BOOK IX

CATO

Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,

In that small heap of dust, was not confined

So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt

And narrow cell sprang forth (1) and sought the sky

Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air

Upreaching to the poles that bear on high

The constellations in their nightly round;

There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth

Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,

Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul

Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse

That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,

Where nor the monument encased in gold,

Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring

The buried dead, in union with the spheres,

Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light

His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars

And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;

Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day

And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.

Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,

And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet

Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast

Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul

To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind

Of haughty Cato.

He while yet the scales

Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given

The world its master, hating both the chiefs,

Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause

And for his country: since Pharsalia's field

Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart

Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received

Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs

He cherished with new hope and weapons gave

Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.

Nor yet for empire did he wage the war

Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved

Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,

The aim of all his host. And lest the foe

In rapid course triumphant should collect

His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs

Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore

The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.

Who in such mighty armament had thought

A routed army sailed upon the main

Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape

And Taenarus open to the shades below

And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet

Sweeps o'er the yielding wave, by northern breeze

Borne past the Cretan shores. But Phycus dared

Refuse her harbour, and th' avenging hand

Left her in ruins. Thus with gentle airs

They glide along the main and reach the shore

From Palinurus (2) named; for not alone

On seas Italian, Pilot of the deep,

Hast thou thy monument; and Libya too

Claims that her waters pleased thy soul of yore.

Then in the distance on the main arose

The shining canvas of a stranger fleet,

Or friend or foe they knew not. Yet they dread

In every keel the presence of that chief

Their fear-compelling conqueror. But in truth

That navy tears and sorrow bore, and woes

To make e'en Cato weep.

For when in vain

Cornelia prayed her stepson and the crew

To stay their flight, lest haply from the shore

Back to the sea might float the headless corse;

And when the flame arising marked the place

Of that unhallowed rite, "Fortune, didst thou

Judge me unfit," she cried, "to light the pyre

To cast myself upon the hero dead,

The lock to sever, and compose the limbs

Tossed by the cruel billows of the deep,

To shed a flood of tears upon his wounds,

And from the flickering flame to bear away

And place within the temples of the gods

All that I could, his dust? That pyre bestows

No honour, haply by some Pharian hand

Piled up in insult to his mighty shade.

Happy the Crassi lying on the waste

Unburied. To the greater shame of heaven

Pompeius has such funeral. And shall this

For ever be my lot? her husbands slain

Cornelia ne'er enclose within the tomb,

Nor shed the tear beside the urn that holds

The ashes of the loved? Yet for my grief

What boots or monument or ordered pomp?

Dost thou not, impious, upon thy heart

Pompeius' image, and upon thy soul

Bear ineffaceable? Dust closed in urns

Is for the wife who would survive her lord

Not such as thee, Cornelia! And yet

Yon scanty light that glimmers from afar

Upon the Pharian shore, somewhat of thee

Recalls, Pompeius! Now the flame sinks down

And smoke drifts up across the eastern sky

Bearing thine ashes, and the rising wind

Sighs hateful in the sail. To me no more

Dearer than this whatever land may yield

Pompeius' victory, nor the frequent car

That carried him in triumph to the hill;

Gone is that happy husband from my thoughts;

Here did I lose the hero whom I knew;

Here let me stay; his presence shall endear

The sands of Nile where fell the fatal blow.

Thou, Sextus, brave the chances of the war

And bear Pompeius' standard through the world.

For thus thy father spake within mine ear:

'When sounds my fatal hour let both my sons

Urge on the war; nor let some Caesar find

Room for an empire, while shall live on earth

Still one in whom Pompeius' blood shall run.

This your appointed task; all cities strong

In freedom of their own, all kingdoms urge

To join the combat; for Pompeius calls.

Nor shall a chieftain of that famous name

Ride on the seas and fail to find a fleet.

Urged by his sire's unconquerable will

And mindful of his rights, mine heir shall rouse

All nations to the conflict. One alone,

(Should he contend for freedom) may ye serve;

Cato, none else!' Thus have I kept the faith;

Thy plot (3) prevailed upon me, and I lived

Thy mandate to discharge. Now through the void

Of space, and shades of Hell, if such there be,

I follow; yet how distant be my doom

I know not: first my spirit must endure

The punishment of life, which saw thine end

And could survive it; sighs shall break my heart,

Tears shall dissolve it: sword nor noose I need

Nor headlong plunge. 'Twere shameful since thy death,

Were aught but grief required to cause my own."

She seeks the cabin, veiled, in funeral garb,

In tears to find her solace, and to love

Grief in her husband's room; no prayers were hers

For life, as were the sailors'; nor their shout

Roused by the height of peril, moved her soul,

Nor angered waves: but sorrowing there she lay,

Resigned to death and welcoming the storm.

First reached they Cyprus on the foamy brine;

Then as the eastern breeze more gently held

The favouring deep, they touched the Libyan shore

Where stood the camp of Cato. Sad as one

Who deep in fear presages ills to come,

Cnaeus beheld his brother and his band

Of patriot comrades. Swift into the wave

He leaps and cries, "Where, brother, is our sire?

Still stands our country mistress of the world,

Or are we fallen, Rome with Magnus' death

Rapt to the shades?" Thus he: but Sextus said

"Oh happy thou who by report alone

Hear'st of the deed that chanced on yonder shore!

These eyes that saw, my brother, share the guilt.

Not Caesar wrought the murder of our sire,

Nor any captain worthy in the fray.

He fell beneath the orders of a king

Shameful and base, while trusting to the gods

Who shield the guest; a king who in that land

By his concession ruled: (this the reward

For favours erst bestowed). Within my sight

Pierced through with wounds our noble father fell:

Yet deeming not the petty prince of Nile

So fell a deed would dare, to Egypt's strand

I thought great Caesar come. But worse than all,

Worse than the wounds which gaped upon his frame

Struck me with horror to the inmost heart,

Our murdered father's head, shorn from the trunk

And borne aloft on javelin; this sight,

As rumour said, the cruel victor asked

To feast his eyes, and prove the bloody deed.

For whether ravenous birds and Pharian dogs

Have torn his corse asunder, or a fire

Consumed it, which with stealthy flame arose

Upon the shore, I know not. For the parts

Devoured by destiny I only blame

The gods: I weep the part preserved by men."

Thus Sextus spake: and Cnaeus at the words

Flamed into fury for his father's shame.

"Sailors, launch forth our navies, by your oars

Forced through the deep though wind and sea oppose:

Captains, lead on: for civil strife ne'er gave

So great a prize; to lay in earth the limbs

Of Magnus, and avenge him with the blood

Of that unmanly tyrant. Shall I spare

Great Alexander's fort, nor sack the shrine

And plunge his body in the tideless marsh?

Nor drag Amasis from the Pyramids,

And all their ancient Kings, to swim the Nile?

Torn from his tomb, that god of all mankind

Isis, unburied, shall avenge thy shade;

And veiled Osiris shall I hurl abroad

In mutilated fragments; and the form

Of sacred Apis; (4) and with these their gods

Shall light a furnace, that shall burn the head

They held in insult. Thus their land shall pay

The fullest penalty for the shameful deed.

No husbandman shall live to till the fields

Nor reap the benefit of brimming Nile.

Thou only, Father, gods and men alike

Fallen and perished, shalt possess the land."

Such were the words he spake; and soon the fleet

Had dared the angry deep: but Cato's voice

While praising, calmed the youthful chieftain's rage.

Meanwhile, when Magnus' fate was known, the air

Sounded with lamentations which the shore

Re-echoed; never through the ages past,

By history recorded, was it known

That thus a people mourned their ruler's death.

Yet more when worn with tears, her pallid cheek

Veiled by her loosened tresses, from the ship

Cornelia came, they wept and beat the breast.

The friendly land once gained, her husband's garb,

His arms and spoils, embroidered deep in gold,

Thrice worn of old upon the sacred hill (5)

She placed upon the flame. Such were for her

The ashes of her spouse: and such the love

Which glowed in every heart, that soon the shore

Blazed with his obsequies. Thus at winter-tide

By frequent fires th' Apulian herdsman seeks

To render to the fields their verdant growth;

Till blaze Garganus' uplands and the meads

Of Vultur, and the pasture of the herds

By warm Matinum.

Yet Pompeius' shade

Nought else so gratified, not all the blame

The people dared to heap upon the gods,

For him their hero slain, as these few words

From Cato's noble breast instinct with truth:

"Gone is a citizen who though no peer (6)

Of those who disciplined the state of yore

In due submission to the bounds of right,

Yet in this age irreverent of law

Has played a noble part. Great was his power,

But freedom safe: when all the plebs was prone

To be his slaves, he chose the private gown;

So that the Senate ruled the Roman state,

The Senate's ruler: nought by right of arms

He e'er demanded: willing took he gifts

Yet from a willing giver: wealth was his

Vast, yet the coffers of the State he filled

Beyond his own. He seized upon the sword,

Knew when to sheath it; war did he prefer

To arts of peace, yet armed loved peace the more.

Pleased took he power, pleased he laid it down:

Chaste was his home and simple, by his wealth

Untarnished. Mid the peoples great his name

And venerated: to his native Rome

He wrought much good. True faith in liberty

Long since with Marius and Sulla fled:

Now when Pompeius has been reft away

Its counterfeit has perished. Now unshamed

Shall seize the despot on Imperial power,

Unshamed shall cringe the Senate. Happy he

Who with disaster found his latest breath

And met the Pharian sword prepared to slay.

Life might have been his lot, in despot rule,

Prone at his kinsman's throne. Best gift of all

The knowledge how to die; next, death compelled.

If cruel Fortune doth reserve for me

An alien conqueror, may Juba be

As Ptolemaeus. So he take my head

My body grace his triumph, if he will."

More than had Rome resounded with his praise

Words such as these gave honour to the shade

Of that most noble dead.

Meanwhile the crowd

Weary of warfare, since Pompeius' fall,

Broke into discord, as their ancient chief

Cilician called them to desert the camp.

But Cato hailed them from the furthest beach:

"Untamed Cilician, is thy course now set

For Ocean theft again; Pompeius gone,

Once more a pirate?" Thus he spake, and gazed

At all the stirring throng; but one whose mind

Was fixed on flight, thus answered, "Pardon, chief,

'Twas love of Magnus, not of civil war,

That led us to the fight: his side was ours:

With him whom all the world preferred to peace,

Our cause is perished. Let us seek our homes

Long since unseen, our children and our wives.

If nor the rout nor dread Pharsalia's field

Nor yet Pompeius' death shall close the war,

Whence comes the end? The vigour of a life

For us is vanished: in our failing years

Give us at least some pious hand to speed

The parting soul, and light the funeral pyre.

Scarce even to its captains civil strife

Concedes due burial. Nor in our defeat

Does Fortune threaten us with the savage yoke

Of distant nations. In the garb of Rome

And with her rights, I leave thee. Who had been

Second to Magnus living, he shall be

My first hereafter: to that sacred shade

Be the prime honour. Chance of war appoints

My lord but not my leader. Thee alone

I followed, Magnus; after thee the fates.

Nor hope we now for victory, nor wish;

For all our Thracian army is fled

In Caesar's victory, whose potent star

Of fortune rules the world, and none but he

Has power to keep or save. That civil war

Which while Pompeius lived was loyalty

Is impious now. If in the public right

Thou, patriot Cato, find'st thy guide, we seek

The standards of the Consul." Thus he spake

And with him leaped into the ship a throng

Of eager comrades.

Then was Rome undone,

For all the shore was stirring with a crowd

Athirst for slavery. But burst these words

From Cato's blameless breast: "Then with like vows

As Caesar's rival host ye too did seek

A lord and master! not for Rome the fight,

But for Pompeius! For that now no more

Ye fight for tyranny, but for yourselves,

Not for some despot chief, ye live and die;

Since now 'tis safe to conquer and no lord

Shall rob you, victors, of a world subdued --

Ye flee the war, and on your abject necks

Feel for the absent yoke; nor can endure

Without a despot! Yet to men the prize

Were worth the danger. Magnus might have used

To evil ends your blood; refuse ye now,

With liberty so near, your country's call?

Now lives one tyrant only of the three;

Thus far in favour of the laws have wrought

The Pharian weapons and the Parthian bow;

Not you, degenerate! Begone, and spurn

This gift of Ptolemaeus. (8) Who would think

Your hands were stained with blood? The foe will deem

That you upon that dread Thessalian day

First turned your backs. Then flee in safety, flee!

By neither battle nor blockade subdued

Caesar shall give you life! O slaves most base,

Your former master slain, ye seek his heir!

Why doth it please you not yet more to earn

Than life and pardon? Bear across the sea

Metellus' daughter, Magnus' weeping spouse,

And both his sons; outstrip the Pharian gift,

Nor spare this head, which, laid before the feet

Of that detested tyrant, shall deserve

A full reward. Thus, cowards, shall ye learn

In that ye followed me how great your gain.

Quick to your task and purchase thus with blood

Your claim on Caesar. Dastardly is flight

Which crime commends not."

Cato thus recalled

The parting vessels. So when bees in swarm

Desert their waxen cells, forget the hive

Ceasing to cling together, and with wings

Untrammelled seek the air, nor slothful light

On thyme to taste its bitterness -- then rings

The Phrygian gong -- at once they pause aloft

Astonied; and with love of toil resumed

Through all the flowers for their honey store

In ceaseless wanderings search; the shepherd joys,

Sure that th' Hyblaean mead for him has kept

His cottage store, the riches of his home.

Now in the active conduct of the war

Were brought to discipline their minds, untaught

To bear repose; first on the sandy shore

Toiling they learned fatigue: then stormed thy walls,

Cyrene; prizeless, for to Cato's mind

'Twas prize enough to conquer. Juba next

He bids attack, though Nature on the path

Had placed the Syrtes; which his sturdy heart

Aspired to conquer. Either at the first

When Nature gave the universe its form

She left this region neither land nor sea;

Not wholly shrunk, so that it should receive

The ocean flood; nor firm enough to stand

Against its buffets -- all the pathless coast

Lies in uncertain shape; the land by earth

Is parted from the deep; on sandy banks

The seas are broken, and from shoal to shoal

The waves advance to sound upon the shore.

Nature, in spite, thus left her work undone,

Unfashioned to men's use -- Or else of old

A foaming ocean filled the wide expanse,

But Titan feeding from the briny depths

His burning fires (near to the zone of heat)

Reduced the waters; and the sea still fights

With Phoebus' beams, which in the length of time

Drank deeper of its fountains.

When the main

Struck by the oars gave passage to the fleet,

Black from the sky rushed down a southern gale

Upon his realm, and from the watery plain

Drave back th' invading ships, and from the shoals

Compelled the billows, and in middle sea

Raised up a bank. Forth flew the bellying sails

Beyond the prows, despite the ropes that dared

Resist the tempest's fury; and for those

Who prescient housed their canvas to the storm,

Bare-masted they were driven from their course.

Best was their lot who gained the open waves

Of ocean; others lightened of their masts

Shook off the tempest; but a sweeping tide

Hurried them southwards, victor of the gale.

Some freed of shallows on a bank were forced

Which broke the deep: their ship in part was fast,

Part hanging on the sea; their fates in doubt.

Fierce rage the waves till hems (9) them in the land;

Nor Auster's force in frequent buffets spent

Prevails upon the shore. High from the main

By seas inviolate one bank of sand,

Far from the coast arose; there watched in vain

The storm-tossed mariners, their keel aground,

No shore descrying. Thus in sea were lost

Some portion, but the major part by helm

And rudder guided, and by pilots' hands

Who knew the devious channels, safe at length

Floated the marsh of Triton loved (as saith

The fable) by that god, whose sounding shell (10)

All seas and shores re-echo; and by her,

Pallas, who springing from her father's head

First lit on Libya, nearest land to heaven,

(As by its heat is proved); here on the brink

She stood, reflected in the placid wave

And called herself Tritonis. Lethe's flood

Flows silent near, in fable from a source

Infernal sprung, oblivion in his stream;

Here, too, that garden of the Hesperids

Where once the sleepless dragon held his watch,

Shorn of its leafy wealth. Shame be on him

Who calls upon the poet for the proof

Of that which in the ancient days befell;

But here were golden groves by yellow growth

Weighed down in richness, here a maiden band

Were guardians; and a serpent, on whose eyes

Sleep never fell, was coiled around the trees,

Whose branches bowed beneath their ruddy load.

But great Alcides stripped the bending boughs,

And bore their shining apples (thus his task

Accomplished) to the court of Argos' king.

Driven on the Libyan realms, more fruitful here,

Pompeius (11) stayed the fleet, nor further dared

In Garamantian waves. But Cato's soul

Leaped in his breast, impatient of delay,

To pass the Syrtes by a landward march,

And trusting to their swords, 'gainst tribes unknown

To lead his legions. And the storm which closed

The main to navies gave them hope of rain;

Nor biting frosts they feared, in Libyan clime;

Nor suns too scorching in the falling year.

Thus ere they trod the deserts, Cato spake:

"Ye men of Rome, who through mine arms alone

Can find the death ye covet, and shall fall

With pride unbroken should the fates command,

Meet this your weighty task, your high emprise

With hearts resolved to conquer. For we march

On sterile wastes, burnt regions of the world;

Scarce are the wells, and Titan from the height

Burns pitiless, unclouded; and the slime

Of poisonous serpents fouls the dusty earth.

Yet shall men venture for the love of laws

And country perishing, upon the sands

Of trackless Libya; men who brave in soul

Rely not on the end, and in attempt

Will risk their all. 'Tis not in Cato's thoughts

On this our enterprise to lead a band

Blind to the truth, unwitting of the risk.

Nay, give me comrades for the danger's sake,

Whom I shall see for honour and for Rome

Bear up against the worst. But whoso needs

A pledge of safety, to whom life is sweet,

Let him by fairer journey seek his lord.

First be my foot upon the sand; on me

First strike the burning sun; across my path

The serpent void his venom; by my fate

Know ye your perils. Let him only thirst

Who sees me at the spring: who sees me seek

The shade, alone sink fainting in the heat;

Or whoso sees me ride before the ranks

Plodding their weary march: such be the lot

Of each, who, toiling, finds in me a chief

And not a comrade. Snakes, thirst, burning sand

The brave man welcomes, and the patient breast

Finds happiness in labour. By its cost

Courage is sweeter; and this Libyan land

Such cloud of ills can furnish as might make

Men flee unshamed." 'Twas thus that Cato spake,

Kindling the torch of valour and the love

Of toil: then reckless of his fate he strode

The desert path from which was no return:

And Libya ruled his destinies, to shut

His sacred name within a narrow tomb.

One-third of all the world, (12) if fame we trust,

Is Libya; yet by winds and sky she yields

Some part to Europe; for the shores of Nile

No more than Scythian Tanais are remote

From furthest Gades, where with bending coast,

Yielding a place to Ocean, Europe parts

From Afric shores. Yet falls the larger world

To Asia only. From the former two

Issues the Western wind; but Asia's right

Touches the Southern limits and her left

The Northern tempest's home; and of the East

She's mistress to the rising of the Sun.

All that is fertile of the Afric lands

Lies to the west, but even here abound

No wells of water: though the Northern wind,

Infrequent, leaving us with skies serene,

Falls there in showers. Not gold nor wealth of brass

It yields the seeker: pure and unalloyed

Down to its lowest depths is Libyan soil.

Yet citron forests to Maurusian tribes

Were riches, had they known; but they, content,

Lived 'neath the shady foliage, till gleamed

The axe of Rome amid the virgin grove,

To bring from furthest limits of the world

Our banquet tables and the fruit they bear. (13)

But suns excessive and a scorching air

Burn all the glebe beside the shifting sands:

There die the harvests on the crumbling mould;

No root finds sustenance, nor kindly Jove

Makes rich the furrow nor matures the vine.

Sleep binds all nature and the tract of sand

Lies ever fruitless, save that by the shore

The hardy Nasamon plucks a scanty grass.

Unclothed their race, and living on the woes

Worked by the cruel Syrtes on mankind;

For spoilers are they of the luckless ships

Cast on the shoals: and with the world by wrecks

Their only commerce.

Here at Cato's word

His soldiers passed, in fancy from the winds

That sweep the sea secure: here on them fell

Smiting with greater strength upon the shore,

Than on the ocean, Auster's tempest force,

And yet more fraught with mischief: for no crags

Repelled his strength, nor lofty mountains tamed

His furious onset, nor in sturdy woods

He found a bar; but free from reining hand,

Raged at his will o'er the defenceless earth.

Nor did he mingle dust and clouds of rain

In whirling circles, but the earth was swept

And hung in air suspended, till amazed

The Nasamon saw his scanty field and home

Reft by the tempest, and the native huts

From roof to base were hurried on the blast.

Not higher, when some all-devouring flame

Has seized upon its prey, in volumes dense

Rolls up the smoke, and darkens all the air.

Then with fresh might he fell upon the host

Of marching Romans, snatching from their feet

The sand they trod. Had Auster been enclosed

In some vast cavernous vault with solid walls

And mighty barriers, he had moved the world

Upon its ancient base and made the lands

To tremble: but the facile Libyan soil

By not resisting stood, and blasts that whirled

The surface upwards left the depths unmoved.

Helmet and shield and spear were torn away

By his most violent breath, and borne aloft

Through all the regions of the boundless sky;

Perchance a wonder in some distant land,

Where men may fear the weapons from the heaven

There falling, as the armour of the gods,

Nor deem them ravished from a soldier's arm.

'Twas thus on Numa by the sacred fire

Those shields descended which our chosen priests (14)

Bear on their shoulders; from some warlike race

By tempest rapt, to be the prize of Rome.

Fearing the storm prone fell the host to earth

Winding their garments tight, and with clenched hands

Gripping the earth: for not their weight alone

Withstood the tempest which upon their frames

Piled mighty heaps, and their recumbent limbs

Buried in sand. At length they struggling rose

Back to their feet, when lo! around them stood,

Forced by the storm, a growing bank of earth

Which held them motionless. And from afar

Where walls lay prostrate, mighty stones were hurled,

Thus piling ills on ills in wondrous form:

No dwellings had they seen, yet at their feet

Beheld the ruins. All the earth was hid

In vast envelopment, nor found they guide

Save from the stars, which as in middle deep

Flamed o'er them wandering: yet some were hid

Beneath the circle of the Libyan earth

Which tending downwards hid the Northern sky.

When warmth dispersed the tempest-driven air,

And rose upon the earth the flaming day,

Bathed were their limbs in sweat, but parched and dry

Their gaping lips; when to a scanty spring

Far off beheld they came, whose meagre drops

All gathered in the hollow of a helm

They offered to their chief. Caked were their throats

With dust, and panting; and one little drop

Had made him envied. "Wretch, and dost thou deem

Me wanting in a brave man's heart?" he cried,

"Me only in this throng? And have I seemed

Tender, unfit to bear the morning heat?

He who would quench his thirst 'mid such a host,

Doth most deserve its pangs." Then in his wrath

Dashed down the helmet, and the scanty spring,

Thus by their leader spurned, sufficed for all.

Now had they reached that temple which possess

Sole in all Libya, th' untutored tribes

Of Garamantians. Here holds his seat

(So saith the story) a prophetic Jove,

Wielding no thunderbolts, nor like to ours,

The Libyan Hammon of the curved horn.

No wealth adorns his fane by Afric tribes

Bestowed, nor glittering hoard of Eastern gems.

Though rich Arabians, Ind and Ethiop

Know him alone as Jove, still is he poor

Holding his shrine by riches undefiled

Through time, and god as of the olden days

Spurns all the wealth of Rome. That here some god

Dwells, witnesses the only grove

That buds in Libya -- for that which grows

Upon the arid dust which Leptis parts

From Berenice, knows no leaves; alone

Hammon uprears a wood; a fount the cause

Which with its waters binds the crumbling soil.

Yet shall the Sun when poised upon the height

Strike through the foliage: hardly can the tree

Protect its trunk, and to a little space

His rays draw in the circle of the shade.

Here have men found the spot where that high band

Solstitial divides in middle sky (15)

The zodiac stars: not here oblique their course,

Nor Scorpion rises straighter than the Bull,

Nor to the Scales does Ram give back his hours,

Nor does Astraea bid the Fishes sink

More slowly down: but watery Capricorn

Is equal with the Crab, and with the Twins

The Archer; neither does the Lion rise

Above Aquarius. But the race that dwells

Beyond the fervour of the Libyan fires

Sees to the South that shadow which with us

Falls to the North: slow Cynosure sinks (16)

For them below the deep; and, dry with us,

The Wagon plunges; far from either pole,

No star they know that does not seek the main,

But all the constellations in their course

Whirl to their vision through the middle sky.

Before the doors the Eastern peoples stood

Seeking from horned Jove to know their fates:

Yet to the Roman chief they yielded place,

Whose comrades prayed him to entreat the gods

Famed through the Libyan world, and judge the voice

Renowned from distant ages. First of these

Was Labienus: (17) "Chance," he said, "to us

The voice and counsel of this mighty god

Has offered as we march; from such a guide

To know the issues of the war, and learn

To track the Syrtes. For to whom on earth

If not to blameless Cato, shall the gods

Entrust their secrets? Faithful thou at least,

Their follower through all thy life hast been;

Now hast thou liberty to speak with Jove.

Ask impious Caesar's fates, and learn the laws

That wait our country in the future days:

Whether the people shall be free to use

Their rights and customs, or the civil war

For us is wasted. To thy sacred breast,

Lover of virtue, take the voice divine;

Demand what virtue is and guide thy steps

By heaven's high counsellor."

But Cato, full

Of godlike thoughts borne in his quiet breast,

This answer uttered, worthy of the shrines:

"What, Labienus, dost thou bid me ask?

Whether in arms and freedom I should wish

To perish, rather than endure a king?

Is longest life worth aught? And doth its term

Make difference? Can violence to the good

Do injury? Do Fortune's threats avail

Outweighed by virtue? Doth it not suffice

To aim at deeds of bravery? Can fame

Grow by achievement? Nay! No Hammon's voice

Shall teach us this more surely than we know.

Bound are we to the gods; no voice we need;

They live in all our acts, although the shrine

Be silent: at our birth and once for all

What may be known the author of our being

Revealed; nor chose these thirsty sands to chaunt

To few his truth, whelmed in the dusty waste.

God has his dwelling in all things that be,

In earth and air and sea and starry vault,

In virtuous deeds; in all that thou can'st see,

In all thy thoughts contained. Why further, then,

Seek we our deities? Let those who doubt

And halting, tremble for their coming fates,

Go ask the oracles. No mystic words,

Make sure my heart, but surely-coming Death.

Coward alike and brave, we all must die.

Thus hath Jove spoken: seek to know no more."

Thus Cato spake, and faithful to his creed

He parted from the temple of the god

And left the oracle of Hammon dumb.

Bearing his javelin, as one of them

Before the troops he marched: no panting slave

With bending neck, no litter bore his form.

He bade them not, but showed them how to toil.

Spare in his sleep, the last to sip the spring

When at some rivulet to quench their thirst

The eager ranks pressed onward, he alone

Until the humblest follower might drink

Stood motionless. If for the truly good

Is fame, and virtue by the deed itself,

Not by successful issue, should be judged,

Yield, famous ancestors! Fortune, not worth

Gained you your glory. But such name as his

Who ever merited by successful war

Or slaughtered peoples? Rather would I lead

With him his triumph through the pathless sands

And Libya's bounds, than in Pompeius' car

Three times ascend the Capitol, (18) or break

The proud Jugurtha. (19) Rome! in him behold

His country's father, worthiest of thy vows;

A name by which men shall not blush to swear,

Whom, should'st thou break the fetters from thy neck,

Thou may'st in distant days decree divine.

Now was the heat more dense, and through that clime

Than which no further on the Southern side

The gods permit, they trod; and scarcer still

The water, till in middle sands they found

One bounteous spring which clustered serpents held

Though scarce the space sufficed. By thirsting snakes

The fount was thronged and asps pressed on the marge.

But when the chieftain saw that speedy fate

Was on the host, if they should leave the well

Untasted, "Vain," he cried, "your fear of death.

Drink, nor delay: 'tis from the threatening tooth

Men draw their deaths, and fatal from the fang

Issues the juice if mingled with the blood;

The cup is harmless." Then he sipped the fount,

Still doubting, and in all the Libyan waste

There only was he first to touch the stream.

Why fertile thus in death the pestilent air

Of Libya, what poison in her soil

Her several nature mixed, my care to know

Has not availed: but from the days of old

A fabled story has deceived the world.

Far on her limits, where the burning shore

Admits the ocean fervid from the sun

Plunged in its waters, lay Medusa's fields

Untilled; nor forests shaded, nor the plough

Furrowed the soil, which by its mistress' gaze

Was hardened into stone: Phorcus, her sire.

Malevolent nature from her body first

Drew forth these noisome pests; first from her jaws

Issued the sibilant rattle of serpent tongues;

Clustered around her head the poisonous brood

Like to a woman's hair, wreathed on her neck

Which gloried in their touch; their glittering heads

Advanced towards her; and her tresses kempt

Dripped down with viper's venom. This alone

Thou hast, accursed one, which men can see

Unharmed; for who upon that gaping mouth

Looked and could dread? To whom who met her glance,

Was death permitted? Fate delayed no more.

But ere the victim feared had struck him down:

Perished the limbs while living, and the soul

Grew stiff and stark ere yet it fled the frame.

Men have been frenzied by the Furies' locks,

Not killed; and Cerberus at Orpheus' song

Ceased from his hissing, and Alcides saw

The Hydra ere he slew. This monster born

Brought horror with her birth upon her sire

Phorcus, in second order God of Waves,

And upon Ceto and the Gorgon brood, (20)

Her sisters. She could threat the sea and sky

With deadly calm unknown, and from the world

Bid cease the soil. Borne down by instant weight

Fowls fell from air, and beasts were fixed in stone.

Whole Ethiop tribes who tilled the neighbouring lands

Rigid in marble stood. The Gorgon sight

No creature bore and even her serpents turned

Back from her visage. Atlas in his place

Beside the Western columns, by her look

Was turned to rocks; and when on snakes of old

Phlegraean giants stood and frighted heaven,

She made them mountains, and the Gorgon head

Borne on Athena's bosom closed the war.

Here born of Danae and the golden shower,

Floating on wings Parrhasian, by the god

Arcadian given, author of the lyre

And wrestling art, came Perseus, down from heaven

Swooping. Cyllenian Harpé (21) did he bear

Still crimson from another monster slain,

The guardian of the heifer loved by Jove.

This to her wingèd brother Pallas lent

Price of the monster's head: by her command

Upon the limits of the Libyan land

He sought the rising sun, with flight averse,

Poised o'er Medusa's realm; a burnished shield

Of yellow brass upon his other arm,

Her gift, he bore: in which she bade him see

The fatal face unscathed. Nor yet in sleep

Lay all the monster, for such total rest

To her were death -- so fated: serpent locks

In vigilant watch, some reaching forth defend

Her head, while others lay upon her face

And slumbering eyes. Then hero Perseus shook

Though turned averse; trembled his dexter hand:

But Pallas held, and the descending blade

Shore the broad neck whence sprang the viper brood.

What visage bore the Gorgon as the steel

Thus reft her life! what poison from her throat

Breathed! from her eyes what venom of death distilled!

The goddess dared not look, and Perseus' face

Had frozen, averse, had not Athena veiled

With coils of writhing snakes the features dead.

Then with the Gorgon head the hero flew

Uplifted on his wings and sought the sky.

Shorter had been his voyage through the midst

Of Europe's cities; but Athena bade

To spare her peoples and their fruitful lands;

For who when such an airy courser passed

Had not looked up to heaven? Western winds

Now sped his pinions, and he took his course

O'er Libya's regions, from the stars and suns

Veiled by no culture. Phoebus' nearer track

There burns the soil, and loftiest on the sky (22)

There fails the night, to shade the wandering moon,

If o'er forgetful of her course oblique,

Straight through the stars, nor bending to the North

Nor to the South, she hastens. Yet that earth,

In nothing fertile, void of fruitful yield,

Drank in the poison of Medusa's blood,

Dripping in dreadful dews upon the soil,

And in the crumbling sands by heat matured.

First from the dust was raised a gory clot (23)

In guise of Asp, sleep-bringing, swollen of neck:

Full was the blood and thick the poison drop

That were its making; in no other snake

More copious held. Greedy of warmth it seeks

No frozen world itself, nor haunts the sands

Beyond the Nile; yet has our thirst of gain

No shame nor limit, and this Libyan death,

This fatal pest we purchase for our own.

Haemorrhois huge spreads out his scaly coils,

Who suffers not his hapless victims' blood

To stay within their veins. Chersydros sprang

To life, to dwell within the doubtful marsh

Where land nor sea prevails. A cloud of spray

Marked fell Chelyder's track: and Cenchris rose

Straight gliding to his prey, his belly tinged

With various spots unnumbered, more than those

Which paint the Theban (24) marble; horned snakes

With spines contorted: like to torrid sand

Ammodytes, of hue invisible:

Sole of all serpents Scytale to shed

In vernal frosts his slough; and thirsty Dipsas;

Dread Amphisbaena with his double head

Tapering; and Natrix who in bubbling fount

Fuses his venom. Greedy Prester swells

His foaming jaws; Pareas, head erect

Furrows with tail alone his sandy path;

Swift Jaculus there, and Seps (25) whose poisonous juice

Makes putrid flesh and frame: and there upreared

His regal head, and frighted from his track

With sibilant terror all the subject swarm,

Baneful ere darts his poison, Basilisk (26)

In sands deserted king. Ye serpents too

Who in all other regions harmless glide

Adored as gods, and bright with golden scales,

In those hot wastes are deadly; poised in air

Whole herds of kine ye follow, and with coils

Encircling close, crush in the mighty bull.

Nor does the elephant in his giant bulk,

Nor aught, find safety; and ye need no fang

Nor poison, to compel the fatal end.

Amid these pests undaunted Cato urged

His desert journey on. His hardy troops

Beneath his eyes, pricked by a scanty wound,

In strangest forms of death unnumbered fall.

Tyrrhenian Aulus, bearer of a flag,

Trod on a Dipsas; quick with head reversed

The serpent struck; no mark betrayed the tooth:

The aspect of the wound nor threatened death,

Nor any evil; but the poison germ

In silence working as consuming fire

Absorbed the moisture of his inward frame,

Draining the natural juices that were spread

Around his vitals; in his arid jaws

Set flame upon his tongue: his wearied limbs

No sweat bedewed; dried up, the fount of tears

Fled from his eyelids. Tortured by the fire

Nor Cato's sternness, nor of his sacred charge

The honour could withhold him; but he dared

To dash his standard down, and through the plains

Raging, to seek for water that might slake

The fatal venom thirsting at his heart.

Plunge him in Tanais, in Rhone and Po,

Pour on his burning tongue the flood of Nile,

Yet were the fire unquenched. So fell the fang

Of Dipsas in the torrid Libyan lands;

In other climes less fatal. Next he seeks

Amid the sands, all barren to the depths,

For moisture: then returning to the shoals

Laps them with greed -- in vain -- the briny draught

Scarce quenched the thirst it made. Nor knowing yet

The poison in his frame, he steels himself

To rip his swollen veins and drink the gore.

Cato bids lift the standard, lest his troops

May find in thirst a pardon for the deed.

But on Sabellus' yet more piteous death

Their eyes were fastened. Clinging to his skin

A Seps with curving tooth, of little size,

He seized and tore away, and to the sands

Pierced with his javelin. Small the serpent's bulk;

None deals a death more horrible in form.

For swift the flesh dissolving round the wound

Bared the pale bone; swam all his limbs in blood;

Wasted the tissue of his calves and knees:

And all the muscles of his thighs were thawed

In black distilment, and the membrane sheath

Parted, that bound his vitals, which abroad

Flowed upon earth: yet seemed it not that all

His frame was loosed, for by the venomous drop

Were all the bands that held his muscles drawn

Down to a juice; the framework of his chest

Was bare, its cavity, and all the parts

Hid by the organs of life, that make the man.

So by unholy death there stood revealed

His inmost nature. Head and stalwart arms,

And neck and shoulders, from their solid mass

Melt in corruption. Not more swiftly flows

Wax at the sun's command, nor snow compelled

By southern breezes. Yet not all is said:

For so to noxious humours fire consumes

Our fleshly frame; but on the funeral pyre

What bones have perished? These dissolve no less

Than did the mouldered tissues, nor of death

Thus swift is left a trace. Of Afric pests

Thou bear'st the palm for hurtfulness: the life

They snatch away, thou only with the life

The clay that held it.

Lo! a different fate,

Not this by melting! for a Prester's fang

Nasidius struck, who erst in Marsian fields

Guided the ploughshare. Burned upon his face

A redness as of flame: swollen the skin,

His features hidden, swollen all his limbs

Till more than human: and his definite frame

One tumour huge concealed. A ghastly gore

Is puffed from inwards as the virulent juice

Courses through all his body; which, thus grown,

His corselet holds not. Not in caldron so

Boils up to mountainous height the steaming wave;

Nor in such bellying curves does canvas bend

To Eastern tempests. Now the ponderous bulk

Rejects the limbs, and as a shapeless trunk

Burdens the earth: and there, to beasts and birds

A fatal feast, his comrades left the corse

Nor dared to place, yet swelling, in the tomb.

But for their eyes the Libyan pests prepared

More dreadful sights. On Tullus great in heart,

And bound to Cato with admiring soul,

A fierce Haemorrhois fixed. From every limb, (27)

(As from a statue saffron spray is showered

In every part) there spouted forth for blood

A sable poison: from the natural pores

Of moisture, gore profuse; his mouth was filled

And gaping nostrils, and his tears were blood.

Brimmed full his veins; his very sweat was red;

All was one wound.

Then piteous Levus next

In sleep was victim, for around his heart

Stood still the blood congealed: no pain he felt

Of venomous tooth, but swift upon him fell

Death, and he sought the shades; more swift to kill

No draught in poisonous cups from ripened plants

Of direst growth Sabaean wizards brew.

Lo! Upon branchless trunk a serpent, named

By Libyans Jaculus, rose in coils to dart

His venom from afar. Through Paullus' brain

It rushed, nor stayed; for in the wound itself

Was death. Then did they know how slowly flies,

Flung from a sling, the stone; how gently speed

Through air the shafts of Scythia.

What availed,

Murrus, the lance by which thou didst transfix

A Basilisk? Swift through the weapon ran

The poison to his hand: he draws his sword

And severs arm and shoulder at a blow:

Then gazed secure upon his severed hand

Which perished as he looked. So had'st thou died,

And such had been thy fate!

Whoe'er had thought

A scorpion had strength o'er death or fate?

Yet with his threatening coils and barb erect

He won the glory of Orion (28) slain;

So bear the stars their witness. And who would fear

Thy haunts, Salpuga? (29) Yet the Stygian Maids

Have given thee power to snap the fatal threads.

Thus nor the day with brightness, nor the night

With darkness gave them peace. The very earth

On which they lay they feared; nor leaves nor straw

They piled for couches, but upon the ground

Unshielded from the fates they laid their limbs,

Cherished beneath whose warmth in chill of night

The frozen pests found shelter; in whose jaws

Harmless the while, the lurking venom slept.

Nor did they know the measure of their march

Accomplished, nor their path; the stars in heaven

Their only guide. "Return, ye gods," they cried,

In frequent wail, "the arms from which we fled.

Give back Thessalia. Sworn to meet the sword

Why, lingering, fall we thus? In Caesar's place

The thirsty Dipsas and the horned snake

Now wage the warfare. Rather let us seek

That region by the horses of the sun

Scorched, and the zone most torrid: let us fall

Slain by some heavenly cause, and from the sky

Descend our fate! Not, Africa, of thee

Complain we, nor of Nature. From mankind

Cut off, this quarter, teeming thus with pests

She gave to snakes, and to the barren fields

Denied the husbandman, nor wished that men

Should perish by their venom. To the realms

Of serpents have we come. Hater of men,

Receive thy vengeance, whoso of the gods

Severed this region upon either hand,

With death in middle space. Our march is set

Through thy sequestered kingdom, and the host

Which knows thy secret seeks the furthest world.

Perchance some greater wonders on our path

May still await us; in the waves be plunged

Heaven's constellations, and the lofty pole

Stoop from its height. By further space removed

No land, than Juba's realm; by rumour's voice

Drear, mournful. Haply for this serpent land

There may we long, where yet some living thing

Gives consolation. Not my native land

Nor European fields I hope for now

Lit by far other suns, nor Asia's plains.

But in what land, what region of the sky,

Where left we Africa? But now with frosts

Cyrene stiffened: have we changed the laws

Which rule the seasons, in this little space?

Cast from the world we know, 'neath other skies

And stars we tread; behind our backs the home

Of southern tempests: Rome herself perchance

Now lies beneath our feet. Yet for our fates

This solace pray we, that on this our track

Pursuing Caesar with his host may come."

Thus was their stubborn patience of its plaints

Disburdened. But the bravery of their chief

Forced them to bear their toils. Upon the sand,

All bare, he lies and dares at every hour

Fortune to strike: he only at the fate

Of each is present, flies to every call;

And greatest boon of all, greater than life,

Brought strength to die. To groan in death was shame

In such a presence. What power had all the ills

Possessed upon him? In another's breast

He conquers misery, teaching by his mien

That pain is powerless.

Hardly aid at length

Did Fortune, wearied of their perils, grant.

Alone unharmed of all who till the earth,

By deadly serpents, dwells the Psyllian race.

Potent as herbs their song; safe is their blood,

Nor gives admission to the poison germ

E'en when the chant has ceased. Their home itself

Placed in such venomous tract and serpent-thronged

Gained them this vantage, and a truce with death,

Else could they not have lived. Such is their trust

In purity of blood, that newly born

Each babe they prove by test of deadly asp

For foreign lineage. So the bird of Jove

Turns his new fledglings to the rising sun

And such as gaze upon the beams of day

With eves unwavering, for the use of heaven

He rears; but such as blink at Phoebus' rays

Casts from the nest. Thus of unmixed descent

The babe who, dreading not the serpent touch,

Plays in his cradle with the deadly snake.

Nor with their own immunity from harm

Contented do they rest, but watch for guests

Who need their help against the noisome plague.

Now to the Roman standards are they come,

And when the chieftain bade the tents be fixed,

First all the sandy space within the lines

With song they purify and magic words

From which all serpents flee: next round the camp

In widest circuit from a kindled fire

Rise aromatic odours: danewort burns,

And juice distils from Syrian galbanum;

Then tamarisk and costum, Eastern herbs,

Strong panacea mixt with centaury

From Thrace, and leaves of fennel feed the flames,

And thapsus brought from Eryx: and they burn

Larch, southern-wood and antlers of a deer

Which lived afar. From these in densest fumes,

Deadly to snakes, a pungent smoke arose;

And thus in safety passed the night away.

But should some victim feel the fatal fang

Upon the march, then of this magic race

Were seen the wonders, for a mighty strife

Rose 'twixt the Psyllian and the poison germ.

First with saliva they anoint the limbs

That held the venomous juice within the wound;

Nor suffer it to spread. From foaming mouth

Next with continuous cadence would they pour

Unceasing chants -- nor breathing space nor pause --

Else spreads the poison: nor does fate permit

A moment's silence. Oft from the black flesh

Flies forth the pest beneath the magic song:

But should it linger nor obey the voice,

Repugnant to the summons, on the wound

Prostrate they lay their lips and from the depths

Now paling draw the venom. In their mouths,

Sucked from the freezing flesh, they hold the death,

Then spew it forth; and from the taste shall know

The snake they conquer.

Aided thus at length

Wanders the Roman host in better guise

Upon the barren fields in lengthy march. (30)

Twice veiled the moon her light and twice renewed;

Yet still, with waning or with growing orb

Saw Cato's steps upon the sandy waste.

But more and more beneath their feet the dust

Began to harden, till the Libyan tracts

Once more were earth, and in the distance rose

Some groves of scanty foliage, and huts

Of plastered straw unfashioned: and their hearts

Leaped at the prospect of a better land.

How fled their sorrow! how with growing joy

They met the savage lion in the path!

In tranquil Leptis first they found retreat:

And passed a winter free from heat and rain. (31)

When Caesar sated with Emathia's slain

Forsook the battlefield, all other cares

Neglected, he pursued his kinsman fled,

On him alone intent: by land his steps

He traced in vain; then, rumour for his guide,

He crossed the sea and reached the Thracian strait

For love renowned; where on the mournful shore

Rose Hero's tower, and Helle born of cloud (32)

Took from the rolling waves their former name.

Nowhere with shorter space the sea divides

Europe from Asia; though Pontus parts

By scant division from Byzantium's hold

Chalcedon oyster-rich: and small the strait

Through which Propontis pours the Euxine wave.

Then marvelling at their ancient fame, he seeks

Sigeum's sandy beach and Simois' stream,

Rhoeteum noble for its Grecian tomb,

And all the hero's shades, the theme of song.

Next by the town of Troy burnt down of old

Now but a memorable name, he turns

His steps, and searches for the mighty stones

Relics of Phoebus' wall. But bare with age

Forests of trees and hollow mouldering trunks

Pressed down Assaracus' palace, and with roots

Wearied, possessed the temples of the gods.

All Pergamus with densest brake was veiled

And even her stones were perished. He beheld

Thy rock, Hesione; the hidden grove,

Anchises' nuptial chamber; and the cave

Where sat the arbiter; the spot from which

Was snatched the beauteous youth; the mountain lawn

Where played Oenone. Not a stone but told

The story of the past. A little stream

Scarce trickling through the arid plain he passed,

Nor knew 'twas Xanthus: deep in grass he placed,

Careless, his footstep; but the herdsman cried

"Thou tread'st the dust of Hector." Stones confused

Lay at his feet in sacred shape no more:

"Look on the altar of Jove," thus spake the guide,

"God of the household, guardian of the home."

O sacred task of poets, toil supreme,

Which rescuing all things from allotted fate

Dost give eternity to mortal men!

Grudge not the glory, Caesar, of such fame.

For if the Latian Muse may promise aught,

Long as the heroes of the Trojan time

Shall live upon the page of Smyrna's bard,

So long shall future races read of thee

In this my poem; and Pharsalia's song

Live unforgotten in the age to come.

When by the ancient grandeur of the place

The chieftain's sight was filled, of gathered turf

Altars he raised: and as the sacred flame

Cast forth its odours, these not idle vows

Gave to the gods, "Ye deities of the dead,

Who watch o'er Phrygian ruins: ye who now

Lavinia's homes inhabit, and Alba's height:

Gods of my sire Aeneas, in whose fanes

The Trojan fire still burns: pledge of the past

Mysterious Pallas, (24) of the inmost shrine,

Unseen of men! here in your ancient seat,

Most famous offspring of Iulus' race,

I call upon you and with pious hand

Burn frequent offerings. To my emprise

Give prosperous ending! Here shall I replace

The Phrygian peoples, here with glad return

Italia's sons shall build another Troy,

Here rise a Roman Pergamus."

This said,

He seeks his fleet, and eager to regain

Time spent at Ilium, to the favouring breeze

Spreads all his canvas. Past rich Asia borne,

Rhodes soon he left while foamed the sparkling main

Beneath his keels; nor ceased the wind to stretch

His bending sails, till on the seventh night

The Pharian beam proclaimed Egyptian shores.

But day arose, and veiled the nightly lamp

Ere rode his barks on waters safe from storm.

Then Caesar saw that tumult held the shore,

And mingled voices of uncertain sound

Struck on his ear: and trusting not himself

To doubtful kingdoms, of uncertain troth,

He kept his ships from land.

But from the king

Came his vile minion forth upon the wave,

Bearing his dreadful gift, Pompeius' head,

Wrapped in a covering of Pharian wool.

First took he speech and thus in shameless words

Commends the murder: "Conqueror of the world,

First of the Roman race, and, what as yet

Thou dost not know, safe by thy kinsman slain;

This gift receive from the Pellaean king,

Sole trophy absent from the Thracian field,

To crown thy toils on lands and on the deep.

Here in thine absence have we placed for thee

An end upon the war. Here Magnus came

To mend his fallen fortunes; on our swords

Here met his death. With such a pledge of faith

Here have we bought thee, Caesar; with his blood

Seal we this treaty. Take the Pharian realm

Sought by no bloodshed, take the rule of Nile,

Take all that thou would'st give for Magnus' life:

And hold him vassal worthy of thy camp

To whom the fates against thy son-in-law

Such power entrusted; nor hold thou the deed

Lightly accomplished by the swordsman's stroke,

And so the merit. Guest ancestral he

Who was its victim; who, his sire expelled,

Gave back to him the sceptre. For a deed

So great, thou'lt find a name -- or ask the world.

If 'twas a crime, thou must confess the debt

To us the greater, for that from thy hand

We took the doing."

Then he held and showed

Unveiled the head. Now had the hand of death

Passed with its changing touch upon the face:

Nor at first sight did Caesar on the gift

Pass condemnation; nor avert his gaze,

But dwelt upon the features till he knew

The crime accomplished. Then when truth was sure

The loving father rose, and tears he shed

Which flowed at his command, and glad in heart

Forced from his breast a groan: thus by the flow

Of feigned tears and grief he hoped to hide

His joy else manifest: and the ghastly boon

Sent by the king disparaging, professed

Rather to mourn his son's dissevered head,

Than count it for a debt. For thee alone,

Magnus, he durst not fail to find a tear:

He, Caesar, who with mien unaltered spurned

The Roman Senate, and with eyes undimmed

Looked on Pharsalia's field. O fate most hard!

Didst thou with impious war pursue the man

Whom 'twas thy lot to mourn? No kindred ties

No memory of thy daughter and her son

Touch on thy heart. Didst think perchance that grief

Might help thy cause 'mid lovers of his name?

Or haply, moved by envy of the king,

Griev'st that to other hands than thine was given

To shed the captive's life-blood? and complain'st

Thy vengeance perished and the conquered chief

Snatched from thy haughty hand? Whate'er the cause

That urged thy grief, 'twas far removed from love.

Was this forsooth the object of thy toil

O'er lands and oceans, that without thy ken

He should not perish? Nay! but well was reft

From thine arbitrament his fate. What crime

Did cruel Fortune spare, what depth of shame

To Roman honour! since she suffered not,

Perfidious traitor, while yet Magnus lived,

That thou should'st pity him!

Thus by words he dared,

To gain their credence in his sembled grief:

"Hence from my sight with thy detested gift,

Thou minion, to thy King. Worse does your crime

Deserve from Caesar than from Magnus' hands.

The only prize that civil war affords

Thus have we lost -- to bid the conquered live.

If but the sister of this Pharian king

Were not by him detested, by the head

Of Cleopatra had I paid this gift.

Such were the fit return. Why did he draw

His separate sword, and in the toil that's ours

Mingle his weapons? In Thessalia's field

Gave we such right to the Pellaean blade?

Magnus as partner in the rule of Rome

I had not brooked; and shall I tolerate

Thee, Ptolemaeus? In vain with civil wars

Thus have we roused the nations, if there be

Now any might but Caesar's. If one land

Yet owned two masters, I had turned from yours

The prows of Latium; but fame forbids,

Lest men should whisper that I did not damn

This deed of blood, but feared the Pharian land.

Nor think ye to deceive; victorious here

I stand: else had my welcome at your hands

Been that of Magnus; and that neck were mine

But for Pharsalia's chance. At greater risk

So seems it, than we dreamed of, took we arms;

Exile, and Magnus' threats, and Rome I knew,

Not Ptolemaeus. But we spare the boy:

Pass by the murder. Let the princeling know

We give no more than pardon for his crime.

And now in honour of the mighty dead,

Not merely that the earth may hide your guilt,

Lay ye the chieftain's head within the tomb;

With proper sepulture appease his shade

And place his scattered ashes in an urn.

Thus may he know my coming, and may hear

Affection's accents, and my fond complaints.

Me sought he not, but rather, for his life,

This Pharian vassal; snatching from mankind

The happy morning which had shown the world

A peace between us. But my prayers to heaven

No favouring answer found; that arms laid down

In happy victory, Magnus, once again

I might embrace thee, begging thee to grant

Thine ancient love to Caesar, and thy life.

Thus for my labours with a worthy prize

Content, thine equal, bound in faithful peace,

I might have brought thee to forgive the gods

For thy disaster; thou had'st gained for me

From Rome forgiveness."

Thus he spake, but found

No comrade in his tears; nor did the host

Give credit to his grief. Deep in their breasts

They hide their groans, and gaze with joyful front

(O famous Freedom!) on the deed of blood:

And dare to laugh when mighty Caesar wept.

ENDNOTES:

(1) This was the Stoic theory. The perfect of men passed after

death into a region between our atmosphere and the heavens,

where they remained until the day of general conflagration,

(see Book VII. line 949), with their senses amplified and

rendered akin to divine.

(2) A promontory in Africa was so called, as well as that in

Italy.

(3) Meaning that her husband gave her this commission in order

to prevent her from committing suicide.

(4) See Book VIII., line 547.

(5) See line 709.

(6) This passage is described by Lord Macaulay as "a pure gem of

rhetoric without one flaw, and, in my opinion, not very far

from historical truth" (Trevelyan's "Life and Letters", vol.

i., page 462.)

(7) "... Clarum et venembile nomen

Gentibus, et multum nostrae quod profuit urbi,"

quoted by Mr. Burke, and applied to Lord Chatham, in his

Speech on American taxation.

(8) That is, liberty, which by the murder of Pompeius they had

obtained.

(9) Reading "saepit", Hosius. The passage seems to be corrupt.

(10) "Scaly Triton's winding shell", (Comus, 878). He was

Neptune's son and trumpeter. That Pallas sprang armed from

the head of Jupiter is well known.

(11) Cnaeus.

(12) Compare Herodotus, ii., 16: "For they all say that the earth

is divided into three parts, Europe, Asia and Libya." (And

see Bunbury's "Ancient Geography", i., 145, 146, for a

discussion of this subject.)

(13) Citron tables were in much request at Rome. (Comp. "Paradise

Regained", Book iv., 115; and see Book X., line 177.)

(14) Alluding to the shield of Mars which fell from heaven on

Numa at sacrifice. Eleven others were made to match it

("Dict. Antiq.") While Horace speaks of them as chief

objects of a patriot Roman's affection ("Odes" iii., 5, 9),

Lucan discovers for them a ridiculous origin. They were in

the custody of the priests of Mars. (See Book I., 666.)

(15) I.e. Where the equinoctial circle cuts the zodiac in its

centre. -- Haskins.

(16) Compare Book III., 288.

(17) See Book V., 400.

(18) 1st. For his victories in Sicily and Africa, B.C. 81; 2nd.

For the conquest of Sertorius, B.C. 71; 3rd. For his Eastern

triumphs, B.C. 61. (Compare Book II., 684, &c.)

(19) Over whom Marius triumphed.

(20) Phorcus and Ceto were the parents of the Gorgons -- Stheno,

Euryale. and Medusa, of whom the latter alone was mortal,

(Hesiod. "Theogony", 276.) Phorcus was a son of Pontus and

Gaia (sea and land), ibid. 287.

(21) The scimitar lent by Hermes (or Mercury) to Perseus for the

purpose; with which had been slain Argus the guardian of Io

(Conf. "Prometheus vinctus", 579.) Hermes was born in a

cave in Mount Cyllene in Arcadia.

(22) The idea seems to be that the earth, bulging at the equator,

casts its shadow highest on the sky: and that the moon

becomes eclipsed by it whenever she follows a straight path

instead of an oblique one, which may happen from her

forgetfulness (Mr. Haskins' note).

(23) This catalogue of snakes is alluded to in Dante's "Inferno",

24.

"I saw a crowd within

Of serpents terrible, so strange of shape

And hideous that remembrance in my veins

Yet shrinks the vital current. Of her sands

Let Libya vaunt no more: if Jaculus,

Pareas, and Chelyder be her brood,

Cenchris and Amphisbaena, plagues so dire

Or in such numbers swarming ne'er she showed."

-- Carey.

(See also Milton's "Paradise Lost", Book X., 520-530.)

(24) The Egyptian Thebes.

(25) "... All my being

Like him whom the Numidian Seps did thaw

Into a dew with poison, is dissolved,

Sinking through its foundations."

--Shelley, "Prometheus Unbound", Act iii, Scene 1.

(26) The glance of the eye of the basilisk or cockatrice, was

supposed to be deadly. (See "King Richard III", Act i.,

Scene 2: --

Gloucester: Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected

mine.

Anne: Would they were basilisks, to strike

thee dead!)

The word is also used for a big cannon. ("1 King Henry IV",

Act ii., Scene 3.)

(27) See Book III., 706.

(28) According to one story Orion, for his assault on Diana, was

killed by the Scorpion, who received his reward by being

made into a constellation.

(29) A sort of venomous ant.

(30) No other author gives any details of this march; and those

given by Lucan are unreliable. The temple of Hammon is far

from any possible line of route taken from the Lesser Syrtes

to Leptis. Dean Merivale states that the inhospitable sands

extended for seven days' journey, and ranks the march as one

of the greatest exploits in Roman military history.

Described by the names known to modern geography, it was

from the Gulf of Cabes to Cape Africa. Pope, in a letter to

Henry Cromwell, dated November 11, 1710, makes some caustic

remarks on the geography of this book. (See "Pope's Works",

Vol. vi., 109; by Elwin & Courthope.)

(31) See Line 444.

(32) See Book IV., 65.

(33) The "Palladium" or image of Pallas, preserved in the temple

of Vesta. (See Book I., 659.)

BOOK X

CAESAR IN EGYPT

When Caesar, following those who bore the head,

First trod the shore accursed, with Egypt's fates

His fortunes battled, whether Rome should pass

In crimson conquest o'er the guilty land,

Or Memphis' arms should ravish from the world

Victor and vanquished: and the warning shade

Of Magnus saved his kinsman from the sword.

First, by the crime assured, his standards borne

Before, he marched upon the Pharian town;

But when the people, jealous of their laws,

Murmured against the fasces, Caesar knew

Their minds were adverse, and that not for him

Was Magnus' murder wrought. And yet with brow

Dissembling fear, intrepid, through the shrines

Of Egypt's gods he strode, and round the fane

Of ancient Isis; bearing witness all

To Macedon's vigour in the days of old.

Yet did nor gold nor ornament restrain

His hasting steps, nor worship of the gods,

Nor city ramparts: but in greed of gain

He sought the cave dug out amid the tombs. (1)

The madman offspring there of Philip lies

The famed Pellaean robber, fortune's friend,

Snatched off by fate, avenging so the world.

In sacred sepulchre the hero's limbs,

Which should be scattered o'er the earth, repose,

Still spared by Fortune to these tyrant days:

For in a world to freedom once recalled,

All men had mocked the dust of him who set

The baneful lesson that so many lands

Can serve one master. Macedon he left

His home obscure; Athena he despised

The conquest of his sire, and spurred by fate

Through Asia rushed with havoc of mankind,

Plunging his sword through peoples; streams unknown

Ran red with Persian and with Indian blood.

Curse of all earth and thunderbolt of ill

To every nation! On the outer sea (2)

He launched his fleet to sail the ocean wave:

Nor flame nor flood nor sterile Libyan sands

Stayed back his course, nor Hammon's pathless shoals;

Far to the west, where downward slopes the world

He would have led his armies, and the poles

Had compassed, and had drunk the fount of Nile:

But came his latest day; such end alone

Could nature place upon the madman king,

Who jealous in death as when he won the world

His empire with him took, nor left an heir.

Thus every city to the spoiler's hand

Was victim made: Yet in his fall was his

Babylon; and Parthia feared him. Shame on us

That eastern nations dreaded more the lance

Of Macedon than now the Roman spear.

True that we rule beyond where takes its rise

The burning southern breeze, beyond the homes

Of western winds, and to the northern star;

But towards the rising of the sun, we yield

To him who kept the Arsacids in awe;

And puny Pella held as province sure

The Parthia fatal to our Roman arms.

Now from the stream Pelusian of the Nile,

Was come the boyish king, taming the rage

Of his effeminate people: pledge of peace;

And Caesar safely trod Pellaean halls;

When Cleopatra bribed her guard to break

The harbour chains, and borne in little boat

Within the Macedonian palace gates,

Caesar unknowing, entered: Egypt's shame;

Fury of Latium; to the bane of Rome

Unchaste. For as the Spartan queen of yore

By fatal beauty Argos urged to strife

And Ilium's homes, so Cleopatra roused

Italia's frenzy. By her drum (3) she called

Down on the Capitol terror (if to speak

Such word be lawful); mixed with Roman arms

Coward Canopus, hoping she might lead

A Pharian triumph, Caesar in her train;

And 'twas in doubt upon Leucadian (4) waves

Whether a woman, not of Roman blood,

Should hold the world in awe. Such lofty thoughts

Seized on her soul upon that night in which

The wanton daughter of Pellaean kings

First shared our leaders' couches. Who shall blame

Antonius for the madness of his love,

When Caesar's haughty breast drew in the flame?

Who red with carnage, 'mid the clash of arms,

In palace haunted by Pompeius' shade,

Gave place to love; and in adulterous bed,

Magnus forgotten, from the Queen impure,

To Julia gave a brother: on the bounds,

Of furthest Libya permitting thus

His foe to gather: he in dalliance base

Waited upon his mistress, and to her

Pharos would give, for her would conquer all.

Then Cleopatra, trusting to her charms,

Tearless approached him, though in form of grief;

Her tresses loose as though in sorrow torn,

So best becoming her; and thus began:

"If, mighty Caesar, aught to noble birth

Be due, give ear. Of Lagian race am I

Offspring illustrious; from my father's throne

Cast forth to banishment; unless thy hand

Restore to me the sceptre: then a Queen

Falls at thy feet embracing. To our race

Bright star of justice thou! Nor first shall I

As woman rule the cities of the Nile;

For, neither sex preferring, Pharos bows

To queenly governance. Of my parted sire

Read the last words, by which 'tis mine to share

With equal rights the kingdom and the bed.

And loves the boy his sister, were he free;

But his affections and his sword alike

Pothinus orders. Nor wish I myself

To wield my father's power; but this my prayer:

Save from this foul disgrace our royal house,

Bid that the king shall reign, and from the court

Remove this hateful varlet, and his arms.

How swells his bosom for that his the hand

That shore Pompeius' head! And now he threats

Thee, Caesar, also; which the Fates avert!

'Twas shame enough upon the earth and thee

That of Pothinus Magnus should have been

The guilt or merit."

Caesar's ears in vain

Had she implored, but aided by her charms

The wanton's prayers prevailed, and by a night

Of shame ineffable, passed with her judge,

She won his favour.

When between the pair (5)

Caesar had made a peace, by costliest gifts

Purchased, a banquet of such glad event

Made fit memorial; and with pomp the Queen

Displayed her luxuries, as yet unknown

To Roman fashions. First uprose the hall

Like to a fane which this corrupted age

Could scarcely rear: the lofty ceiling shone

With richest tracery, the beams were bound

In golden coverings; no scant veneer

Lay on its walls, but built in solid blocks

Of marble, gleamed the palace. Agate stood

In sturdy columns, bearing up the roof;

Onyx and porphyry on the spacious floor

Were trodden 'neath the foot; the mighty gates

Of Maröe's throughout were formed,

No mere adornment; ivory clothed the hall,

And fixed upon the doors with labour rare

Shells of the tortoise gleamed, from Indian seas,

With frequent emeralds studded. Gems of price

And yellow jasper on the couches shone.

Lustrous the coverlets; the major part

Dipped more than once within the vats of Tyre

Had drunk their juice: part feathered as with gold;

Part crimson dyed, in manner as are passed

Through Pharian leash the threads. There waited slaves

In number as a people, some in ranks

By different blood distinguished, some by age;

This band with Libyan, that with auburn hair

Red so that Caesar on the banks of Rhine

None such had witnessed; some with features scorched

By torrid suns, their locks in twisted coils

Drawn from their foreheads. Eunuchs too were there,

Unhappy race; and on the other side

Men of full age whose cheeks with growth of hair

Were hardly darkened.

Upon either hand

Lay kings, and Caesar in the midst supreme.

There in her fatal beauty lay the Queen

Thick daubed with unguents, nor with throne content

Nor with her brother spouse; laden she lay

On neck and hair with all the Red Sea spoils,

And faint beneath the weight of gems and gold.

Her snowy breast shone through Sidonian lawn

Which woven close by shuttles of the east

The art of Nile had loosened. Ivory feet

Bore citron tables brought from woods that wave (6)

On Atlas, such as Caesar never saw

When Juba was his captive. Blind in soul

By madness of ambition, thus to fire

By such profusion of her wealth, the mind

Of Caesar armed, her guest in civil war!

Not though he aimed with pitiless hand to grasp

The riches of a world; not though were here

Those ancient leaders of the simple age,

Fabricius or Curius stern of soul,

Or he who, Consul, left in sordid garb

His Tuscan plough, could all their several hopes

Have risen to such spoil. On plates of gold

They piled the banquet sought in earth and air

And from the deepest seas and Nilus' waves,

Through all the world; in craving for display,

No hunger urging. Frequent birds and beasts,

Egypt's high gods, they placed upon the board:

In crystal goblets water of the Nile

They handed, and in massive cups of price

Was poured the wine; no juice of Mareot grape (7)

But noble vintage of Falernian growth

Which in few years in Meröe's vats had foamed,

(For such the clime) to ripeness. On their brows

Chaplets were placed of roses ever young

With glistening nard entwined; and in their locks

Was cinnamon infused, not yet in air

Its fragrance perished, nor in foreign climes;

And rich amomum from the neighbouring fields.

Thus Caesar learned the booty of a world

To lavish, and his breast was shamed of war

Waged with his son-in-law for meagre spoil,

And with the Pharian realm he longed to find

A cause of battle.

When of wine and feast

They wearied and their pleasure found an end,

Caesar drew out in colloquy the night

Thus with Achoreus, on the highest couch

With linen ephod as a priest begirt:

"O thou devoted to all sacred rites,

Loved by the gods, as proves thy length of days,

Tell, if thou wilt, whence sprang the Pharian race;

How lie their lands, the manners of their tribes,

The form and worship of their deities.

Expound the sculptures on your ancient fanes:

Reveal your gods if willing to be known:

If to th' Athenian sage your fathers taught

Their mysteries, who worthier than I

To bear in trust the secrets of the world?

True, by the rumour of my kinsman's flight

Here was I drawn; yet also by your fame:

And even in the midst of war's alarms

The stars and heavenly spaces have I conned;

Nor shall Eudoxus' year (8) excel mine own.

But though such ardour burns within my breast,

Such zeal to know the truth, yet my chief wish

To learn the source of your mysterious flood

Through ages hidden: give me certain hope

To see the fount of Nile -- and civil war

Then shall I leave."

He spake, and then the priest:

"The secrets, Caesar, of our mighty sires (9)

Kept from the common people until now

I hold it right to utter. Some may deem

That silence on these wonders of the earth

Were greater piety. But to the gods

I hold it grateful that their handiwork

And sacred edicts should be known to men.

"A different power by the primal law,

Each star possesses: (10) these alone control

The movement of the sky, with adverse force

Opposing: while the sun divides the year,

And day from night, and by his potent rays

Forbids the stars to pass their stated course.

The moon by her alternate phases sets

The varying limits of the sea and shore.

'Neath Saturn's sway the zone of ice and snow

Has passed; while Mars in lightning's fitful flames

And winds abounds' beneath high Jupiter

Unvexed by storms abides a temperate air;

And fruitful Venus' star contains the seeds

Of all things. Ruler of the boundless deep

The god (11) Cyllenian: whene'er he holds

That part of heaven where the Lion dwells

With neighbouring Cancer joined, and Sirius star

Flames in its fury; where the circular path

(Which marks the changes of the varying year)

Gives to hot Cancer and to Capricorn

Their several stations, under which doth lie

The fount of Nile, he, master of the waves,

Strikes with his beam the waters. Forth the stream

Brims from his fount, as Ocean when the moon

Commands an increase; nor shall curb his flow

Till night wins back her losses from the sun. (12)

"Vain is the ancient faith that Ethiop snows (13)

Send Nile abundant forth upon the lands.

Those mountains know nor northern wind nor star.

Of this are proof the breezes of the South,

Fraught with warm vapours, and the people's hue

Burned dark by suns: and 'tis in time of spring,

When first are thawed the snows, that ice-fed streams

In swollen torrents tumble; but the Nile

Nor lifts his wave before the Dog star burns;

Nor seeks again his banks, until the sun

In equal balance measures night and day.

Nor are the laws that govern other streams

Obeyed by Nile. For in the wintry year

Were he in flood, when distant far the sun,

His waters lacked their office; but he leaves

His channel when the summer is at height,

Tempering the torrid heat of Egypt's clime.

Such is the task of Nile; thus in the world

He finds his purpose, lest exceeding heat

Consume the lands: and rising thus to meet

Enkindled Lion, to Syene's prayers

By Cancer burnt gives ear; nor curbs his wave

Till the slant sun and Meröe's lengthening shades

Proclaim the autumn. Who shall give the cause?

'Twas Parent Nature's self which gave command

Thus for the needs of earth should flow the Nile.

"Vain too the fable that the western winds (14)

Control his current, in continuous course

At stated seasons governing the air;

Or hurrying from Occident to South

Clouds without number which in misty folds

Press on the waters; or by constant blast,

Forcing his current back whose several mouths

Burst on the sea; -- so, forced by seas and wind,

Men say, his billows pour upon the land.

Some speak of hollow caverns, breathing holes

Deep in the earth, within whose mighty jaws

Waters in noiseless current underneath

From northern cold to southern climes are drawn:

And when hot Meröe pants beneath the sun,

Then, say they, Ganges through the silent depths

And Padus pass: and from a single fount

The Nile arising not in single streams

Pours all the rivers forth. And rumour says

That when the sea which girdles in the world (15)

O'erflows, thence rushes Nile, by lengthy course,

Softening his saltness. More, if it be true

That ocean feeds the sun and heavenly fires,

Then Phoebus journeying by the burning Crab

Sucks from its waters more than air can hold

Upon his passage -- this the cool of night

Pours on the Nile.

"If, Caesar, 'tis my part

To judge such difference, 'twould seem that since

Creation's age has passed, earth's veins by chance

Some waters hold, and shaken cast them forth:

But others took when first the globe was formed

A sure abode; by Him who framed the world

Fixed with the Universe.

"And, Roman, thou,

In thirsting thus to know the source of Nile

Dost as the Pharian and Persian kings

And those of Macedon; nor any age

Refused the secret, but the place prevailed

Remote by nature. Greatest of the kings

By Memphis worshipped, Alexander grudged (16)

To Nile its mystery, and to furthest earth

Sent chosen Ethiops whom the crimson zone

Stayed in their further march, while flowed his stream

Warm at their feet. Sesostris (17) westward far

Reached, to the ends of earth; and necks of kings

Bent 'neath his chariot yoke: but of the springs

Which fill your rivers, Rhone and Po, he drank.

Not of the fount of Nile. Cambyses king

In madman quest led forth his host to where

The long-lived races dwell: then famine struck,

Ate of his dead (17) and, Nile unknown, returned.

No lying rumour of thy hidden source

Has e'er made mention; wheresoe'er thou art

Yet art thou sought, nor yet has nation claimed

In pride of place thy river as its own.

Yet shall I tell, so far as has the god,

Who veils thy fountain, given me to know.

Thy progress. Daring to upraise thy banks

'Gainst fiery Cancer's heat, thou tak'st thy rise

Beneath the zenith: straight towards the north

And mid Bootes flowing; to the couch

Bending, or to the risings, of the sun

In sinuous bends alternate; just alike

To Araby's peoples and to Libyan sands.

By Seres (18) first beheld, yet know they not

Whence art thou come; and with no native stream

Strik'st thou the Ethiop fields. Nor knows the world

To whom it owes thee. Nature ne'er revealed

Thy secret origin, removed afar.

Nor did she wish thee to be seen of men

While still a tiny rivulet, but preferred

Their wonder to their knowledge. Where the sun

Stays at his limit, dost thou rise in flood

Untimely; such thy right: to other lands

Bearing thy winter: and by both the poles

Thou only wanderest. Here men ask thy rise

And there thine ending. Meröe rich in soil

And tilled by swarthy husbandmen divides

Thy broad expanse, rejoicing in the leaves

Of groves of ebony, which though spreading far

Their branching foliage, by no breadth of shade

Soften the summer sun -- whose rays direct

Pass from the Lion to the fervid earth. (20)

Next dost thou journey onwards past the realm

Of burning Phoebus, and the sterile sands,

With equal volume; now with all thy strength

Gathered in one, and now in devious streams

Parting the bank that crumbles at thy touch.

Then by our kingdom's gates, where Philae parts

Arabian peoples from Egyptian fields

The sluggish bosom of thy flood recalls

Try wandering currents, which through desert wastes

Flow gently on to where the merchant track

Divides the Red Sea waters from our own.

Who, gazing, Nile, upon thy tranquil flow,

Could picture how in wild array of foam

(Where shelves the earth) thy billows shall be plunged

Down the steep cataracts, in fuming wrath

That rocks should bar the passage of thy stream

Free from its source? For whirled on high the spray

Aims at the stars, and trembles all the air

With rush of waters; and with sounding roar

The foaming mass down from the summit pours

In hoary waves victorious. Next an isle

In all our ancient lore "untrodden" named

Stems firm thy torrent; and the rocks we call

Springs of the river, for that here are marked

The earliest tokens of the coming flood.

With mountain shores now nature hems thee in

And shuts thy waves from Libya; in the midst

Hence do thy waters run, till Memphis first

Forbids the barrier placed upon thy stream

And gives thee access to the open fields."

Thus did they pass, as though in peace profound,

The nightly watches. But Pothinus' mind,

Once with accursed butchery imbued,

Was frenzied still; since great Pompeius fell

No deed to him was crime; his rabid soul

Th' avenging goddesses and Magnus' shade

Stirred to fresh horrors; and a Pharian hand

No less was worthy, as he deemed, to shed

That blood which Fortune purposed should bedew

The conquered fathers: and the fell revenge

Due to the senate for the civil war

This hireling almost snatched. Avert, ye fates,

Far hence the shame that not by Brutus' hand

This blow be struck! Shall thus the tyrant's fall

Just at our hands, become a Pharian crime,

Reft of example? To prepare a plan

(Fated to fail) he dares; nor veils in fraud

A plot for murder, but with open war

Attacks th' unconquered chieftain: from his crimes

He gained such courage as to send command

To lop the head of Caesar, and to join

In death the kinsmen chiefs.

These words by night

His faithful servants to Achillas bear,

His foul associate, whom the boy had made

Chief of his armies, and who ruled alone

O'er Egypt's land and o'er himself her king:

"Now lay thy limbs upon the sumptuous couch

And sleep in luxury, for the Queen hath seized

The palace; nor alone by her betrayed,

But Caesar's gift, is Pharos. Dost delay

Nor hasten to the chamber of thy Queen?

Thou only? Married to the Latian chief,

The impious sister now her brother weds

And hurrying from rival spouse to spouse

Hath Egypt won, and plays the bawd for Rome.

By amorous potions she has won the man:

Then trust the boy! Yet give him but a night

In her enfondling arms, and drunk with love

Thy life and mine he'll barter for a kiss.

We for his sister's charms by cross and flame

Shall pay the penalty: nor hope of aid;

Here stands adulterous Caesar, here the King

Her spouse: how hope we from so stern a judge

To gain acquittal? Shall she not condemn

Those who ne'er sought her favours? By the deed

We dared together and lost, by Magnus' blood

Which wrought the bond between us, be thou swift

With hasty tumult to arouse the war:

Dash in with nightly band, and mar with death

Their shameless nuptials: on the very bed

With either lover smite the ruthless Queen.

Nor let the fortunes of the Western chief

Make pause our enterprise. We share with him

The glory of his empire o'er the world.

Pompeius fallen makes us too sublime.

There lies the shore that bids us hope success:

Ask of our power from the polluted wave,

And gaze upon the scanty tomb which holds

Not all Pompeius' ashes. Peer to him

Was he whom now thou fearest. Noble blood

True, is not ours: what boots it? Nor are realms

Nor wealth of peoples given to our command.

Yet have we risen to a height of power

For deeds of blood, and Fortune to our hands

Attracts her victims. Lo! a nobler now

Lies in our compass, and a second death

Hesperia shall appease; for Caesar's blood,

Shed by these hands, shall give us this, that Rome

Shall love us, guilty of Pompeius' fall.

Why fear these titles, why this chieftain's strength?

For shorn of these, before your swords he lies

A common soldier. To the civil war

This night shall bring completion, and shall give

To peoples slain fit offerings, and send

That life the world demands beneath the shades.

Rise then in all your hardihood and smite

This Caesar down, and let the Roman youths

Strike for themselves, and Lagos for its King.

Nor do thou tarry: full of wine and feast

Thou'lt fall upon him in the lists of love;

Then dare the venture, and the heavenly gods

Shall grant of Cato's and of Brutus' prayers

To thee fulfilment."

Nor was Achillas slow

To hear the voice that counselled him to crime.

No sounding clarion summoned, as is wont,

His troops to arms; nor trumpet blare betrayed

Their nightly march: but rapidly he seized

All needed instruments of blood and war.

Of Latian race the most part of his train,

Yet to barbarian customs were their minds

By long forgetfulness of Rome debased:

Else had it shamed to serve the Pharian King;

But now his vassal and his minion's word

Compel obedience. Those who serve in camps

Lose faith and love of kin: their pittance earned (21)

Makes just the deed: and for their sordid pay,

Not for themselves, they threaten Caesar's life.

Where finds the piteous destiny of the realm

Rome with herself at peace? The host withdrawn

From dread Thessalia raves on Nilus' banks

As all the race of Rome. What more had dared,

With Magnus welcomed, the Lagean house?

Each hand must render to the gods their due,

Nor son of Rome may cease from civil war;

By Heaven's command our state was rent in twain;

Nor love for husband nor regard for sire

Parted our peoples. 'Twas a slave who stirred

Afresh the conflict, and Achillas grasped

In turn the sword of Rome: nay more, had won,

Had not the fates adverse restrained his hand

From Caesar's slaughter.

For the murderous pair

Ripe for their plot were met; the spacious hall

Still busied with the feast. So might have flowed

Into the kingly cups a stream of gore,

And in mid banquet fallen Caesar's head.

Yet did they fear lest in the nightly strife

(The fates permitting) some incautious hand --

So did they trust the sword -- might slay the King.

Thus stayed the deed, for in the minds of slaves

The chance of doing Caesar to the death

Might bear postponement: when the day arose

Then should he suffer; and a night of life

Thus by Pothinus was to Caesar given.

Now from the Casian rock looked forth the Sun

Flooding the land of Egypt with a day

Warm from its earliest dawn, when from the walls

Not wandering in disorder are they seen,

But drown in close array, as though to meet

A foe opposing; ready to receive

Or give the battle. Caesar, in the town

Placing no trust, within the palace courts

Lay in ignoble hiding place, the gates

Close barred: nor all the kingly rooms possessed,

But in the narrowest portion of the space

He drew his band together. There in arms

They stood, with dread and fury in their souls.

He feared attack, indignant at his fear.

Thus will a noble beast in little cage

Imprisoned, fume, and break upon the bars

His teeth in frenzied wrath; nor more would rage

The flames of Vulcan in Sicilian depths

Should Etna's top be closed. He who but now

By Haemus' mount against Pompeius chief,

Italia's leaders and the Senate line,

His cause forbidding hope, looked at the fates

He knew were hostile, with unfaltering gaze,

Now fears before the crime of hireling slaves,

And in mid palace trembles at the blow:

He whom nor Scythian nor Alaun (22) had dared

To violate, nor the Moor who aims the dart

Upon his victim slain, to prove his skill.

The Roman world but now did not suffice

To hold him, nor the realms from furthest Ind

To Tyrian Gades. Now, as puny boy,

Or woman, trembling when a town is sacked,

Within the narrow corners of a house

He seeks for safety; on the portals closed

His hope of life; and with uncertain gait

He treads the hails; yet not without the King;

In purpose, Ptolemaeus, that thy life

For his shall give atonement; and to hurl

Thy severed head among the servant throng

Should darts and torches fail. So story tells

The Colchian princess (23) with sword in hand,

And with her brother's neck bared to the blow,

Waited her sire, avenger of his realm

Despoiled, and of her flight. In the imminent risk

Caesar, in hopes of peace, an envoy sent

To the fierce vassals, from their absent lord

Bearing a message, thus: "At whose command

Wage ye the war?" But not the laws which bind

All nations upon earth, nor sacred rights,

Availed to save or messenger of peace,

Or King's ambassador; or thee from crime

Such as befitted thee, thou land of Nile

Fruitful in monstrous deeds: not Juba's realm

Vast though it be, nor Pontus, nor the land

Thessalian, nor the arms of Pharnaces,

Nor yet the tracts which chill Iberus girds,

Nor Libyan coasts such wickedness have dared,

As thou, with all thy luxuries. Closer now

War hemmed them in, and weapons in the courts,

Shaking the innermost recesses, fell.

Yet did no ram, fatal with single stroke,

Assail the portal, nor machine of war;

Nor flame they called in aid; but blind of plan

They wander purposeless, in separate bands

Around the circuit, nor at any spot

With strength combined attempt to breach the wall.

The fates forbad, and Fortune from their hands

Held fast the palace as a battlement.

Nor failed they to attack from ships of war

The regal dwelling, where its frontage bold

Made stand apart the waters of the deep:

There, too, was Caesar's all-protecting arm;

For these at point of sword, and those with fire (24)

He forces back, and though besieged he dares

To storm th' assailants: and as lay the ships

Joined rank to rank, bids drop upon their sides

Lamps drenched with reeking tar. Nor slow the fire

To seize the hempen cables and the decks

Oozing with melting pitch; the oarsman's bench

All in one moment, and the topmost yards

Burst into flame: half merged the vessels lay

While swam the foemen, all in arms, the wave;

Nor fell the blaze upon the ships alone,

But seized with writhing tongues the neighbouring homes,

And fanned to fury by the Southern breeze

Tempestuous, it leaped from roof to roof;

Not otherwise than on its heavenly track,

Unfed by matter, glides the ball of light,

By air alone aflame.

This pest recalled

Some of the forces to the city's aid

From the besieged halls. Nor Caesar gave

To sleep its season; swifter than all else

To seize the crucial moment of the war.

Quick in the darkest watches of the night

He leaped upon his ships, and Pharos (25) seized,

Gate of the main; an island in the days

Of Proteus seer, now bordering the walls

Of Alexander's city. Thus he gained

A double vantage, for his foes were pent

Within the narrow entrance, which for him

And for his aids gave access to the sea.

Nor longer was Pothinus' doom delayed,

Yet not with cross or flame, nor with the wrath

His crime demanded; nor by savage beasts

Torn, did he suffer; but by Magnus' death,

Alas the shame! he fell; his head by sword

Hacked from his shoulders. Next by frauds prepared

By Ganymede her base attendant, fled

Arsinoe (26) from the Court to Caesar's foes;

There in the absence of the King she ruled

As of Lagean blood: there at her hands,

The savage minion of the tyrant boy,

Achillas, fell by just avenging sword.

Thus did another victim to thy shade

Atone, Pompeius; but the gods forbid

That this be all thy vengeance! Not the king

Nor all the stock of Lagos for thy death

Would make fit sacrifice! So Fortune deemed;

And not till patriot swords shall drink the blood

Of Caesar, Magnus, shalt thou be appeased.

Still, though was slain the author of the strife,

Sank not their rage: with Ganymede for chief

Again they rush to arms; in deeds of fight

Again they conquer. So might that one day

Have witnessed Caesar's fate; so might its fame

Have lived through ages.

As the Roman Chief,

Crushed on the narrow surface of the mole,

Prepared to throw his troops upon the ships,

Sudden upon him the surrounding foes

With all their terrors came. In dense array

Their navy lined the shores, while on the rear

The footmen ceaseless charged. No hope was left,

For flight was not, nor could the brave man's arm

Achieve or safety or a glorious death.

Not now were needed for great Caesar's fall,

Caught in the toils of nature, routed host

Or mighty heaps of slain: his only doubt

To fear or hope for death: while on his brain

Brave Scaeva's image flashed, now vainly sought,

Who on the wall by Epidamnus' fields

Earned fame immortal, and with single arm

Drove back Pompeius as he trod the breach....

ENDNOTES:

(1) The body of Alexander was embalmed, and the mummy placed in

a glass case. The sarcophagus which enclosed them is stated

to be now in the British Museum.

(2) See Book III., 268.

(3) The kettledrum used in the worship of Isis. (See Book VIII,

line 974.)

(4) At the Battle of Actium. The island of Leucas, close to the

promontory of Actium, is always named by Lucan when he

refers to this battle. (See also Virgil, "Aeneid", viii.,

677.)

(5) Between Cleopatra and her brother.

(6) See Book IX., 507.

(7) Yet the Mareot grape was greatly celebrated. (See Professor

Rawlinson's note to Herodotus. ii., 18.)

(8) The calendar introduced by Caesar, in B.C. 45, was founded

on the Egyptian or solar year. (See Herodotus, ii., 4.)

Eudoxus seems to have dealt with this year and to have

corrected it. He is probably alluded to by Virgil,

"Eclogue" iii., 41.

(9) Herodotus was less fortunate. For he says "Concerning the

nature of the river I was not able to gain any information

either from the priests or others." (ii., 19.)

(10) It was supposed that the Sun and Moon and the planets

(Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, and Venus) were points

which restrained the motion of the sky in its revolution.

(See Book VI., 576.)

(11) Mercury. (See Book IX., 777.)

(12) That is, at the autumnal equinox. The priest states that

the planet Mercury causes the rise of the Nile. The passage

is difficult to follow; but the idea would seem to be that

this god, who controlled the rise and fall of the waves of

the sea, also when he was placed directly over the Nile

caused the rise of that river.

(13) So also Herodotus, Book ii., 22. Yet modern discoveries

have proved the snows.

(14) So, too, Herodotus, Book ii., 20, who attributes the theory

to Greeks who wish to get a reputation for cleverness.

(15) See on Book V., 709. Herodotus mentions this theory also,

to dismiss it.

(16) The historians state that Alexander made an expedition to

the temple of Jupiter Hammon and consulted the oracle.

Jupiter assisted his march, and an army of crows pointed out

the path (Plutarch). It is, however stated, in a note in

Langhorne's edition, that Maximus Tyrius informs us that the

object of the journey was the discovery of the sources of

the Nile.

(17) Sesostris, the great king, does not appear to have pushed

his conquests to the west of Europe.

(18) See Herodotus, iii., 17. These Ethiopian races were

supposed to live to the age of 120 years, drinking milk, and

eating boiled flesh. On Cambyses's march his starving

troops cast lots by tens for the one man who was to be

eaten.

(19) The Seres are, of course, the Chinese. The ancients seem to

have thought that the Nile came from the east. But it is

possible that there was another tribe of this name dwelling

in Africa.

(20) A passage of difficulty. I understand it to mean that at

this spot the summer sun (in Leo) strikes the earth with

direct rays.

(21) Reading "ibi fas ubi proxima merees", with Hosius.

(22) See Book VIII., 253.

(23) Medea, who fled from Colchis with her brother, Absyrtus.

Pursued by her father Aeetes, she killed her brother and

strewed the parts of his body into the sea. The king paused

to collect them.

(24) It was in this conflagration that a large part of the

library of the Ptolemies was destroyed. 400,000 volumes are

stated to have perished.

(25) The island of Pharos, which lay over against the port of

Alexandria, had been connected with the mainland in the

middle by a narrow causeway. On it stood the lighthouse.

(See Book IX, 1191.) Proteus, the old man of the sea, kept

here his flock of seals, according to the Homeric story.

("Odyssey", Book IV, 400.)

(26) Younger sister of Cleopatra.

PREPARER'S NOTES:

Lucan's "Pharsalia" (or, "Civil War", as many scholars now prefer

to call it) was written approximately a century after the events

it chronicles took place.

Lucan was born into a prominent Roman family (Seneca the Elder

was his grandfather, and Seneca the Younger his uncle), and seems

to have befriended the young Emperor Nero at an early age. He

was for several years a poet of some prominence in the Emperor's

court, and it is during this period that the "Civil

War"/"Pharsalia" was probably begun. However, Nero and Lucan's

friendship evidently soured, and in A.D. 65 Lucan joined

Calpurnius Piso's conspiracy to overthrow Nero. When the

conspiracy was discovered, Lucan was given the option of suicide

or death; he chose suicide, and recited several lines of his

poetry while he died (possibly Book III, l. 700-712).

Lucan's "Pharsalia" was left (probably) unfinished upon his

death, coincidentally breaking off at almost the exact same point

where Julius Caesar broke off in his commentary "On the Civil

War". Ten books are extant; no one knows how many more Lucan

planned, but two to six more books (possibly taking the story as

far as Caesar's assassination in B.C. 46) seem a reasonable

estimate.

It should be noted that, as history, Lucan's work is far from

being scrupulously accurate, frequently ignoring historical fact

for the benefit of drama and rhetoric. For this reason, it

should not be read as a reliable account of the Roman Civil War.

However, as a work of poetic literature, it has few rivals; its

powerful depiction of civil war and its consequences have haunted

readers for centuries, and prompted many Medieval and Renaissance

poets to regard Lucan among the ranks of Homer, Virgil, and Ovid.

---DBK

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY:

ORIGINAL TEXT --

Duff, J.D.: "Lucan: The Civil War" (Loeb Classics Library,

London, 1928). Latin text with English translation.

OTHER TRANSLATIONS --

Braund, Susan H.: "Lucan: Civil War" (Oxford University Press,

Oxford, 1992). NOTE: Highly Recommended Translation!

RECOMMENDED READING --

Fuller, J.F.C.: "Julius Caesar -- Man, Soldier, and Tyrant"

(DaCapo Press, New York, 1965)

Gardner, Jane F. (Trans.): "Caesar: The Civil War" (Penguin

Classics, London, 1967). Also contains "The Alexandrian War",

"The African War", and "The Spanish War", all anonymous.

Getzer, Matthias: "Caesar, Politician and Statesman" (Harvard

University Press, Cambridge MA, 1968).

Holmes, T. Rice: "The Roman Republic" (Oxford University Press,

Oxford, 1923). 3 Volumes.