Lucan, the Roman poet, makes a beautiful digression to paint the happy
life of a fisherman. In plain prose it will read in this manner:--
News (says he) was brought to Cæsar, at a late hour, that Pompey was up
in arms in Calabria, ready to dispute with him the sovereignty of the
world; perplexed in mind, he knew not for a while what steps best to
pursue, when, stealing from the arms of his Calphornia, he cast his
mantle about him, and through the gloom of midnight hastened alone to
the mouth of the Tiber, and coming to the cabin of Amilcas the
fisherman, struck thrice with his arm upon the door of the slumberer.
“Arise, Amilcas,” said Cæsar, in a subdued tone. The fisherman and his
family, without care, were reposing on their beds of sheepskins. Amilcas
knew the voice of Cæsar, and threw open his wicket to receive his
master. “Come away, Amilcas,” cried the emperor, “launch your boat with
all speed, and bear me to Calabria; Pompey is there in arms against me
while I am absent; hasten then, and ask what thou wilt of Cæsar.” The
night was dark, and the elements were at war with each other; but by the
strength, courage, and judgment of the boatman, Cæsar was soon landed on
the shore of Calabria.--“And now, Amilcas,” rejoined the mighty chief,
“make thy demand.” “Grant me then,” replied the fisherman, “that I may
return the way I came to my peaceful family; for at daybreak should they
not see me spreading my nets upon the beach, as they are wont, their
faithful bosoms will be rent with sorrow.”--“Go,” replied the Roman
chief, “thou humble, modest man, and never let it be forgotten that
Cæsar is thy friend.”
* * * * *