to
Her Fall add Flames, that instantly devour
(A joyfull Sight to them) her armed Tower
When, strait, an Helmet's Lightning struck their Eys,
And they perceiv'd the trembling Plumes to rise
On the large Crest. Old Christa, by that Light,
Soon knew the Man, and drew into the Fight,
His Troop of Sons, commands them all to throw
Their Darts, and not to fear the Flames, that flow
From his fierce Countenance, or burning Crest.
As, when an Eagle, carefull, in her Nest,
To nourish such a Brood, as may be fit
To bear Iove's Arms, against the Sun doth set
Their Faces, and, by their undazled Eys,
Through those bright Rays, her doubtfull Issue tries.
And now, to teach the rest, what they should do,
With a weak Force, a single Dart he threw;
Which (though it Nimble past the middle Air)
But lightly pierc'd his Golden Mail, and there
Stuck loosely, and by that weak Stroak betrai'd
The old Man's Hand. To whom the Libyan said,
What Rage thy Hand, with Age now bloodless grown,
To vain Attempts provokes? Thy Cornel thrown
So feeble is, that our Callaick Gold
It scarce can raze: thy Weapons now, behold!
I, thus, to Thee return. Better by Me
In War the Memorable Youth shall be
Instructed. Speaking thus, He forward prest,
And pierc'd, with his own Dart, old Christa's Breast.
But, from the other Side, six Darts are thrown,
From six Right Hands; and then six Spears come on,
With equal Fury. As, in Libya, when
A Lyone[…]s is chas'd into her Den,
Her angry Whelps leap forth, and strive, in Vain,
With tender Teeth, the Combat to maintain.
But Hannibal, with Arms encompass'd round,
Consum'd their Shafts, and weighty Spears (that sound
At ev'ry Stroak with Horrour, through the Field)
Strongly su[…]tains, and with his batter'd Shield
Repells: nor can those many Wounds, that he
Hath giv'n, nor all those Slaughters satisfie
His Rage; unless He with the Father join
The Sons in Death, and quite cut off the Line.
Then Abaris, who bore his Arms, and there
Enflam'd the Fight, and him did ev'ry where
Attend, He calls: With Shafts supply Me still;
For there 's a Troop, that must be sent to Hell,
And frets with Darts my Mail: they, instantly,
Shall finde the Fruits of Foolish Piety.
This said; the Eldest (Lucas) with a Dart
He penetrates: the Point prest through his Heart,
Upon his Brother's Arms He backward sinks:
Next Volso, who, in Haste advancing, thinks
To draw the Fatal Weapon from the Wound,
A Pile (that 'mong the Dead, by Chance, he found)
He, through his Beaver, strikes into his Nose:
Then Vesulus, who slipping, as he goes,
Faln in his Brother's Blood, he with his Sword
Cuts off, and (barb'rous Valour, and abhorr'd)
His Helmet, fill'd with his dissever'd Head,
Flung, like a Missile Shaft, at those that fled.
Next Telesinus, strucken with a Stone,
Upon the Back, where to the twisted Bone
The Joints are Knit, fell, and beheld withall
His Brother Quercens, by a Sling, to fall,
Dead to the Ground, while he expires the Light
Of Life, and shuts his dubious Eys in Night.
But Perusinus, weary through his Fear,
Running, and Grief, though still he angry were,
With feeble Steps, retiring through the Plain,
And, sometimes standing to resist, was slain
By a Fire-hard'ned Stake, which he, that bare
The Arms of Hannibal, snatch'd newly there,
From a slain Elephant: the half-burnt Oak
Fix'd deep into his Groin; the furious Stroak
Turn'd him upon his back. His cruel Rage
The Youth, with Pray'rs, endeavour'd to asswage:
But, as he gap'd, his Mouth with Stygian Fire
Is fill'd, and in his Lungs the Flames expire.
At length, with all the rest, Christa, a Name
Through all the Vmbrian Land, of antient Fame,
Fell, like a lofty Oak, that long had stood
Observ'd, and Holy in its Native Wood,
When struck by Iove, and sulph'rous Flames devour
The Old, and Sacred Branches, to the Pow'r
O'th' Fire, at length it yields, and covers all
The Trees beneath it, in its spacious Fall.
While Hannibal thus rageth near thy Flood,
(Fam'd Aufidus) the Consul, with much Blood,
Having reveng'd his future Death, the War
Pursu'd, as if He had been Conquerour.
There lay huge Phorcus, 'mong a thousand Dead,
Come from Herculean Calpe: Gorgon's Head
Carv'd on his Shield, about that dreadfull Face
The Goddess's Original, and Race:
Him, daring to oppose, and vaunting high
The antient Names o'th' monstrous Family
Of Fam'd Medusa (whose dire Looks alone
Converted the Beholders into Stone)
As he, too forward, stoop'd, and at 's left Thigh,
Too eager, reach'd, the Valiant Consul, by
The Helmet caught, and dragging Headlong down
Upon his Knees, deep in his Back doth drown
His Sword, where 'bout his Reins his Belt was bound:
He, from his gaping Bowels, on the Ground
Spews Streams of Blood, and the Aetolian Field,
To the Atlantick Prince, a Grave doth yield.
Amidst the Slaughters, furious in the Rear,
With sudden Terrour, other Troops appear,
And charging fiercely, unexpected, fall
Upon the Romanes. These had Hannibal
Instructed in all Fraud, and to that Art
Of Fighting train'd: who (faining to desert
The Punick Camp, arm'd with Deceit, their Hands,
And Arms had yielded) on the Romane Bands
Then Busie, in the Slaughter, with a Rage
United, fly, and all their Rear engage:
Nor did they Weapons want, Slaughter affords
A large Supply of Jav'lins, Darts, and Swords.
But Valiant Galba (whose still pious Love
To Virtue, no cross Fortune could remove)
Seeing an Ensign taken by the Fo,
Pursues with Speed, and with a fatal Blow
The Conqu'rour fells: but, striving to regain
The Eagle, which his dying Hands retain,
(And would let go, but slowly, at the Last)
Pierc'd by Amorgus Sword, who came in Haste
To's Friend's Relief, he fell, and in those great
Attemps, unhappy, sadly met his Fate.
But now, as if Enyo's Rage were still
Unsatisfi'd, Vulturnus, in one Hill
Of Dust, rolls all the Field; and the white Sand
Throws up: and such as Labour'd to withstand
His Fury, with strong Blasts, that strangely Roar,
To th' farthest Part of all the Champagne bore,
And 'gainst the Hollow Banks their Bodies thrown,
And bruis'd, within the swelling Flood did drown:
And, here, unhappy in his silent Fate,
The River Curio's Life doth terminate.
For, while, with inward Fury boiling, He
Labours to stop the Romane Troops, that flee,
And in their Way, himself opposing, stood,
Driv'n Headlong by the Throng into the Flood;
I'th' troubled Waves he sunk, and born away
Dead, in the Adrîack Sands, Inglorious, lay.
But the brave Consul, whose unshaken Minde
The worst of Ills could bear, who ne're inclin'd
To stoop to Fortune, meets the Conqu'ring Fo
With equal Fury, and himself doth throw
Amidst their thickest Arms; encourag'd by
A Martial Heat, and Confidence to dy:
When Viriathus, whom th' Iberian Land
Obey'd, pursuing with a Fatal Hand,
A Fo, now tyr'd, and weary'd in the Fight,
Near unto Raging Paulus, and in 's Sight,
Cuts off. Oh Grief! Oh Tears! Servilius there,
Next Paulus, the best Part of all the War,
Fell by a barb'rous Hand, and in his Fall
Alone, with Envy, We may Cannae call
Unfortunate. The Consul his sad Ire
No more endures, and, though the Winds conspire
To rob him of his Arms, and blind his Eys
With Dust, yet through a Cloud of Sand he flies,
And him, then tuning, (as 'tis us'd among
Th' Iberi) on his Shield a barb'rous Song,
Invades, and, through his left Pap driving, past
His Weapon to his Vitals: this the last
Of all his Slaughters was, no more could He
In Fight his Hand imploy: nor (Rome) for Thee,
In future Wars, must Noble Paulus stand.
For an huge Stone, thrown from a private Hand,
Dash'd on his Head, and deep into his Skull
His batter'd Helmet beats, and fills it full,
And all his Face with Blood: retreating then,
Against the Neighb'ring Rock as he doth lean,
Now almost choak'd with Dust, before his Face,
Besmear'd with Gore, his Target he doth place,
Like a fierce Lyon (lighter Shafts represt,
And scorn'd) when, piercing deep into his Breast,
At length he feels the Steel, amidst the Field
He trembling stands, and patiently doth yield
To ev'ry Weapon: while about his Nose,
His Jaws, and Main, a bloody Riv'let flows;
And, sometimes, turning his weak Limbs about,
From his wide Mouth, he foaming Goar doth spout.
But, then, fierce Hannibal spurs on his Steed,
Where e're the Storm, or Conqu'ring Sword doth lead;
Where furious Troops, and where those Monsters are,
That with their Iv'ry Teeth maintain the War.
Here, overwhelm'd with Darts when Piso spy'd,
The Libyan Captain over Bodies ride,
Raising himself Upright upon his Spear,
Pierc'd through his Horse's Flank, attempting there
(In Vain) to leap upon him being down.
To whom the angry Libyan (who soon
Himself recover'd, though his Plunging Steed
Pitch'd him upon his Shoulder) When they're Dead,
Do thus the Romane Ghosts revive (said He)
To fight? In Death nor will they Quiet be?
This said, into his Body, as He strives
To rise, up to the Hilts, his Sword he drives.
But, his Foot wounded with a Cretan Shaft,
As Lentulus, full Speed, on Horse-back left
The Field; the Stones besmearing with his Blood,
And, with a stern Aspect, to th' Stygian Flood
Sinking he Paulus spy'd: at that sad Sight,
His Mind's distracted, He's asham'd of Flight.
Then Rome appears to burn, and Hannibal
Ev'n at the Gates to stand: then, first of all,
The Field, that Italy devour'd, He saw.
What then remain'd, but the next Day might draw
The Tyrians to the Town? At length, he spake
To Paulus, thus; Dost Thou the Helm forsake
In such Distress? The Gods my Witness are,
Unless thou guid us through this cruel War,
And live (though 'gainst thy Will) in such a Storm,
Paulus, (Grief made his Language sharp) more Harm,
Then Varro, Thou wilt do. Then take, I pray,
(Of Rome's now sinking State Thou onely Stay)
This Horse: upon my Shoulders I will take
Thee up, and set Thee safe upon his Back.
As this he spake, the Consul, spitting Blood,
From his torn Mouth, replies: Go on, make good
Thy Father's Virtues; why should we despair,
So long, as such brave Souls remaining are
In Romulus his Empire? Spur thy Steed,
Which Way thy Wounds permit thee. Let with speed
The City-Gates be shut; for suddenly
This sad Destruction to the Walls will fly;
And (pray) advise, that Fabius may Command
In Chief: blind Rage my Counsel did withstand.
And what of my spent Life remaineth now;
But that to the rude Multitude I show,
That Paulus dares, and knows well how to Dy?
For, thus consum'd with Wounds, to them shall I
Be born? What would the Libyan give, that Me,
Turning my Back in Fight, He once might see?
Paulus hath no such Thoughts: nor will I go
So poor a Soul unto the Shades below.
No, I am one: but why do I delay
Thee thus, with mild Complaints? Haste thee away,
Hence quickly with thy Steed, with Service spent.
With this grave Charge, strait to the City went
Sad Lentulus: nor yet did Paulus dy
Without Revenge; but, as when, mortally
Wounded, a Tiger doth, at length, retreat,
And falls to struggle with approaching Fate,
He opens wide his weary Jaws to bite
In vain, and in Attempts, beneath the Height
Of his great Rage, licks, onely, with his Tongue
The Lances, and the Darts against him flung.
And now Ilerthes, who insulting near
Approach'd, and shook, secure of Wounds, his Spear,
He rising, with his sudden Sword, doth wound;
And, then, for the Sidonian Captain, round
About him, looks, desiring in his Hands
To quit his strugling Soul: but strait the Bands
Of Nomades, of Garamantians, Moors,
With Celtians, and Asturians, thick Showr's
Of Darts upon him powr'd, on ev'ry Side,
Oppress the Man. Thus Noble Paulus dy'd;
Thus that high, valian[…] Heart, whom (if the War
He sole had rul'd) perhaps we might compare
With Fabius: his brave Death a Grace became
To Rome, and plac'd among the Stars his Name.
But, when the Romanes Hopes were lost, and all
Their Courage, ruin'd in the Consul's Fall;
To cruel Arms the Headless Army yield
Their Backs: Victorious Africk through the Field
Rageth in Blood: Picenian Cohorts here,
And Warlike Vmbrians fall; Sicanian there,
And Hernick Troops: those Ensigns scatter'd are
Upon the Ground, which Samnites, fierce in War,
Which the Sarrastes, and the Marsi brought[…]
There Targets pierc'd quite through, &, as they fought
Broke each 'gainst others Shields, and Helmets lay
With useless Swords, and Bridles torn away
From the fierce Horse's Mouths: the Neighb'ring flood
Throws up his Billows, swelling high with Blood,
Into the Fields, and all the Bodies slain
Returns, with Fury, to the Banks again.
See a Lagaean Ship, that, Island-like,
Floats on the Sea, if it by Chance do strike
Upon a Rock, while cloudy Eurus blows,
And Shipwrack over all the Ocean throws,
Strait Planks, with Oars, and Tackle, and tall Masts,
Pendants, and Sails, torn with impetuous Blasts,
And miserable Sea-men, that again
Spew up the Waves, are scatter'd on the Main.
The Libyan, by His Slaughters in the Fight,
Had measur'd out the Day: but, as the Night
The Aid of Light to His great Rage deny'd,
At length, he lai'd the cruel War aside,
And from the Toil of Slaughter spar'd his Men:
But yet, with Cares, his Mind still wak'd: nor then,
Amidst such Favour of the Gods, could He
Endure to rest; His Thoughts continually
Prompt him to enter Rome: and the next day,
Thence with drawn Swords, in Haste, to march away,
Is his Design: while yet their Blood was warm,
And Slaughter stain'd the Troops. Now with His Arm
The Gates He seiseth, fires the Walls, and seems
To mix with Cannae the Tarpeian Flames.
Conscious of Iove's Displeasure, and the Fate
Of Italy, Saturnia, troubled at
What He design'd, endeav'ring to restrain
The Youth's rash Heat, and in Desires so vain
To curb his greedy Hopes, strait from His deep,
And silent Empire, She the God of Sleep
(By whose Assistance, She had often clos'd
Iove's weary Eys, and them to Rest compos'd)
Summons, and, smiling, said; I call not Thee
(Great God) to hard Designs: nor that to Me
Thou give up Iove, by thy soft Wings subdued,
Do I require: nor, that thou shouldst delude
And shut, in Stygi[…] Night, his thousand Eys,
That Iö kept, and did thy Power despise.
But into Hannibal n[…]w Dreams inspire;
Nor now […]o visit Rome let Him desire:
Or Walls forbid, where Iove denies, that He
Should enter. Her Commands he instantly
Pursues, and Poppy, in a crooked Horn,
Mix'd with some other Juice, through Darkness born,
He silently descends, and to the Tent
Of the Barcêan Prince directly went.
Then, hov'ring o're his drooping Head, he spreads
His drowsy Wings, and Slumber gently sheds,
Like Dew, into His Eys, and with his Hand
Unto His Temples the Lethean Wand
Applies; when suddenly prodigious Dreams
Possess his furious Breast: and now he seems
To compass Tyber, with his num'rous Bands:
But, as, insulting, at the Walls he stands
Of Rome, he, frighted, sees Immortal Iove
Shining, on the Tarpeian Rock, above,
And, in his threatning Hand, he Thunder shook,
While all the Neighb'ring Fields with Sulphur smoak;
Blew Anyo, in cold Waters, trembling lies,
And oft (a dreadfull Sight) before his Eys,
Flashes of Lightning fly, then through the Air
A Voice was spread; Thy Progress, Youth, forbear;
Thy Honour's great enough, that doth arise
From Cannae, Thou as soon our Marble Skies
May'st cleave, as through those Sacred Walls (when storm'd
By Thee) break way. Thus Iuno's Will perform'd,
Sleep left Him, terrifi'd with what He then
Had seen, and fearing greater Wars: nor, when
The Night was done, did Day absolve his Mind
From that dire Image, which it left behind.
A midst these Troubles of His Sleep, and vain
Disturbance, Mago tells Him, they had ta'ne
The Romane Camp, by Night, and brought away,
With their remaining Troops, a wealthy Prey:
To Him then promising a joyfull Feast,
Within the Capitol, when, to devest
The World of Day, the fifth Night should arise,
The General, concealing the Advise
Of Heav'n, and His own Fears, their Wounds in Fight,
And Strength exhausted pleads, and that they might
Not be too Confident of their Success.
The Youth dejected from his Hopes, no less,
Then if he had commanded Him to flee,
Ev'n from the Walls, and draw from Victory
His Ensigns, said, With all this Toil, not Rome
(As She believ'd) but Varro's overcome:
By what sad Fate, so great Success in Fight
Dost Thou neglect, and thus Thy Countrey slight?
Let the Horse march with Me, and (I will Pawn
My Head) the Iliack Walls shall be Thine Own,
The Gates shall open'd be without a War.
While these by furious Mago urged are,
And by his wary Brother not believ'd,
The Latine Souldiers, flying, were receiv'd[…]
Within Canusium's Walls, and there apace
Began to fortifie. Inglorious Face
Of sinking Fortune! there no Eagles stand,
No Ensigns 'mong the Troops, no high Command
Of Consuls, nor by Lictours Axes born.
But faint with Fear, and, as with Ruin torn,
And maim'd, their Bodies on weak Members strive
To keep their Stand: oft sudden Clamours rive
The Air, and oft deep Silence, with their Eys
Fix'd on the Ground: here naked Companies
With broken Targets stand; the Valiant there
Want Swords: then all the Horsemen wounded are;
From their high-crested Casks their glorious Pride
Was torn, and Mars his Honour lai'd aside.
Their Corslets pierc'd with many Spears, and in
Their Mails Maurusian Shafts were sometimes seen
To hang: sometimes they sadly call upon
Their Friends, were lost: here Galba they bemoan,
Piso, and Curio, worthy of a far
More Noble Fate, and Scaevola, in War
Most fierce; all these of Course: but Paulus Fate,
As of a common Father, they regrate,
How He ne're ceas'd, with Truth, their present Woes
To Prophesie, and Varro's Minde oppose:
How oft, in Vain, that Day from Rome He sought
To turn; and, then, how valiantly He fought.
But such, who Care of future Things do take,
Either are busi'd, 'bout the Walls to make
Their Trenches, or to fortifie the Gates,
(As Need requir'd) and where the Field dilates
A plain, and easie Entrance to the Foes,
Firm in the Earth they fix Fire-hardned Boughs,
Like Horns of Stags, and secretly beside,
To wound them in their March, they Calthrops hide.
'Bove all these Miseries, and Wounds, that are
Not to be cur'd, the Reliques of the War,
And such as 'scap'd the Fo, through impious Fear,
And a more fierce Erynnis mov'd, prepare
(The Climate chang'd) the Punick Arms, by Sea,
Sidonian Swords, and Hannibal to flee.
The Chief of this Design, for Exile, was
Metellus, sprung from no ignoble Race.
The wav'ring Winds of that degen'rate Crew
In War, to Counsels base, and strange, he drew:
To look for Lands, where they themselves might hide,
As in another World, and there abide,
Where they might never hear the Libyan's Name,
And whither their forsaken Countrie's Fame,
Might never come. But, when this News was brought
To Scipio, with like Rage, as when he fought
I'th' Field 'gainst Hannibal, his Sword he snatch'd,
And to the House, where they this Mischief hatch'd
'Gainst Italy, he hasts, and breaking down
The Doors; and, entring, with a dreadfull Frown,
Shaking his Sword, before their frighted Eys,
He thus begun: Thou Chief of Deities!
Who dwell'st on the Tarpeian Rock, a Seat,
The next to Heav'n! and Thou, Iuno, not yet
Chang'd with the Woes of Troy, and thou fierce Maid
Upon whose dreadfull Aegis are displai'd
The Gorgon Furies, and you Gods, that sprung
From Mortals, and are willingly among
Our Deities ador'd, and (which by Me,
Is equal held to any Deity)
By my great Father's Head, I swear, I ne're
Will the La[…]inian Land forsake, nor e're
Permit, that it forsaken be, while I
Survive. Now then Metellus instantly
Attest the Gods, that, if in Libyan Fire
These Walls shall burn, Thou never wilt retire
Into another Land: unless thou swear
To this; although arm'd Hannibal were here,
Whom Thou dost dread, the Fear of whom doth break
Thy Sleep, Thou sure shalt dy, nor will I take
A greater Pride, in any Libyan's Fall.
These Threatnings crushing that Design, they all
A Sacramental Oath, as was enjoyn'd,
Swear to the Gods, and to their Countrey binde
Their Souls, and from that Crime their Breasts absolve.
While thus the Latines their Affairs revolve,
With troubled Thoughts: Victorious Hannibal
The Fields again survays, and numbers all
His own dire Acts; searching with greedy Eys
Their Wounds, and to the cruel Companies
Of Libyans, that round about Him stood,
Yields joyfull Spectacles of Romane Blood.
At the last Gasp, sore wounded through the Breast,
With Darts, lay valiant Claelius 'mong the rest,
Expiring his departing Soul to Air,
And lab'ring, faintly, his pale Face to rear:
Scarce, with his feeble Neck, from Earth his Head
H'ad lifted, when his Horse, that knew him, Neigh'd
Aloud, with prick'd-up Ears, and, Bounding, threw
Headlong upon the Ground Vagesus, who
Upon his Captive Back was born, and then
Flying with Speed o're Heaps of slaughter'd Men,
And through the slipp'ry Paths, with standing Gore
Made fat, and Bodies chang'd with Wounds, before
His dying Master stands, and there his Neck,
And Shoulders bowing, offers him his Back,
On bended Knees, as he was wont to do
And, trembling, seems his in-bred Love to shew.
None could more neatly mount a metled Steed,
Then he; none surer, as he ran full Speed,
Lay backward all along, or stood upon
His naked Back, or, when he chanc'd to run
A Race, more happily perform'd the Course.
But, not a little, wondring at the Horse
That equall'd Humane Sense, the Libyan strait
His Name, and Honours, who with adverse Fate
So bravely did contend, desir'd to know,
And, to dispatch him, gave the Mercy-Blow.
Then Cynna (for He to the Tyrians Side
Had turn'd his Arms) who near him then did ride,
A Slave to Fortune, answers: Sir (said He)
His Story worthy of your Ear may be.
In former Times, that Rome, which now disdains
With so much Scorn, to bear the Tyrian Reins,
Was under Kings; but, hating Tarquin's Sway,
Soon as She had his Scepter thrown away,
Strait mighty Armies, from Clusinum came,
(If either Cocles, or Porsenna's Fame,
Or Lidyan Camps, by Chance, thine Ear have found)
He, with Maeonian Aids, encompass'd round,
And Tyrrhen People strove again to bring
By War, into his Throne, the banish'd King;
Much, they, in vain, attempted: at the Gate
The Tyrant press'd; when, Peace concluded, strait
All Hate's compress'd, and by a League aside
The War is lai'd, and Faith by Pledges ty'd.
But, yet (good Gods!) the Romane Hearts, that know
Not how to yield, prepar'd to undergo
The worst of Ills for Honour! Claelia, who
Not yet the Age of twice six Summers knew,
One of the Latine Maids, that did remain
A Pledg of Peace, among the Virgin-Train
Transmitted to the King: She (not to speak
Of what the Men perform'd) that King, the League,
Her Years, the Flood contemning, fearless, o're
Admiring Tyber, from the Hostile Shore,
Swum, and the Billows broke with tender Hands.
Had Nature chang'd her Sex, the Tyrrhen Lands
Porsenna happily should ne're again
Have seen; but (that I may no more detain
You in her Story) from her Stock He came,
And from the famous Virgin took his Name.
As He this Story told, a sudden Cry,
On the Left-Hand, broke forth, appearing nigh,
Where Paulus Body, 'mong the Arms of Men,
And mangled Corps, in Ruin mix'd, they then
Dug up, amidst the Slaughter'd Heaps. Alass!
How alter'd? how unlike to Him he was,
That, lately, with his Shafts the Punick Bands
Had routed? Or, when the Taulantian Lands,
With Honour, he had vanquish'd, and did bring
Into Subjection the Illyrick King?
His hoary Locks all black with Dust; upon
His Beard dry Clots of Gore; a Mural Stone
His Teeth had broke: His Body all one Wound;
Which when, o'rejoy'd, the Libyan Captain found,
Fly, Consul Varro, now, securely fly;
And live (said He) since Paulus, here, did dy:
Fly; and to lazy Fabius, to the State,
And People, Cannae's Story all relate.
If Thou desir'st, so greedily, the Light
Of Life, I'le grant Thee such another Flight.
But He, whose valiant Heart (that justly claim'd
Me, for a Fo) so brave an Heat enflam'd,
With the last Rites of Funeral, by Me,
And Decent Sepulture, shall Honour'd be.
How Great here Paulus dost Thou ly? Whose Fall,
Alone, is greater Joy to Me, then all
The Thousands We have slain; and so, when Fate
Me, with the Safety (Carthage) of thy State[…]
Shall call, do I desire to dy. This said,
T' Interr his Friends, when the next Morn displai'd
Her Blushes from her Bed, and to prepare
A Pyle of Arms (that to the God of War
Were to be burnt) He gives Command: then all,
Though weary, to the Work commanded fall,
And strait in sev'ral Heaps the Groves are lai'd,
And, on the shady Hills, tall Woods are made
To Eccho with their Axes: here to Ground
They fell the Ash, and shady Pop'lar, crown'd
With hoary Leaves, and there the Holm, that took
Root in their Grand-sire's Age, and firmest Oak;
With Pines, that flourish by a River, and
Sad Cypress, that near Sepulchres do stand,
A mournfull Ornament. These to the Field
They bear, and there, with Emulation, build
The Fun'ral Pyles (an Office to the Slain,
Fruitless, and sad) till in the Eastern Main
Sol drench'd his panting Steeds, and, by his Flight
From Heav'n, with Stygian Darkness rais'd the Night.
But, when again the Phaëthontian Reins
Shed their first Beams on the Eo[…]an Plains,
And did to Earth its Colours all restore,
They Flames apply, and Corps, distilling Gore,
Burn, in an Hostile Land: an horrid Dread
Of various Chance, seising their Thoughts, is spread
With Silence through their Hearts, lest Fortune, by
An adverse Fight, might cause them there to dy.
But Sacred (Mars) to Thee, up to the Skies,
Like a vast Hill, a Pyle of Arms doth rise:
The General himself lifts up a tall
And flaming Pine, and thus on Thee doth call:
Great Father Mars! who, now, hast heard my Pray'r;
These Sacrifices of a Prosp'rous War,
And First-fruits of the Fight, within this Flame,
I, Hannibal, or'e the Ausonian Name
Victorious, burn, to Thee, and living Bands
Offer these chosen Arms, with gratefull Hands.
Then, throwing in the Torch, the greedy Fire
Devours the Pyle; and strait a flaming Spire
Breaks through the Smoak, and to the Stars ascends,
And a clear Light through all the Field extends.
Thence, hasting to the Tomb, and Funeral
To Paulus giv'n, the Honour of his Fall,
Insulting, boasts. A lofty Pyle, there, They
Had rais'd, and softer Beds, compos'd of Hay:
Gifts likewise added are, to th' Valiant held
A Fun'ral Honour: His dire Sword, and Shield,
(Of late a Terrour, and a stately Sight)
Then Fasces torn, and Axes ta'ne in Fight.
No Wife, no Sons, no Troops of Kindred near
Ally'd, were there; nor on the lofty Bier
(As Custom was) old Images precede,
And grace the Exequies: But, now, instead
Of other Pomp, was Hannibal, alone
Sufficient, to Eternize His Renown:
Shining with richest Purple (to the rest
Upon the Pyle) He, sighing, threw his Vest,
And, after that, His Gold-embroider'd Cloak:
Then to His Shade, with this last Honour, spoke.
Ausonia's Glory! go Thou thither; where
Souls, great in Deeds, and Virtue, seated are;
Thou, by Thy Noble Death, hast Honour gain'd:
Fortune, as yet, with her unconstant Hand,
Our Labours guids, and doth command, that We
Of future Chances ignorant should be.
Thus He, and, strait from crackling Flames, into
Aetherial Air, the joyfull Soul doth go.
Now Fame, her Voice encreasing, to the Skies,
The Sea, and Earth, and chiefest City flies[…]
They now distrust their Walls, and, trembling, all
Hope Safety onely in the Capitol.
For now, for their Defence, no Youthfull Bands
Survive; an empty Name Ausonia stands,
Without a Body: that the Enemy
Not yet broke through the Gates, they think to be
Delay, through Scorn: their Houses now appear
To burn, the Temples spoil'd, and ev'ry where
Their Sons, in cruel Slaughter, to expire
Before their Eys, and the sev'n Tow'rs on Fire.
One Day lamented the approaching Falls
Of twice an hundred Chairs, and sinking Walls
Of now-exhausted Rome, depriv'd of twice
Three hundred thousand Youth besides; and this
After sad Trebia, and the Tuscan Flood:
And of Allies, as great a Loss of Blood.
Amidst these Griefs, the Pious Senate all,
By Lot, to their appointed Charges fall:
Old Fabius, super-vising what was done
With Diligence, th' Affrighted calls upon.
Believ't, there 's now no Reason to delay;
We must be speedy, that the Libyan may,
T' approach our armed Walls, attempt in vain.
By Sitting-still cross Fortune Strength doth gain
Among the Fearfull, and Adversity
Through Fear grows greater. Go, go speedily,
Snatch from the Temple Arms (Brave Youths) go make
The Courts, and Porches, naked; quickly take
The Targets from the Walls, were gain'd in War:
Enough our Numbers for our Countrey are,
If we loose nothing through our Fear to fight:
In open Fields, that horrid Plague may fright
Perchance; but the light-naked Moor shall ne're
Break through these Walls, or boast his Triumphs here.
While Fabius thus excites their Minds, with Dread
Dejected. 'Bout the Walls a Rumour 's spread,
That Varro was at Hand, and ev'ry Breast
With secret Trouble, and with Doubt, 's possest.
As, when, a Vessel wrack'd, safe from the Sea,
Alone, the Pilot, swimming, makes his Way
To th' open Shore; the People trembling stand,
Uncertain whether they should lend an Hand
To help Him, or refuse Him, and, the rest
So lost, his sole Survival all detest.
How great his Infamy, who durst come near
The Ports, so sad an Omen to their Fear!
These Discontents, and Troubles to a[…]swage,
And turn the wav'ring People from their Rage,
Fabius declares; How Base it was to be
Vex'd at Mis-fortunes in Adversity,
It did un-manly seem, in those to bend,
Who their Original from Mars pretend,
Who could not hide their Griefs, but were intent
To remedy their Woes by Punishment:
But, if they would permit him, to upbraid,
To Him that Day more Dismal shin'd (he said)
When He saw Varro marching to the Field,
Then that, wherein Dis-arm'd he Him beheld.
This Language all their Threats allay'd, and strait
Their Hearts were turn'd. Now they condole his Fate,
Now, summ up all the Comforts from them ta'ne
By the Sidonian, in two Consuls slain.
Then, to congratulate Him, out they run
In Troops; protesting, that whate're was done,
They did believe, proceeded from a great
And valiant Minde; That trusting to the Fate
Of their Fore-Fathers, and their mighty Power,
He not despair'd of the Tarpeian Tow'r.
No less sad, for his Crime, and full of Shame,
Towards the Walls, the Consul, weeping, came:
Not daring his dejected Looks at all
To raise, to see his Countrey, and recall
Their Griefs. The Senate, and the People, that
To meet Him went, seem'd not to gratulate
His Safety: but sad Parents to require
Their Sons, and Brothers; or, enflam'd with Ire,
To tear the Consul's Face, appear'd to come:
And therefore, with a silent Lictour, Rome
He, Private, enters, and through Grief contemn'd
That Honour, which the Gods, so late, condemn'd.
But Fabius, and the Senate doth provide
Speedy Relief, all Sadness lai'd aside;
And strait the Slaves are arm'd: nor doth that Shame,
For common Safety, move them to dis-claim
The Camp. But to reduce th' Aeneï[…]n State,
By any Means, within the Laws of Fate,
It is Decreed, and for the Sacred Tow'r,
Honour of Freedom, and Imperial Pow'r,
Ev'n Servile Hands to Arm. Now, they devest
Boys of their Garments, and their Shoulders prest
With Arms, to them unknown: stiff Helmets close
Their tender Cheeks, and in the Blood of Foes
They are commanded to grow up to Men.
But, when 't was mov'd the Captive Troops agen
Should Ransom'd be at easie Rates (for there
Of such, that sought it, many thousands were)
They to the wondring Libyan left them all.
So much the Possibility to fall,
Arm'd, into Bondage, did all Crimes exceed,
All other Guilt surpass. Then, 'twas Decreed,
That whosoever should Convicted be,
T' have fled the Fight in farthest Sicily,
Should serve, untill the Fo th' Ausonian Land
Should quite relinquish. Such then Rome did stand!
Next whom, Thou, Carthage, had the Fates thought good
To change her Manners, mightst, as Chief, have stood.