Now that the chiefs with minds intent on fightHad drawn their armies near upon the hillsAnd all the gods beheld their chosen pair,Caesar, the Grecian towns despising, scornedTo reap the glory of successful warSave at his kinsman's cost. In all his prayersHe seeks that moment, fatal to the world,When shall be cast the die, to win or lose,And all their fortunes hang upon the throw.Thrice he drew out his troops, his eagles thrice,Demanding battle; to the ruin of RomeThus prompt as ever: but his kinsman foe,Proof against every art, refused to leaveThe rampart of his camp. Then marching swiftBy hidden path between the wooded fieldsHe seeks, and hopes to seize, Dyrrhachium's fort;But Magnus, swifter speeding by the sea,First camped on Petra's slopes, a rocky hillThus by the natives named. From thence he keepsWatch o'er the fortress of Corinthian birthWhich by its towers alone without a guardWas safe against a siege. No hand of manIn ancient days built up her lofty wall,No hammer rang upon her massive stones:Not all the works of war, nor Time himselfShall undermine her. Nature's hand has raisedHer adamantine rocks and hedged her inWith bulwarks girded by the foamy main:And but for one short bridge of narrow earthDyrrhachium were an island. Steep and fierce,Dreaded of sailors, are the cliffs that bearHer walls; and tempests, howling from the south,Toss up the foaming main upon the roofs;And homes and temples tremble at the shock.Thirsting for battle and with hopes inflamedHere Caesar hastes, with distant rampart linesSeeking unseen to coop his foe within,Though spread in spacious camp upon the hills.With eagle eye he measures out the landMeet to be compassed, nor content with turfFit for a hasty mound, he bids his troopsTear from the quarries many a giant rock:And spoils the dwellings of the Greeks, and dragsTheir walls asunder for his own. Thus roseA mighty barrier which no ram could burstNor any ponderous machine of war.Mountains are cleft, and level through the hillsThe work of Caesar strides: wide yawns the moat,Forts show their towers rising on the heights,And in vast circle forests are enclosedAnd groves and spacious lands, and beasts of prey,As in a line of toils. Pompeius lackedNor field nor forage in th' encircled spanNor room to move his camp; nay, rivers roseWithin, and ran their course and reached the sea;And Caesar wearied ere he saw the whole,And daylight failed him. Let the ancient taleAttribute to the labours of the godsThe walls of Ilium: let the fragile bricksWhich compass in great Babylon, amazeThe fleeting Parthian. Here a larger spaceThan those great cities which Orontes swiftAnd Tigris' stream enclose, or that which boastsIn Eastern climes, the lordly palacesFit for Assyria's kings, is closed by wallsAmid the haste and tumult of a warForced to completion. Yet this labour hugeWas spent in vain. So many hands had joinedOr Sestos with Abydos, or had tamedWith mighty mole the Hellespontine wave,Or Corinth from the realm of Pelops kingHad rent asunder, or had spared each shipHer voyage round the long Malean cape,Or had done anything most hard, to mouldThe world's created surface. Here the warWas prisoned: blood predestinate to flowIn all the parts of earth; the host foredoomedTo fall in Libya or in ThessalyWas here: in such small amphitheatreThe tide of civil passion rose and fell.At first Pompeius knew not: so the hindWho peaceful tills the mid-Sicilian fieldsHears not Pelorus sounding to the storm;So billows thunder on Rutupian shores,Unheard by distant Caledonia's tribes.But when he saw the mighty barrier stretchO'er hill and valley, and enclose the land,He bade his columns leave their rocky holdAnd seize on posts of vantage in the plain;Thus forcing Caesar to extend his troopsOn wider lines; and holding for his ownSuch space encompassed as divides from RomeAricia, sacred to that goddess chasteOf old Mycenae; or as Tiber holdsFrom Rome's high ramparts to the Tuscan sea,Unless he deviate. No trumpet callCommands an onset, and the darts that flyFly though forbidden; but the arm that flingsFor proof the lance, at random, here and thereDeals impious slaughter. Weighty care compelledEach leader to withhold his troops from fight;For there the weary earth of produce failedPressed by Pompeius' steeds, whose horny hoofsRang in their gallop on the grassy fieldsAnd killed the succulence. They strengthless layUpon the mown expanse, nor pile of straw,Brought from full barns in place of living grass,Relieved their craving; shook their panting flanks,And as they wheeled Death struck his victim down.Then foul contagion filled the murky airWhose poisonous weight pressed on them in a cloudPestiferous; as in Nesis' isle the breathOf Styx rolls upwards from the mist-clad rocks;Or that fell vapour which the caves exhaleFrom Typhon raging in the depths below.Then died the soldiers, for the streams they drankHeld yet more poison than the air: the skinWas dark and rigid, and the fiery plagueMade hard their vitals, and with pitiless toothGnawed at their wasted features, while their eyesStarted from out their sockets, and the headDrooped from sheer weariness. So the diseaseGrew swifter in its strides till scarce was room,'Twixt life and death, for sickness, and the pestSlew as it struck its victim, and the deadThrust from the tents (such all their burial) layBlent with the living. Yet their camp was pitchedHard by the breezy sea by which might comeAll nations' harvests, and the northern windNot seldom rolled the murky air away.Their foe, not vexed with pestilential airNor stagnant waters, ample range enjoyedUpon the spacious uplands: yet as thoughIn leaguer, famine seized them for its prey.Scarce were the crops half grown when Caesar sawHow prone they seized upon the food of beasts,And stripped of leaves the bushes and the groves,And dragged from roots unknown the doubtful herb,Which might be death: all things they ate that fireMay soften, or teeth may bite, or arid throatMay swallow; things that never heretoforeWere placed on tables-thus the host at large-Yet was there plenty with the leaguered foe.
Postquam castra duces, pugnae iam mente propinqui,Imposuere iugis, admotaque cominus arma,Parque suum videri dei, capere omnia CaesarMoenia Graiorum spernit, Martemque secundumIam nisi de genero fatis debere recusat.Funestam mundo votis petit omnibus horam,In casum quae cuncta ferat. Placet alea fatiAlterutrum mersura caput. Ter collibus omnesExplicuit turmas et signa minantia pugnam,Testatus numquam Latiae se deesse ruinae.Ut videt ad nullos exciri posse tumultusIn pugnam generum, sed clauso fidere vallo,Signa movet, tectusque via dumosa per arvaDyrrhachii praeceps rapiendas tendit ad arces.Hoc iter aequoreo praecepit limite Magnus,Quemque vocat collem Taulantius incola Petram,Insedit castris, Ephyraeaque moenia servat,Defendens tutam vel solis turribus urbem.Non opus hanc veterum nec moles structa tueturHumanusque labor, facilis, licet ardua tollat,Cedere vel bellis, vel cuncta moventibus annis:Sed munimen habet, nullo quassabile ferro,Naturam sedemque loci. Nam clausa profundoUndique praecipiti scopulisque vomentibus aequor,Exiguo debet, quod non est insula, colli.Terribiles ratibus sustentant moenia cautes,Ioniumque furens rapido cum tollitur Austro,Templa domosque quatit, spumatque in culmina pontus.Huc avidam belli rapuit spes improba mentemCaesaris, ut vastis diffusum collibus hostemCingeret ignarum, ducto procul aggere valli.Metitur terras oculis: nec cespite tantumContentus fragili subitos adtollere muros,Ingentes cautes, avulsaque saxa metallis,Graiorumque domos, direptaque moenia transfert.Exstruitur, quod non aries impellere saevus,Quod non ulla queat violenti machina belli.Franguntur montes, planumque per ardua CaesarDucit opus: pandit fossas, turritaque summisDisponit castella iugis, magnoque recursuAmplexus fines, saltus, nemorosaque tesqua,Et silvas, vastaque feras indagine claudit.Non desunt campi, non desunt pabula Magno,Castraque Caesareo circumdatus aggere mutat.Flumina tot cursus illic exorta fatigant,Illic mersa suos: operumque ut summa revisat,Defessus Caesar mediis intermanet agris.Nunc vetus Iliacos adtollat fabula muros,Adscribatque deis: fragili circumdata testaMoenia mirentur refugi Babylonia Parthi.En, quantum Tigris, quantum celer ambit Orontes,Assyriis quantum populis telluris EoaeSufficit in regnum, subitum bellique tumultuRaptum clausit opus. Tanti periere labores.Tot potuere manus adiungere Seston Abydo,Ingestoque solo Phryxeum elidere pontum,Aut Pelopis latis Ephyren abrumpere regnis,Et ratibus longae flexus donare Maleae,Aut aliquem mundi, quamvis natura negasset,In melius mutare locum. Coit area belli:Hic alitur sanguis terras fluxurus in omnes,Hic et Thessalicae clades, Libycaeque tenentur.Aestuat angusta rabies civilis arena.Prima quidem surgens operum structura fefellitPompeium: veluti mediae qui tutus in arvisSicaniae rabidum nescit latrare Pelorum:Aut vaga cum Tethys Rutupinaque litora fervent,Unda Caledonios fallit turbata Britannos.Ut primum vasto septas videt aggere terras,Ipse quoque a tuta deducens agmina PetraDiversis spargit tumulis, ut Caesaris armaLaxet, et effuso claudentem milite tendat:Ac tantum septi vallo sibi vindicat agri,Parva Mycenaeae quantum sacrata DianaeDistat ab excelsa nemoralis Aricia Roma:Quoque modo Romae praelapsus moenia TibrisIn mare descendit, si nusquam torqueat amnem.Classica nulla sonant, iniussaque tela vagantur:Et fit saepe nefas, iaculum tentante lacerto.Maior cura duces miscendis abstrahit armis.Pompeium exhaustae praebenda ad pabula terrae,Quae currens obtrivit eques, gradibusque citatisUngula frondentem discussit cornea campum.Belliger adtonsis sonipes defessus in arvis,Advectos cum plena ferant praesepia culmos,Ore novas poscens moribundus labitur herbas,Et tremulo medios abrumpit poplite gyros.Corpora dum solvit tabes, et digerit artus,Traxit iners coelum fluidae contagia pestisObscuram in nubem. Tali spiramine NesisEmittit stygium nebulosis aera saxis,Antraque letiferi rabiem Typhonis anhelant.Inde labant populi, coeloque paratior undaOmne pati virus duravit viscera coeno.Iam riget atra cutis, distentaque lumina rumpit:Igneaque in vultus, et sacro fervida morboPestis abit, fessumque caput se ferre recusat.Iam magis atque magis praeceps agit omnia fatum:Nec medii dirimunt morbi vitamque necemque,Sed languor cum morte venit: turbaque cadentumAucta lues, dum mixta iacent incondita vivisCorpora. Nam miseros ultra tentoria civesSpargere funus erat. Tamen hos minuere laboresA tergo pelagus, pulsusque Aquilonibus aer,Litoraque, et plenae peregrina messe carinae.At liber terrae spatiosis collibus hostisAere non pigro, nec inertibus angitur undis:Sed patitur saevam, veluti circumdatus arctaObsidione, famem. Nondum surgentibus altamIn segetem culmis, cernit miserabile vulgusIn pecudum cecidisse cibos, et carpere dumos,Et foliis spoliare nemus, letumque minantesVellere ab ignotis dubias radicibus herbas.Quae mollire queunt flamma, quae frangere morsu,Quaeque per abrasas utero demittere fauces,Plurimaque humanis ante hoc incognita mensisDiripiens miles, saturum tamen obsidet hostem.Ut primum libuit ruptis evadere claustris
When Magnus first was pleased to break his bonds,No nightly dash he makes, by craft to seizeHis sleeping foe unarmed: his soul had scornedSuch path obscure to victory. Twas his aim,To lay the turrets low; to mark his track,By ruin spread afar; and with the swordTo hew a path between his slaughtered foes.Minucius' turret was the chosen spotWhere groves of trees and thickets gave approachSafe, unbetrayed by dust. Up from the fieldsFlashed all at once his eagles into sightAnd all his trumpets blared. But ere the swordCould win the battle, on the hostile ranksDread panic fell; prone as in death they layWhere else upright they should withstand the foe;Nor more availed their valour, and in vainThe cloud of weapons flew, with none to slay.Then blazing torches rolling pitchy flameAre hurled, and shaken nod the lofty towersAnd threaten ruin, and the bastions groanStruck by the frequent engine, and the troopsOf Magnus by triumphant eagles ledStride o'er the rampart, in their front the world.Yet now that passage which not Caesar's selfNor thousand valiant squadrons had availedTo rescue from their grasp, one man in armsSteadfast till death refused them; Scaeva namedThis hero soldier: long he served in fightWaged 'gainst the savage on the banks of Rhone;And now centurion made, through deeds of blood,He bore the staff before the marshalled line.Prone to all wickedness, he little reckedHow valourous deeds in civil war may beGreatest of crimes; and when he saw how turnedHis comrades fron the war and sought in flightA refuge, ' Whence,' he cried, 'this impious fearUnknown to Caesar's armies? Do ye turn'Your backs on death, and are ye not ashamedNot to be found where slaughtered heroes lie?'Is loyalty too weak? Yet love of fight'Might bid you stand. We are the chosen few'Through whom the foe would break. Unbought by blood'This day shall not be theirs. 'Neath Caesar's eye,'True, death would be more happy; but this boon'Fortune denies: at least my fall shall be'Praised by Pompeius. Shatter with your breasts' Their weapons; blunt the edges of their swords' With throats unyielding. In the distant lines' The dust is seen already, and the sound' Of tumult and of ruin finds the earOf Caesar: strike; the victory is ours:'For he shall come who while his soldiers dieShall make the fortress his.' His voice calls forthThe courage that the trumpets failed to rouseWhen first they rang: his comrades mustering comeTo watch his deeds; and, wondering at the man,To test if valour thus by foes oppressed,In narrow space, could hope for aught but death.But Scaeva standing on the tottering bankHeaves from the brimming turret on the foeThe corpses of the fallen; the ruined massGives weapons to his hands; with beams and polesAnd ponderous stones, with his own breast he threatsHis enemies; and thrusts with mighty stakesThe host advancing; when they grasp the wallHe lops the arm: rocks crush the foeman's skullAnd rive the scalp asunder: fiery boltsDashed at another set his hair aflame,Till rolls the greedy blaze about his eyesWith hideous crackle. As the pile of slainRose to the summit of the wall he sprang,Swift as across the nets a hunted pard,Above the swords upraised, till in mid throngOf foes he stood, hemmed in by densest ranksAnd ramparted by war; in front and rear,Where'er he struck, the victor. Now his swordBlunted with gore congealed no more could wound,But brake the stricken limb; while every handFlung every quivering dart at him alone;Nor missed their aim, for rang against his shieldDart after dart unerring, and his helmIn broken fragments pressed upon his brow;His vital parts were safeguarded by spearsThat bristled in his body. Fortune sawThus waged a novel combat, for there warredAgainst one man an army. Why with darts,Madmen, assail him and with slender shafts,'Gainst which his life is proof? Or ponderous stonesThis warrior chief shall overwhelm, or boltsFlung by the twisted thongs of mighty slings.Let steel-shod ram or catapult removeThis champion of the gate. No fragile wallStands here for Caesar, blocking with its bulkPompeius' way to freedom. Now he trustsHis shield no more, lest his sinister hand,Idle, give life by shame; and on his breastBearing a forest of spears, though spent with toilAnd worn with onset, falls upon his foeAnd braves alone the wounds of all the war.Thus may an elephant in Afric wastes,Oppressed by frequent darts, break those that fallRebounding from his horny hide, and shakeThose that find lodgment, while his life withinLies safe, protected, nor does spear availTo reach the fount of blood. Unnumbered woundsBy arrow dealt, or lance, thus fail to slayThis single warrior. But lo! from farA Cretan archer's shaft, more sure of aimThan vows could hope for, strikes on Scaeva's browTo light within his eye: the hero tugsIntrepid, bursts the nerves, and tears the shaftForth with the eyeball, and with dauntless heelTreads them to dust. Not otherwise a bearPannonian, fiercer for the wound received,Maddened by dart from Libyan thong propelled,Turns circling on her wound, and still pursuesThe weapon fleeing as she whirls around.Thus, in his rage destroyed, his shapeless faceStood foul with crimson flow. The victors' shoutGlad to the sky arose; no greater joyA little blood could give them had they seenThat Caesar's self was wounded. Down he pressedDeep in his soul the anguish, and, with mienNo longer bent on fight, submissive cried,Spare me, ye citizens; remove the warFar hence: no weapons now can haste my death;Draw from my breast the darts, but add no more.Yet raise me up to place me in the campOf Magnus, living: this your gift to him;No brave man's death my title to renown,But Caesar's flag deserted.' So he spake.Unhappy Aulus thought his words were true,Nor saw within his hand the ready sword;And leaping forth in haste to make his ownThe prisoner and his arms, in middle throatReceived the lightning blade. By this one deathRose Scaeva's valour again; and thus he cried,Such be the punishment of all who thoughtGreat Scaeva vanquished; if Pompeius seeksPeace from this reeking sword, low let him lay' At Caesar's feet his standards. Me do ye think' Such as yourselves, and slow to meet the fates?'Your love for Magnus and the Senate's cause'Is less than mine for death.' These were his words;And dust in columns proved that Caesar came.Thus was Pompeius' glory spared the stainOf flight compelled by Scava. He, when ceasedThe battle, fell, no more by rage of fight,Or sight of blood out-pouring from his wounds,Roused to the combat. Fainting there he layUpon the shoulders of his comrades borne,Who him adoring (as though deityDwelt in his bosom) for his matchless deeds,Plucked forth the gory shafts and took his armsTo deck the gods and shield the breast of Mars.Thrice happy thou with such a name achieved,Had but the fierce Iberian from thy sword,Or heavy shielded Teuton, or had fledThe light Cantabrian: now no spoils of thineShall deck the Thunderer's temple, nor upraiseThe shout of triumph in the ways of Rome.For all thy prowess, all thy deeds of prideDo but prepare her lord.
Pompeio, cunctasque sibi permittere terras:Non obscura petit latebrosae tempora noctis,Et raptum furto, soceri cessantibus armis,Dedignatur iter: latis exire ruinisQuaerit, et impulso turres confringere vallo,Perque omnes gladios, et qua via caede paranda est.Opportuna tamen valli pars visa propinqui,Quam Minuci castella vocant, et confraga densisArboribus dumeta tegunt. Huc pulvere nulloProditus agmen agit, subitusque ad moenia venit.Tot simul e campis Latiae fulsere volucres:Tot cecinere tubae. Ne quid victoria ferroDeberet, pavor adtonitos confecerat hostes.Quod solum valuit virtus, iacuere peremti,Debuerant quo stare loco: qui vulnera ferrentIam deerant, nimbusque ferens tot tela peribat.Tum piceos volvunt immissae lampades ignes:Tum quassae nutant turres, lapsumque minantur:Roboris impacti crebros gemit agger ad ictus.Iam Pompeianae celsi super ardua valliExierant aquilae: iam mundi iura patebant.Quem non mille simul turmis, nec Caesare totoAuferret Fortuna locum, victoribus unusEripuit, vetuitque capi: seque arma tenente,Ac nondum strato, Magnum vicisse negavit.Scaeva viro nomen: castrorum in plebe merebatAnte feras Rhodani gentes: ibi sanguine multoPromotus Latiam longo gerit ordine vitem:Pronus ad omne nefas, et qui nesciret, in armisQuam magnum virtus crimen civilibus esset.Hic ubi quaerentes socios iam Marte relictoTota fugae cernit, Quo vos pavor, inquit, abegitImpius et cunctis ignotus Caesaris armis?[O famuli turpes, servum pecus, absque cruore]Terga datis morti? Cumulo vos deesse virorumNon pudet et bustis interque cadavera quaeri?Non ira saltem iuvenes, pietate remota,Stabitis? E cunctis, per quos erumperet hostis,Nos sumus electi. Non parvo sanguine MagniIsta dies ierit. Peterem felicior umbrasCaesaris in vultu. Testem hunc Fortuna negavit:Pompeio laudante, cadam. Confringite telaPectoris incursu, iugulisque retundite ferrum.Iam longinqua petit pulvis, sonitusque ruinae,Securasque fragor concussit Caesaris aures.Vincimus, o socii; veniet, qui vindicet arces,Dum morimur. Movit tantum vox illa furorem,Quantum non primo succendunt classica cantu:Mirantesque virum, atque avidi spectare, sequunturScituri iuvenes, numero deprensa locoqueAn plus quam mortem virtus daret. Ille ruentiAggere consistit, primumque cadavera plenisTurribus evolvit, subeuntesque obruit hostesCorporibus: totaeque viro dant tela ruinae:Roboraque et moles hosti seque ipse minatur.Nunc sude, nunc duro contraria pectora contoDetrudit muris, et valli summa tenentesAmputat ense manus: caput obterit ossaque saxo,Ac male defensum fragili compage cerebrumDissipat: alterius flamma crinesque genasqueSuccendit; strident oculis ardentibus ignes.Ut primum, cumulo crescente, cadavera murumAdmovere solo: non segnior extulit illumSaltus, et in medias iecit super arma catervas,Quam per summa rapit celerem venabula pardum.Tunc densos inter cuneos compressus et omniVallatus bello vincit, quem respicit, hostem.Iamque hebes et crasso non asper sanguine mucro[Percussum Scaevae frangit, non vulnerat, hostem.]Perdidit ensis opus, frangit sine vulnere membra.Illum tota petit moles, illum omnia tela:Nulla fuit non certa manus, non lancea felix,Parque novum Fortuna videt concurrere, bellumAtque virum. Fortis crebris sonat ictibus umbo,Et galeae fragmenta cavae compressa peruruntTempora: nec quidquam nudis vitalibus obstatIam, praeter stantes in summis ossibus hastas.Quid nunc, vesani, iaculis levibusque sagittisPerditis haesuros numquam vitalibus ictus?Hunc aut tortilibus vibrata phalarica nervisObruat, aut vasti muralia pondera saxi:Hunc aries ferro ballistaque limine portaeSummoveat. Stat non fragilis pro Caesare murus,Pompeiumque tenet. Iam pectora non tegit armis,Ac veritus credi clypeo, laevaque vacasse,Aut culpa vixisse sua, tot vulnera belliSolus obit, densamque ferens in pectore silvam,Iam gradibus fessis, in quem cadat, eligit hostem.[Par pelagi monstris. Libycae sic bellua terrae,]Sic Libycus densis elephas oppressus ab armisOmne repercussum squalenti missile tergoFrangit, et haerentes mota cute discutit hastas:Viscera tuta latent penitus, citraque cruoremConfixae stant tela ferae: tot facta sagittis,Tot iaculis, unam non explent vulnera mortem.Dictaea procul ecce manu Gortynis arundoTenditur in Scaevam, quae voto certior omniIn caput atque oculi laevum descendit in orbem.Ille moras ferri, nervorum et vincula rumpit,Adfixam vellens oculo pendente sagittamIntrepidus, telumque suo cum lumine calcat.Pannonis haud aliter post ictum saevior ursa,Cum iaculum parva Libys amentavit habena,Se rotat in vulnus: telumque irata receptumImpetit, et secum fugientem circuit hastam.Perdiderat vultum rabies: stetit imbre cruentoInformis facies: laetus fragor aethera pulsatVictorum: maiora viris e sanguine parvoGaudia non faceret conspectum in Caesare vulnus.Ille, tegens alta suppressum mente dolorem,Mitis et a vultu penitus virtute remota,Parcite, ait, cives: procul hinc avertite bellum.Collatura meae nil sunt iam vulnera morti:Non eget ingestis, sed vulsis pectore telis.Tollite et in Magni viventem ponite castris:Hoc vestro praestate duci: sit Scaeva relictiCaesaris exemplum potius, quam mortis honestae.Credidit infelix simulatis vocibus Aulus,Nec vidit recto gladium mucrone tenentem;Membraque captivi pariter laturus, et arma,Fulmineum mediis excepit faucibus ensem.Incaluit virtus: atque una caede refectusSolvat, ait, poenas, Scaevam quicumque subactumSperavit: pacem gladio si quaerit ab istoMagnus, adorato submittat Caesare signa.An similem vestri, segnemque ad fata putastis?Pompeii vobis minor est caussaeque senatusQuam mihi mortis amor. Simul haec effatur, et altusCaesareas pulvis testatur adesse cohortes.Dedecus hic belli Magno crimenque remisit,Ne solum totae fugerent te, Scaeva, catervae:Subducto qui Marte ruis: nam sanguine fusoVires pugna dabat. Labentem turba suorumExcipit, atque humeris defectum imponere gaudet:Ac veluti inclusum perfosso in pectore numenEt vivam magnae speciem virtutis adorant:Telaque confixis certant evellere membris,Exornantque deos, ac nudum pectore MartemArmis, Scaeva, tuis: felix hoc nomine famae,Si tibi durus Iber, aut si tibi terga dedissetCantaber exiguis, aut longis Teutonus armis.Non tu bellorum spoliis ornare TonantisTempla potes, non tu laetis ululare triumphis.Infelix, quanta dominum virtute parasti!
Nor on this handRepulsed, Pompeius idly ceased from war,Content within his bars; but as the seaTireless, which tempests force upon the cragThat breaks it, or which gnaws a mountain sideSome day to fall in ruin on itself;He sought the turrets nearest to the main,On double onset bent; nor closely keptHis troops in hand, but on the spacious plainSpread forth his camp. They joyful leave the tentsAnd wander at their will. Thus Padus flowsIn brimming flood, and foaming at his bounds,Making whole districts quake; and should the bankFail 'neath his swollen waters, all his streamBreaks forth in swirling eddies over fieldsNot his before; some lands are lost, the restGain from his bounty.Hardly from his towerHad Caesar seen the fire or known the fight:And coming found the rampart overthrown,The dust no longer stirred, the ruins coldAs from a battle done. The peace that reignedThere and on Magnus' side, as though men slept,Their victory won, aroused his angry soul.Quick he prepares, so that he end their joyCareless of slaughter or defeat, to rushWith threatening columns on Torquatus' post.But swift as sailor, by his trembling mastWarned of Circeian tempest, furls his sails,So swift Torquatus saw, and prompt to wageThe war more closely, he withdrew his menWithin a narrower wall.Now past the trenchWere Caesar's companies, when from the hillsPompeius hurled his host upon their ranksShut in, and hampered. Not so much o'erwhelmedAs Caesar's soldiers is the hind who dwellsOn Etna's slopes, when blows the southern wind,And all the mountain pours its cauldrons forthUpon the vale; and huge EnceladusWrithing beneath his load spouts o'er the plainsA blazing torrent. Blinded by the dust,Encircled, vanquished, ere the fight, they fledIn cloud of terror on their rearward foe,So rushing on their fates. Thus had the warShed its last drop of blood and peace ensued,But Magnus suffered not, and held his troopsBack from the battle.Thou, O Rome, hadst beenFree, happy, mistress of thy laws and rightsWere Sulla here. Now shalt thou ever grieveThat in his crowning crime, to have met in fightA pious kinsman, Caesar's vantage lay.Oh tragic destiny! Nor Munda's fightHispania had wept, nor Libya mournedEncrimsoned Utica, nor Nilus' stream,With blood unspeakable polluted, borneA nobler corse than her Egyptian kings:Nor Juba lain unburied on the sands,Nor Scipio with his blood outpoured appeasedThe ghosts of Carthage; this had been thy lastDisaster, Rome; nor had the blameless lifeOf Cato ended: and Pharsalia's nameHad so been blotted from the book of fate.But Caesar left the region where his armsHad found the deities adverse, and marchedHis shattered columns to Thessalian lands.Then to Pompeius came (whose mind was bentTo follow Caesar wheresoe'er he fled)His captains, striving to persuade their chiefTo seek Ausonia, his native land,Now freed from foes. 'Ne'er will I pass,' he said,' My country's limit, nor revisit Rome' Like Caesar, at the head of banded hosts.' Hesperia when the war began was mine;' Mine, had I chosen in our country's shrines,' In midmost forum of her capital,' To join the battle. So that banished far' Be war from Rome, I'll cross the torrid zone' Or those for ever frozen Scythian shores.What! shall my victory rob thee of the peaceI gave thee by my flight? Rather than thouShouldst feel the evils of this impious war,'Let Caesar deem thee his.' He turned his courseTowards the uprising sun, and sought by pathsRemote, and forests wide, the land by fateForedoomed to see the issue of the war.Thessalia on that side where Titan firstRaises the wintry day, by Ossa's rocksIs prisoned in: but in th' advancing yearWhen higher in the vault his chariot rides'Tis Pelion that meets the morning rays.And when beside the Lion's flames he drivesThe middle course, Othrys with woody topScreens his chief ardour. On the hither sidePindus receives the breezes of the westAnd as the evening falls brings darkness in.There too Olympus, at whose foot who dwellsNor fears the north nor sees the shining bear.Between these mountains hemmed, in ancient timeThe fields were marsh, for Tempe's pass not yetWas cleft, to give an exit to the streamsThat filled the plain: but when Alcides' handSmote Ossa from Olympus at a blow,And Nereus wondered at the sudden floodOf waters to the main, then on the shore(Would it had slept for ever 'neath the deep)Seaborn Achilles' home Pharsalus rose;And Phylace whence sailed that ship of oldWhose keel first touched upon the beach of Troy;And Dorion mournful for the Muses' ireOn Thamyris vanquished: Trachis; MelibeStrong in the shafts of Hercules, the priceOf that most awful torch; Larissa's holdPotent of yore; and Argos, famous erst,O'er which men pass the ploughshare: and the spotFabled as Echionian Thebes, where onceAgave bore in exile to the pyre(Grieving 'twas all she had) the head and neckOf Pentheus massacred. The lake set freeFlowed forth in many rivers: to the westAEas, a gentle stream; nor stronger flowsThe sire of Isis ravished from his arms;And Achelous, rival for the handOf OEneus' daughter, rolls his earthy floodTo silt the shore beside the neighbouring isles.Evenus purpled by the Centaur's bloodWanders through Calydon: in the Malian GulfThy rapids fall, Spercheius: pure the waveWith which Amphrysos irrigates the meadsWhere once Apollo served: Anaurus flowsBreathing no vapour forth; no humid airRipples his surface: and whatever stream,Nameless itself, to Ocean gives its wavesThrough thee, Peneus: whirled in eddies foamsApidanus; Enipeus lingers onSwift only when fresh streams his volume swell:And thus Asopus takes his ordered course,Phoenix and Melas; but Eurotas keepsHis stream aloof from that with which he flows,Peneus, gliding on his top as thoughUpon the channel. Fable says that, sprungFrom darkest pools of Styx, with common floodsHe scorns to mingle, mindful of his source,So that the gods above may fear him still.Soon as were sped the rivers, Boebian ploughsDark with its riches broke the virgin soil;Then came Lelegians to press the share,And Dolopes and sons of AEolusBy whom the glebe was furrowed. Steed-renownedMagnetians dwelt there, and the Minyan raceWho smote the sounding billows with the oar.There in the cavern from the pregnant cloudIxion's sons found birth, the Centaur broodHalf beast, half human: Monychus who brokeThe stubborn rocks of Pholoe, Rhoetus fierceHurling from OEta's top gigantic elmsWhich northern storms could hardly overturn;Pholus, Alcides' host: Nessus who boreThe Queen across Evenus' waves, to feelThe deadly arrow for his shameful deed;And aged Chiron who with wintry starAgainst the huger Scorpion draws his bow.Here sparkled on the land the warrior seed;Here leaped the charger from Thessalian rocksStruck by the trident of the Ocean King,Omen of dreadful war; here first he learned,Champing the bit and foaming at the curb,Yet to obey his lord. From yonder shoreThe keel of pine first floated, and bore menTo dare the perilous chance of seas unknown:And here Ionus ruler of the landFirst from the furnace molten masses drewOf iron and brass; here first the hammer fellTo weld them, shapeless; here in glowing streamRan silver forth and gold, soon to receiveThe minting stamp. 'Twas thus that money cameWhereby men count their riches, cause accursedOf warfare. Hence came down that Python hugeOn Cirrha: hence the laurel wreath which crownsThe Pythian victor: here Aloeus' sonsGigantic rose against the gods, what timePelion had almost touched the stars supreme,And Ossa's loftier peak amid the skyOpposing, barred the constellations' way.
Nec magis hac Magnus castrorum parte repulsusIntra claustra piger, dilato Marte, quievit,Quam mare lassatur, cum se tollentibus EurisFrangentem fluctus scopulum ferit, aut latus altiMontis adest, seramque sibi parat unda ruinam.Hinc vicina petens placido castella profundoIncursu gemini Martis rapit: armaque lateSpargit, et effuso laxat tentoria campo:Mutandaeque iuvat permissa licentia terrae.Sic pleno Padus ore tumens super aggere tutasExcurrit ripas, et totos concutit agros:Succubuit si qua tellus, cumulumque furentemUndarum non passa ruit, tum flumine totoTransit, et ignotos aperit sibi gurgite campos.Illos terra fugit dominos: his rura colonisAccedunt, donante Pado. Vix proelia CaesarSenserat, elatus specula quae prodidit ignis.Invenit impulsos presso iam pulvere muros:Frigidaque ut veteris deprendit signa ruinae,Accendit pax ipsa loci, movitque furoremPompeiana quies et, victo Caesare, somnus.Ire vel in clades properat, dum gaudia turbet.Torquato ruit inde minax: qui Caesaris armaSegnius haud vidit, quam malo nauta trementeOmnia Circaeae subducit vela procellae:Agminaque interius muro breviore recepit,Densius ut parva disponeret arma corona.Transierat primi Caesar munimina valli,Cum super e totis emisit collibus agmen,Effuditque acies obseptum Magnus in hostem.Non sic Aetnaeis habitans in vallibus horretEnceladum, spirante Noto, cum tota cavernasEgerit, et torrens in campos defluit Aetna:Caesaris ut miles glomerato pulvere victusAnte aciem, caeci trepidus sub nube timorisHostilius occurrit fugiens, inque ipsa pavendoFata ruit. Totus mitti civilibus armisUsque vel in pacem potuit cruor: ipse furentesDux tenuit gladios. Felix ac libera legum,Roma, fores iurisque tui, vicisset in illoSi tibi Sulla loco. Dolet heu semperque dolebit,Quod scelerum, Caesar, prodest tibi summa tuorum,Cum genero pugnasse pio. Pro tristia fata!Non Uticae Libye clades, Hispania MundaeFlesset, et infando pollutus sanguine NilusNobilius Phario gestasset rege cadaver:Nec Iuba Marmaricas nudus pressisset arenas,Poenorumque umbras placasset sanguine fusoScipio: nec sancto caruisset via Catone.Ultimus esse dies potuit tibi, Roma, malorum:Exire e mediis potuit Pharsalia fatis.Deserit adverso possessam numine sedemCaesar, et Emathias lacero petit agmine terras.Arma secuturum soceri, quacumque fugasset,Tentavere suo comites divertere MagnumHortatu: patrias sedes atque hoste carentemAusoniam peteret. Numquam me Caesaris, inquit,Exemplo reddam patriae, numquamque videbitMe nisi dimisso redeuntem, milite Roma.Hesperiam potui, motu surgente, tenere,Si vellem patriis aciem committere templis,Ac medio pugnare foro. Dum bella relegem,Extremum Scythici transcendam frigoris orbem,Ardentesque plagas. Victor tibi, Roma, quietemEripiam, qui, ne premerent te proelia, fugi?Ah potius, bello ne quid patiaris in isto,Te Caesar putet esse suam. Sic fatus, in ortusPhoebeos convertit iter, terraeque secutusDevia, qua vastos aperit Candavia saltus,Contigit Emathiam, bello quam fata parabant.Thessaliam, qua parte diem brumalibus horisAdtollit Titan, rupes Ossaea coercet.Cum per summa poli Phoebum trahit altior aestasPelion opponit radiis nascentibus umbras.At medios ignes coeli, rabidique LeonisSolstitiale caput nemorosus submovet Othrys.Excipit adversos Zephyros et Iapyga PindusEt maturato praecidit vespere lucem.Nec metuens imi Borean habitator OlympiLucentem totis ignorat noctibus Arcton.Hos inter montes, media qui valle premuntur,Perpetuis quondam latuere paludibus agri,Flumina dum campi retinent, nec pervia TempeDant aditus pelagi; stagnumque implentibus unumCrescere cursus erat. Postquam discessit OlympoHerculea gravis Ossa manu, subitaeque ruinamSensit aquae Nereus: melius mansura sub undis,Emathis aequorei regnum Pharsalos AchillisEminet, et, prima Rhoeteia litora pinuQuae tetigit, Phylace, Pteleosque, et Dorion iraFlebile Pieridum; Trachin, pretioque nefandaeLampados Herculeis fortis Meliboea pharetris:Atque olim Larissa potens: ubi nobile quondamNunc super Argos arant: veteres ubi fabula ThebasMonstrat Echionias: ubi quondam Pentheos exsulColla caputque ferens supremo tradidit igni,Questa, quod hoc solum nato rapuisset, Agave.Ergo abrupta palus multos discessit in amnes.Purus in occasus, parvi sed gurgitis, AeasIonio fluit inde mari nec fortior undisLabitur avectae pater Isidis, et tuus, Oeneu,Paene gener crassis oblimat Echinadas undisEt Meleagream maculatus sanguine NessiEuenos Calydona secat. Ferit amne citatoMaliacas Sperchios aquas: et flumine puroIrrigat Amphrysos famulantis pascua Phoebi;Quique nec humentes nebulas, nec rore madentemAera, nec tenues ventos suspirat, Anauros;Et quisquis pelago per se non cogntus amnisPeneo donavit aquas: it gurgite raptoApidanos: nunquamque celer, nisi mixtus, Enipeus.Accipit Asopos cursus, Phoenixque, Melasque.Solus in alterius nomen cum venerit undae,Defendit Titaresos aquas, lapsusque superneGurgite Penei pro siccis utitur arvis.Hunc fama est Stygiis manare paludibus amnem,Et, capitis memorem, fluvii contagia vilisNolle pati, superumque sibi servare timorem.Ut primum emissis patuerunt amnibus arva,Pinguis Boebicio discessit vomere sulcus:Mox Lelegum dextra pressum descendit aratrum.Aeolidae Dolopesque solum fregere coloni,Et Magnetes equis, Minyae gens cognita remis.Illic semiferos Ixionidas CentaurosFoeta Pelethroniis nubes effudit in antris:Aspera te Pholoes frangentem, Monyche, saxa,Teque sub Oetaeo torquentem vertice vulsas,Rhoete ferox, quas vix Boreas inverteret, ornos:Hospes et Alcidae magni, Phole: teque per amnemImprobe Lernaeas vector passure sagittas:Teque senex Chiron, gelido qui sidere fulgensImpetis Aemonio maiorem Scorpion arcu.Hac tellure feri micuerunt semina Martis.Primus ab aequorea percussis cuspide saxisThessalicus sonipes bellis feralibus omenExsiluit; primus chalybem fraenosque momordit,Spumavitque novis Lapithae domitoris habenis.Prima fretum scindens Pagasaeo litore pinusTerrenum ignotas hominem proiecit in undas.Primus Thessalicae rector telluris ItonosIn formam calidae percussit pondera massae,Fudit et argentum flammis, aurumque monetaFregit et immensis coxit fornacibus aera.Illic, quod populos scelerata impegit in arma,Divitias numerare datum est. Hinc maxima serpensDescendit Python, Cyrrhaeaque fluxit in arva:Unde et Thessalicae veniunt ad Pythia laurus.Impius hinc prolem superis immisit Aloeus,Inseruit celsis prope se cum Pelion astris,Sideribusque vias incurrens abstulit Ossa.
When in this fated land the chiefs had placedTheir several camps, foreboding of the endNow fast approaching, all men's thoughts were turnedUpon the final issue of the war.And as the end drew near, all coward mindsTrembling beneath the shadow of the fateNow hanging o'er them, deemed disaster near:While some took heart; yet doubted what might fall,In hope and fear alternate. 'Mid the throngSextus, unworthy son of worthy sireWho soon upon the waves that Scylla guards,Sicilian pirate, exile from his home,Stained by his deeds of shame the fights he won,Could bear delay no more; his feeble soul,Sick of uncertain fate, by fear compelled,Forecast the future: yet consulted notThe shrine of Delos nor the Pythian caves;Nor was he satisfied to learn the soundOf Jove's brass cauldron, 'mid Dodona's oaks,By her primaeval fruits the nurse of men:Nor sought he sages who by flight of birds,Or watching with Assyrian care the starsAnd fires of heaven, or by victims slain,May know the fates to come; nor any sourceLawful though secret. For to him was knownThat which excites the hate of gods above;Magicians' lore, the savage creed of DisAnd all the shades; and sad with gloomy ritesMysterious altars. For his frenzied soulHeaven knew too little. And the spot itselfKindled his madness, for hard by there dweltThe brood of Haemon whom no storied witchOf fiction e'er transcended; all their artIn things most strange and most incredible;There were Thessalian rocks with deadly herbsThick planted, sensible to magic chants,Funereal, secret: and the land was fullOf violence to the gods: the Queenly guestFrom Colchis gathered here the fatal rootsThat were not in her store: hence vain to heavenRise impious incantations, all unheard;For deaf the ears divine: save for one voiceWhich penetrates the furthest depths of airCompelling e'en th' unwilling deitiesTo hearken to its accents. Not the careOf the revolving sky or starry poleCan call them from it ever. Once the soundOf those dread tones unspeakable has reachedThe constellations, then nor BabylonNor secret Memphis, though they open wideThe shrines of ancient magic and entreatThe gods, could draw them from the fires that smokeUpon the altars of far Thessaly.To hearts of flint those incantations bringLove, strange, unnatural; the old man's breastBurns with illicit fire. Nor lies the powerIn harmful cup nor in the juicy pledgeOf love maternal from the forehead drawn;Charmed forth by spells alone the mind decays,By poisonous drugs unharmed. With woven threadsCrossed in mysterious fashion do they bindThose whom no passion born of beauteous formOr loving couch unites. All things on earthChange at their bidding; night usurps the day;The heavens disobey their wonted laws;At that dread hymn the Universe stands still;And Jove while urging the revolving wheelsWonders they move not. Torrents are outpouredBeneath a burning sun; and thunder roarsUncaused by Jupiter. From their flowing locksVapours immense shall issue at their call;When falls the tempest seas shall rise and foamMoved by their spell; though powerless the breezeTo raise the billows. Ships against the windWith bellying sails move onward. From the rockHangs motionless the torrent: rivers runUphill; the summer heat no longer swellsNile in his course; Maeander's stream is straight;Slow Rhone is quickened by the rush of Saone;Hills dip their heads and topple to the plain;Olympus sees his clouds drift overhead;And sunless Scythia's sempiternal snowsMelt in mid-winter; the inflowing tidesDriven onward by the moon, at that dread chantEbb from their course; earth's axes, else unmoved,Have trembled, and the force centripetalHas tottered, and the earth's compacted frameStruck by their voice has gaped, till through the voidMen saw the moving sky. All beasts most fierceAnd savage fear them, yet with deadly aidFurnish the witches' arts. Tigers athirstFor blood, and noble lions on them fawnWith bland caresses: serpents at their wordUncoil their circles, and extended glideAlong the surface of the frosty field;The viper's severed body joins anew;And dies the snake by human venom slain.Whence comes this labour on the gods, compelledTo hearken to the magic chant and spells,Nor daring to despise them? Doth some bondControl the deities? Is their pleasure so,Or must they listen? and have silent threatsPrevailed, or piety unseen receivedSo great a guerdon? Against all the godsIs this their influence, or on one aloneWho to his will constrains the universe,Himself constrained? Stars most in yonder climeShoot headlong from the zenith; and the moonGliding serene upon her nightly courseIs shorn of lustre by their poisonous chant,Dimmed by dark earthly fires, as though our orbShadowed her brother's radiance and barredThe light bestowed by heaven; nor freshly shinesUntil descending nearer to the earthShe sheds her baneful drops upon the mead.
Hac ubi damnata fatis tellure locaruntCastra duces, cunctos belli praesaga futuriMens agitat, summique gravem discriminis horamAdventare palam est. Propius iam fata moveri,Degeneres trepidant animi, peioraque versant,Ad dubios pauci, praesumto robore, casusSpemque metumque ferunt. Turbae sed mixtus inertiSextus erat, Magno proles indigna parente,Qui mox, Scyllaeis exsul grassatus in undis,Polluit aequoreos Siculus pirata triumphos.Qui stimulante metu fati praenoscere cursus,Impatiensque morae, venturisque omnibus aeger,Non tripodas Deli, non Pythia consulit antra,Nec quaesisse libet, primis quid frugibus altrixAere Iovis Dodona sonet, quis noscere fibraFata queat, quis prodat aves, quis fulgura coeliServet, et Assyria scrutetur sidera cura,Aut si quid tacitum, sed fas, erat. Ille superuisDetestanda deis saevorum arcana magorumNoverat, et tristes sacris feralibus aras,Umbrarum Ditisque fidem: miseroque liquebat,Scire parum superos. Vanum saevumque furoremAdiuvat ipse locus, vicinaque moenia castrisHaemonidum, ficti quas nulla licentia monstriTransierit, quarum, quidquid non creditur, ars est.Thessala quin etiam tellus herbasque nocentesRupibus ingenuit, sensuraque saxa canentesArcanum ferale Magos. Ibi plurima surguntVim factura deis: et terris hospita ColchisLegit in Haemoniis, quas non advexerat, herbas.Impia tot populis, tot surdas gentibus auresCoelicolum dirae convertunt carmina gentis.Una per aethereos exit vox illa recessus,Verbaque ad invitum perfert cogentia numen,Quod non cura poli coelique volubilis umquamAvocat. Infandum tetigit cum sidera murmur,Tunc, Babylon Persea licet secretaque MemphisOmne vetustorum solvat penetrale Magorum,Abducit superos alienis Thessalis aris.Carmine Thessalidum dura in praecordia fluxitNon fatis adductus amor: flammisque severiIllicitis arsere senes. Nec noxia tantumPocula proficiunt aut cum turgentia succoFrontis amaturae subducunt pignora fetae.Mens hausti nulla sanie polluta veneniExcantata perit. Quos non concordia mixtiAdligat ulla tori, blandaque potentia formae,Traxerunt torti magica vertigine fili.Cessavere vices rerum: dilataque longaHaesit nocte dies. Legi non paruit aether:Torpuit et praeceps audito carmine mundus:Axibus et rapidis impulsos Iuppiter urgensMiratur non ire polos. Nunc omnia complentImbribus, et calido producunt nubila Phoebo:Et tonat ignaro coelum Iove. Vocibus isdemHumentes late nebulas nimbosque solutisExcussere comis. Ventis cessantibus, aequorIntumuit: rursus vetitum sentire procellasConticuit, turbante Noto: puppimque ferentesIn ventum tumuere sinus. De rupe pependitAbscisa fixus torrens: amnisque cucurritNon qua pronus erat. Nilum non extulit aestas:Maeander direxit aquas: Rhodatumque morantemPraecipitavit Arar: submitso verice montesExplicuere iugum. Nubes suspexit Olympus:Solibus et nullis Scythicae, cum bruma rigeret,Dimaduere nives. Impulsam sidere TethynRepulit Haemonidum, defenso litore, carmen.Terra quoque immoti concussit ponderis axem,Et medium vergens nisu titubavit in orbem.Tantae molis onus percussum voce recessit,Prospectumque dedit circumlabentis Olympi.Omne potens animal leti, genitumque nocere,Et pavet Haemonias, et mortibus instruit artes.Has avidae tigres et nobilis ira leonumOre fovent blando: gelidos his explicat orbes,Inque pruinoso coluber distenditur arvo.Viperei coeunt, abrupto corpore, nodi:Humanoque cadit serpens adflata veneno.Quis labor hic superis, cantus herbasque sequendi,Spernendique timor? cuius commercia pactiObstrictos habuere deos? Parere necesse est,An iuvat? Ignota tantum pietate merentur,An tacitis valuere minis? Hoc iuris in omnesEst illis superos, an habent haec carmina certumImperiosa deum, qui mundum cogere, quidquidCogitur ipse, potest? Illic et sidera primumPraecipiti deducta polo: Phoebeque serenaNon aliter, diris verborum obsessa venenis,Palluit, et nigris terrenisque ignibus arsit,Quam si fraterna prohiberet imagine tellus,Insereretque suas flammis coelestibus umbras:Et patitur tantos cantu deprensa labores,Donec suppositas propior despumet in herbas.