YET in those ashes on the Pharian shore,In that small heap of dust, was not confinedSo great a shade; but from th' ignoble pyreAnd limbs half burnt sprang forth and sought the skyWhere dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of airUpreaching to the poles that bear on highThe constellations in their nightly round;There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earthAbide those lofty spirits, half divine,Who by their blameless lives and fire of soulAre fit to tolerate the pure expanseThat bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,Where nor the monument encased in gold,Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bringThe buried dead, in union with the spheres,Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly lightHis soul was filled, first on the wandering starsAnd fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;Then saw what darkness veils our earthly dayAnd scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleetTossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breastTarried awhile, and roused his angered soulTo reap the vengeance; last possessed the mindOf haughty Cato.He while yet the scalesWere poised and balanced, nor the war had givenThe world its master, hated both the chiefs,But followed Magnus for the Senate's causeAnd for his country: now in all his heartWas bound to Magnus, since Pharsalia's field.Shorn of her guardian his country foundIn him her guide; the people's trembling limbsHe cherished with new hope, and weapons gaveBack to the craven hands that cast them forth.Nor yet for empire did he wage the warNor fearing slavery: nor in arms achievedAught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,The aim of all his host. And lest the foeIn rapid course triumphant should collectHis scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfsConcealed, and bore in thousand ships awayThe fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.Who in such mighty navy had believedA host defeated sailed upon the mainThronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's capeAnd Taenarus open to the shades belowAnd fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleetSweeps o'er the yielding wave, by northern breezeBorne past the Cretan shores. But Phycus daredRefuse her harbour, and th' avenging handLeft her in ruins. Thus with gentle airsThey glide along the main and reach the shoreFrom Palinurus named; for not aloneOn seas Italian, Pilot of the deep,Hast thou thy monument; and Libya tooClaims that her tranquil harbours pleased thy soul.Then in the distance on the main aroseThe shining canvas of a stranger fleet,Or friend or foe they knew not. Yet they dreadIn every keel the presence of that chiefTheir fear-compelling conqueror. But in truthThat navy tears and sorrow bore, and woesTo make e'en Cato weep.For when in vainCornelia prayed her stepson and the crewTo stay their flight, lest haply from the shoreBack to the sea might float the headless corse;And when the flame arising marked the placeOf that unhallowed rite, ' Fortune, didst thouJudge me unfit,' she cried, ' to light the pyre'To cast myself upon the hero dead,'The lock to sever, and compose the limbs'Tossed by the cruel billows of the deep,To shed a flood of tears upon his wounds,To fill my robe with ashes from his urn,And scatter in the temples of the godsAll that I could, his dust? That pyre bestowsNo honour, haply by some Pharian handPiled up in insult to his mighty shade.Happy the Crassi lying on the wasteUnburied. To the greater shame of heaven' Pompeius has such funeral. And shall this' For ever be my lot? her husbands slain' Cornelia ne'er enclose within the tomb,' Nor shed the tear beside the urn that holds' The ashes of the loved? Yet for my grief' What boots or monument or ordered pomp?' Dost thou not, impious, upon thy heart· Pompeius' image, and upon thy soul' Bear ineffaceable? Dust closed in urns' Is for the wife who would survive her lord,' Not such as thee, Cornelia! And yet'Yon scanty light that glimmers from afar' Upon the Pharian shore, somewhat of thee' Recalls, Pompeius! Now the flame sinks down' And smoke drifts up across the eastern sky' Bearing thine ashes, and the rising wind' Sighs hateful in the sail. To me no more' Dearer than this whatever land has given' Pompeius victory, nor the frequent car' That carried him in triumph to the hill;' Gone is that happy husband from my thoughts;' Here did I lose the hero whom I knew;' Here let me stay; his presence shall endear' The sands of Nile where fell the fatal blow.' Thou, Sextus, brave the chances of the war'And bear Pompeius' standard through the world.' For thus thy father spake within mine ear:' " When sounds my fatal hour let both my sons' " Urge on the war; nor let some Caesar find' " Room for an empire, while shall live on earth' " Still one in whom Pompeius' blood shall run.' " This your appointed task; all cities strong' " In freedom of their own, all kingdoms urge' " To join the combat; for Pompeius calls.' " Nor shall a chieftain of that famous name' ' Ride on the seas and fail to find a fleet.' Urged by his sire's unconquerable will' " And mindful of his rights, mine heir shall rouse' " All nations to the conflict. One alone,' " (Should he contend for freedom) may ye serve;' " Cato, none else! " Thus have I kept the faith;' Thy plot prevailed upon me, and I lived'Thy mandate to discharge. Now through the void· Of space, and shades of Hell, if such there be,' I follow; yet how distant be my doom' I know not: first my spirit must endure' The punishment of life, which saw thine end' And could survive it; sighs shall break my heart,"Tears shall dissolve it: sword nor noose I needNor headlong plunge. 'Twere shameful since thy death,' Were aught but grief required to cause my own.'She seeks the cabin, veiled, in funeral garb,In tears to find her solace, and to loveGrief in her husband's room; no tempest howlAmong the shrouds, no angered waves arousedHer soul, nor cry of sailors in dismay:For life their prayers; not hers: and prone she liesResigned to death and welcoming the storm.
At non in Pharia manes iacuere favilla,Nec cinis exiguus tantam compescuit umbram:Prosiluit busto, semustaque membra relinquensDegeneremque rogum, sequitur convexa Tonantis,Qua niger astriferis connectitur axibus aer,Quaque patet terras inter lunaeque meatus,(Semidei manes habitant, quos ignea virtusInnocuos vita patientes aetheris imiFecit) et aeternos animam collegit in orbes.Non illuc auro positi, nec ture sepultiPerveniunt. Illic postquam se lumine veroImplevit, stellasque vagas miratur, et astraFixa polis, vidit quanta sub nocte iaceretNostra dies, risitque sui ludibria trunci.Hinc super Emathiae campos, et signa cruentiCaesaris, ac sparsas volitavit in aequore classes;Et scelerum vindex in sancto pectore BrutiSedit, et invicti posuit se mente Catonis.Ille, ubi pendebant casus, dubiumque manebat,Quem mundi dominum facerent civilia bella,Oderat et Magnum, quamvis comes isset in arma,Auspiciis raptus patriae ductuque senatus:At post Thessalicas clades iam pectore totoPompeianus erat. Patriam tutore carentemExcepit, populi trepidantia membra refovit,Ignavis manibus proiectos reddidit enses,Nec regnum cupiens gessit civilia bella,Nec servire timens. Nil caussa fecit in armisIpse sua: totae post Magni funera partesLibertatis erant: quas ne per litora fusasColligeret rapido victoria Caesaris actu,Corcyrae secreta petit, ac mille carinisAbstulit Emathiae secum fragmenta ruinae.Quis ratibus tantis fugientia crederet ireAgmina? quis pelagus victas arctasse carinas?Dorida tunc Malean, et apertam Taenaron umbris,Inde Cythera petit: Boreaque urgente carinasCreta fugit: Dictaea legit, cedentibus undis,Litora. Tunc ausum classi praecludere portusImpulit ac saevas meritum Phycunta rapinasSparsit: et hinc placidis alto delabitur aurisIn litus, Palinure, tuum: (neque enim aequore tantumAusonio monumenta tenes, portusque quietosTestatur Libye Phrygio placuisse magistro;)Cum procul ex alto tendentes vela carinaeAncipites tenuere animos, sociosne malorum,An veherent hostes. Praeceps facit omne timendumVictor, et in nulla non creditur esse carina.Ast illae puppes luctus planctusque ferebant,Et mala vel duri lacrimas motura Catonis.Nam postquam frustra precibus Cornelia nautasPrivignique fugam tenuit, ne forte repulsusLitoribus Phariis remearet in aequora truncus,Ostenditque rogum non iusti flamma sepulchri:Ergo indigna fui, dixit, Fortuna, maritoAccendisse rogum, gelidosque effusa per artusIncubuisse viro? laceros exurere crines?Membraque dispersi pelago componere Magni?Vulneribus cunctis largos infundere fletus?Ossibus et tepida vestes implere favilla,Quidquid ab extincto licuisset tollere busto,In templis sparsura deum? Sine funeris ulloArdet honore rogus: manis hoc Aegyptia forsanObtulit officium grave manibus. O bene nudiCrassorum cineres! Pompeio contigit igniInidia maiore deum. Similisne malorumSors mihi semper erit? numquam dare busta licebitConiugibus? numquam plenas plangemus ad urnas?Quid porro tumulis opus est, aut ulla requirisInstrumenta, dolor? Non toto pectore portasImpia Pompeium? non imis haeret imagoVisceribus? Quaerat cineres victura superstes.Nunc tamen hinc longe qui fulget luce malignaIgnis, adhuc aliquid. Phario de litore surgens,Ostendit mihi, Magne, tui. Iam flamma resedit,Pompeiumque ferens vanescit solis ad ortusFumus, et invisi tendunt mihi carbasa venti.Non mihi nunc tellus Pompeio si qua triumphosVicta dedit, non alta terens Capitolia currusGratior: elapsus felix de pectore Magnus;Hunc volumus, quem Nilus habet, terraeque nocentiNon haerere queror: crimen commendat arenas.[Linquere, si qua fides, Pelusia litora nolo.]Tu pete bellorum casus, et signa per orbem,Sexte, paterna move: namque haec mandata reliquitPompeius vobis in nostra condita cura:"Me cum fatalis leto damnaverit hora,Excipite, o nati, bellum civile, nec umquam,Dum tetris aliquis nostra de stirpe manebit,Caesaribus regnare vacet. Vel sceptra, vel urbesLibertate sua validas impellite famaNominis: has vobis partes, haec arma relinquo.Inveniet classes, quisquis Pompeius in undasVenerit: et noster nullis non gentibus heresBella dabit: tantum indomitos memoresque paterniIuris habete animos. Uni parere decebit,Si faciet partes pro libertate, Catoni."Exsolvi tibi, Magne, fidem; mandata peregi.Insidiae valuere tuae, deceptaque vixi,Ne mihi commissas auferrem perfida voces.Iam nunc te per inane chaos, per Tartara, coniux,Si sunt ulla, sequar: quam longo tradita leto,Incertum est: poenas animae vivacis ab ipsaAnte feram. Potuit cernens tua vulnera, Magne,Non fugere in mortem: planctu concussa peribit,Effluet in lacrimas; numquam veniemus ad enses,Aut laqueos, aut praecipites per inania iactus.Turpe, mori post te solo non posse dolore.Sic ubi fata, caput ferali obduxit amictu,Decrevitque pati tenebras, puppisque cavernisDelituit: saevumque arcte complexa doloremPerfruitur lacrimis, et amat pro coniuge luctum.Illam non fluctus stridensque rudentibus EurusMovit, et exsurgens ad summa pericula clamor:Votaque sollicitis faciens contraria nautis,Composita in mortem iacuit, favitque procellis.
First reached they Cyprus on the foamy brine;Then as the eastern breeze more gently heldThe favouring deep, they touched the Libyan shoreWhere stood the camp of Cato. Sad as oneWho deep in fear presages ills to come,Cnaeus beheld his brother and his bandOf patriot comrades. Swift into the waveHe leaped and cried, ' Where, brother, is our sire?' Still stands our country mistress of the world,' Or are we fallen, Rome with Magnus' death' Rapt to the shades? ' Thus he: but Sextus said' Oh happy thou who by report alone' Hear'st of the deed that chanced on yonder shore!'These eyes that saw, my brother, share the guilt.' Not Caesar wrought his death, nor any chief' Worthy to cause the ruin of our sire.' He fell by order of that shameful king' Who rules o'er Nilus; trusting to the gods' Who shield the guest, and to his princely boon' Of yore-a victim for the realm he gave.' I saw them pierce our noble father's breast;' Yet deeming not the petty Pharian prince' So fell a deed would dare, on Egypt's strand' I thought great Caesar stood. But worse than all,' Worse than the wounds which gaped upon his frame' Struck me with horror to the inmost heart,' Our murdered father's head, shorn from the trunk' And borne aloft on javelin; this sight,' As rumour said, the cruel victor asked' To feast his eyes, and prove the bloody deed.' For whether ravenous birds and Pharian dogs' Have torn his corse asunder, or a fire' Consumed it, which with stealthy flame arose,' I know not. For the fates' unjust decree'Which reft his limbs asunder, I forgive' The gods: I weep the part preserved by men.'Thus Sextus spake: but Cnaeus at the taleRestrained the tear, and for his father's shameFlamed into fury: ' Launch our navies forth,' Ye sailors, from the shore, by stalwart arms' Forced through the deep against opposing winds:' Captains, lead on: for civil strife ne'er gave' So great a prize; to lay in earth the limbs'Of Magnus, and avenge him with the blood'Of that unmanly tyrant. Shall I spareGreat Alexander's fort, nor sack the shrineAnd plunge his body in the tideless marsh?Nor drag Amasis from the Pyramids,'And all their ancient kings, to swim the Nile?'Torn from his tomb, that god of all mankind'Isis, unburied, shall avenge thy shade;And veiled Osiris shall I hurl abroad'And sacred Apis; and with these their gods'I'll light a furnace that shall burn the head'They held in insult. Thus their land shall pay'Atonement to the shade of Magnus dead.No husbandman shall live to till the fieldsNor reap the benefit of brimming Nile.'Thou only, Father, gods and men alike'Fallen and perished, shalt possess the land.'Such were the words he spake; and soon the fleetHad dared the angry deep: but Cato's voiceWhile praising, calmed the youthful chieftain's rage.Meanwhile, when Magnus' fate was known, the airSounded with lamentations which the shoreRe-echoed; never through the ages past,By history recorded, was it knownThat thus a people mourned their ruler's death.Yet more, when worn with tears, her pallid cheekVeiled by her loosened tresses, from the shipCornelia came, they wept and beat the breast.Soon as she stood upon the friendly land,Ill-fated Magnus' spoils, his arms of price,His gold-embroidered robe, three times of oldDisplayed to Jove upon the hill, she placedUpon the mournful fire. Such was for herThe dust of Magnus. And her love so touchedThe hearts of all, that soon along the shorePyres blazed in memory of Pharsalia's dead.'Tis thus in winter to depastured fieldsBy frequent fires th' Apulian herdsman seeksTo render verdant growth; and glow with flameGarganus' slopes, and Vultur, and the meadsOf warm Matinum.Yet Pompeius' shadeNought else so gratified, not all the blameThe people dared to heap upon the gods,For him their hero slain, as these few wordsFrom Cato's noble breast instinct with truth:'Gone is a citizen who though no peer'Of those who disciplined the state of yoreIn due submission to the bounds of right,'Yet in this age irreverent of law'Has played a noble part. Great was his power,'But freedom safe: when all the plebs was prone'To be his slaves, he chose the private gown;'So that the Senate ruled the Roman state,'Its chief was Cato: nought by right of arms'He e'er demanded: willing took he gifts'Yet from a willing giver: wealth was hisVast, yet the coffers of the State he filled'Beyond his own. He seized upon the sword,'Knew when to sheath it; war did he prefer'To arts of peace, yet armed loved peace the more.'Pleased took he power, pleased he laid it down:'Chaste was his home and simple, by his wealth'Untarnished. Mid the peoples great his nameAnd venerated: to his native RomeHe wrought much good. True faith in libertyLong since with Marius and Sulla fled:Now when Pompeius has been reft away'Its counterfeit has perished. Now unshamedShall seize the despot on Imperial power,'Unshamed shall cringe the Senate. Happy heWho with disaster found his latest breath'And met the Pharian sword prepared to slay.Life might have been his lot, in despot rule,Prone at his kinsman's throne. Best gift of all'The knowledge how to die; next, death compelled.If cruel Fortune doth reserve for meAn alien conqueror, may Juba beAs Ptolemaeus. So he take my headMy body grace his triumph, if he will.'
Prima ratem Cypros spumantibus accipit undis:Inde tenens pelagus, sed iam moderatior, EurusIn Libycas egit sedes, et castra Catonis.Tristis, ut in multo mens est praesaga timore,Adspexit patrios comites e litore Magnus,Et fratrem: medias praeceps tunc fertur ad undas:Dic ubi sit, germane, parens: stat summa caputqueOrbis, an occidimus? Romanaque Magnus ad umbrasAbstulit? Haec fatur: quem contra talia frater:O felix, quem Sors alias dispersit in oras,Quique nefas audis: oculos, germane, nocentesSpectato genitore fero. Non Caesaris armisOccubuit, dignoque perit auctore ruinae:Rege sub impuro Nilotica rura tenente,Hospitii fretus superis et munere tantoIn proavos, cecidit donati victima regni.Vidi ego magnanimi lacerantes pectora patris:Nec credens Pharium tantum potuisse tyrannum,Litore Niliaco socerum iam stare putavi.Sed me nec sanguis, nec tantum vulnera nostriAdfecere senis, quantum gestata per urbemOra ducis, quae transfixo sublimia piloVidimus: haec, fama est, oculis victoria iniquiServari; scelerisque fidem quaesisse tyrannum.Nam corpus Phariaene canes avidaeque volucresDistulerint, an furtivus, quem vidimus, ignisSolverit, ignoro. Quaecumque iniuria fatiAbstulit hos artus, superis haec crimina dono:Servata de parte queror. Cum talia MagnusAudisset, non in gemitus lacrimasque doloremEffudit; iustaque furens pietate profatur:Praecipitate rates e sicco litore, nautae;Classis in adversos erumpat remige ventos:Ite, duces, mecum: numquam civilibus armisTanta fuit merces, inhumatos condere manes,Sanguine semiviri Magnum satiare tyranni.Non ego Pellaeas arces, adytisque retectumCorpus Alexandri pigra Mareotide mergam?Non mihi pyramidum tumulis evulsus AmasisAtque alii reges Nilo torrente natabunt?Omnia dent poenas nudo tibi, Magne, sepulchra:Evolvam busto iam numen gentibus Isin,Et sacer in Magni cineres mactabitur Apis,Et tectum lino spargam per vulgus Osirin,Suppositisque deis uram caput. Has mihi poenasTerra dabit: linquam vacuos cultoribus agros,Nec, Nilus cui crescat, erit: solusque tenebisAegyptum populis, genitor, superisque fugatis.Dixerat, et classem saevas rapiebat in undas.Sed Cato laudatam iuvenis compescuit iram.Interea totis, audito funere Magni,Litoribus sonuit percussus planctibus aether:Exemploque carens et nulli cognitus aevoLuctus erat, mortem populos deflere potentis.Sed magis, ut visa est, lacrimis exhausta, solutasIn vultus effusa comas, Cornelia puppiEgrediens, rursus geminato verbere plangunt.Ut primum in sociae pervenit litora terrae,Collegit vestes, miserique insignia Magni,Armaque, et impressas auro, quas gesserat olim,Exuvias, pictasque togas, velamina summoTer conspecta Iovi, funestoque intulit igni.Ille fuit miserae Magni cinis. Accipit omnisExemplum pietas, et toto litore bustaSurgunt, Thessalicis reddentia manibus ignem.Sic, ubi, depastis submittere gramina campisEt renovare parans hibernas Apulus herbas,Igne fovet terras, simul et Garganus et arvaVulturis et calidi lucent buceta Matini.Non tamen ad Magni pervenit gratius umbrasOmne quod in superos audet convicia vulgus,Pompeiumque deis obicit, quam pauca CatonisVerba, sed a pleno venientia pectore veri.Civis obit, inquit, multo maioribus imparNosse modum iuris, sed in hoc tamen utilis aevo,Cui non ulla fuit isti reverentia, salvaLibertate potens, et solus plebe parataPrivatus servire sibi, rectorque senatus,Sed regnantis, erat. Nil belli iure poposcit:Quaeque dari voluit, voluit sibi posse negari.Immodicas possedit opes, sed plura retentisIntulit: invasit ferrum, sed ponere norat.Praetulit arma togae: sed pacem armatus amavit.Iuvit sumta ducem, iuvit dimissa potestas.Casta domus, luxuque carens, corruptaque numquamFortuna domini. Clarum et venerabile nomenGentibus, et multum nostrae quod proderat urbi.Olim vera fides, Sulla Marioque receptis,Libertatis obit: Pompeio rebus ademtoNunc et ficta perit. Non iam regnare pudebit:Nec color imperii, nec frons erit ulla senatus.O felix, cui summa dies fuit obvia victo,Et cui quaerendos Pharium scelus obtulit enses!Forsitan in soceri potuisset vivere regno.Scire mori, sors prima viris, sed proxima cogi.Et mihi, si fatis aliena in iura vemimus,Da talem, Fortuna, Iubam: non deprecor hostiServari, dum me servet cervice recisa.
More than had Rome resounded with his praiseWords such as these gave honour to the shadeOf that most noble dead. Meanwhile the crowdWeary of warfare, since Pompeius' fall,Broke into discord, as their ancient chiefCilician called them to desert the camp.They seize upon their ships and float the wave;But Cato hailed them from the nearest shore;' Untamed Cilician, is thy course now set' For Ocean theft again; Pompeius gone,' Pirate art thou once more? ' Then all the airHummed with the murmur of the throng; and oneResolved on flight thus answered, ' Pardon, chief,' Twas love of Magnus, not of civil war,' That led us to the fight: his side was ours:' With him whom all the world preferred to peace,' Our cause is perished. Let us seek our homes' Long since unseen, our children and our wives.If nor the rout on dread Pharsalia's fieldNor yet Pompeius' death shall close the war,Whence comes the end? Our span of life is fled:Give death safe haven, give old age his pyre.Scarce even to its captains civil strifeConcedes due burial. Nor in our defeatDoes Fortune threaten us with the savage yokeOf distant nations. In the garb of RomeAnd with her rights, I leave thee. Who had beenSecond to Magnus living, he shall beMy first hereafter: to that sacred shadeBe the prime honour. Chance of war appointsMy lord but not my leader. Thee aloneI followed, Magnus; after thee the fates.'Nor have I right to hope for victory now,Nor wish: our Thracian array is fled'In Caesar's triumph, whose all-potent starOf fortune rules the world; and none but heHas power to keep or save. That civil warWhich while Pompeius lived was loyaltyIs impious now. Let country lead thee on,'Cato, and public right; but let us seek' The standards of the Consul.' Thus he spakeAnd with him leaped into the ship a throngOf eager comrades.Then was Rome undone,For all the shore was stirring with a crowdAthirst for slavery. But burst these wordsFrom Cato's blameless breast: ' Then with like vows' As Caesar's rival host ye too did seek' A lord and master! not for Rome the fight,But for Pompeius! For that now no more'Ye fight for tyranny, but for yourselves,'Not for some despot chief, ye live and die;' Since now 'tis safe to conquer and no lord' Shall rob you, victors, of a world subdued-' Ye flee the war, and on your abject necks'Feel for the absent yoke; nor can endure' Without a despot! Yet to men the prize' Were worth the danger. Magnus might have used' To evil ends your blood; refuse ye now,' With liberty so near, your country's call?' Now lives one tyrant only of the three;' Thus far in favour of the laws have wrought' The Pharian weapons and the Parthian bow;' Not you, degenerate! Begone, and spurn' This gift of Ptolemaeus. Who would think' Your hands were stained with blood? The foe will deem' That you upon that dread Thessalian day' First turned your backs. Then flee in safety, flee!' By neither battle nor blockade subdued' Caesar shall give you life! 0 slaves most base,' Your former master slain, ye seek his heir!' Why doth it please you not yet more to earn'Than life and pardon? Bear across the sea' Metellus' daughter, Magnus' weeping spouse,' And both his sons; outstrip the Pharian gift.' Nor spare this head, which, laid before the feet' Of that detested tyrant, shall deserve'A full reward. Thus, cowards, shall ye learn' In that ye followed me how great your gain.' Quick to your task and purchase thus with blood'Your claim on Caesar. 'Tis a dastard crime;' Flight without slaughter!'Cato thus recalledThe parting vessels. So when bees in swarmDesert their empty comb, forget the hive,Ceasing to cling together, and with wingsUntrammelled seek the air, nor slothful lightOn thyme to taste its bitterness-then ringsThe Phrygian gong-at once they pause aloftAstonied; and with love of toil resumedThrough all the flowers for their honey storeIn ceaseless wanderings search; the shepherd joys,Sure that th' Hyblaean mead for him has keptHis cottage store, the riches of his home.Now in the active conduct of the warWere brought to discipline their minds, untaughtTo bear repose; first on the sandy shoreToiling they learned fatigue: then stormed thy walls,Cyrene; prizeless, for to Cato's mind'Twas prize enough to conquer. Juba nextHe bids approach, though Nature on the pathHad placed the Syrtes; which his sturdy heartAspired to conquer. Either at the firstWhen Nature gave the universe its formShe left this region neither land nor sea;Not wholly shrunk, so that it should receiveThe ocean flood; nor firm enough to standAgainst its buffets-all the pathless coastLies in uncertain shape; earth by the deepIs parted from the land; on sandy banksThe seas are broken, and from shoal to shoalThe waves advance to sound upon the shore.Nature, in spite, thus left her work undone,Unfashioned to men's use-Or else of oldA foaming ocean filled the wide expanse,But Titan feeding from the briny depthsHis burning fires (near to the zone of heat)Reduced the waters. Still the main contends;But in long time the Sun's destructive raysShall make the Syrtes land, and shallow poolsE'en now proclaim the sea's defeat to come.
Vocibus his maior, quam si Romana sonarentRostra ducis laudes, generosam venit ad umbramMortis honos. Fremit interea discordia vulgiCastrorum, bellique piget post funera Magni,Cum Tarchondimotus linquendi signa CatonisSustulit. Hunc rapta fugientem classe secutusLitus in extremum, tali Cato voce notavit:O numquam pacate Cilix, iterumne rapinasVadis in aequoreas? Magnum Fortuna removit:Iam pelago pirata redis. Tunc respicit omnesIn coetu motuque viros: quorum unus, apertaMente fugae, tali compellat voce regentem:Nos, Cato, da veniam, Pompeii duxit in armaNon belli civilis amor, partesque favoreFecimus. Ille iacet, quem paci praetulit orbis,Caussaque nostra perit: patrios permitte penates,Desertamque domum, dulcesque revisere natos.Nam quis erit finis, si nec Pharsalia, pugnas,Nec Pompeius erit? Perierunt tempora vitae,Mars eat in tutum: iustas sibi nostra senectusProspiciat flammas. Bellum civile sepulchraVix ducibus praestare potest. Non barbara victosRegna manent: non Armenium mihi saeva minatur,Aut Scythicum Fortuna iugum: sub iura togatiCivis eo. Quisquis Magno vivente secundus,Hic mihi primus erit: sacris praestabitur umbrisSummus honor; dominum, quem clades cogit, habebo;Nullum, Magne, ducem. Te solum in bella secutus,Post te fata sequar: neque enim sperare secundaFas mihi, nec liceat. Fortuna cuncta tenenturCaesaris: Emathium sparsit victoria ferrum.Clausa fides miseris, et toto solus in orbe est,Qui velit ac possit victis praestare salutem.Pompeio scelus est bellum civile peremto,Quo fuerat vivente fides. Si publica iura,Si semper patriam sequeris, Cato, signa petamus,Romanus quae consul habet. Sic ille profatusInsiluit puppi, iuvenum comitante tumultu.Actum Romanis fuerat de rebus, et omnisIndiga servitii fervebat litore plebes.Erupere ducis sacro de pectore voces:Ergo pari voto gessisti bella, iuventus,Tu quoque pro dominis, et Pompeiana fuisti,Non Romana manus? Quod non in regna laboras,Quod tibi, non ducibus, vivis morerisque, quod orbemAdquiris nulli, quod iam tibi vincere tutum est,Bella fugis, quaerisque iugum cervice vacante,Et nescis sine rege pati? Nunc caussa pericliDigna viris. Vestro potuit Pompeius abutiSanguine: nunc patriae iugulos ensesque negatis,Cum prope libertas? Unum Fortuna reliquitIam tribus e dominis. Pudeat: plus regia NiliContulit in leges, et Parthi militis arcus.Ite, o degeneres, Ptolemaei munus et armaSpernite. Quis vestras ulla putet esse nocentesCaede manus? Credet faciles sibi terga dedisse,Credet ab Emathiis primos fugisse Philippis.Vadite securi: meruistis indice vitamCaesare, non armis, non obsidione subacti.O famuli turpes, domini post fata priorisItis ad heredem. Cur non maiora mereri,Quam vitam veniamque, libet? Rapiatur in undasInfelix Magni coniux, prolesque Metelli:Ducite Pompeios: Ptolemaei vincite munus.Nostra quoque inviso quisquis feret ora tyranno,Non parva mercede dabit. Sciet ista iuventusCervicis pretio bene se mea signa secutam.Quin agite, et magna meritum cum caede parate:Ignavum scelus est tantum fuga. Dixit: et omnesHaud aliter medio revocavit ab aequore puppes,Quam, simul effetas linquunt examina ceras,Atque oblita favi non miscent nexibus alas,Sed sibi quaeque volat, nec iam degustat amarumDesidiosa thymum: Phrygii sonus increpat aeris,Adtonitae posuere fugam, studiumque laborisFloriferi repetunt, et sparsi mellis amorem:Gaudet in Hyblaeo securus gramine pastorDivitias servasse casae: sic voce CatonisInculcata viris iusti patientia Martis.Iamque acta belli non doctas ferre quietemConstituit mentes serieque agitare laborum.Primum litoreis miles lassatur arenis:Proximus in muros et moenia CyrenarumEst labor: exclusus nulla se vindicat ira:Poenaque de victis sola est, vicisse, Catoni.Inde peti placuit Libyci contermina MarisRegna Iubae; sed iter mediis natura vetabatSyrtibus: has audax sperat sibi cedere virtus.Syrtes vel, primam mundo natura figuramCum daret, in dubio pelagi terraeque reliquit;(Nam neque subsedit penitus, quo stagna profundiAcciperet, nec se defendit ab aequore tellus;Ambigua sed lege loci iacet invia sedes:Aequora fracta vadis, abruptaque terra profundo,Et post multa sonant proiecti litora fluctus.Sic male deseruit, nullosque exegit in ususHanc partem natura sui.) vel plenior altoOlim Syrtis erat pelago, penitusque natabat:Sed rapidus Titan, ponto sua lumina pascens,Aequora subduxit zonae vicina perustae:Et nunc pontus adhuc Phoebo siccante repugnat.Mox ubi damnosum radios admoverit aevum,Tellus Syrtis erit: nam iam brevis unda superneInnatat, et late periturum deficit aequor.
When first the billows to the fleet gave way,Black from the sky rushed down a southern galeUpon his realm, and from the watery plainDrave back th' invading ships, and from the shoalsCompelled the waves, and in the middle seaRaised up a bank. Forth flew the bellying sailsBeyond the prows, despite the ropes that daredResist the tempest's fury; and for thoseWho prescient housed their canvas to the storm,Bare-masted they were driven from their course.Best was their lot who gained the open wavesOf ocean; others lightened of their mastsShook off the tempest; but a sweeping tideHurried them southwards, victor of the gale.Some freed of shallows on a bank were forcedWhich broke the deep: their ship in part was fast,Part hanging on the sea; their fates in doubt.Fierce rage the waves till hems them in the land;Nor Auster's force in frequent buffets spentPrevails upon the shore. High from the main,By seas inviolate, one bank of sandFar from the coast arose; there watched in vainThe storm-tossed mariners, their keel aground,No shore descrying. Thus in sea were lostSome portion, but the major part by helmAnd rudder guided, and by pilots' handsWho knew the devious channels, safe at lengthFloated the marsh of Triton loved (as saithThe fable) by that god, whose sounding shellAll seas and shores re-echo; and by her,Pallas, who springing from her father's headFirst lit on Libya, nearest land to heaven,(As by its heat is proved); here on the brinkShe stood, reflected in the placid waveAnd called herself Tritonis. Lethe's floodFlows silent near, in fable from a sourceInfernal sprung, oblivion in his stream;Here, too, that garden of the Hesperids,Its boughs all golden, where of old his watchThe sleepless dragon held. Shame be on himWho calls upon the poet for the proofOf that which in the ancient days befell;But here were golden groves by yellow growthWeighed down in richness, here a maiden bandWere guardians; and a serpent, on whose eyesSleep never fell, was coiled around the trees,Whose branches bowed beneath their ruddy load.But great Alcides stripped the goodly boughsOf all their riches, left them poor and light,And bore the shining fruit to Argos' king.Driven on the Libyan realms, more fruitful here,Pompeius stayed the fleet, nor further daredTo Garamantian waves. But Cato's soulLeaped in his breast, impatient of delay,To pass the Syrtes by a landward march,And trusting to their swords, 'gainst tribes unknownTo lead his legions. And the storm which closedThe main to navies gave them hope of rain;Nor biting frosts they feared, in Libyan clime;Nor suns too scorching in the falling year.Thus ere they trod the deserts, Cato spake:' Ye men of Rome, who through mine arms alone' Can find the death ye covet, and shall fall' With pride unbroken should the fates command,' Meet this your weighty task, your high emprise' With hearts resolved to conquer. For we march' On sterile wastes, burnt regions of the world;' Scarce are the wells, and Titan from the height' Burns pitiless, unclouded; and the slime' Of poisonous serpents fouls the dusty earth.' Yet shall men venture for the love of laws' And country perishing, upon the sands' Of trackless Libya; men who brave in soul' Rely not on the end, and in attempt' Will risk their all. 'Tis not in Cato's thoughts' On this our enterprise to lead a band' Blind to the truth, unwitting of the risk.' Nay, give me comrades for the danger's sake,' Whom I shall see for honour and for Rome' Bear up against the worst. But whoso needs' A pledge of safety, to whom life is sweet,' Let him by fairer journey seek his lord.' First be my foot upon the sand; on me' First strike the burning sun; across my path' The serpent void his venom; by my fate' Know ye your perils. Let him only thirst' Who sees me at the spring: who sees me seek' The shade, alone sink fainting in the heat;' Or whoso sees me ride before the ranks' Plodding their weary march: such be the lot' Of each, who, toiling, finds in me a chief' And not a comrade. Snakes, thirst, burning sand'The brave man welcomes, and the patient breast' Finds happiness in labour. By its cost' Courage is sweeter; and this Libyan land' Such cloud of ills can furnish as might make'Men flee unshamed.' 'Twas thus that Cato spake,Kindling the torch of valour and the loveOf toil: then reckless of his fate he strodeThe desert path from which was no return:And Libya ruled his destinies, to shutHis sacred name within a narrow tomb.
Ut primum remis actum mare propulit omneClassis onus, densis fremuit niger imbribus AusterIn sua regna furens: tentatum classibus aequorTurbine defendit, longeque a Syrtibus undasEgit, et illato confregit litore pontum.Tum quarum recto deprendit carbasa maloEripuit nautis; frustraque rudentibus ausisVela negare Noto, spatium vicere carinae,Atque ultra proram tumuit sinus. Omnia si quisProvidus antennae suffixit lintea summae,Vincitur, et nudis avertitur armamentis.Sors melior classi, quae fluctibus incidit altis,Et certo iactata mari. Quaecumque levataeArboribus caesis flatum effudere frementem,Abstulit has ventis liber contraria volvensAestus, et obnixum victor detrudit in Austrum.Has vada destituunt, atque interrupta profundoTerra ferit puppes: dubioque obnoxia fatoPars sedet una ratis, pars altera pendet in undis.Tunc magis impactum brevibus mare, terraque saevitObvia consurgens: quamvis elisus ab Austro,Saepe tamen cumulos fluctus non vincit arenae.Eminet in tergo pelagi procul omnibus arvis,Inviolatus aqua, sicci iam pulveris agger;Stant miseri nautae, terraeque haerente carinaLitora nulla vident. Sic partem intercipit aequor:Pars ratium maior regimen clavumque secuta est,Tuta fuga, nautasque loci sortita peritos,Torpentem Tritonos adit illaesa paludem.Hanc, ut fama, deus, quem toto litore pontusAudit ventosa perflantem murmura concha,Hanc et Pallas amat, patrio quae vertice nataTerrarum primam Libyen (nam proxima coelo est,Ut probat ipse calor) tetigit, stagnique quietaVultus vidit aqua, posuitque in margine plantas,Et se dilecta Tritonida dixit ab unda.Quam iuxta Lethon tacitus praelabitur amnis,Infernis, ut fama, trahens oblivia venis:Atque insopiti quondam tutela draconis,Hesperidum pauper spoliatus frondibus hortus.Invidus, annoso qui famam derogat aevo,Qui vates ad vera vocat. Fuit aurea silva,Divitiisque graves et fulvo germine rami:Virgineusque chorus nitidi custodia luci,Et numquam somno damnatus lumina serpens,Robora complexus rutilo curvata metallo.Abstulit arboribus pretium, nemorique laboremAlcides: passusque inopes sine pondere ramos,Retulit Argolico fulgentia poma tyranno.His igitur depulsa locis, effectaque classisSyrtibus, haud ultra Garamantidas attigit undas:Sed duce Pompeio Libyes melioris in orisMansit. At impatiens virtus haerere CatonisAudet in ignotas agmen committere gentes,Armorum fidens, et terra cingere Syrtim.Haec eadem suadebat hiems, quae clauserat aequor;Et spes imber erat, nimios metuentibus ignes:Ut neque sole viam, nec duro frigore saevam,Inde polo Libyes, hinc bruma temperet annus.Atque ingressurus steriles sic fatur arenas:O quibus una salus placuit mea castra secutisIndomita cervice mori, componite mentesAd magnum virtutis opus summosque labores.Vadimus in campos steriles, exustaque mundi,Qua nimius Titan, et rarae in fontibus undae,Siccaque letiferis squalent serpentibus arva,Durum iter. Ad leges patriaeque ruentis amoremPer mediam Libyen veniant, atque invia tentent,Si quibus in nullo positum est evadere voto,Si quibus ire sat est. Neque enim mihi fallere quemquamEst animus, tectoque metu perducere vulgus.Hi mihi sint comites, quos ipsa pericula ducent,Qui, me teste, pati vel quae tristissima, pulchrumRomanumque putant. At qui sponsore salutisMiles eget, capiturque animae dulcedine, vadatAd dominum metiore via. Dum primus arenasIngrediar, primusque gradus in pulvere ponam,Me calor aethereus feriat, mihi plena venenoOccurrat serpens; fatoque pericula vestraPraetentate meo: sitiat, quicumque bibentemViderit: aut umbras nemorum quicumque petentem,Aestuet: aut equitem peditum praecedere turmas,Deficiat; si quo fuerit discrimine notum,Dux an miles eam. Serpens, sitis, ardor, arenae,Dulcia virtuti: Gaudet patientia duris.Laetius est, quoties magno sibi constat, honestum.Sola potest Libye turbam praestare malorum,Ut deceat fugisse viros. Sic ille paventesIncendit virtute animos, et amore laborum,Irreducemque viam deserto limite carpit:Et, sacrum parvo nomen clausura sepulchro