---
title: "Pharsalia · De Bello Civili"
author: "Lucan"
translator: "Sir Edward Ridley"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 16 of 21
url: https://scriptura.si/works/lucan-pharsalia/16/
cite: "Lucan, tr. Sir Edward Ridley, Pharsalia · De Bello Civili, section 16. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/lucan-pharsalia/16/"
---

# Pharsalia · De Bello Civili

*Lucan, tr. Sir Edward Ridley*

The civil war between Caesar and Pompey as dark epic, written under Nero by a poet he forced to die at twenty-five.

> Latin: ed. Karl Hermann Weise, from the Perseus Digital Library (canonical-latinLit, phi0917.phi001, CC BY-SA 4.0).

> English: Sir Edward Ridley, from the Perseus Digital Library (phi0917.phi001.perseus-eng2). Notes are not included.

> Rows follow the references the two texts share (line numbers), cut where both reach the end of a sentence.

## 16. Book VIII · lines 456–872

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/lucan-pharsalia/16/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/lucan-pharsalia/16/#p-N

[¶0] For Cyprus then
They shaped their course, whose altars more than all
The goddess loves who from the Paphian wave
Sprang, mindful of her birth, if such be truth,
And gods have origin. Past the craggy isle
Pompeius sailing, left at length astern
Its southern cape, and struck across the main
With winds transverse and tides; nor reached the mount
Grateful to sailors for its nightly gleam:
But to the bounds of Egypt hardly won
With battling canvas, where divided Nile
Pours through the shallows his Pelusian stream.
Now was the season when the heavenly scale
Most nearly balances the varying hours,
Once only equal; for the wintry day
Repays to night her losses of the spring;
And Magnus learning that th' Egyptian king
Lay by Mount Casius, ere the sun was set
Or flagged his canvas, thither steered his ship.
Already had a horseman from the shore
In rapid gallop to the trembling court
Brought news their guest was come. Short was the time
For counsel given; but in haste were met
All who advised the base Pellaean king,
Monsters, inhuman; there Achoreus sat
Less harsh in failing years, in Memphis born
Of empty rites, and guardian of the rise
Of fertilising Nile. While he was priest
Not only once had Apis lived the space
Marked by the crescent on his sacred brow.
First was his voice, for Magnus raised and troth
And for the pledges of the king deceased:
But, skilled in counsel meet for shameless minds
And tyrant hearts, Pothinus, dared to claim
Judgment of death on Magnus. ' Laws and right
' Make many guilty, Ptolemaeus king.
' And faith thus lauded brings its punishment
' When it supports the fallen. To the fates
' Yield thee, and to the gods; the wretched shun
' But seek the happy. As the stars from earth
' Differ, and fire from ocean, so from right
'Expedience. The tyrant's shorn of strength
'Who ponders justice; and regard for right
'Brings ruin on a throne. The power to sin,
'Swords drawn at will, the tyrant king protect;
'And savage deeds find safety when they're done.
'Who would be righteous, let him flee the throne,
'For right's the bane of rule. He lives in dread
'Who shrinks from cruelty. Nor let this chief
'Unpunished scorn thy youth, who thinks that thou
'Not even the conquered from our shore canst bar.
'Nor to a stranger, if thou wouldst not reign,
'Resign thy sceptre, for the ties of blood
'Speak for thy banished sister. Let her rule
'O'er Nile and Pharos: we shall at the least
'Preserve our Egypt from the Latian arms.
'What Magnus owned not ere the war was done,
No more shall Caesar. Driven from all the world,
'Trusting no more to Fortune, now he seeks
'Some foreign nation which may share his fate.
'Shades of the slaughtered in the civil war
'Compel him: nor from Caesar's arms alone
'But from the Senate also does he fly,
'Whose blood outpoured has gorged Thessalian fowl;
'Monarchs he fears whose all he has destroyed,
'And nations piled in one ensanguined heap,
'By him deserted. Victim of the blow
'Thessalia dealt, refused in every land,
' He asks for help from ours not yet betrayed.
' But none than Egypt with this chief from Rome
' Has juster quarrel; who has sought with arms
' To stain our Pharos, distant from the strife
'And peaceful ever, and to make our realm
'Suspected by his victor. Why alone
'Should this our country please thee in thy fall?
' Why bring'st thou here the burden of thy fates,
' Pharsalia's curse? In Caesar's eyes long since
'We have offence which by the sword alone
' Can find its condonation, in that we
'By thy persuasion from the Senate gained
'This our dominion. By our prayers we helped
' If not by arms thy cause. This sword, which fate
' Bids us make ready, not for thee I hold
' Prepared, but for the vanquished; and thy heart
'(I had preferred thy kinsman's) shall I pierce:
' For to his side, as all things, are we borne.
' And dost thou doubt, since thou art in my power,
'Thou art my victim? By what trust in us
'Cam'st thou, unhappy? Scarce our people tills
' The fields, though softened by the refluent Nile:
' Know well our strength, and know we can no more.
'Rome 'neath the ruin of Pompeius lies:
'Shalt thou, O king, uphold him? Shalt thou dare
' To stir Pharsalia's ashes and to call
' War to thy kingdom? Ere the fight was fought
' We joined not either army-shall we now
' Make Magnus friend whom all the world deserts?
'And fling a challenge to the conquering chief
'And all his proud successes? Fair is help
'Lent in disaster, yet reserved for those
'Whom fortune favours. Faith her friends selects
'Not from the wretched.'

> Latin: Tunc Cilicum liquere solum, Cyproque citatas
Immisere rates, nullas cui praetulit aras
Undae diva memor Paphiae, si numina nasci
Credimus, aut quemquam fas est coepisse deorum.
Haec ubi deseruit Pompeius litora, totos
Emensus Cypri scopulos, quibus exit in Austrum,
Inde maris vasti transverso vertitur aestu:
Nec tenuit gratum nocturno lumine montem,
Infimaque Aegypti pugnaci litora velo
Vix tetigit, qua dividui pars maxima Nili
In vada decurrit Pelusia septimus amnis.
Tempus erat, quo Libra pares examinat horas,
Non uno plus aequa die, noctique rependit
Lux minor hibernae verni solatia damni.
Comperit ut regem Casio se monte tenere,
Flectit iter: nec Phoebus adhuc, nec carbasa languent.
Iam rapido speculator eques per litora cursu
Hospitis adventu pavidam compleverat aulam.
Consilii vix tempus erat: tamen omnia monstra
Pellaeae colere domus: quos inter Achoreus,
Iam placidus senio, fractisque modestior annis,
(Hunc genuit, custos Nili crescentis in arva,
Memphis vana sacrit; illo cultore deorum
Lustra suae Phoebes non unus vixerat Apis)
Consilii vox prima fuit; meritumque, fidemque,
Sacraque defuncti iactavit pignora patris.
Sed, melior suadere malis, et nosse tyrannos,
Ausus Pompeium leto damnasse Pothinus:
Ius et fas multos faciunt, Ptolemaee, nocentes.
Dat poenas laudata fides, cum sustinet, inquit,
Quos Fortuna premit. Fatis accede deisque,
Et cole felices; miseros fuge. Sidera terra
Ut distant, ut flamma mari, sic utile recto.
Sceptrorum vis tota perit, si pendere iusta
Incipit: evertitque arces respectus honesti.
Libertas scelerum est, quae regna invisa tuetur,
Sublatusque modus gladiis. Facere omnia saeve
Non impune licet, nisi cum facis. Exeat aula,
Qui vult esse pius. Virtus et summa potestas
Non coeunt: semper metuet, quem saeva pudebunt.
Non impune tuos Magnus contemserit annos;
Qui te nec victos arcere a litore nostro
Posse putat. Neu te sceptris privaverit hospes,
Pignora sunt propiora tibi: Nilonque Pharonque,
Si regnare piget, damnatae redde sorori.
Aegyptum certe Latiis tueamur ab armis.
Quidquid non fuerit Magni, dum bella geruntur,
Nec victoris erit. Toto iam pulsus ab orbe,
Postquam nulla manet rerum fiducia, quaerit,
Cum qua gente cadat: rapitur civilibus umbris.
Nec soceri tantum arma fugit: fugit ora senatus,
Cuius Thessalicas saturat pars magna volucres:
Et metuit gentes, quas uno in sanguine mixtas
Deseruit: regesque timet, quorum omnia mersit:
Thessaliaeque reus, nulla tellure receptus,
Sollicitat nostrum, quem nondum prodidit, orbem.
Iustior in Magnum nobis, Ptolemaee, querelae
Caussa data est. Quid sepositam semperque quietam
Crimine bellorum maculas Pharon, arvaque nostra
Victori suspecta facis? cur sola cadenti
Haec placuit tellus, in quam Pharsalica fata
Conferres, poenasque tuas? Iam crimen habemus,
Purgandum gladio, quod nobis sceptra senatus
Te suadente dedit. Votis tua fovimus arma.
Hoc ferrum, quod fata iubent proferre, paravi
Non tibi, sed victo. Feriam tua viscera, Magne:
Malueram soceri: rapimur, quo cuncta feruntur.
Tene mihi dubitas an sit violare necesse,
Cum liceat? Quae te nostri fiducia regni
Huc agit, infelix? Populum non cernis inermem,
Arvaque vix refluo fodientem mollia Nilo?
Metiri sua regna decet viresque fateri.
Tu, Ptolemaee, potes Magni fulcire ruinam,
Sub qua Roma iacet? bustum cineresque movere
Thessalicos audes, bellumque in regna vocare?
Ante aciem Emathiam nullis accessimus armis:
Pompeii nunc castra placent, quae deserit orbis?
Nunc, victoris opes et cognita fata lacessis?
Adversis non deesse decet, sed laeta secutos.
Nulla fides umquam miseros elegit amicos.

[¶1] Then they all decree
The crime's accomplishment. Proud is the boy king
Of such unwonted honour, that his slaves
So soon give power for so great a deed.
They choose Achillas for the work of death;
And where the treacherous shore in Casian sands
Runs out, and shallow waters of the sea
Attest the Syrtes near, in little boat
He and his partners in the monstrous crime
With swords embark. Ye gods! and shall the Nile
And barbarous Memphis and th' effeminate crew
That throngs Pelusian Canopus raise
Its thoughts to such an enterprise? Do thus
Our fates press on the world? Is Rome thus fallen
That in our civil frays the Pharian sword
Finds place, or Egypt? 0, may civil war
Be thus far faithful that the hand which strikes
Be of our kindred; and the foreign fiend
Held worlds apart! Pompeius, great in soul,
Noble in spirit, had deserved a death
From Caesar's self. And, king, hast thou no fear
At such a ruin of so great a name?
And dost thou dare when heaven's high thunder rolls,
Thou, puny boy, to mingle with its tones
Thine impure utterance? Had he not won
A world by arms, and thrice in triumph scaled
The sacred Capitol, and vanquished kings,
And championed the Roman Senate's cause;
He, kinsman of the victor? 'Twas enough
To cause forbearance in a Pharian king,
That he was Roman. Wherefore with thy sword
Dost stab our breasts? Thou know'st not, impious boy,
How stand thy fortunes; now no more by right
Hast thou the sceptre of the land of Nile;
For prostrate, vanquished in the civil wars
Is he who gave it.
Furling now his sails,
Magnus with oars approached th' accursed land,
When in their little boat the murderous crew
Drew nigh. and feigning from th' Egyptian court
A ready welcome, blamed the double tides
Broken by shallows, and their scanty beach
Unfit for fleets; and bade him to their craft
Leaving his loftier ship. Had not the fates'
Eternal and unalterable laws
Called for their victim and decreed his end
Now near at hand, his comrades' warning voice
Yet might have stayed his course: for if the court
To Magnus, who bestowed the Pharian crown,
In truth were open, should not king and fleet
In pomp have come to greet him? But he yields:
The fates compel. Welcome to him was death
Rather than fear. But, rushing to the side,
His spouse would follow, for she dared not stay,
Fearing the guile. Then he, ' Abide, my wife,
And son, I pray you; from the shore afar
' Await my fortunes; mine shall be the life
' To test their honour.' But Cornelia still
Withstood his bidding, and with arms outspread
Frenzied she cried: ' And whither without me,
' Cruel, departest? Thou forbad'st me share
' Thy risks Thessalian; dost again command
' That I should part from thee? No happy star
' Breaks on our sorrow. If from every land
' Thou dost debar me, why didst turn aside
' In flight to Lesbos? On the waves alone
' Am I thy fit companion? ' Thus in vain,
Leaning upon the bulwark, dazed with dread;
Nor could she turn her straining gaze aside,
Nor see her parting husband. All the fleet
Stood silent, anxious, waiting for the end:
Not that they feared the murder which befell,
But lest their leader might with humble prayer
Kneel to the king he made.
As Magnus passed,
A Roman soldier from the Pharian boat,
Septimius, salutes him. Gods of heaven!
There stood he, minion to a barbarous king,
Nor bearing still the javelin of Rome;
But vile in all his arms; giant in form
Fierce, brutal, thirsting as a beast may thirst
For carnage. Didst thou, Fortune, for the sake
Of nations, spare to dread Pharsalus field
This savage monster's blows? Or dost thou place
Throughout the world, for thy mysterious ends,
Some ministering swords for civil war?
Thus, to the shame of victors and of gods,
This story shall be told in days to come:
A Roman swordsman, once within thy ranks,
Slave to the orders of a puny prince,
Severed Pompeius' neck. And what shall be
Septimius' fame hereafter? By what name
This deed be called, if Brutus wrought a crime?
Now came the end, the latest hour of all:
Rapt to the boat was Magnus, of himself
No longer master, and the miscreant crew
Unsheathed their swords; which when the chieftain saw
He swathed his visage, for he scorned unveiled
To yield his life to fortune; closed his eyes
And held his breath within him, lest some word,
Or sob escaped, might mar the deathless fame
His deeds had won. And when within his side
Achillas plunged his blade, nor sound nor cry
He gave, but calm consented to the blow
And proved himself in dying; in his breast
These thoughts revolving: ' In the years to come
' Men shall make mention of our Roman toils,
' Gaze on this boat, ponder the Pharian faith;
' And think upon thy fame and all the years
' While Fortune smiled: but for the ills of life
' How thou couldst bear them, this men shall not know
' Save by thy death. Then weigh thou not the shame
' That waits on thine undoing. Whoso strikes,
' The blow is Caesar's. Men may tear this frame
'And cast it mangled to the winds of heaven;
'Yet have I prospered, nor can all the gods
' Call back my triumphs. Life may bring defeat,
'But death no misery. If my spouse and son
'Behold me murdered, silently the more
' I suffer: admiration at my death
'Shall prove their love.' So did Pompeius die,
And so kept guard upon his thoughts in death.

> Latin: Adsensere omnes sceleri. Laetatur honore
Rex puer insueto, quod iam sibi tanta licere
Permittant famuli. Sceleri delectus Achillas.
Perfida qua tellus Casiis excurrit arenis,
Et vada testantur iunctas Aegyptia Syrtes,
Exiguam sociis monstri gladiisque carinam
Instruit. O superi, Nilusne et barbara Memphis,
Et Pelusiaci tam mollis turba Canopi
Hos animos? Sic fata premunt civilia mundum?
Sic Romana iacent? Ullusue in cladibus istis
Est locus Aegypto, Phariusque admittitur ensis?
Hanc certe servate fidem, civilia bella:
Cognatas praestate manus, externaque monstra
Pellite, si meruit tam claro nomine Magnus
Caesaris esse nefas. Tanti; Ptolemaee, ruinam
Nominis haud metuis coeloque tonante, profanas
Inseruisse manus, impure ac semivir, audes?
Non domitor mundi, nec ter Capitolia curru
Invectus, regumque potens, vindexque senatus,
Victorisque gener; Phario satis esse tyranno
Quod poterat, Romanus erat. Quid viscera nostra
Scrutaris gladio Nescis, puer improbe, nescis,
Quo tua sit fortuna loco: iam iure sine ullo
Nili sceptra tenes: cecidit civilibus armis,
Qui tibi regna dedit. Iam vento vela negarat
Magnus, et auxilio remorum infanda petebat
Litora: quem contra non longa vecta biremi
Adpulerat scelerata manus: Magnoque patere
Fingens regna Phari, celsae de puppe carinae
In parvam iubet ire ratem, litusque malignum
Incusat, bimaremque vadis frangentibus aestum,
Qui vetet externas terris advertere classes.
Quodnisi fatorum leges intentaque iussu
Ordinis aeterni miserae vicinia mortis
Damnatum leto traherent ad litora Magnum,
Non ulli comitum sceleris praesagia deerant:
Quippe, fides si pura foret, si regia Magno
Sceptrorum auctori vera pietate pateret,
Venturum tota Pharium cum classe tyrannum.
Sed cedit fatis, classemque relinquere iussus
Obsequitur, letumque iuvat praeferre timori.
Ibat in hostilem praeceps Cornelia puppim,
Hoc magis impatiens egresso deesse marito,
Quod metuit clades. Remane, temeraria coniunx,
Et tu, nate, precor, longeque e litore casus
Exspectate meos: et in hac cervice tyrannm
Explorate fidem, dixit. Sed dura vetanti
Tendebat geminas amens Cornelia palmas:
Quo sine me, crudelis, abis? Iterumne relinquor,
Thessalicis submota malis? Numquam omine laeto
Distrahimur miseri. Poteras non flectere puppim,
Cum fugeres, alio, latebrisque relinquere Lesbi,
Omnibus a terris si nos arcere parabas.
An tantum in fluctus placeo comes? Haec ubi frustra
Effudit, prima pendet tamen anxia puppe:
Attonitoque metu nec quoquam avertere visus,
Nec Magnum spectare potest. Stetit anxia classis
Ad ducis eventum, metuens non arma nefasque,
Sed ne submissis precibus Pompeius adoret
Sceptra sua donata manu. Transire parantem
Romanus Pharia miles de puppe salutat
Septimius: qui (pro superum pudor!) arma satelles
Regia gestabat posito deformia pilo:
Immanis, violentus, atrox, nullaque ferarum
Mitior in caedes. Quis non, Fortuna, putasset
Parcere te populis, quod bello haec dextra vacasset,
Thessaliaque procul tam noxia tela fugasses?
Disponis gladios, ne quo non fiat in orbe,
Heu, facinus civile tibi. Victoribus ipsis
Dedecus, et numquam superum caritura pudore
Fabula; Romanus regi sic paruit ensis,
Pellaeusque puer gladio tibi colla recidit,
Magne, tuo. Qua posteritas in saecula mittet
Septimium fama? scelus hoc quo nomine dicent,
Qui Bruti dixere nefas? Iam venerat horae
Terminus extremae, Phariamque ablatus in alnum
Perdiderat iam iura sui. Tunc stringere ferrum
Regia monstra parant. Ut vidit cominus enses,
Involvit vultus, atque, indignatus apertum
Fortunae praestare caput, tunc lumina pressit,
Continuitque animam, ne quas effundere voces
Posset, et aeternam fletu corrumpere tamam.
At postquam mucrone latus funestus Achillas
Perfodit, nullo gemitu consensit ad ictum,
Despexitque nefas, servatque immobile corpus,
Seque probat moriens, atque haec in pectore volvit:
Saecula Romanos numquam tacitura labores
Attendunt, aevumque sequens speculatur ab omni
Orbe ratem, Phariamque fidem. Nunc consule famae.
Fata tibi longae fluxerunt prospera vitae:
Ignorant populi, si non in morte probaris,
An scieris adversa pati. Ne cede pudori,
Auctoremque dole fati. Quacumque feriris,
Crede manum soceri. Spargant lacerentque licebit,
Sum tamen, o superi, felix, nullique potestas
Hoc auferre deo. Mutantur prospera vitae:
Non fit morte miser. Videt hanc Cornelia caedem,
Pompeiusque meus. Tanto patientius, oro,
Claude, dolor, gemitus: natus coniuxque, peremptum
Si mirantur, amant. Talis custodia Magno
Mentis erat: ius hoc animi morientis habebat.

[¶2] His spouse, less patient to behold the crime
Than to endure it, filled the airs with cries;
'0, husband, whom my wicked self hath slain!
'That lonely isle apart thy bane hath been
'And stayed thy coming. Caesar to the Nile
'Has won before us; for what other hand
'May do such work? But whosoe'er thou art
'Sent from the gods with power, for Caesar's ire,
'Or thine own sake, to slay, thou dost not know
'Where lies the heart of Magnus. Thou dost haste
To deal the blow as he would have it fall.
'Let me die first, and let him seeing bear
'An agony no less than death can bring.
'No freedom mine from blame of war. Alone
Of Roman wives, through oceans and through camps,
Fearing no fates, I followed him afield;
And in defeat when even monarchs feared
Received my husband. Did I then deserve
Thus to be left of thee, and didst thou seek
To spare me? And when rushing on thine end
Was I to live? Without the monarch's help
Death shall be mine, either by headlong leap
Beneath the waters; or some sailor's hand
Shall bind around this neck the fatal cord;
Or else some comrade, worthy of his chief,
Drive to my heart his blade for Magnus' sake,
And claim the service done to Caesar's arms.
What! does your cruelty withhold my fate?
Ah! still he lives, nor is it mine as yet
To win this freedom; they forbid me death,
Kept for the victor's triumph.' Thus she spake,
While friendly hands upheld her fainting form;
And sped the trembling vessel from the shore.
Men say that Magnus, when the deadly blows
Fell thick upon him, lost nor form divine,
Nor venerated mien; and as they gazed
Upon his lacerated head they marked
Still on his features anger with the gods.
For fierce Septimius in the very blow
Made yet more black his crime-unwound the folds
That swathed the face, and seized the noble head
And drooping neck ere yet was fled the life:
Then placed upon the bench; and with his blade
Slow at its hideous task, and blows unskilled
Hacked through the flesh and brake the knotted bone;
For yet man had not learned by swoop of sword
Deftly to lop the neck. Achillas claimed
The gory head dissevered. What! shalt thou
A Roman soldier, while thy blade yet reeks
From Magnus' slaughter, play the second part
To this base varlet of the Pharian king?
Nor bear thyself the bleeding trophy home?
Then, that the impious boy (ah! shameful fate)
Might know the features of the hero slain,
Seized by the locks, the dread of kings, which waved
Upon his stately front, on Pharian pike
The head was lifted; while almost the life
Gave to the tongue its accents, and the eyes
Were yet scarce glazed: that head at whose command
Was peace or war, that tongue whose eloquent tones
Would move assemblies, and that noble brow
On which were showered the rewards of Rome.
Nor to the tyrant did the sight suffice
To prove the murder done. The perishing flesh,
The tissues, and the brain he bids remove
By art nefarious: the shrivelled skin
Draws tight upon the bone; and poisonous juice
Gives to the face its lineaments in death.
Last of thy race, thou base degenerate boy,
About to perish soon, and yield the throne
To thine incestuous sister; while the Prince
From Macedon here in consecrated vault
Now rests, and ashes of the kings are closed
In mighty pyramids, and lofty tombs
Of thine unworthy fathers mark the graves;
Shall Magnus' body hither and thither borne
Be battered, headless, by the ocean wave?
Too much it troubled thee to guard the corse
Unmutilated, for his kinsman's eye
To witness! Such the fate which Fortune kept
With prosperous Pompeius to the end.
'Twas not for him in evil days some ray
Of light to hope for. Shattered from the height
Of power in one short moment to his death!
Years of unbroken victories balanced down
By one day's carnage! In his happy time
Heaven did not harass him, nor did she spare
In misery. Long Fortune held the hand
That dashed him down. Now beaten by the sands,
Torn upon rocks, the sport of ocean's waves
Poured through its wounds, his headless carcase lies,
Save by the lacerated trunk unknown.

> Latin: At non tam patiens Cornelia cernere saevum
Quam perferre nefas, miserandis aethera complet
Vocibus: o coniunx, ego te scelerata peremi:
Letiferae tibi caussa morae fuit avia Lesbos,
Et prior in Nili pervenit litora Caesar.
Nam cui ius alii sceleris? Sed, quisquis in istud
A superis immisse caput, vel Caesaris irae
Vel tibi prospiciens, nescis, crudelis, ubi ipsa
Viscera sint Magni: properas, atque ingeris ictus,
Qua votum est victo. Poenas non morte minores
Pendat, et ante meum videat caput. Haud ego culpa
Libera bellorum, quae matrum sola per undas
Et per castra comes, nullis absterrita fatis,
Victum, quod reges etiam timuere, recepi.
Hoc merui, coniux, in tuta puppe relinqui?
Perfide, parcebas? te fata extrema petente,
Vita digna fui? Moriar, nec munere regis.
Aut mihi praecipitem, nautae, permittite saltum,
Aut laqueum collo tortosque aptare rudentes:
Aut aliquis Magno dignus comes exigat ensem.
Pompeio praestare potest, quod Caesaris armis
Imputet. O saevi, properantem in fata tenetis
Vivis adhuc, coniux, et iam Cornelia non est
Iuris, Magne, sui. Prohibent accersere mortem:
Servor victori. Sic fata, interque suorum
Lapsa manus, rapitur, trepida fugiente carina.
At Magni cum terga sonent et pectora ferro,
Permansisse decus sacrae venerabile formae,
Iratamque deis faciem, nil ultima mortis
Ex habitu vultuque viri mutasse, fatentur
Qui lacerum videre caput. Nam saevus in ipso
Septimius sceleris maius scelus invenit actu:
Ac retegit sacros, scisso velamine, vultus
Semianimis Magni, spirantiaque occupat ora,
Collaque in obliquo ponit languentia transtro.
Tunc nervos venasque secat, nodosaque frangit
Ossa diu: nondum artis erat, caput ense rotare.
At postquam trunco cervix abscisa recessit,
Vindicat hoc Pharius dextra gestare satelles.
Degener atque operae, miles Romane, secundae,
Pompeii diro sacrum caput ense recidis,
Ut non ipse feras? Pro summi fata pudoris!
Impius ut Magnum nosset puer, illa verenda
Regibus hirta coma, et generosa fronte decora
Caesaries comprensa manu est, Pharioque veruto,
Dum vivunt vultus, atque os in murmura pulsant
Singultus animae, dum lumina nuda rigescunt,
Suffixum caput est, quo numquam bella iubente
Pax fuit: hoc leges, Campumque, et rostra movebat:
Hac facie Fortuna tibi Romana placebas.
Nec satis infando fuit hoc vidisse tyranno:
Vult sceleri superesse fidem. Tunc arte nefanda
Submota est capiti tabes: raptoque cerebro
Exsiccata cutis, putrisque effluxit ab alto
Humor, et infuso facies solidata veneno est.
Ultima Lageae stirpis, perituraque proles,
Degener, incestae sceptris cessure sororis,
Cum tibi sacrato Macedon servetur in antro,
Et regum cineres exstructo monte quiescant,
Cum Ptolemaeorum manes seriemque pudendam
Pyramides claudant, indignaque Mausolea:
Litora Pompeium feriunt, truncusque vadosis
Huc illuc iactatur aquis? Adeone molesta
Totum cura fuit socero servare cadaver?
Hac Fortuna fide Magni tam prospera fata
Pertulit: hac illum summo de culmine rerum
Morte petit, cladesque omnes exegit in uno
Saeva die, quibus immunes tot praestitit annos:
Pompeiusque fuit, qui numquam mixta videret
Laeta malis: felix nullo turbante deorum,
Et nullo parcente miser. Semel impulit illum
Dilata Fortuna manu. Pulsatur arenis,
Carpitur in scopulis, hausto per vulnera fluctu
Ludibrium pelagi: nullaque manente figura,
Una nota est Magno capitis factura revulsi.

[¶3] Yet ere the victor touched the Pharian sands
Some scanty rites to Magnus Fortune gave,
Lest he should want all burial. Pale with fear
Came Cordus, hasting from his hiding place;
Quaestor, he joined Pompeius on thy shore,
Idalian Cyprus, bringing in his train
A cloud of evils. Through the darkening shades
Love for the dead compelled his trembling steps,
Hard by the margin of the deep to search
And drag to land his master. Through the clouds
The moon shone sadly, and her rays were dim;
But by its hue upon the hoary main
He knew the body. In a fast embrace
He holds it, wrestling with the greedy sea,
And deftly watching for a refluent wave
Gains help to bring his burden to the land.
Then clinging to the loved remains, the wounds
Washed with his tears, thus to the gods he speaks,
And misty stars obscure: 'Here, Fortune, lies
Pompeius, thine: no costly incense rare
Or pomp of funeral he dares to ask;
Nor that the smoke rise heavenward from his pyre
With eastern odours rich; nor that the necks
Of pious Romans bear him to the tomb,
Their parent; while the forums shall resound
' With dirges; nor that triumphs won of yore
'Be borne before him; nor for sorrowing hosts
'To cast their weapons forth. Some little shell
He begs as for the meanest, laid in which
His mutilated corse may reach the flame.
Grudge not his misery the pile of wood
' Lit by this menial hand. Is't not enough
'That his Cornelia with dishevelled hair
' Weeps not beside him at his obsequies,
' Nor with a last embrace shall place the torch
' Beneath her husband dead, but on the deep
' Hard by still wanders? '
Burning from afar
He sees the pyre of some ignoble youth
Deserted of his own, with none to guard:
And quickly drawing from beneath the limbs
Some glowing logs, ' Whoe'er thou art,' he said,
Neglected shade, uncared for, dear to none,
Yet happier than Pompeius in thy death,
Pardon I ask that this my stranger hand
' Should violate thy tomb. Yet if to shades
'Be sense or memory, gladly shalt thou yield
'This from thy pyre to Magnus. 'Twere thy shame,
'Blessed with due burial, if his remains
Were homeless.' Speaking thus, the wood aflame
Back to the headless trunk at speed he bore,
Which hanging on the margin of the deep,
Almost the sea had won. In sandy trench
The gathered fragments of a broken boat,
Trembling, he placed around the noble limbs.
No pile above the corse nor under lay,
Nor was the fire beneath. Then as he crouched
Beside the blaze, ' 0, greatest chief,' he cried,
Majestic champion of Hesperia's name,
'If to be tossed unburied on the deep
Rather than these poor rites thy shade prefer,
'From these mine offices thy mighty soul
Withdraw, Pompeius. Injuries dealt by fate
Command this duty, lest some bird or beast
'Or ocean monster, or fierce Caesar's wrath
'Should venture aught upon thee. Take the fire;
All that thou canst; by Roman hand at least
'Enkindled. And should Fortune grant return
'To loved Hesperia's land, not here shall rest
'Thy sacred ashes; but within an urn
Cornelia, from this humble hand received,
Shall place them. Here upon a meagre stone
We draw the characters to mark thy tomb.
These letters reading may some kindly friend
'Bring back thine head, dissevered, and may grant
'Full funeral honours to thine earthly frame.'
Then did he cherish the enfeebled fire
Till Magnus' body mingled with its flames.
But now the harbinger of coming dawn
Had paled the constellations: he in fear
Seeks for his hiding place. Whom dost thou dread,
Madman, what punishment for such a crime,
For which thy fame by rumour trumpet-tongued
Has been sent down to ages? Praise is thine
For this thy work, at impious Caesar's hands;
Sure of a pardon, go; confess thy task,
And beg the head dissevered. But his work
Was still unfinished, and with pious hand
(Fearing some foe) he seizes on the bones
Now half consumed, and sinews; and the wave
Pours in upon them, and in shallow trench
Commits them to the earth; and lest some breeze
Might bear away the ashes, or by chance
Some sailor's anchor might disturb the tomb,
A stone he places, and with stick half burned
Traces the sacred name: Here Magnus lies.
And art thou, Fortune, pleased that such a spot
Should be his tomb which even Caesar's self
Had chosen, rather than permit his corse
To rest unburied? Why, with thoughtless hand
Confine his shade within the narrow bounds
Of this poor sepulchre? Where the furthest sand
Hangs on the margin of the baffled deep
Cabined he lies; yet where the Roman name
Is known, and Empire, such in truth shall be
The boundless measure of his resting-place.
Blot out this stone, this proof against the gods!
OEta finds room for Hercules alone,
And Nysa's mountain for the Bromian god;
Not all the lands of Egypt should suffice
For Magnus dead: and shall one Pharian stone
Mark his remains? Yet should no turf disclose
His title, peoples of the earth would fear
To spurn his ashes, and the sands of Nile
No foot would tread. But if the stone deserves
So great a name, then add his mighty deeds:
Write Lepidus conquered and the Alpine war,
And fierce Sertorius by his aiding arm
O'erthrown; the chariots which as knight he drove;
Cilician pirates driven from the main,
And Commerce safe to nations; Eastern kings
Defeated and the barbarous Northern tribes;
Write that from arms he ever sought the robe;
Write that content upon the Capitol
Thrice only triumphed he, nor asked his due.
What mausoleum were for such a chief
A fitting monument? This paltry stone
Records no syllable of the lengthy tale
Of honours: and the name which men have read
Upon the sacred temples of the gods,
And lofty arches built of hostile spoils,
On desolate sands here marks his lowly grave
With characters obscure, such as erect
No traveller could read, and Roman guest
Without a hand to guide would pass unseen.

> Latin: Ante tamen Pharias victor quam tangat arenas,
Pompeio raptim tumulum Fortuna paravit,
Ne iaceat nullo, vel ne meliore sepulchro.
E latebris pavidus decurrit ad aequora Cordus.
Quaestor ab Idalio Cinyraeae litore Cypri
Infaustus Magni fuerat comes. Ille per umbras
Ausus ferre gradum, victum pietate timorem
Compulit, ut mediis quaesitum corpus in undis
Duceret ad terram, traheretque ad litora Magnum.
Lucis moesta parum per densas Cynthia nubes
Praebebat; cano sed discolor aequore truncus
Conspicitur. Tenet ille ducem complexibus arctis,
Eripiente mari: nunc victus pondere tanto
Exspectat fluctus, pelagoque iuvante cadaver
Impellit. Postquam sicco iam litore sedit,
Incubuit Magno, lacrimasque effudit in omne
Vulnus, et ad superos obscuraque sidera fatur:
Non pretiosa petit cumulato ture sepulchra
Pompeius, Fortuna, tuus; non pinguis ad astra
Ut ferat e membris Eoos fumus odores,
Ut Romana suum gestent pia colla parentem,
Praeferat ut veteres feralis pompa triumphos,
Ut resonent cantu tristi fora, totus ut ignem
Proiectis moerens exercitus ambiat armis.
Da vilem Magno plebeii funeris arcam,
Quae lacerum corpus siccos effundat in ignes.
Robora non desint misero, nec sordidus ustor.
Sit satis, o superi, quod non Cornelia fuso
Crine iacet, subicique facem complexa maritum
Imperat, extremo sed abest a munere busti
Infelix coniux, nec adhuc a litore longe est.
Sic fatus, parvos iuvenis procul adspicit ignes,
Corpus, vile suis, nullo custode cremantes.
Inde rapit flammas, semiustaque robora membris
Subducens, Quaecumque es, sit, neglecta, nec ulli
Cara tuo, sed Pompeio felicior umbra,
Quod iam compositum violat manus hospita bustum,
Da veniam; si quid sensus post fata relictum est,
Cedis et ipsa rogo, paterisque haec damna sepulchri,
Teque pudet sparsis Pompeii manibus, uri.
Sic fatur, plenusque sinus ardente favilla
Pervolat ad truncum; qui fluctu paene relatus
Litore pendebat. Summas dimovit arenas,
Et collecta procul lacerae fragmenta carinae
Exigua trepidus posuit scrobe. Nobile corpus
Robora nulla premunt, nulla strue membra recumbunt:
Admotus Magnum, non subditus, accipit ignis.
Ile sedens iuxta flammas: O maxime, dixit,
Ductor, et Hesperii maiestas nominis una,
Si tibi iactatu pelagi, si funere nullo
Tristior iste rogus; manes animamque potentem
Officiis averte meis: iniuria fati
Hoc fas esse iubet; ne ponti belua quidquam,
Ne fera, ne volucres, ne saevi Caesaris ira
Audeat: exiguam, quantum potes, accipe flammam,
Romana succense manu. Fortuna recursus
Si det in Hesperiam, non hac in sede quiescent
Tam sacri cineres, sed te Cornelia, Magne,
Accipiet, nostraque manu transfundet in urnam.
Interea parvo signemus litora saxo,
Ut nota sit busti; si quis placare peremptum
Forte volet, plenos et reddere mortis honores;
Inveniat trunci cineres, et norit arenas,
Ad quas, Magne, tuum referat caput. Haec ubi fatus,
Excitat invalidas admoto fomite flammas.
Carpitur, et lentum Magnus destillat in ignem,
Tabe fovens bustum. Sed iam percusserat astra
Aurorae praemissa dies: ille, ordine rupto
Funeris, adtonitus latebras in litore quaerit.
Quam metuis, demens, isto pro crimine poenam,
Quo te fama loquax omnes accepit in annos
Condita laudabit Magni socer impius ossa:
I modo securus veniae, fassusque sepulchrum
Posce caput. Cogit pietas imponere finem
Officio. Semiusta rapit resolutaque nondum
Ossa satis, nervis et inustis plena medullis
Aequorea restinguit aqua, congestaque in unum
Parva clausit humo. Tunc, ne levis aura retectos
Auferret cineres, saxo compressit arenam:
Nautaque ne bustum religato fune moveret,
Inscripsit sacrum semiusto stipite nomen:
HIC SITUS EST MAGNUS. Placet hoc, Fortuna, sepulchrum
Dicere Pompeii, quo condi maluit illum,
Quam terra caruisse socer? Temeraria dextra,
Cur obicis Magno tumulum, manesque vagantes
Includis? Situs est, qua terra extrema refuso
Pendet in Oceano. Romanum nomen et omne
Imperium Magno est tumuli modus. Obrue saxa,
Crimine plena deum. Si tota est Herculis Oete,
Et iuga tota vacant Bromio Nyseia, quare
Unus in Aegypto Magno lapis Omnia Lagi
Arva tenere potest, si nullo cespite nomen
Haeserit. Erremus populi, cinerumque tuorum,
Magne, metu nullas Nili calcemus arenas.
Quodsi tam sacro dignaris nomine saxum,
Adde actus tantos, monimentaque maxima rerum:
Adde truces Lepidi motus, Alpinaque bella,
Armaque Sertori, revocato consule, victa,
Et currus, quos egit eques: commercia tuta
Gentibus, et pavidos Cilicas maris. Adde subactam
Barbariem, gentesque vagas, et quidquid in Euro
Regnorum Boreaque iacet. Dic semper ab armis
Civilem repetisse togam: ter curribus actis
Contentum patriae multos donasse triumphos.
Quis capit haec tumulus? Surgit miserabile bustum
Non ullis plenum titulis, non ordine tanto
Fastorum: solitumque legi super alta deorum
Culmina, et exstructos spoliis hostilibus arcus,
Haud procul est ima Pompeii nomen arena,
Depressum tumulo, quod non legat advena rectus,
Quod, nisi monstratum, Romanus transeat hospes.

[¶4] Thou land of Egypt, doomed to bear a part
In civil warfare, not unreasoning sang
High Cumae's prophetess, when she forbad
The stream Pelusian to the Roman arms,
And all the banks which in the summer-tide
Are covered by his flood. What grievous curse
Shall I call down upon thee? May the Nile
Turn back his water to his source, thy fields
Want for the winter rain, and all the land
Crumble to desert wastes! We in our fanes
Have known thine Isis and thy hideous gods,
Half hounds, half human, and the drum that bids
To sorrow, and Osiris, whom thy dirge
Proclaims for man. Thou, Egypt, in thy sand
Our dead containest. Nor, though her temples now
Serve a proud master, has Rome yet required
Pompeius' ashes: in a foreign land
Still lies her chief. But though men feared at first
The victor's ire, now, Rome, at length receive
Thy Magnus' bones, if still the restless wave
Has not prevailed upon that hated shore.
Shall men have fear of tombs and dread to move
The dust of those who should be with the gods?
0, may my country place the crime on me,
If crime it be, to violate such a tomb
Of such a hero, and to bear his dust
Home to Ausonia. Happy, happy he
Who bears such holy office in his trust!
Haply when famine rages in the land
Or burning southern winds, or fires abound
And earthquake shocks, and Rome shall pray an end
From angry heaven-by the gods' command,
In council given, shalt thou be transferred
To thine own city, and the priest shall bear
Thy sacred ashes to their last abode.
Who now may seek beneath the raging Crab
Or hot Syene's waste, or Thebes athirst
Under the rainy Pleiades, to gaze
On Nile's broad stream; or whoso may exchange
On the Red Sea or in Arabian ports
Some Eastern merchandise, shall turn in awe
To view the venerable stone that marks
Thy grave, Pompeius; and shall worship more
Thy dust commingled with the arid sand,
Thy shade though exiled, than the fane upreared
On Casius' mount to Jove! In temples shrined
And gold, thy memory were viler deemed:
Fortune lies with thee in thy lowly tomb
And makes thee rival of Olympus' king.
More awful is that stone by Libyan seas
Lashed, than are Conquerors' altars. There a god
Rests in dark earth to whom all men shall bow
More than to gods Tarpeian: and his name
Shall shine the brighter in the days to come
For that no marble tomb about him stands
Nor lofty monument. That little dust
Time soon shall scatter and the tomb shall fall
And all the proofs shall perish of his death.
And happier days shall come when men shall gaze
Upon the stone, nor yet believe the tale:
And Egypt's fable, that she holds the grave
Of great Pompeius, be believed no more
Than Crete's which boasts the sepulchre of Jove.

> Latin: Noxia civili tellus Aegyptia fato,
Haud equidem immerito Cumanae carmine vatis
Cautum, ne Nili Pelusia tangeret ora
Hesperius miles, ripasque aestate tumentes.
Quid tibi saeva precer pro tanto crimine tellus?
Vertat aquas Nilus, quo nascitur orbe, retentus,
Et steriles egeant hibernis imbribus agri,
Totaque in Aethiopum putres solvaris arenas.
Nos in templa tuam Romana accepimus Isin,
Semicanesque deos, et sistra iubentia luctus,
Et quem tu plangens hominem testaris Osirin:
Tu nostros, Aegypte, tenes in pulvere Manes.
Tu quoque, cum saevo dederis iam templa tyranno,
Nondum Pompeii cineres, o Roma, petisti:
Exsul adhuc iacet umbra ducis. Si saecula prima
Victoris timuere minas: nunc excipe saltem
Ossa tui Magni, si nondum subruta fluctu
Invisa tellure sedent. Quis busta timebit?
Quis sacris dignam movisse verebitur umbram?
Imperet hoc nobis utinam scelus, et velit uti
Nostro Roma sinu: satis o nimiumque beatus,
Si mihi contingat manes transferre revulsos
Ausoniam, si tale ducis violare sepulchrum.
Forsitan, aut sulco sterili cum poscere finem
A superis, aut Roma volet feralibus Austris,
Ignibus aut nimiis, aut terrae tecta moventi,
Consilio iussuque deum transibis in urbem,
Magne, tuam, summusque feret tua busta sacerdos.
Nunc quis ad exustam Cancro torrente Syenen
Ibit, et imbrifera siccas sub Pleiade Thebas,
Spectator Nili: quis rubri stagna profundi,
Aut Arabum portus mercis mutator Eoae,
Magne, petet, quem non tumuli venerabile saxum,
Et cinis in summis forsan turbatus arenis
Advertet, manesque tuos placare iuvabit,
Et Casio praeferre Iovi? Nil ista nocebunt
Famae busta tuae. Templis auroque sepultus
Vilior umbra fores: nunc est pro numine summo,
Hoc tumulo Fortuna iacens. Augustius aris
Victoris Libyco pulsatur in aequore saxum.
Tarpeiis qui saepe deis sua tura negarunt,
Inclusum fusco venerentur cespite numen.
Proderit hoc olim, quod non mansura sepulcri
Ardua marmoreo surrexit pondere moles.
Pulveris exigui sparget non longa vetustas
Congeriem, bustumque cadet, mortisque peribunt
Argumenta tuae. Veniet felicior aetas,
Qua sit nulla fides saxum monstrantibus istud:
Atque erit Aegyptus populis fortasse nepotum
Tam mendax Magni tumulo, quam Creta Tonantis.