One-third of all the world, if fame we trust,Is Libya; yet by winds and sky she provesEqual to Europe; for the shores of NileNo more than Scythian Tanais are remoteFrom furthest Gades, where with bending coast,Yielding a place to Ocean, Europe partsFrom Afric shores. Yet falls the larger worldTo Asia only. From the former twoIssues the Western wind; but Asia's rightTouches the Southern limits and her leftThe Northern tempest's home, and of the EastShe's mistress to the rising of the Sun.All that is fertile of the Afric landsLies to the west, but even here aboundNo wells of water: though the Northern wind,Infrequent, leaving us with skies serene,Falls there in showers. Not gold nor wealth of brassIt yields the seeker; pure and unalloyedDown to its lowest depths is Libyan soil.Yet citron forests to Maurusian tribesWere riches, had they known; but they, content,Lived 'neath the shady foliage, till gleamedThe axe of Rome amid the virgin grove,To bring from furthest limits of the worldOur banquet tables and the fruit they bear.But suns excessive and a scorching climeBurn all the glebe beside the shifting sands:There die the harvests on the crumbling mould;No root finds sustenance, nor kindly JoveMakes rich the furrow nor matures the vine.Sleep binds all nature and the tract of sandLies ever fruitless, save that by the coastThe hardy Nasamon plucks a scanty grass.Unclothed their race, and living on the woesWorked by the cruel Syrtes on the world.He dwells a spoiler by the sandy waves,And while no ships unlade upon his shore,Grows rich by wrecks-his only trade with man.By such a path at hardy Cato's wordHis soldiers passed, in thought from winds secureNor dreading storms: but fearful was their lotMore than on ocean waves; for Auster's forceHere strikes with greater strength upon the sands,And yet more fraught with mischief: neither cragsRepelled his strength, nor lofty mountains tamedHis furious onset, nor in sturdy woodsHe found a bar; but free from curb he ragedO'er the defenceless earth. Nor merely dustSwirled up in drifts of rain, but Earth herself,In major part, was rapt into the airOn ceaseless whirlwinds borne, until amazedThe Nasamon saw his scanty field and homeReft by the tempest, and the native hutsFrom roof to base were hurried on the blast.Not higher, when some all-devouring flameHas seized upon its prey, in volumes denseRolls up the smoke, and darkens all the air.Then with fresh might he fell upon the hostOf marching Romans, snatching from their feetThe sand they trod. Had Auster been enclosedIn some vast cavernous vault with solid wallsAnd mighty barriers, he had moved the worldUpon its ancient base and made the landsTo tremble: but the facile Libyan soilBy not resisting stood, and blasts that whirledThe surface upwards left the depths unmoved.Helmet and shield and spear were torn awayBy his most violent breath, and borne aloftThrough all the regions of the boundless sky;Perchance a wonder in some distant land,Where men may fear the weapons from the heavenThere falling, as the armour of the gods,Nor deem them ravished from a soldier's arm.'Twas thus on Numa by the sacred fireThose shields descended which our chosen priestsBear on their shoulders; from some warlike raceBy tempest rapt, to be the prize of Rome.While thus the tempest whirled the earth aloftProne fell the host, and wound their garments tight,And gripped the soil; but hardly thus prevailed.Weight had not held them safe; the raging blastPiles heaps upon them, their recumbent limbsAre whelmed in sand. At length they struggling roseBack to their feet, when lo! around them stood,Forced by the storm, a growing bank of earthWhich held them motionless. And from afarWhere walls lay prostrate, mighty stones were hurled,Thus piling ills on ills in wondrous form:No dwellings had they seen, yet at their feetBeheld the ruins. All the earth was hidIn vast envelopment, nor found they guideSave from the stars, which as in middle deepFlamed o'er them wandering: yet some were hidBeneath the circle of the Libyan earthWhich tending downwards hid the Northern sky.When warmth dispersed the tempest-driven air,And rose upon the earth the flaming day,Bathed were their limbs in sweat, but parched and dryTheir gaping lips; when to a scanty springFar off beheld they came, whose meagre dropsAll gathered in the hollow of a helmThey offered to their chief. Caked were their throatsWith dust, and panting; and one little dropHad made him envied. 'Wretch, and dost thou deemMe wanting in a brave man's heart? ' he cried,' Me only in this throng? And have I seemed'Tender, unfit to bear the morning heat?He who would quench his thirst 'mid such a host,'Doth most deserve its pangs.' Then in his wrathDashed down the helmet, and the scanty spring,Thus by their leader spurned, sufficed for all.
Invasit Libye securi fata Catonis.Tertia pars rerum Libye, si credere famaeCuncta velis: at si ventos coelumque sequaris,Pars erit Europae. Neque enim plus litora Nili,Quam Scythicus Tanais primis a Gadibus absunt,Unde Europa fugit Libyen, et litora flexuOceano fecere locum: sed maior in unamOrbis abit Asiam. Nam cum communiter istaeEffundant Zephyrum, Boreae latus illa sinistrumContingens, dextrumque Noti, descendit in ortus,Eurum sola tenens. Libycae quod fertile terrae est,Vergit in occasus: sed et haec non fontibus ullisSolvitur: Arctoos raris Aquilonibus imbresAccipit, et nostris reficit sua rura serenis.In nullas vitiatur opes; non aere neque auroExcoquitur, nullo glebarum crimine, pura,Et penitus terra est. Tantum Maurusia gentiRobora divitiae, quarum non noverat usum,Sed citri contenta comis vivebat, et umbris.In nemus ignotum nostrae venere secures,Extremoque epulas mensasque petivimus orbe.At quaecumque vagam Syrtim complectitur oraSub nimio porrecta die, vicina perustiAetheris, exurit messes, et pulvere BacchumEnecat, et nulls putris radice tenetur.Temperies vitalis abest, et nulla sub illaCura Iovis terra est: Natura deside torpetOrbis, et immotis annum non sentit arenis.Hoc tam segne solum raras tamen exserit herbas,Quas Nasamon gens dura legit, qui proxima pontoNudus rura tenet; quem mundi barbara damnisSyrtis alit. Nam litoreis populator arenisImminet, et, nulla portus tangente carina,Novit epes. Sic cum toto commercia mundoNaufragiis Nasamones habent. Hac ire CatonemDura iubet virtus. Illic secura iuventusVentorum, nullasque timens tellure procellas,Aequoreos est passa metus. Nam litore sicco,Quam pelago, Syrtis violentius accipit Austrum.Et terrae magis ille nocens. Non montibus illumAdversis frangit Libye, scopulisque repulsumDissipat, et liquidas e turbine solvit in auras:Nec ruit in silvas, annosaque robora torquensLassatur: patet omne solum, liberque meatuAeoliam rabiem totis exercet habenis:Et non imbriferam contorto pulvere nubemIn flexum violentus agit: pars plurima terraeTollitur, et numquam resoluto vertice pendet.Regna videt pauper Nasamon errantia vento,Discussasque domos: volitantque a culmine raptaeDetecto Garamante casae. Non altius ignisRapta vehit: quantumque licet consurgere fumo,Et violare diem, tantum tenet aera pulvis.Tum quoque Romanum solito violentius agmenAdgreditur, nullusque potest consistere miles,Instabilis, raptis etiam, quas calcat, arenis.Concuteret terras, orbemque a sede moveret,Si solida Libye compage et pondere duroClauderet exesis Austrum scopulosa cavernis:Sed quia mobilibus facilis turbatur arenis,Nusquam luctando stabilis manet: imaque tellusStat, quia summa fugit. Galeas et scuta virorumPilaque contorsit violento spiritus actu,Intentusque tulit magni per inania coeli.Illud in externa forsan longeque remotaProdigium tellure fuit: delapsaque coeloArma timent gentes, hominumque erepta lacertisA superis demissa putant. Sic illa profectoSacrifico cecidere Numae, quae lecta iuventusPatricia cervice movet: spoliaverat AusterAut Boreas populos ancilia nostra ferentes.Sic orbem torquente Noto Romana iuventusProcubuit, metuensque rapi, constrinxit amictus,Inseruitque manus terrae: nec pondere solo,Sed nisu iacuit, vix sic immobilis Austro:Qui super ingentes cumulos involvit arenae,Atque operit tellure viros. Vix tollere milesMembra valet, multo congestu pulveris haereus.Adligat et stantes adfusae magnus arenaeAgger, et immoti terra surgente tenentur.Saxa tulit penitus discussis proruta muris.Effuditque procul, miranda sorte malorum:Qui nullas videre domos, videre ruinas.Iamque iter omne latet: nec sunt discrimina terraeUlla, nisi aetheriae medio velut aequore flammae.Sideribus novere vias: nec sidera notaOstendit Libycae finitor circulus orae,Multaque devexo terrarum margine celat.Utque calor solvit, quem torserat aera ventusIncensusque dies, manant sudoribus artus,Arent ora siti: conspecta est parva malignaUnda procul vena: quam vix e pulvere milesCorripiens, patulum galeae confudit in orbem,Porrexitque duci. Squalebant pulvere faucesCunctorum: minimumque tenens dux ipse liquorisInvidiosus erat. Mene, inquit, degener unumMiles in hac turba vacuum virtute putasti?Usque adeo mollis primisque caloribus imparSum visus? Quanto poena tu dignior ista es,Qui, populo sitiente, bibas! Sic concitus iraExcussit galeam, suffecitque omnibus unda.
Now had they reached that temple which possess,Sole in all Libya, th' untutored tribesOf Garamantians. Here holds his seat(So saith the story) a prophetic Jove,Wielding no thunderbolts, nor like to ours;The Libyan Hammon of the curved horn.No wealth adorns his fane by Afric tribesBestowed, nor glittering hoard of Eastern gems.Though rich Arabians, Ind and EthiopKnow him alone as Jove, still he is poorHolding his shrine by riches undefiledThrough time; and pure as gods of olden daysHe spurns the wealth of Rome. That here sone godDwells, witnesses the only groveThat buds in Libya-for that which growsUpon the arid dust which Leptis partsFrom Berenice, knows no leaves; aloneHammon uprears a wood; a fount the causeWhich with its waters binds the crumbling soil.Yet shall the Sun when poised upon the heightStrike through the foliage: hardly can the treeProtect its trunk, and to a little spaceHis rays draw in the circle of the shade.Here have men found the spot where that high bandSolstitial divides in middle skyThe zodiac stars: not here oblique their course,Nor Scorpion rises straighter than the Bull,Nor to the Scales does Ram give back his hours,Nor does Astraea bid the Fishes sinkMore slowly down: but watery CapricornIs equal with the Crab, and with the TwinsThe Archer; neither does the Lion riseAbove Aquarius. But the race that dwellsBeyond the fervour of the Libyan firesSees to the South that shadow which with usFalls to the North: slow Cynosura sinksFor them below the deep; and, dry with us,The Wagon plunges; far from either pole,No star they know that does not seek the nain,But all the constellations in their courseWhirl to their vision through the middle sky.Before the doors the Eastern peoples stoodSeeking from horned Jove to know their fates:Yet to the Roman chief they yielded place,Whose comrades prayed him to entreat the godsFamed through the Libyan world, and judge the voiceRenowned from distant ages. First of theseWas Labienus: 'Chance,' he said, 'to us'The voice and counsel of this mighty god'Has offered as we march; from such a guide'To know the issues of the war, and learn'To track the Syrtes. For to whom on earth'If not to blameless Cato, shall the godsEntrust their secret truths? Thou at the least'Their faithful follower through life hast been.'Lo! thou hast liberty to speak with Jove.Ask impious Caesar's fates, and learn the laws'That wait our country in the future days:'Whether the people shall be free to use'Their rights and customs, or the civil war'For us is wasted. To thy sacred breast,'Lover of virtue, take the voice divine;'Demand what virtue is and guide thy steps'By heaven's high counsellor.'But Cato, fullOf godlike thoughts borne in his quiet breast,This answer uttered, worthy of the shrines:'What, Labienus, dost thou bid me ask?'Whether in arms and freedom I should wish' To perish, rather than endure a king?' Is longest life worth aught? And doth its term' Make difference? Can violence to the goodDo injury? Do Fortune's threats availOutweighed by virtue? Doth it not sufficeTo aim at deeds of bravery? Can fameGrow by achievement? Nay! No Hammon's voiceShall teach us this more surely than we know.Bound are we to the gods; no voice we need;They live in all our acts, although the shrineBe silent: at our birth and once for allWhat may be known the author of our beingRevealed; nor chose these thirsty sands to chaunt'To few his truth, whelmed in the dusty waste.God has his dwelling in all things that be,In earth and air and sea and starry vault,In virtuous deeds; in all that thou canst see,In all thy thoughts contained. Why further, then,Seek we our deities? Let those who doubtAnd halting, tremble for their coming fates,Go ask the oracles. No mystic words,Make sure my heart, but surely coming Death." Coward alike and brave, we all must die.Thus hath Jove spoken: seek to know no more.'Thus Cato spoke, and faithful to his creedHe parted from the temple of the godAnd left the oracle of Hammon dumb.Bearing his javelin, as one of themHe strode afoot before the panting troops:No bending neck, no litter bore his form.He bade them not, but showed them how to toil.Spare in his sleep, the last to sip the spring,When at some rivulet to quench their thirstThe eager ranks pressed onward, he aloneUntil the humblest follower might drinkStood motionless. If for the truly goodIs fame, and virtue by the deed itself,Not by successful issue, should be judged,Yield, famous ancestors! Fortune, not worthGained you your glory. But such name as hisWho ever merited by successful warOr slaughtered peoples? Rather would I leadWith him his triumphs through the pathless sandsAnd Libya's bounds, than in Pompeius' carThree times ascend the Capitol, or breakThe proud Jugurtha. Rome! in him beholdHis country's father, worthiest of thy vows;A name by which men shall not blush to swear,Whom, shouldst thou break the fetters from thy neck,Thou mayst in distant days decree divine.Now was the heat more dense, and through that climeThan which no further on the Southern sideThe gods permit, they trod; and scarcer stillThe water, till in middle sands they foundOne copious fountain; but its brimming waveWas thronged with serpents which it hardly held,And thirsty asps were pressing on the marge.But when the chieftain saw that speedy fateWas on the host, if they should leave the wellUntasted, ' Vain,' he cried, your fear of death.' Drink, nor delay: 'tis from the threatening tooth" Men draw their deaths, and fatal from the fang' Issues the juice if mingled with the blood;' The cup is harmless.' Then he sipped the fount,Still doubting, and in all the Libyan wasteThere only was he first to touch the stream.
Ventum erat ad templum, Libycis quod gentibus unumInculti Garamantes habent. Stat sortifer isticIupiter, ut memorant, sed non aut fulmina vibrans,Aut similis nostro, sed tortis cornibus Ammon.Non illic Libycae posuerunt ditia gentesTempla, nec Eois splendent donaria gemmis.Quamvis Aethiopum populis Arabumque beatisGentibus atque Indis unus sit Iupiter Ammon,Pauper adhuc deus est, nullis violata per aevumDivitiis delubra tenens: morumque priorumNumen, Romano templum defendit ab auro.Esse locis superos, testatur silva, per omnemSola virens Libyen. Nam quidquid pulvere siccoSeparat ardentem tepida Berenicida Lepti,Ignorat frondes: solus nemus extulit Ammon.Silvaram fons caussa loco, qui putria terraeAdligat, et domitas unda connectit arenas.Sic quoque nil obstat Phoebo, cum cardine summoStat librata dies: truncum vix protegit arbor:Tam brevis in medium radiis compellitur umbra.Deprensum est, hunc esse locum, qua circulum altiSolstitii medium signorum percutit orbem.Non obliqua meant, nec Tauro Scorpius exitRectior, aut Aries donat sua tempora Librae,Aut Astraea iubet lentos descendere Pisces.Par Geminis Chiron, et idem quod Carcinos ardensHumidus Aegoceros: nec plus Leo tollitur Urna.At tibi, quaecumque es Libyco gens igne diremta,In Noton umbra cadit, quae nobis exit in Arcton:Et segnis Cynosura subit: tu sicca profundoMergi plaustra putas, nullumque in vertice summoSidus habes immune mari; procul axis uterque est,Et fuga signorum medio rapit omnia caelo.Stabant ante fores populi, quos miserat Eos,Cornigerique Iovis monitu nova fata petebant:Sed Latio cessere duci: comitesque CatonemOrant, exploret Libycum memorata per orbemNumina, de fama tam longi iudicet aevi.Maximus hortator scrutandi voce deorumEventus Labienus erat. Sors obtulit, inquit,Et Fortuna viae tam magni numinis oraConsiliumque dei: tanto duce possumus utiPer Syrtes, bellique datos cognoscere casus.Nam cui crediderim superos arcana daturosDicturosque magis, quam sancto vera Catoni?Certe vita tibi semper directa supernasAd leges, sequerisque deum. Datur, ecce, loquendiCum Iove libertas: inquire in fata nefandiCaesaris, et patriae venturos excute mores:Iure suo populis uti legumque licebit,An bellum civile perit. Tua pectora sacraVoce reple: durae semper virtutis amator,Quaere quid est virtus, et posce exemplar honesti.Ille, deo plenus, tacita quem mente gerebat,Effudit dignas adytis e pectore voces:Quid quaeri, Labiene, iubes? an liber in armisOccubuisse velim potius, quam regna videre?An sit vita nihil, et longa? an differat aetas?An noceat vis ulla bono? Fortunaque perdatOpposita virtute minas? laudandaque velleSit satis, et numquam successu crescat honestum?Scimus, et haec nobis non altius inseret Ammon.Haeremus cuncti superis, temploque tacente,Nil agimus nisi sponte dei: nec vocibus ullisNumen eget: dixitque semel nascentibus auctorQuidquid scire licet: steriles nec legit arenas,Ut caneret paucis, mersitque hoc pulvere verum:Estque dei sedes, ubi terra, et pontus, et aer,Et coelum, et virtus. Superos quid quaerimus ultra?Iuppiter est, quodcumque vides, quodcumque moveris.Sortilegis egeant dubii, semperque futurisCasibus ancipites: me non oracula certum,Sed mors certa facit. Pavido fortique cadendum est:Hoc satis est dixisse Iovem. Sic ille profatur:Servataque fide templi, discedit ab aris,Non exploratum populis Ammona relinquens.Ipse manu sua pila gerens, praecedit anheliMilitis ora pedes: monstrat tolerare labores,Non iubet: et nulla vehitur cervice supinus,Carpentoque sedens. Somni parcissimus ipse est,Ultimus haustor aquae. Cum tandem fonte repertoIndiga conatur laticis potare iuventus,Stat, dum lixa bibat. Si veris magna paraturFama bonis, et si successu nuda remotoInspicitur virtus, quidquid laudamus in ulloMaiorum, Fortuna fuit. Quis Marte secundo,Quis tantum meruit populorum sanguine nomen?Hunc ego per Syrtes Libyaeque extrema triumphumDucere maluerim, quam ter Capitolia curruScandere Pompeii, quam frangere colla Iugurthae.Ecce parens verus patriae, dignissimus aris,Roma, tuis; per quem numquam iurare pudebit,Et quem, si steteris umquam cervice soluta,Tunc olim factura deum. Iam spissior ignis,Et plaga, quam nullam superi mortalibus ultraA medio fecere die, calcatur, et undaRarior: inventus mediis fons unus arenisLargus aquae, sed quem serpentum turba tenebatVix capiente loco. Stabant in margine siccaeAspides, in mediis sitiebant Dipsades undi.Ductor, ut adspexit perituros fonte relicto,Adloquitur: Vana specie conterrite leti,Ne dubita, miles, tutos haurire liquores:Noxia serpentum est admito sanguine pestis:Morsu virus habent, et fatum dente minantur:Pocula morte carent. Dixit, dubiumque venenumHausit: et in tota Libyae fons unus arenaIlle fuit, de quo primus sibi posceret undam.
Why fertile thus in death the pestilent airOf Libya, what poison in her soilHer several nature mixed, my care to knowHas not availed: but from the days of oldA fabled story has deceived the world.Far on her limits, where the burning shoreAdmits the ocean fervid from the sunPlunged in its waters, lay Medusa's fieldsUntilled; nor forests shaded, nor the ploughFurrowed the soil, which by its mistress' gazeWas hardened into stone: Phorcus, her sire.Malevolent nature from her body firstDrew forth these noisome pests; first from her jawsIssued the sibilant rattle of serpent tongues;Clustered around her head the poisonous broodLike to a woman's hair, wreathed on her neckWhich gloried in their touch; their glittering headsAdvanced towards her; and her tresses kemptDripped down with viper's venom. This aloneThou hast, accursed one, which men can seeUnharmed; for who upon that gaping mouthLooked and could dread? Whom suffered she to dieWho saw her face? He rushed upon his fateAnd ere he feared was stricken to the death.Perished the limbs while living, and the soulGrew stiff and stark ere yet it fled the frame.Men have been frenzied by the Furies' locks,Not killed; and Cerberus at Orpheus' songCeased from his hissing, and Alcides sawThe Hydra ere he slew. This monster bornBrought horror with her birth upon her sirePhorcus, in second order God of Waves,And upon Ceto and the Gorgon brood,Her sisters. She could treat the sea and skyWith deadly calm unknown, and from the worldBid cease the soil. Borne down by instant weightFowls fell from air, and beasts were fixed in stone.Whole Ethiop tribes who tilled the neighbouring landsRigid in marble stood. The Gorgon sightNo creature bore and even her serpents turnedBack from her visage. Atlas in his placeBeside the Western columns, by her lookWas turned to granite; and when Phlegra's broodGigantic, serpent-tailed, were feared of heaven,She made them mountains, and the Gorgon headBorne on Athena's bosom closed the war.Here born of Danae and the golden shower,Floating on wings Parrhasian, by the godArcadian given, author of the lyreAnd wrestling art, came Perseus, swooping downFrom heaven. Cyllenian Harpe did he bearStill crimson from another monster slain,The guardian of the heifer loved by Jove.This to her winged brother Pallas lentPrice of the monster's head: by her commandHe sought the limits of the Libyan land,Poised o'er Medusa's realm, with head averseTowards the rising sun: a burnished shieldOf yellow brass upon his other arm,Her gift, her bore: in which she bade him seeThe fatal face unscathed. Nor yet in sleepLay all the monster, for such total restTo her were death-so fated: serpent locksIn vigilant watch, some reaching forth defendHer head, while others lay upon her faceAnd slumbering eyes. Then hero Perseus shookThough turned averse; trembled his dexter hand:But Pallas held, and the descending bladeShore the broad neck whence sprang the viper brood.What visage bore the Gorgon as the steelThus reft her life! what poison from her throatBreathed! from her eyes what venom of death distilled!The goddess dared not look, and Perseus' faceHad frozen, averse, had not Athena veiledWith coils of writhing snakes the features dead.Then with the Gorgon head the hero flewUplifted on his wings and sought the sky.Shorter had been his voyage through the midstOf Europe's cities; but Athena badeTo spare her peoples and their fruitful lands;For who when such an airy courser passedHad not looked up to heaven? Western windsNow sped his pinions, and he took his courseO'er Libya's regions, from the stars and sunsVeiled by no culture. Phoebus' nearer trackThere burns the soil, and loftiest on the skyThere falls the night, to shade the wandering moon,If e'er forgetful of her course oblique,Straight through the stars, nor bending to the NorthNor to the South, she hastens. Yet that earth,In nothing fertile, void of fruitful yield,Drank in the poison of Medusa's blood,Dripping in dreadful dews upon the soil,And in the crumbling sands by heat matured.Where first within the dust the venom germTook life, an asp was reared of turgid neckAnd sleep compelling: thick the poison dropThat was his making, in no fang of snakeMore closely pressed. Greedy of warmth it seeksNo frozen world itself, nor haunts the sandsBeyond the Nile; yet has our thirst of gainNo shame nor limit, and this Libyan death,This fatal pest we purchase for our own.Haemorrhois huge spreads out his scaly coils,Who suffers not his hapless victims' bloodTo stay within their veins. Chersydros sprangTo life, to dwell within the doubtful marshWhere land nor sea prevails. A cloud of sprayMarked fell Chelyder's track: and Cenchris roseStraight gliding to his prey, his belly tingedWith various spots unnumbered, more than thoseWhich paint the Theban marble; horned snakesWith spines contorted: like to torrid sandAmmodytes, of hue invisible:Sole of all serpents Scytale to shedIn vernal frosts his slough; and thirsty Dipsas;Dread Amphisbaena with his double headTapering; and Natrix who in bubbling fountFuses his venom. Greedy Prester swellsHis foaming jaws; Pareas, head erectFurrows with tail alone his sandy path;Swift Jaculus there, and Seps whose poisonous juiceMakes liquid bone and flesh: and there uprearedHis regal head, and frighted from his trackWith sibilant terror all the subject swarm,Baneful ere darts his poison, BasiliskIn sands deserted king. Ye serpents tooWho in all other regions harmless glideAdored as gods, and bright with golden scales,Are deadly here: for Afric air inhaledBestows malignant gift, as poised on wingsWhole herds of kine ye follow, and with coilsEncircling close, crush in the mighty bull.Nor does the elephant in his giant bulk,Nor aught, find safety; and ye need no fangNor poison, to compel the fatal end.
Cur Libycus tantis exundet pestibus aerFertilis in mortes, aut quid secreta nocentiMiscuerit natura solo, non cura laborqueNoster scire valet: nisi quod vulgata per orbemFabula pro vera decepit saecula caussa.Finibus extremis Libyes, ubi fervida tellusAccipit Oceanum demisso sole calentem,Squalebant late Phorcynidos arva Medusae,Non nemorum protecta coma, non mollia sulco,Sed dominas vultu conspectis aspera saxis,Hoc primum natura nocens in corpore saevasEduxit pestes: illis e faucibus anguesStridula fuderunt vibratis sibila linguis,Femineae qui more comae per terga soluti,Ipsa flagellabant gaudentis colla Medusae.Surgunt adverse subrectae fronte colubrae,Vipereumque fluit depexo crine venenum.Hoc habet infelix, cunctis impune, Medusa,Quod spectare licet Nam rictus oraque monstriQuis timuit? quem, qui recto se lumine vidit,Passa Medusa mori est. Rapuit dubitantia fata,Praevenitque metus: anima periere retentaMembra, nec emissae riguere sub ossibus umbrae.Eumenidum crines solos movere furores:Cerberus Orpheo lenivit sibila cantu:Amphitryoniades vidit, cum vinceret, Hydram;Hoc monstrum timuit genitor, numenque secundumPhorcus aquis, Cetoque parens, ipsaeque sororesGorgones: hoc potuit coelo pelagoque minariTorporem insolitum, mundoque abducere terram.E coelo volucres subito cum pondere lapsae:In scopulis haesere ferae: vicina colentesAethiopum totae riguerunt marmore gentes.Nullum animal visus patiens, ipsique retrorsumEffusi faciem vitabant Gorgonis angues.Illa sub Hesperiis stantem Titana columnisIn cautes Atlanta dedit: coeloque timenteOlim Phlegraeo stantes serpente gigantes,Erexit montes, bellumque immane deorumPallados in medio confecit pectore Gorgon.Quo postquam partu Danaes et divite nimboOrtum Parrhasiae vexerunt Persea pennaeArcados auctoris citharae liquidaeque palaestrae,Et subitus praepes Cyllenida sustulit harpen,Harpen alterius monstri iam caede rubentem,[A Iove dilectae fuso custode iuvencae:]Auxilium volucri Pallas tulit innuba fratri,Pacta caput monstri: terraeque in fine LibyssaePersea Phoebeos converti iussit ad ortus,Gorgonis averso sulcantem regna volatu:Et clypeum laevae fulvo dedit aere nitentem,In quo saxificam iussit spectare Medusam.Quam sopor, aeternam tracturus morte quietem,Obruit haud totam. Vigilat pars magna comarum,Defenduntque caput praetenti crinibus hydri:Pars iacet in medios vultus oculique tenebras.Ipsa regit trepidum Pallas, dextraque trementePerseos aversi Cyllenida dirigit harpen,Lata colubriferi rumpens confinia colli.Quos habuit vultus hamati vulnere ferriCaesa caput Gorgon! quanto spirasse venenoOra rear! quantumque oculos effundere mortis!Nec Pallas spectare potest: vultusque gelassentPerseos aversi, si non Tritonia densosSparsisset crines, texissetque ora colubri.Aliger in coelum sic rapta Gorgone fugit.Ille quidem pensabat iter, propiusque secabatAethera, si medias Europae scinderet urbes;Pallas frugiferas iussit non laedere terras,Et parci populis. Quis enim non praepete tantoAethera respiceret? Zephyro convertitur ales,Itque super Libyen, quae, nullo consita cultu,Sideribus Phoeboque vacat: premit orbita solis,Exuritque solum; nec terra celsior ullaNox cadit in coelum, lunaeque meatibus obstat,Si flexus oblita vagi per recta cucurritSigna, nec in Borean aut in Noton effugit umbram.Illa tamen sterilis tellus, fecundaque nulliArva bono, virus stillantis tabe MedusaeConcipiunt, dirosque fero de sanguine rores,Quos calor adiuvit, putrique incoxit arenae.Hic, quae prima caput movit de pulvere tabes,Aspida somniferam tumida cervice levavit.Plenior huic sanguis et crassi gutta veneniDecidit: in nulla plus est serpente coactum.Ipsa caloris egens gelidum non transit in orbemSponte sua, Niloque tenus metitur arenas.Sed quis erit nobis lucri pudor? inde petunturHuc Libycae mortes, et fecimus Aspida mercem.At non stare suum miseris passura cruorem,Squamiferos ingens Haemorrhois explicat orbes:Natus et, ambiguae coleret qui Syrtidos arva,Chersydros, tractique via fumante Chelydri:Et semper recto lapsurus limite Cenchris:Pluribus ille notis variatam pingitur alvum,Quam parvis tinctus maculis Thebanus Ophites.Concolor exustis atque indiscretus arenisAmmodytes: spinaque vagi torquente Cerastae:Et Scytale, sparsis etiam nunc sola pruinisExuvias positura suas: et torrida Dipsas:Et gravis in geminum vergens caput Amphisbaena:Et Natrix violator aquae, Iaculique volucres,Et contentus iter cauda sulcare Pareas:Oraque distendens avidus spumantia Prester:Ossaque dissolvens cum corpore tabificus Seps.Sibilaque effundens cunctas terrentia pestes,Ante venena nocens, late sibi submovet omneVulgus, et in vacua regnat Basiliscus arena.Vos quoque, qui cunctis innoxia numina terrisSerpitis, aurato nitidi fulgore dracones,Pestiferos ardens facit Africa. Ducitis altumAera cum pennis, armentaque tota secutiRumpitis ingentes amplexi verbere tauros:Nec tutus spatio est elephas: datis omnia leto:Nec vobis opus est ad noxia fata veneno.
Amid these pests undaunted Cato urgedHis desert journey on. His hardy troopsBeneath his eyes, pricked by a scanty wound,In strangest forms of death unnumbered fall.Tyrrhenian Aulus, bearer of a flag,Trod on a Dipsas; quick with head reversedThe serpent struck; no mark betrayed the tooth:The aspect of the wound nor threatened death,Nor any evil; but the poison germIn silence working as consuming fireAbsorbed the moisture of his inward frame,Draining the natural juices that were spreadAround his vitals; in his arid jawsSet flame upon his tongue: his wearied limbsNo sweat bedewed; dried up, the fount of tearsFled from his eyelids. Tortured by the fireNor Cato's sternness, nor of his sacred chargeThe honour could withhold him; but he daredTo dash his standard down, and through the plainsRaging, to seek for water that might slakeThe fatal venom thirsting at his heart.Plunge him in Tanais, in Rhone and Po,Pour on his burning tongue the flood of Nile,Yet were the fire unquenched. So fell the fangOf Dipsas in the torrid Libyan lands;In other climes less fatal. Next he seeksAmid the sands, all barren to the depths,For moisture: then returning to the shoalsLaps them with greed-in vain-the briny draughtScarce quenched the thirst it made. Nor knowing yetThe poison in his frame, he steels himselfTo rip his swollen veins and drink the gore.Cato bids lift the standard, lest his troopsMay find in thirst a pardon for the deed.But on Sabellus' yet more piteous deathTheir eyes were fastened. Clinging to his skinA Seps with curving tooth, of little size,He seized and tore away, and to the sandsPierced with his javelin. Small the serpent's bulk;None deals a death more horrible in form.For swift the flesh dissolving round the woundBared the pale bone; swam all his limbs in blood;Wasted the tissue of his calves and knees:And all the muscles of his thighs were thawedIn black distilment, and the membrane sheathParted, that bound his vitals, which abroadFlowed upon earth: yet seemed it not that allHis frame was loosed, for by the venomous dropWere all the bands that held his muscles drawnDown to a juice; the framework of his chestWas bare, its cavity, and all the partsHid by the organs of life, that make the man.So by unholy death there stood revealedHis inmost nature. Head and stalwart arms,And neck and shoulders, from their solid massMelt in corruption. Not more swiftly flowsWax at the sun's command, nor snow compelledBy southern breezes. Yet not all is said:For so to noxious humours fire consumesOur fleshly frame; but on the funeral pyreWhat bones have perished? These dissolve no lessThan did the mouldered tissues, nor of deathThus swift is left a trace. Of Afric pestsThou bear'st the palm for hurtfulness: the lifeThey snatch away, thou only with the lifeThe clay that held it.Lo! a different fate,Not this by melting! for a Prester's fangNasidius struck, who erst in Marsian fieldsGuided the plough. Upon his face there burnsA redness as of flame: swollen the skin,His features hidden, swollen all his limbsTill more than human: and his definite frameOne tumour huge conceals. A ghastly goreIs puffed from inwards as the virulent juiceCourses through all his body; which, thus grown,His corselet holds not. Not in caldron soBoils up to mountainous height the steaming wave;Nor in such bellying curves does canvas bendTo Eastern tempests. Now the ponderous bulkRejects the limbs, and as a shapeless trunkBurdens the earth: and there, to beasts and birdsA fatal feast, his comrades leave the corse;Nor dare to place, yet swelling, in the tomb.But for their eyes the Libyan pests preparedMore dreadful sights. On Tullus great in heart,And bound to Cato with admiring soul,A fierce Haemorrhois fixed. From every limb,(As from a statue saffron spray is showeredIn every part) there spouted forth for bloodA sable poison: from the natural poresOf moisture, gore profuse; his mouth was filledAnd gaping nostrils, and his tears were blood.Brimmed full his veins; his very sweat was red;All was one wound.Then piteous Levus nextIn sleep was victim, for around his heartStood still the blood congealed: no pain he feltOf venomous tooth, but swift upon him fellDeath, and he sought the shades; more swift to killNo draught in poisonous cups from ripened plantsOf direst growth Sabaean wizards brew.Lo! Upon branchless trunk a serpent, namedBy Libyans Jaculus, rose in coils to dartHis venom from afar. Through Paullus' brainIt rushed, nor stayed; for in the wound itselfWas death. Then did they know how slowly flies,Flung from a sling, the stone; how gently speedThrough air the shafts of Scythia. What availed,Murrus, the lance by which thou didst transfixA Basilisk? Swift through the weapon ranThe poison to his hand: he drew his swordAnd severed arm and shoulder at a blow:Then gazed secure upon his severed handWhich perished as he looked. So hadst thou died,And such had been thy fate!Whoe'er had thoughtA scorpion had strength o'er death and fate?Yet with his threatening coils and barb erectHe won the glory of Orion slain;So bear the stars their witness. And who would fearThy haunts, Salpuga? Yet the Stygian MaidsHave given thee power to snap the fatal threads.
Has inter pestes duro Cato milite siccumEmetitur iter, tot tristia fata suorumInsolitasque videns parvo cum vulnere mortes.Signiferum iuvenem Tyrrheni sanguinis AulumTorta caput retro Dipsas calcata momordit.Frons dolor aut sensus dentis fuit: ipsaque letiFrons caret invidia, nec quidquam plaga minatur.Ecce subit virus tacitum, carpitque medullasIgnis edax, calidaque incendit viscera tabe.Ebibit humorem circum vitalia fusumPestis, et in sicco linguam torrere palatoCoepit; defessos iret qui sudor in artusNon fuit, atque oculos lacrimarum vena refugit.Non decus imperii, non moesti iura CatonisArdentem tenuere virum, quin spargere signaAuderet, totisque furens exquireret agris,Quas poscebat aquas sitiens in corde venenum.Ille vel in Tanain missus Rhodanumque PadumqueArderet, Nilumque bibens per rura vagantem.Accessit morti Libye, fatisque minoremFamam Dipsas habet, terris adiuta perustis.Scrutatur venas penitus squalentis arenae:Nunc redit ad Syrtes, et fluctus accipit oreAequoreusque placet, sed non sibi sufficit, humor.Nec sentit fatique genus mortemque veneni,Sed putat esse sitim, ferroque aperite tumentesSustinuit venas, atque os implere cruore.Iussit signa rapi propere Cato: discere nulliPermissum est, hoc posse sitim. Sed tristior illaMors erat ante oculos: miserique in crure SabelliSeps stetit exiguus, quem flexo dente tenacemAvulsitque manu, piloque adfixit arenis:Parva modo serpens; sed qua non ulla cruentaeTantum mortis habet. Nam plagae proxima circumFugit rapta cutis, pallentiaque ossa retexit.Iamque sinu laxo nudum est sine corpore vulnus;Membra natant sanie: surae fluxere: sine ulloTegmine poples erat: femorum quoque musculus omniLiquitur, et nigra distillant inguina tabe.Dissiluit stringens uterum membrana, fluuntqueViscera: nec, quantum toto de corpore debet,Effluit in terras: saevum sed membra venenumDecoquit; in minimum mox contrahit omnia virusVincula nervorum, et laterum contexta, cavumquePectus, et abstrusum fibris vitalibus, omneQuidquid homo est, aperit pestis. Natura profanaMorte patet: manant humeri fortesque lacerti:Colla caputque fluunt. Calido non ocius AustroNix resoluta cadit, nec solem cera sequetur.Parva loquor, corpus sanie stillasse perustum:Hoc et flamma potet. Sed quis rogus abstulit ossaHaec quoque discedunt, putresque secuta medullasNulla manere sinunt rapidi vestigia fati.Cyniphias inter pestes tibi palma nocendi est;Eripiunt omnes animam, tu sola cadaver.Ecce subit fades leto diversa fluentiNasidium Marsi cultorem torridus agriPercussit Prester. Illi rubor igneus oraSuccendit, tenditque cutem, pereunte figura,Miscens cuncta tumor, toto iam corpore maior:Humanumque egressa modum, super omnia membraEfflatur sanies: late pollente veneno,Ipse latet penitus congesto corpore mersus:Nec lorica tenet distenti corporis auctum.Spumeus accenso non sic exundat ahenoUndarum cumulis: nec tantos carbasa CoroCurvavere sinus. Tumidos iam non capit artusInformis globus, et confuso pondere truncus.Intactum, volucrum rostris epulasque daturumHaud impune feris, non ausi tradere busto,Nondum stante modo, crescens fugere cadaver.Sed maiora parant Libycae spectacula pestes.Impressit dentes Haemorrhois aspera TulloMagnanimo iuveni, miratorique Catonis.Utque solet pariter totis se effundere signisCorycii pressura croci: sic omnia membraEmisere simul rutilum pro sanguine virus.Sanguis erant lacrimae: quaecumque foramina novitHumor, ab his largus manat cruor: ore redundant,Et patulae nares: sudor rubet: omnia plenisMembra fluunt venis: totum est pro vulnere corpus,At tibi, Leve miser, fixus praecordia pressitNilaca serpente cruor: nulloque doloreTestatus morsus, subita caligine mortemAccipis, et Stygias somno descendis ad umbras.Non tam veloci corrumpunt pocula leto,Stipite quae diro [virgas mentita Sabinas][Toxica fatilegi] carpunt matura Sabaei.Ecce procul saevus sterilis se robore trunciTorsit et immisit (iaculum vocat Africa) serpens:Perque caput Paulli transactaque tempora fugit.Nil ibi virus agit: rapuit cum vulnere fatum.Deprensum est, quae funda rotat, quam lenta volarent.Quam segnis Scythicae strideret arundinis aer.Quid prodest miseri Basiliscus cuspide MurriTransactuas? Velox currit per tela venenum,Invaditque manum: quam protinus ille retectoEnse ferit, totoque simul demittit ab armo;Exemplarque sui spectans miserabile letiStat tutus, pereunte manu. Quis fata putaretScorpion aut vires maturae mortis habere.Ille minax nodis, et recto verbere saevus,Teste tulit coelo victi decus Orionis.Quis calcare tuas metuat, Solpuga, latebras?Et tibi dant Stygiae ius in sua fila sorores.