---
title: "Pharsalia · De Bello Civili"
author: "Lucan"
translator: "Sir Edward Ridley"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
section: 19 of 21
url: https://scriptura.si/works/lucan-pharsalia/19/
cite: "Lucan, tr. Sir Edward Ridley, Pharsalia · De Bello Civili, section 19. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/lucan-pharsalia/19/"
---

# 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.

## 19. Book IX · lines 839–1108

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/lucan-pharsalia/19/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/lucan-pharsalia/19/#p-N

[¶0] Thus nor the day with brightness, nor the night
With darkness gave them peace. The very earth
On which they lay they feared; nor leaves nor straw
They piled for couches, but upon the ground
Unshielded from the fates they laid their limbs,
Cherished beneath whose warmth in chill of night
The frozen pests found shelter; in whose jaws
Harmless the while, the lurking venom slept.
Nor did they know the measure of their march
Accomplished, nor their path; the stars in heaven
Their only guide. ' Return, ye gods,' they cried,
In frequent wail, ' the arms from which we fled.
' Give back Thessalia. Sworn to meet the sword
' Why, lingering, fall we thus? In Caesar's place
' The thirsty Dipsas and the horned snake
' Now wage the warfare. Rather let us seek
' That region by the horses of the sun
' Scorched, and the zone most torrid: let us fall
'Slain by some heavenly cause, and from the sky
' Descend our fate! Not, Africa, of thee
' Complain we, nor of Nature. From mankind
' Cut off, this quarter, teeming thus with pests
' She gave to snakes, and to the barren fields
' Denied the husbandman, nor wished that men
'Should perish by their venom. To the realms
' Of serpents have we come. Hater of men,
' Receive thy vengeance, whoso of the gods
' Severed this region upon either hand,
' With death in middle space. Our march is set
'Through thy sequestered kingdom, and the host
' Which knows thy secret seeks the furthest world.
' Perchance some greater wonders on our path
' May still await us; in the waves be plunged
' Heaven's constellations, and the lofty pole
'Stoop from its height. By further space removed
' No land, than Juba's realm; by rumour's voice
' Drear, mournful. Haply for this serpent land
' There may we long, where yet some living thing
' Gives consolation. Not my native land
' Nor European fields I hope for now
' Lit by far other suns, nor Asia's plains.
' But in what land, what region of the sky,
' Where left we Africa? But now with frosts
' Cyrene stiffened: have we changed the laws
' Which rule the seasons, in this little space?
' Cast from the world we know, 'neath other skies
' And stars we tread; behind our backs the home
' Of southern tempests: Rome herself perchance
' Now lies beneath our feet. Yet for our fates
' This solace pray we, that on this our track
' Pursuing Caesar with his host may come.'
Thus was their stubborn patience of its plaints
Disburdened. But the bravery of their chief
Forced them to bear their toils. Upon the sand,
All bare, he lies and dares at every hour
Fortune to strike: he only at the fate
Of each was present, flew to every call;
And roused their hearts to fight the poison germ.
Not life he brings them, but the strength in death
To die without a groan-to groan were shame
When he was witness-over him what power
Had plague or venom? In a comrade's breast
They see him conquer anguish; and they learn,
Gazing on him, how weak the power of pain.
Some aid from Fortune, weary of their woes,
At length they gained. Of all who till the earth
The Psyllians only are by snakes unharmed.
Potent as herbs their song; safe is their blood,
Nor gives admission to the poison germ
E'en when the chant has ceased. Their home itself
Placed in such venomous tract and serpent-thronged
Gained them this vantage, and a truce with death,
Else could they not have lived. Such is their trust
In purity of blood, that newly born
Each babe they prove by test of deadly asp
For foreign lineage. So the bird of Jove
Turns his new fledglings to the rising sun
And such as gaze upon the beams of day
With eyes unwavering, for the use of heaven
He rears; but such as blink at Phoebus' rays
Casts from the nest. Thus of unmixed descent
The babe who, dreading not the serpent touch,
Plays in his cradle with the deadly snake.
Nor with their own immunity from harm
Contented do they rest, but watch for guests
Who need their help against the noisome plague.
Now to the Roman standards are they come,
And when the chieftain bade the tents be fixed,
First all the sandy space within the lines
With song they purify and magic words
From which all serpents flee: next round the camp
In widest circuit from a kindled fire
Rise aromatic odours: danewort burns,
And juice distils from Syrian galbanum;
Then mournful tamarisk, costum from the East,
Strong panacea mixed with centaury
From Thrace, and leaves of fennel feed the flames,
And thapsus brought from Eryx: and they burn
Larch, southern-wood and antlers of a deer
Which lived afar. From these in densest fumes,
Deadly to snakes, a pungent smoke arose;
And thus in safety passed the night away.
But should some victim feel the fatal fang
Upon the march, then of this magic race
Were seen the wonders; with saliva first
They smear the limb, whose silent working keeps
The venom in the wound. From foaming mouth
Next with continuous cadence would they pour
Unceasing chants-nor breathing space nor pause-
Else spreads the poison: nor does fate permit
A moment's silence. Oft from the black flesh
Flies forth the pest beneath the magic song:
But should it linger nor obey the voice,
Repugnant to the summons, on the wound
Prostrate they lay their lips and from the depths
Now paling draw the venom. In their mouths,
Sucked from the freezing flesh, they hold the death,
Then spew it forth; and from the taste shall know
The nature of the snake whose bite they cure.

> Latin: Sic nec clara dies nec nox dabat atra quietem
Suspecta est miseris in qua tellure iacebant.
Nam neque congestae struxere cubilia frondes
Nec culmis crevere tori: sed corpora fatis
Expositi volvuntur humo, calidoque vapore
Adliciunt gelidas nocturno frigore pestes:
Innocuosque diu rictus torpente veneno
Inter membra fovent. Nec, quae mensura viarum,
Quisve modus, norant, coelo duce. Saepe querentes,
Reddite, di, clamant, miseris, quae fugimus, arma:
Reddite Thessaliam. Patimur cur segnia fata
In gladios iurata manus? Pro Caesare pugnant
Dipsades, et peragunt civilia bella cerastae.
Ire libet, qua zona rubens atque axis inustus
Solis equis: iuvat aetheriis adscribere caussis,
Quod peream, coeloque mori. Nil, Africa, de te,
Nec de te, natura, queror: tot monstra ferentem,
Gentibus ablatum, dederas serpentibus orbem:
Impatienseque solum Cereris, cultore negato,
Damnasti, atque homines voluisti deesse venenis.
In loca serpentum nos venimus: accipe poenas,
Tu, quisquis superum, commercia nostra perosus,
Hinc torrente plaga, dubiis hinc Syrtibus orbem
Abrumpens, medio posuisti limite mortes.
Per secreta tui bellum civile recessus
Vadit; et arcani miles tibi conscius orbis
Claustra petit mundi. Forsan maiora supersunt
Ingressis. Coeunt ignes stridentibus undis,
Et premitur natura poli. Sed longius ista
Nulla iacet tellus, quam fama cognita nobis
Tristia regna Iubae. Quaeremus forsitan istas
Serpentum terras; habet et solatia coelum:
Vivit adhuc aliquid. Patriae non arva requiro,
Europamque, alios soles, Asiamque, videntem:
Qua te parte poli, qua te tellure reliqui,
Africa? Cyrenis etiam nunc bruma rigebat.
Exiguane via legem convertimus anni?
Imus in adversos axes: evolvimur orbe:
Terga damus ferienda Noto. Nunc forsitan ipsa est
Sub pedibus iam Roma meis. Solatia fati
Haec petimus: veniant hostes, Caesarque sequatur,
Qua fugimus. Sic dura suos patienia questus
Exonerat: cogit tantos tolerare labores
Summa ducis virtus, qui nuda fusus arena
Excubat, atque omni Fortunam provocat hora.
Omnibus unus adest fatis; quocumque vocatur,
Advolat, atque ingens meritum maiusque salute
Contulit, in letum vires: puduitque gementem
Illo teste mori. Quod ius habuisset in ipsum
Ulla lues? Casus alieno pectore vincit
Spectatorque docet, magnos nil posse dolores.
Vix miseris serum tanto lassata periclo
Auxilium Fortuna dedit. Gens unica terras
Incolit a saevo serpentum innoxia morsu,
Marmaridae Psyili: par lingua potentibus herbis:
Ipse cruor tutus, nullumque admittere virus,
Vel cantu cessante, potest. Natura locorum
Iussit, ut immunes mixti serpentibus essent
Profuit in mediis sedem posuisse venenis
Pax illis cum morte data est. Fiducia tanta est
Sanguinis: in terras parvus cum decidit infans,
Ne qua sit externae Veneris mixtura timentes,
Letifera dubios explorant aspide partus.
Utque Iovis volucer, calido cum protulit ovo
Implumes natos, solis convertit ad ortus:
Qui potuere pati radios, et lumine recto
Sustinuere diem coeli, servantur in usus;
Qui Phoebo cessere, iacent: sic pignora gentis
Psyllus habet, si quis tactos non horruit angues,
Si quis donatis lusit serpentibus infans.
Nec solum gens illa sua contenta salute:
Excubat hospitibus, contraque nocentia monstra
Psyllus adest populis. Qui, tunc Romana secutus
Signa, simul iussit statui tentoria ductor,
Primum, quas valli spatium comprendit, arenas
Expurgat cantu, verbisque fugantibus angues.
Ultima castrorum medicatus circuit ignis.
Hic ebulum stridet, peregrinaque galbana sudant,
Et tamarix non laeta comis, Eoaque costus,
Et panacea potens, et Thessala centaurea:
Peucedanumque sonat flammis, Erycinaque thapsos;
Et larices fumoque gravem serpentibus urunt
Abrotanum, et longe nascentis cornua cervi.
Sic nox tuta viris. At si quis peste diurna
Fata trahit, tunc sunt magicae miracula gentis,
Psyllorumque ingens et rapti pugna veneni.
Nam primum tacta designat membra saliva,
Quae cohibet virus, retinetque in vulnere pestem.
Plurima tum volvit spumanti carmina lingua
Murmure continuo, nec dant suspiria cursus
Vulneris, aut minimum patiuntur fata tacere.
Saepe quidem pestis nigris inserta medullis
Excantata fugit: sed si quod tardius audit
Virus, et elicitum iussumque exire repugnat,
tunc superincumbens pallentia vulnera lambit,
Ore venena trahens, et siccat dentibus artus,
Extractamque tenens gelido de corpore mortem
Exspuit: et cuius morsus superaverit anguis,
Iam promtum Psyllis vel gustu nosse veneni.

[¶1] Thus helped, the Roman host with lighter heart
Trod through the barren fields in lengthy march.
Twice veiled the moon her light and twice renewed;
Yet still, with waning or with growing orb
Saw Cato's steps upon the sandy waste.
But more and more beneath their feet the dust
Began to harden, till the Libyan tracts
Once more were earth, and in the distance rose
Some groves of scanty foliage, and huts
Of plastered straw unfashioned: and their hearts
Leaped at the prospect of a better land.
How fled their sorrow! how with growing joy
They met the savage lion in the path!
In tranquil Leptis first they found retreat:
And passed a winter free from heat and rain.
When Caesar sated with Emathia's slain
Forsook the battlefield, all other cares
Neglected, he pursued his kinsman fled,
On him alone intent: by land his steps
He traced in vain; then, rumour for his guide,
He crossed the sea and reached the Thracian strait
For love renowned; where on the mournful shore
Rose Hero's tower, and Helle born of cloud
Took from the rolling waves their former name.
Nowhere with shorter space the sea divides
Europe from Asia; though Pontus parts
By scant division from Byzantium's hold
Chalcedon oyster-rich: and small the strait
Through which Propontis pours the Euxine wave.
Then marvelling at their ancient fame, he seeks
Sigeum's sandy beach and Simois' stream,
Rhoeteum noble for its Grecian tomb,
And all the heroes' shades, the theme of song.
Next by the town of Troy burnt down of old
Now but a memorable name, he turns
His steps, and searches for the mighty stones
Relics of Phoebus' wall. But bare with age
Forests of trees and mouldering trunks oppressed
Assaracus' palace, and with wearied roots
Possessed the ancient temples of the gods.
All Pergamus with densest brake was veiled
And even her stones were perished. He beheld
Thy rock, Hesione; the hidden grove,
Anchises' nuptial chamber; and the cave
Where sat the arbiter; the spot from which
Was snatched the beauteous youth; the mountain lawn
Where mourned OEnone. Not a stone but told
The story of the past. A little stream
Scarce trickling through the arid plain he passed,
Nor knew 'twas Xanthus: deep in grass he placed,
Careless, his footstep; but the herdsman cried
Thou tread'st the dust of Hector.' Stones confused
Lay at his feet in sacred shape no more:
'Look on the altar of Jove,' thus spake the guide,
God of the household, guardian of the home.'
O sacred task of poets, toil supreme,
Which rescuing all things from allotted fate
Dost give eternity to mortal men!
Grudge not the glory, Caesar, of such fame.
For if the Latian Muse may promise aught,
Long as the heroes of the Trojan time
Shall live upon the page of Smyrna's bard,
So long shall future races read of thee
In this my poem; and Pharsalia's song
Live unforgotten in the age to come.
When by the ancient grandeur of the place
The chieftain's sight was filled, of gathered turf
Altars he raised: and as the sacred flame
Cast forth its odours, these not idle vows
Gave to the gods, 'Ye deities of the dead,
' Who watch o'er Phrygian ruins: ye who now
Lavinia's homes inhabit, and Alba's height:
Gods of my sire AEneas, in whose fanes
The Trojan fire still burns: pledge of the past
'Mysterious Pallas, of the inmost shrine,
Unseen of men! here in your ancient seat,
'Most famous offspring of Iulus' race,
'I call upon you and with pious hand
Burn frequent offerings. To my emprise
Give prosperous ending! Here shall I replace
'The Phrygian peoples, here in glad return
'Italia's sons shall build a Pergamus
And from these stones shall rise a Roman Troy.'
He seeks his fleet, and eager to regain
Time spent at Ilium, to the favouring breeze
Spreads all his canvas. Past rich Asia borne,
Rhodes soon he left while foamed the sparkling main
Beneath his keels; nor ceased the wind to stretch
His bending sails, till on the seventh night
The Pharian beam proclaimed Egyptian shores.
But day arose, and veiled the nightly lamp
Ere rode his barks on waters safe from storm.
Then Caesar saw that tumult held the shore,
And mingled voices of uncertain sound
Struck on his ear: and trusting not himself
To doubtful kingdoms, of uncertain troth,
He kept his ships from land. But from the king
Came his vile minion forth upon the wave,
Bearing his dreadful gift, Pompeius' head,
Wrapped in a covering of Pharian wool.
First took he speech and thus in shameless words
Commends the murder: ' Conqueror of the world,
First of the Roman race, and, what as yet
Thou dost not know, safe by thy kinsman slain;
This gift receive from the Pellaean king,
Sole trophy absent from the Thracian field,
'To crown thy toils on land and on the deep.
Here in thine absence have we placed for thee
'An end upon the war. Here Magnus came
To mend his fallen fortunes; on our swords
'Here met his death. With such a pledge of faith
Here have we bought thee, Caesar; with his blood
Seal we this treaty. Take the Pharian realm
Sought by no bloodshed, take the rule of Nile,
Take all that thou wouldst give for Magnus' life:
And hold him vassal worthy of thy camp
'To whom the fates against thy son-in-law
'Such power entrusted; nor hold thou the deed
'Lightly accomplished by the swordsman's stroke,
And so the merit. Guest ancestral he
Who was its victim; who, his sire expelled,
' Gave back to him the sceptre. For a deed
' So great, thou'lt find a name-or ask the world.
' If 'twas a crime, thou must confess the debt
'To us the greater, for that from thy hand
' We took the doing.'
Then he held and showed
Unveiled the head. Now had the hand of death
Passed with its changing touch upon the face:
Nor at first sight did Caesar on the gift
Pass condemnation; nor avert his gaze,
But dwelt upon the features till he knew
The crime accomplished. Then when truth was sure
The loving father rose, and tears he shed
Which flowed at his command, and glad in heart
Forced from his breast a groan: thus by the flow
Of feigned tears and grief he hoped to hide
His joy else manifest: and the ghastly boon
Sent by the king disparaging, professed
Rather to mourn his son's dissevered head,
Than count it for a debt. For thee alone,
Magnus, he durst not fail to find a tear:
He, Caesar, who with mien unaltered spurned
The Roman Senate, and with eyes undimmed
Looked on Pharsalia's field. O fate most hard!
Didst thou with impious war pursue the man
Whom 'twas thy lot to mourn? No kindred ties,
No memory of thy daughter and her son
Touch on thy heart? Didst think perchance that grief
Might help thy cause 'mid lovers of his name?
Or haply, moved by envy of the king,
Griev'st that to other hands than thine was given
To shed the captive's life-blood? and complain'st
Thy vengeance perished and the conquered chief
Snatched from thy haughty hand? Whate'er the cause
That urged thy grief, 'twas far removed from love.
Was this forsooth the object of thy toil
O'er lands and oceans, that without thy ken
He should not perish? Nay! but well was reft
From thine arbitrament his fate. What crime
Did cruel Fortune spare, what depth of shame
To Roman honour! since she suffered not,
Perfidious traitor, while yet Magnus lived,
That thou shouldst pity him!
Thus by words he dared
To gain their credence in his sembled grief:
Hence from my sight with his detested gift,
Thou minion, to thy king. Worse does your crime
Deserve from Caesar than from Magnus' hands.
The only prize that civil war affords
Thus have we lost-to bid the conquered live.
If but the sister of this Pharian king
Were not by him detested, by the head
Of Cleopatra had I paid this gift.
Such were the fit return. Why did he draw
His separate sword, and in the toil that's ours
Mingle his weapons? In Thessalia's field
Gave we such right to the Pellaean blade?
Such licence did your mutual kingdom gain?
Magnus as partner in the rule of Rome
I had not brooked; and shall I tolerate
Thee, Ptolemaeus? In vain with civil wars
Thus have we roused the nations, if there be
Now any might but Caesar's, if any land
Yet owns you masters. From your shore I'd turn
The prows of Latium; but fame forbids,
Lest men should whisper that I did not damn
This deed of blood, but feared the Pharian land.
Nor think ye to deceive; victorious here
I stand: else had my welcome at your hands
Been that of Magnus; and that neck were mine
But for Pharsalia's chance. At greater risk
So seems it, than we dreamed of, took we arms;
Exile, and Magnus' threats, and Rome I knew,
Not Ptolemaeus. But we spare the boy:
Pass by the murder. Let the princeling know
We give no more than pardon for his crime.
And now in honour of the mighty dead,
Not merely that the earth may hide your guilt,
Lay ye the chieftain's head within the tomb;
' With proper sepulture appease his shade
'And place his scattered ashes in an urn.
Thus may he know my coming, and may hear
Affection's accents, and my fond complaints.
Me sought he not, but rather, for his life,
This Pharian vassal; snatching from mankind
The happy morning which had shown the world
A peace between us. But my prayers to heaven
No favouring answer found; that arms laid down
'In happy victory, Magnus, once again
I might embrace thee, begging thee to grant
'Thine ancient love to Caesar, and thy life.
'Thus for my labours with a worthy prize
'Content, thine equal, bound in faithful peace,
'I might have brought thee to forgive the gods
'For thy disaster; thou hadst gained for me
'From Rome forgiveness.'
Thus he spake, but found
No comrade in his tears; nor did the host
Give credit to his grief. Deep in their breasts
They hide their groans, and gaze with joyful front
(O famous Freedom! ) on the deed of blood:
And dare to laugh when mighty Caesar wept.

> Latin: Hoc igitur melior tandem Romana iuventus
Auxilio, late squalentibus errat in arvis.
Bis positis Phoebe flammis, bis luce recepta
Vidit arenivagum surgens fugiensque Catonem.
Iamque illis magis atque magis durescere pulvis
Coepit, et in terram Libye spissata reverti.
Iamque procul rarae nemorum se tollere frondes:
Surgere congesto non culta mapalia culmo.
Quanta dedit miseris melioris gaudia terrae,
Cum primum saevos contra videre leones!
Proxima Leptis erat, cuius statione quietam
Exegere hiemem, nimbis flammisque carentem.
Caesar ut Emathia satiatus clade recessit,
Caetera curarum proiecit pondera, soli
Intentus genero: cuius vestigia frustra
Terris sparsa legens, fama duce tendit in undas,
Threiciasque legit fauces, et amore notatum
Aequor, et Heroas lacrimoso litore turres,
Qua pelago nomen Nepheleias abstulit Helle.
Non Asiam brevioris aquae disterminat usquam
Fluctus ab Europa, quamvis Byzantion arcto
Pontus et ostriferam dirimat Chalcedona cursu,
Euxinumque ferens parvo ruat ore Propontis.
Sigeasque petit famae mirator arenas,
Et Simoentis aquas, et Graio nobile busto
Rhoetion, et multum debentes vatibus umbras.
Circuit exustae nomen memorabile Troiae,
Magnaque Phoebei quaerit vestigia muri.
Iam silvae steriles et putres robore trunci
Assaraci pressere domos, et templa deorum
Iam lassa radice tenent: ac tota teguntur
Pergama dumetis: etiam periere ruinae.
Adspicit Hesiones scopulos, silvasque latentes,
Anchisae thalamos; quo iudex sederit antro:
Unde puer raptus coelo: quo vertice Nais
Luserit Oenone: nullum est sine nomine saxum.
Inscius in sicco serpentem pulvere rivum
Transierat, qui Xanthus erat. Securus in alto
Gramine ponebat gressus; Phryx incola manes
Hectoreos calcare vetat. Discussa iacebant
Saxa, nec ullius faciem servantia sacri;
Herceas, monstrator ait, non respicis aras?
O sacer et magnus vatum labor, omnia fato
Eripis, et populis donas mortalibus aevum.
Invidia sacrae, Caesar, ne tangere famae:
Nam, si quid Latiis fas est promittere Musis,
Quantum Smyrnaei durabunt vatis honore,
Venturi me teque legent: Pharsalia nostra
Vivet, et a nullo tenebris damnabimur aevo.
Ut ducis implevit visus veneranda vetustas,
Erexit subitas congestu cespitis aras,
Votaque thuricremos non irrita fudit in ignes.
Di cinerum, Phrygias colitis quicumque ruinas,
Aeneaeque mei, quos nunc Lavinia sedes
Servat et Alba, lares, et quorum lucet in aris
Ignis adhuc Phrygius, nullique adspecta virorum
Pallas, in abstruso pignus memorabile templo,
Gentis Iuleae vestris clarissimus aris
Dat pia tura nepos, et vos in sede priori
Rite vocat: date felices in cetera cursus.
Restituam populos: grata vice moenia reddent
Ausonidae Phrygibus, Romanaque Pergama surgent.
Sic fatus, repetit classes, et tota secundis
Vela dedit Coris; avidusque urgente procella
Iliacas pensare moras, Asiamque potentem
Praevehitur, pelagoque Rhodon spumante reliquit.
Septima nox, Zephyro numquam laxante rudentes,
Ostendit Phariis Aegyptia litora flammis.
Sed prius orta dies nocturnam lampada texit,
Quam tutas intraret aquas. Ibi plena tumultu
Litora, et incerto turbatas murmure voces
Accipit: ac, dubiis veritus se credere regnis,
Abstinuit tellure rates. Sed dira satelles
Regis dona ferens, medium provectus in aequor,
Colla gerit Magni, Phario velamine tecta,
Ac prius infanda commendat crimina voce:
Terrarum domitor, Romanae maxime gentis,
Et, quod adhuc nescis, genero secure perempto;
Rex tibi Pellaeus terrae pelagique labores
Donat et, Emathiis quod solum defuit armis,
Exhibet: absenti bellum civile peractum est.
Thessalicas Magnus quarens reparare ruinas,
Ense iacet nostro: tanto te pignore, Caesar,
Emimus: hoc tecum percussum est sanguine foedus.
Accipe regna Phari, nullo quaesita cruore:
Accipe Niliaci ius gurgitis: accipe, quidquid
Pro Magni cervice dares; dignumque clientem
Castris crede tuis, cui tantum fata licere
In generum voluere tuum. Nec vile putaris
Hoc meritum, nobis facili quod caede peractum est.
Hospes avitus erat: depulso sceptra parenti
Reddiderat. Quid plura feram? tu nomina tanto
Invenies operi, vel famam consule mundi.
Si scelus est, plus te nobis debere fateris,
Quod scelus hoc non ipse facis. Sic fatus, opertum
Detexit tenuitque caput. Iam languida morte
Effigies habitum noti mutaverat oris.
Non primo Caesar damnavit munera vis,
Avertitque oculos: vultus, dum crederet, haesit.
Utque fidem vidit sceleris, tutumque putavit
Iam bonus esse socer; lacrimas non sponte cadentes
Effudit, gemitusque expressit pectore laeto,
Non aliter manifesta putans abscondere mentis
Gaudia, quam lacrimis: meritumque immane tyranni
Destruit, et generi mavult lugere revulsum,
Quam debere, caput. Qui duro membra senatus
Calcarat vultu, qui sicco lumine campos
Viderat Emathios, uni tibi, Magne, negare
Non audet gemitus. O sors durissima fati!
Hunccine tu, Caesar, scelerato Marte petisti,
Qui tibi flendus erat? Non mixti foedera tangunt
Te generis, nec nata iubet moerere neposque?
Credis apud populos Pompeii nomen amantes
Hoc castris prodesse tuis? Fortasse tyranni
Tangeris invidia, captique in viscera Magni
Hoc aliis licuisse doles, quererisque perisse
Vindictam belli, raptumque e iure superbi
Victoris generum. Quisquis te flere coegit
Impetus, a vera longe pietate recessit.
Scilicet hoc animo terras atque aequora lustras,
Necubi suppressus pereat gener? O bene rapta
Arbitrio mors ista tuo! Quam magna remisit
Crimina Romano tristis Fortuna pudori,
Quod te non passa est misereri, perfide, Magni
Viventis! Nec non his fallere vocibus audet,
Adquiritque fidem simulati fronte doloris:
Aufer ab adspectu nostro funesta, satelles,
Regis dona tui: peius de Caesare vestrum,
Quam de Pompeio, meruit scelus. Unica belli
Praemia civilis, victis donare salutem,
Perdidimus. Quodsi Phario germana tyranno
Non invisa foret, potuissem reddere regi,
Quod meruit, fratrique tuum pro munere tali
Misissem, Cleopatra, caput. Secreta quid arma
Movit, et inseruit nostro sua tela labori?
Ergo in Thessalicis Pellaeo fecimus arvis
Ius gladio? vestris quaesita licentia regnis?
Non tuleram Magnum mecum Romana regentem:
Te, Ptolemaee, feram? Frustra civilibus armis
Miscuimus gentes, si qua est hoc orbe potestas
Altera, quam Caesar: si tellus ulla duorum est.
Vertissem Latias a vestro litore proras:
Famae cura vetat, ne non damnasse ruentam,
Sed videar timuisse, Pharon. Nec fallere vos me
Credite victorem. Nobis quoque tale paratum
Litoris hospitium. Ne sic mea colla gerantur,
Thessaliae Fortuna facit. Maiore profecto,
Quam metui poterat, discrimine gessimus arma;
Exsilium generique minas Romamque timebam:
Poena fugae Ptolemaeus erat. Sed parcimus annis,
Donamusque nefas. Sciat hac pro caede tyrannus
Nil venia plus posse dari. Vos condite busto
Tanti colla ducis: sed non, ut crimina solum
Vestra tegat tellus; iusto date thura sepulchro
Et placate caput, cineresque in litore fusos
Colligite, atque unam sparsis date manibus urnam.
Sentiat adventum soceri, vocesque querentis
Audiat umbra pias. Dum nobis omnia praefert,
Dum vitam Phario mavult debere clienti,
Laeta dies rapta est populis: concordia mundo
Nostra perit. Caruere deis mea vota secundis,
Ut te complexus, positis felicibus armis,
Adfectus abs te veteres vitamque rogarem,
Magne, tuam: dignaque satis mercede laborum
Contentus, par esse tibi, tunc pace fideli
Fecissem, ut victus posses ignoscere divis
Fecisses, ut Roma mihi. Nec, talia fatus,
Invenit fletus comitem, nec turba querenti
Credidit: abscondunt gemitus, et pectora laeta
Fronte tegunt, hilaresque nefas spectare cruentum
(O bona libertas!) cum Caesar lugeat, audeat.