These sinful rites and these her sister's songsAbhorred Erichtho, fiercest of the race,Spurned for their piety, and yet viler artPractised in novel form. To her no homeBeneath a sheltering roof-her direful headThus to lay down were crime: deserted tombsHer dwelling-place, from which, darling of hell,She dragged the dead. Nor life nor gods forbadBut that she knew the secret homes of StyxAnd learned to hear the whispered voice of ghostsAt dread mysterious meetings. Never sunShed his pure light upon that haggard cheekPale with the pallor of the shades, nor lookedUpon those locks unkempt that crowned her brow.In starless nights of tempest crept the hagOut from her tomb to seize the levin bolt;Treading the harvest with accursed footShe burned the fruitful growth, and with her breathPoisoned the air else pure. No prayer she breathedNor supplication to the gods, nor knewThe pulse of entrails: logs from flaming pyresShe loves to cast on altars of the gods,And incense pilfered from the smoking tomb.The gods at her first utterance grant her prayerFor things unlawful, lest they hear againIts fearful accents: men whose limbs were quickWith vital power she thrust within the graveDespite the fates who owed them years to come:The funeral reversed brought from the tombThose who were dead no longer; and the pyreYields to her shameless clutch still smoking dustAnd bones enkindled, torches which but nowSome grieving father held, and fragments mixedIn sable smoke and ceremental clothsSinged with the redolent fire that burned the dead.But those who lie within a stony cellUntouched by fire, whose dried and mummied framesNo longer know corruption, limb by limbVenting her rage she tears, the bloodless eyesDrags from their cavities, and mauls the nailUpon the withered hand: she gnaws the nooseBy which some wretch has died, and from the treeDrags down a pendent corpse, its members tornAsunder to the winds: forth from the palmsWrenches the iron, and from the unbending bondHangs by her teeth, and with her hands collectsThe slimy gore which drips upon the limbs.Where lay a corpse upon the naked earthOn ravening birds and beasts of prey the hagKept watch, nor marred by knife or hand her spoil,Till on his victim seized some nightly wolf;Then dragged the morsel from his thirsty fangs;Nor fears she murder, if some banquet fellNeed blood fresh issued from the gaping throat,Or panting entrail. By unnatural meansWombs yield to her the infant to be placedOn glowing altars: and whene'er she needsSome fierce undaunted ghost, he fails not herWho has all deaths in use. Her hand has chasedFrom smiling cheeks the rosy bloom of life;And with sinister hand from dying youthHas shorn the fatal lock: and holding oftIn foul embraces some departed friendSevered the head, and through the ghastly lips,Held by her own apart, some impious taleDark with mysterious horror hath conveyedDown to the darkness of the Stygian shades.When Sextus first, through rumours of the place,Heard of the hag, what time beneath the earthTitan was wheeling at full height, and hereNight in mid course, in quest of her he trodThrough desert fields. Meanwhile a faithful band,His ministers of guilt, mid tombs and vaultsAll ruined wandering, beheld the witchSeated afar upon a lofty cragWhere Haemus reaches out Pharsalian spurs.There was she proving for her gods and priestsOf magic, words unknown, and framing chantsOf dire and novel purpose: for she fearedLest Mars should stray into another world,And spare Thessalian soil the blood ere longTo flow in torrents; and thus she forbadePhilippi's field, polluted with her song,Thick with her poisonous distilments sown,To let the war pass by. Such deaths, she hopes,Soon shall be hers! the blood of all the worldShed for her use! to her it shall be givenTo sever from their trunks the heads of kings,Plunder the ashes of the noble dead,Italia's bravest, and in triumph addThe mightiest warriors to her host of shades.This her sole toil, from Magnus' tombless corseWhat she may snatch, on which of Caesar's limbsHer grasp may fasten.To whom the coward sonOf Magnus thus: 'Thou greatest ornamentOf Haemon's daughters, in whose power it liesOr to reveal the fates, or from its course'To turn the future, be it mine to know'By thy sure utterance to what final end'Fortune now guides the issue. Not the least'Of all the Roman host on yonder plainAm I, but Magnus' most illustrious son,Lord of the world or heir to death and doom.'The unknown affrights me: I can firmly faceThe certain terror. Bid my destinyYield to thy power the dark and hidden end,And let me fall foreknowing. From the godsExtort the truth, or, if thou spare the gods,Force it from hell itself. Fling back the gatesThat bar th' Elysian fields; let Death confess'Whom from our ranks he seeks. No humble taskI bring, but worthy of Erichtho's skillOf such a struggle fought for such a prizeTo search and tell the issue.'Then the witchPleased that her impious fame was noised abroadThus made her answer: 'If some lesser fates'Thy wish had been to change, against their wish'It had been easy to compel the gods'To its accomplishment. My art has powerWhen of one man the constellations pressThe speedy death, to compass a delay;.And mine it is, though every star decreesA ripe old age, by mystic herbs to shearThe life midway. But should some purpose setFrom the beginning of the universe,And all the labouring fortunes of mankind,'Be brought in question, then Thessalian art'Bows to the power supreme. But if thou beContent to know the issue pre-ordained,'Simple the task and plain; for earth and airAnd sea and space and Rhodopaean crags'Shall speak the future. Yet it easiest seemsWhere death in these Thessalian fields abounds'To raise a single corpse. From dead men's lipsScarce cold, in fuller accents falls the voice;Not from some mummied frame in accents shrillUncertain to the ear.'
Hos scelerum ritus, haec dirae carmina gentisEffera damnarat nimiae pietatis Erichtho,Inque novos ritus pollutam duxerat artem.Illi namque nefas urbis submittere tectoAut laribus ferale caput: desertaque bustaIncolit, et tumulos expulsis obtinet umbris,Grata deis erebi. Coetus audire silentum,Nosse domos Stygias arcanaque Ditis operti,Non superi, non vita vetat. Tenet ora profanaeFoeda situ macies, coeloque ignota serenoTerribilis Stygio facies pallore gravatur,Impexis onerata comis. Si nimbus et atraeSidera subducunt nubes, tunc Thessala nudisEgreditur bustis, nocturnaque fulgura captat.Semina foecundae segetis calcata perussit,Et non letiferas spirando perdidit auras.Nec superos orat, nec cantu supplice numenAuxiliare vocat, nec fibras illa litantesNovit: funereas aris imponere flammasGaudet, et accenso rapuit quae tura sepulcro.Omne nefas superi prima iam voce precantisConcedunt, carmenque timent audire secundum.Viventes animas, et adhuc sua membra regentes,Infodit busto: fatis debentibus annosMors invita subit: perversa funera pompaRetulit a tumulis: fugere cadavera letum.Fumantes iuvenum cineres, ardentiaque ossaE mediis rapit illa rogis, ipsamque, parentesQuam tenuere, facem: nigroque volantia fumoFeralis fragmenta tori, vestesque fluentesColligit in cineres et olentes membra favillas.Ast ubi servantur saxis, quibus intimus humorDucitur, et tracta durescunt tabe medullaeCorpora; tunc omnes avide desaevit in artus,Immersitque manus oculis, gaudetque gelatosEffodisse orbes, et siccae pallida roditExcrementa manus: laqueum nodosque nocentesOre suo rupit: pendentia corpora carpsit,Abrasitque cruces: percussaque viscera nimbisVulsit, et incoctas admisso sole medullas.Insertum manibus chalybem, nigramque per artusStillantis tabi saniem, virusque coactumSustulit, et nervo morsus retinente pependit.Et quodcumque iacet nuda tellure cadaver,Ante feras volucresque sedet: nec carpere membraVult ferro manibusque suis, morsusque luporumExspectat, siccis raptura a faucibus artus.[Nec cessant a caede manus, si sanguine vivo][Est opus, erumpat iugulo qui primus aperto.]Nec refugit caedes, vivum si sacra cruorem,Extaque funereae poscunt trepidantia mensae.Vulnere sic ventris, non, qua natura vocabat,Extrahitur partus, calidis ponendus in aris.Et quoties saevis opus est ac fortibus umbris,Ipsa facit manes: hominum mors omnis in usu est.Illa genae florem primaevo corpore vulsit,Illa comam laeva morienti abscidit ephebo.Saepe etiam caris cognato in funere diraThessalis incubuit membris: atque oscula figens,Truncavitque caput, compressaque dentibus oraLaxavit: siccoque haerentem gutture linguamPraemordens, gelidis infudit murmura labris,Arcanumque nefas Stygias mandavit ad umbras.Hanc ut fama loci Pompeio prodidit: altaNocte poli, Titan medium quo tempore ducitSub nostra tellure diem, deserta per arvaCarpit iter. Fidi scelerum suetique ministri,Effractos circum tumulos ac busta vagati,Conspexere procul praerupta in caute sedentem,Qua iuga devexus Pharsalica porrigit Aemus.Ilia magis magicisque deis incognita verbaTentabat, carmenque novos fingebat in usus.Namque, timens, ne Mars alium vagus iret in orbem,Emathis et tellus tam multa caede careret,Pollutos cantu dirisque venefica succisConspersos vetuit transmittere bella Philippos,Tot mortes habitura suas, usuraque mundiSanguine: caesorum truncare cadavera regumSperat, et Hesperiae cineres avertere gentis,Ossaque nobilium, tantosque adquirere manes.Hic ardor, solusque labor, quid corpore MagniProiecto rapiat, quos Caesaris involet artus.Quam prior adfatur Pompeii ignava propago:O decus Haemonidum, populis quae pandere fata,Quaeque suo ventura potes divertere cursu,Te precor, ut certum liceat mihi noscere finem,Quem belli Fortuna paret. Non ultima turbaePars ego Romanae: Magni clarissima proles,Vel dominus rerum, vel tanti funeris heres.Mens dubiis percussa pavet, rursusque parata estCertos ferre metus. Hoc casibus eripe iuris,Ne subiti caecique ruant: vel numina torque,Vel tu parce deis, et Manibus exprime verumElysias resera sedes, ipsamque vocatam,Quos petat e nobis, Mortem tibi coge fateri.Non humilis labor est: dignum, quod quaerere cures,Vel tibi, quo tanti praeponderet alea fati.Impia vulgatae laetatur nomine famaeThessalis, et contra: Si fata minora moveres,Pronum erat, o iuvenis, quos velles, inquit, in actusInvitos praebere deos. Conceditur arti,Unam cum radiis presserunt sidera mortem,Inseruisse moras: et, quamvis fecerit omnisStella senem, medios herbis abrumpimus annos.At simul a prima descendit origine mundiCaussarum series, atque omnia fata laborant,Si quidquam mutare velis, unoque sub ictuStat genus humanum tunc, Thessala turba fatemur,Plus fortuna potest. Sed si praenoscere casusContentus, facilesque aditus multique patebuntAd verum: tellus nobis, aetherque, chaosque,Aequoraque, et campi, Rhodopaeaque saxa loquentur.Sed pronum, cum tanta novae sit copia mortis,Emathiis unum campis adtollere corpus,Ut modo defuncti tepidique cadaveris oraPlena voce sonent nec, membris sole perustis,Auribus incertum feralis strideat umbra.
Thus spake the hagAnd through redoubled night, a squalid veilSwathing her pallid features, stole amongUnburied carcases. Fast fled the wolves,The carrion birds with maw unsatisfiedRelaxed their talons, as with creeping stepShe sought her prophet. Firm must be the fleshAs yet, though cold in death, and firm the lungsUntouched by wound. Now in the balance hungThe fates of slain unnumbered; had she strivenArmies to raise and order back to lifeWhole ranks of warriors, the laws had failedOf Erebus; and, summoned up from Styx,Its ghostly tenants had obeyed her call,And rising fought once more. At length the witchPicks out her victim with pierced throat agapeFit for her purpose. Gripped by pitiless hookO'er rocks she drags him to the mountain caveAccursed by her fell rites, that shall restoreThe dead man's life. Close to the hidden brinkThe land that girds the precipice of hellSinks towards the depths: with ever falling leavesA wood o'ershadows, and a spreading yewCasts shade impenetrable. Foul decayFills all the space, and in the deep recessDarkness unbroken, save by chanted spells,Reigns ever. Not where gape the misty jawsOf caverned Taenarus, the gloomy boundOf either world, through which the nether kingsPermit the passage of the dead to earth,So poisonous, mephitic, hangs the air.Nay, though the witch had power to call the shadesForth from the depths, 'twas doubtful if the caveWere not a part of hell. Discordant huesFlamed on her garb as by a fury worn;Bare was her visage, and upon her browDread vipers hissed, beneath her streaming locksIn sable coils entwined. But when she sawThe youth's companions trembling, and himselfWith eyes cast down, with visage as of death,Thus spake the witch: ' Forbid your craven souls'These fears to cherish: soon returning life'This frame shall quicken, and in tones which reachEven the timorous ear shall speak the man.'If I have power the Stygian lakes to show,The bank that sounds with fire, the fury band,'And giants fettered, and the hound that shakes'Bristling with heads of snakes his triple head,What fear is this that cringes at the sightOf timid shivering shades? 'Then to her prayer.First through his gaping bosom blood she poursStill fervent, washing from his wounds the gore.Then copious poisons from the moon distilsMixed with all monstrous things which Nature's pangsBring to untimely birth; the froth from dogsStricken with madness, foaming at the stream;A lynx's entrails: and the knot that growsUpon the fell hyaena; flesh of stagsFed upon serpents; and the sucking fishWhich holds the vessel back though eastern windsMake bend the canvas; dragon's eyes; and stonesThat sound beneath the brooding eagle's wings.Nor Araby's viper, nor the ocean snakeWho in the Red Sea waters guards the shell,Are wanting; nor the slough on Libyan sandsBy horned reptile cast; nor ashes failSnatched from an altar where the Phoenix died.And viler poisons many, which herselfHas made, she adds, whereto no name is given:Pestiferous leaves pregnant with magic chantsAnd blades of grass which in their primal growthHer cursed mouth had slimed. Last came her voiceMore potent than all herbs to charm the godsWho rule in Lethe. Dissonant murmurs firstAnd sounds discordant from the tongues of menShe utters, scarce articulate: the bayOf wolves, and barking as of dogs, were mixedWith that fell chant; the screech of nightly owlRaising her hoarse complaint; the howl of beastAnd sibilant hiss of snake-all these were there;And more-the wail of waters on the rock,The sound of forests and the thunder peal.Such was her voice; but soon in clearer tonesReaching to Tartarus, she raised her song:' Ye awful goddesses, avenging power' Of Hell upon the damned, and Chaos huge' Who striv'st to mix innumerable worlds,' And Pluto, king of earth, whose weary soul' Grieves at his godhead; Styx; and plains of bliss' We may not enter: and thou, Proserpine,' Hating thy mother and the skies above,' My patron goddess, last and lowest form' Of Hecate, through whom the shades and I' Hold silent converse; warder of the gate' Who castest human offal to the dog:' Ye sisters who shall spin the threads again;' And thou, O boatman of the burning wave,' Now wearied of the shades from hell to me' Returning, hear me if with voice I cry' Abhorred, polluted; if the flesh of man' Hath ne'er been absent from my proffered song,Flesh washed with brains still quivering; if the childWhose severed head I placed upon the dishBut for this hand had lived-a listening earLend to my supplication! From the caves'Hid in the innermost recess of hell' I claim no soul long banished from the light.' For one but now departed, lingering still' Upon the brink of Orcus, is my prayer.Grant (for ye may) that listening to the spell'Once more he seek his dust; and let the shadeOf this our soldier perished (if the warWell at your hands has merited), proclaimThe destiny of Magnus to his son.'Such prayers she uttered; then upraised her headAnd foaming lips, and present saw the ghost.Hard by he stood, beside the hated corpseHis ancient prison, and loathed to enter in.There was the yawning chest where fell the blowThat was his death; and yet the gift supremeOf death, his right, (Ah, wretch! ) was reft away.Angered at Death the witch, and at the pauseConceded by the fates, with living snakeScourges the nerveless corse; and on the deadShe barks through fissures gaping to her song,Breaking the silence of their gloomy home:' Tisiphone, Megaera, heed ye not?Flies not this wretched soul before your whips' The void of Erebus? By your very names,' She-dogs of hell, I'll call you to the day,Not to return; through sepulchres and deathYour gaoler: from funereal urns and tombsI'll chase you forth. And thou, too, Hecate,Who to the gods in comely shape and mien,Not that of Erebus, appear'st, henceforthWasted and pallid as thou art in hell'At my command shalt come. I'll noise abroadThe banquet that beneath the solid earthHolds thee, thou maid of Enna; by what bond'Thou lov'st night's King, by what mysterious stainInfected, so that Ceres fears from hell'To call her daughter. And for thee, base king,'Titan shall pierce thy caverns with his raysAnd sudden day shall smite thee. Do ye hear?'Or shall I summon to mine aid that god'At whose dread name earth trembles; who can lookUnflinching on the Gorgon's head, and drive'The Furies with his scourge, who holds the depths' Ye cannot fathom, and above whose hauntsYe dwell supernal; who by waves of StyxForswears himself unpunished? '
Dixerat: et noctis geminatis arte tenebris,Moestum tecta caput squalenti nube, pererratCorpora caesorum, tumuli proiecta negatis.Continuo fugere lupi, fugere revulsisUnguibus impastae volucres, dum Thessala vatemEligit et gelidas leto scrutata medullasPulmonis rigidi stantes sine vulnere fibrasInvenit, et vocem defuncto in corpore quaerit.Fata peremptorum pendent iam multa virorum,Quem superis revocasse velit. Si tollere totasTentasset campis acies, et reddere bello,Cessissent leges Erebis monstroque potentiExtrartus Stygio populus pugnasset Averno.Electum tandem traiecto gutture corpusDucit, et inserto laqueis feralibus unco,Per scopolus miserum trahitur per saxa cadaverVicturum: montisque cavi, quem tristis ErichthoDamnarat sacris, alta sub rupe locatur.Haud procul a Ditis caecis depressa cavernisIn praeceps subsedit humus: quam pallida pronisUrget silva comis, et nullo vertice coelumSuspiciens, Phoebo non pervia taxus opacat.Marcentes intus tenebrae, pallensque sub antrisLonga nocte situs; numquam, nisi carmine factum,Lumen habet. Non Taenareis sic faucibus aerSedit iners, moestum mundi confine latentis,Ac nostri: quo non metuant emittere manesTartarei reges, Nam quamvis Thessala vatesVim faciat fatis, dubium est, quod traxerit illucAdspiciat Stygias, an quod descenderit, umbras.Discolor et vario furialis cultus amictuInduitur, vultusque aperitur, crine remoto,Et coma vipereis substringitur horrida sertis.Ut pavidos iuvenis comites, ipsumque trememtemConspicit, exanimi defixum lumina vultu:Ponite, ait, trepida conceptos mente timores:Iam nova, iam vera reddetur vita figura,Ut quamvis pavidi possint audire loquentem.Si vero Stygiosque lacus, ripamque sonantemIgnibus ostendam, si me praesente videriEumenides possent, villosaque colla colubrisCerberus excutiens, et vincti terga Gigantes,Quis timor, ignavi, metuentes cernere manes?Pectora tunc primum ferventi sanguine suppletVulneribus laxata Iovis: taboque medullasAbluit: et virus large lunare ministrat,Huc quidquid fetu genuit natura sinistroMiscetur. Non spuma canum, quibus unda timori est,Viscera non lyncis, non dirae nodus hyaenaeDefuit, et cervi pasti serpente medulla:Non puppim retinens, Euro tendente rudentes,In mediis echeneis aquis, oculique draconum,Quaeque sonant feta tepefacta sub alite saxa:Non Arabum volucer serpens, innataque rubrisAequoribus custos pretiosae vipera conchae:Aut viventis adhuc Libyci membrana cerastae,Aut cinis Eoa positi Phoenicia in ara.Quo postquam viles, nec habentes nomina pestesContulit: infando saturatas carmine frandes,Et, quibus os dirum nascentibus inspuit, herbasAddidit, et quidquid mundo dedit ipsa veneni:Tunc vox, Lethaeos cunctis pollentior herbisExcantare deos, confudit murmura primumDissona, et humanae multum discordia linguae.Latratus habet illa canum, gemitumque luporum:Quod trepidus bubo, quod strix nocturna queruntur,Quod stridunt ululantque ferae, quod sibilat anguis,Exprimit, et planctus illisae cautibus undae;Silvarumque sonum, fractaeque tonitrua nubis.Tot rerum vox una fuit. Mox cetera cantuExplicat Haemonio, penetratque in Tartara lingua:Eumenides, Stygiumque nefas, poenaeque nocentum:Et Chaos innumeros avidum confundere mundos:Et rector terrae, quem longa in saecula torquetMors dilata deum: Styx, et, quos nulla mereturThessalis Elysios: coelum matremque perosaPersephone, nostraeque Hecates pars ultima, per quamManibus et mihi sunt tacitae commercia linguae:Ianitor et sedis laxae, qui viscera saevoSpargis nostra cani: repetitaque fila sororesTracturae: tuque o flagrantis portitor undae,Iam lassate senex ad me redeuntibus umbris:Exaudite preces, si vos satis ore nefandoPollutoque voco, si numquam haec carmina fibrisHumanis ieiuna cano, si pectora plenaSaepe dedi, et lavi calido prosecta cerebro;Si quis, cum vestris caput extaque lancibus, infans,Imposui, victurus erat: parete precanti.Non in Tartareo latitantem poscimus antro,Adsuetamque dia tenebris, modo luce fugataDescendentem animam: primo pallentis hiatuHaeret adhuc Orci. Licet has exaudiat herbasAd manes ventura semel. Ducis omina natoPompeiana canat nostri modo militis umbra,Si bene de vobis civilia bella merentur.Haec ubi fata caput spumantiaque ora levavit,Adspicit adstantem proiecti corporis umbram,Exanimes artus invisaque claustra timentemCarceris antiqui. Pavet ire in pectus apertumVisceraque, et ruptas letali volnere fibras.Ah miser, extremum cui mortis munus iniqueEripitur, non posse mori. Miratur ErichthoHas fatis licuisse moras, irataque mortiVerberat immotum vivo serpente cadaver:Perque cavas terrae, quas egit carmine, rimasManibus illatrat, regnique silentia rupit:Tisiphone, vocisque meae secura Megaera,Non agitis saevis Erebi per inane flagellisInfelicem animam? Iam vos ego nomine veroEliciam, Stygiasque canes in luce supernaDestituam: per busta sequar, per funera custos;Expellam tumulis, abigam vos omnibus urnis.Teque deis, ad quos alio procedure vultuFicta soles, Hecate, pallenti tabida formaOstendam, faciemque Erebi mutare vetabo.Eloquar, immenso terrae sub pondere quae teContineant, Ennaea, dapes, qua foedere moestumRegem noctis ames, quae te contagia passamNoluerit revocare parens. Tibi, pessime mundiArbiter, immittam ruptis Titana cavernis,Et subito feriere die. Paretis? an illeCompellandus erit, quo numquam terra vocatoNon concussa tremit, qui Gorgona cernit apertam,Verberibusque suis trepidam castigat Erinnyn,Indespecta tenet vobis qui Tartara; cuiusVos estis, superi; Stygias qui peierat undas?
Then the bloodGrew warm and liquid, and with softening touchCherished the stiffened wounds and filled the veins,Till throbbed once more the slow returning pulseAnd every fibre trembled, as with deathLife was commingled. Then, not limb by limb,With toil and strain, but rising at a boundLeaped from the earth erect the living man.Fierce glared his eyes uncovered, and the lifeWas dim, and still upon his face remainedThe pallid hues of hardly parted death.Amazement seized upon him, to the earthBrought back again: but from his lips tight drawnNo murmur issued; he had power aloneWhen questioned to reply. 'Speak,' quoth the hag,As I shall bid thee; great shall be thy gainIf true thine answers, freed for evermoreFrom all Haemonian art. Such burial placeShall now be thine, and on thy funeral pyreSuch fatal woods shall burn, such chant shall sound,'That to thy ghost no more or magic songOr spell shall reach, and thy Lethaean sleepShall never more be broken in a death' From me received anew: for such reward' Think not this second life enforced in vain.' Obscure may be the answers of the gods' By priestess spoken at the holy shrine;' But whoso braves the oracles of death' In search of truth, should gain a sure response.' Then speak, I pray thee. Let the hidden fates' Tell through thy voice the mysteries to come.'Thus spake she, and her words by mystic forceGave him his answer; but with gloomy mien,And tears swift flowing, thus he made reply:'Called from the margin of the silent streamI saw no fateful sisters spin the threads.'Yet know I this, that 'mid the Roman shades'Reigns fiercest discord; and this impious war'Destroys the peace that ruled the fields of death.'Elysian meads and deeps of Tartarus'In paths diverse the Roman chieftains leave'And thus disclose the fates. The blissful ghostsBear visages of sorrow. Sire and son'The Decii, who gave themselves to death'In expiation of their country's doom,'And great Camillus, wept; and Sulla's shade'Complained of fortune. Scipio bewailed'The scion of his race about to fall' In sands of Libya: Cato, greatest foe' To Carthage, grieves for that indignant soul' Which shall disdain to serve. Brutus alone' In all the happy ranks I smiling saw,' First consul when the kings were thrust from Rome.' The chains were fallen from boastful Catiline.' Him too I saw rejoicing, and the pair' Of Marii, and Cethegus' naked arm.' The Drusi, heroes of the people, joyed,' In laws immoderate; and the famous pair' Of greatly daring brothers: guilty bands' By bars eternal shut within the doors' That close the prison of hell, applaud the fates,'Claiming the plains Elysian: and the King' Throws wide his pallid halls, makes hard the points' Of craggy rocks, and forges iron chains,' The victor's punishment. But take with thee'This comfort, youth, that there a calm abode,' And peaceful, waits thy father and his house.' Nor let the glory of a little span' Disturb thy boding heart: the hour shall come' When all the chiefs shall meet. Shrink not from death,' But glorying in the greatness of your souls,' E'en from your humble sepulchres descend,' And tread beneath your feet, in pride of place,' The wandering phantoms of the gods of Rome.' Which chieftain's tomb by Tiber shall be laved,' And which by Nile; their fate, and theirs alone,' This battle shall decide. Nor seek to know' From me thy fortunes: for the fates in time' Shall give thee all thy due; and thy great sire,' A surer prophet, in Sicilian fields'Shall speak thy future-doubting even he' What regions of the world thou shouldst avoid' And what shouldst seek. O miserable race!' Europe and Asia and Libya's plains,' Which saw your conquests, now shall hold alike' Your burial-place-nor has the earth for you' A happier land than this.'His task performed,He stands in mournful guise, with silent lookAsking for death again; yet could not dieTill mystic herb and magic chant prevailed.For nature's law, once used, had power no moreTo slay the corpse and set the spirit free.With plenteous wood she builds the funeral pyreTo which the dead man comes: then as the flamesSeized on his form outstretched, the youth and witchTogether sought the camp; and as the dawnNow streaked the heavens, by the hag's commandThe day was stayed till Sextus reached his tent,And mist and darkness veiled his safe return.
Protinus adstrictus caluit cruor, atraque fovitVulnera, et in venas extremaque membra cucurrit.Percussae gelido trepidant sub pectore fibrae:Et nova desuetis subrepens vita medullisMiscetur morti. Tunc omnis palpitat artus:Tenduntur nervi: nec se tellure cadaverPaulatim per membra levat, terraque repulsum est,Erectumque simul. Distento lumina rictuNudantur. Nondum facies viventis in illo,Iam morientis erat. Remanent pallorque rigorque;Et stupet illatus mundo. Sed murmure nulloOra adstricta sonant. Vox illi linguaque tantumResponsura datur. Dic, inquit Thessala, magna,Quod iubeo, mercede mihi: nam vera locutumImmunem toto mundi praestabimus aevoArtibus Haemoniis: tali tua membra sepulcro,Talibus exuram Stygio cum carmine silvis,Ut nullos cantata magos exaudiat umbra.Sit tanti, vixisse iterum: nec verba, nec herbaeAudebunt longae somnum tibi solvere Lethes,A me morte data. Tripodas vatesque deorumSors obscura decet; certus discedat, ab umbrisQuisquis vera petit duraeque oracula mortisFortis adit. Ne parce, precor. Da nomina rebus,Da loca, da vocem, qua mecum fata loquantur.Addidit et carmen, quo, quidquid consulit, umbramScire dedit. Moestum, fletu manante, cadaver,Tristia non equidem Parcarum stamina, dixit,Respexi, tacitae revocatus ab aggere ripae:Quod tamen e cunctis mihi noscere contigit umbris,Effera Romanos agitat discordia manes,Impiaque infernam ruperunt arma quietem.Elysias alii sedes, ac Tartara moestaDiversi liquere duces: quid fata pararent,Hi fecere palam. Tristis felicibus umbrisVultus erat. Vidi Decios, natumque patremque,Lustrales bellis animas, flentemque Camillum,Et Curios; Sullam de te, Fortuna, querentem.Deplorat Libycis perituram Scipio terrisInfaustam sobolem. Maior, Carthaginis hostis,Non servituri moeret Cato fata nepotis.Solum te Consul depulsis prime tyrannisBrute pias inter gaudentem vidimus umbras.Abruptis Catilina minax fractisque catenisExsulat, Mariique truces, nudique Cethegi.Vidi ego laetantes, popularia nomina, Drusos;Legibus immodicos, ausosque ingentia Gracchos.Aeternis chalybum nodis, et carcere DitisConstrictae plausere manus, camposque piorumPoscit turba nocens. Regni possessor inertiaPallentes aperit sedes, abruptaque saxaAsperat, et durum vinclis adamanta, paratquePoenam victori. Refer haec solatia tecum,O iuvenis, placido Manes patremque domumqueExspectare sinu, regnique in parte serenaPompeio servare locum. Nec gloria parvaeSollicitet vitae: veniet, quae misceat omnesHora duces. Properate mori, magnoque superbiQuamvis e parvis animo descendite bustis,Et Romanorum manes calcate deorum.Quem tumulum Nili, quem Tybridis adluat unda,Quaeritur, et ducibus tantum de funere pugna est.Tu fatur ne quaere tuum cognoscere: Parcae,Me reticente, dabunt: tibi certior omnia vatesIpse canet Siculis genitor Pompeius in arvis:Ille quoque incertus, quo te vocet, unde repellat,Quas iubeat vitare plagas, quae sidera mundi.Europam miseri, Libyamque Asiamque timete:Distribuit tumulos vestris Fortuna triumphis.O miseranda domus, toto nihil orbe videbisTutius Emathia. Sic postquam fata peregit,Stat vultu moestus tacito, mortemque reposcit.Carminibus magicis opus est, herbisque, cadaverUt cadat, et nequeunt animam sibi reddere fata,Consumto iam iure semel. Tum robore multoExstruit illa rogum: venit defunctus ad ignes;Accensa iuvenem positum strue liquit Erichtho,Tandem passa mori: Sextoque ad castra parentisIt comes: et coelo lucis ducente colorem,Dum ferrent tutos intra tentoria gressus,Iussa tenere diem densas nox praestitit umbras.