BUT in the distant regions of the earthFierce Caesar warring, though in fight he dealtNo baneful slaughter, hastened on the doomTo swift fulfilment. There on Magnus' sideAfranius and Petreius held command,Who ruled alternate, and the rampart guardObeyed the standard of each chief in turn.There with the Romans in the camp were joinedAsturians swift, and Vettons lightly armed,And Celts who, exiled from their ancient home,Had joined 'Iberus' to their former name.Where the rich soil in gentle slope ascendsAnd forms a modest hill, Ilerda stands,Founded in ancient days; beside her glidesNot least of western rivers, SicorisOf placid current, by a mighty archOf stone o'erspanned, which not the winter floodsShall overwhelm. Upon a rock hard byWas Magnus' camp; but Caesar's on a hill,Rivalling the first; and in the midst a stream.Here boundless plains are spread beyond the rangeOf human vision; Cinga girds them inWith greedy waves; forbidden to contendWith tides of ocean; for that larger floodWho names the land, Iberus, sweeps alongThe lesser stream commingled with his own.Guiltless of war, the first day saw the hostsIn long array confronted; standard roseOpposing standard, numberless; yet noneAttacked, through shame of strife; one bloodless dayThey gave their country and her broken laws.But Caesar, when from heaven fell the night,Drew round a hasty trench; his foremost rankWith close array concealing those who wrought.Then with the morn he bids them seize the hillWhich parted from the camp Ilerda's walls,And gave them safety. But in fear and shameOn rushed the foe and seized the vantage ground,First in the onset. From the height they heldTheir hopes of conquest; but to Caesar's menTheir hearts by courage stirred, and their good swordsPromised the victory. Burdened up the ridgeThe soldier climbed, and from the opposing steepBut for his comrade's shield had fallen back;None had the space to hurl the quivering lanceUpon the foeman: spear and pike made sureThe failing foothold, and the falchion's edgeHewed out their upward path. But Caesar sawRuin impending, and he bade his horseBy circuit to the left, with shielded flank,Hold back the foe. Thus gained his troops retreat,For none pressed on them; and the victor chiefs,Forced to withdrawal, gained the day in vain.Henceforth the fitful changes of the yearGoverned the fates and fashioned out the war.For stubborn frost still lay upon the land,And northern winds, controlling all the sky,Prisoned the rain in clouds; the hills were nippedWith snow unmelted, and the lower plainsBy frosts that fled before the rising sun;And all the land, there nearer to the skyThat whelms the stars, was hard and arid grownBy suns of winter. But when Titan nearedThe Ram, who, backward gazing on the stars,Bore perished Helle, and the hours were heldIn balance, and the days again prevailed,The earliest faded moon which in the vaultHung with uncertain horn, from eastern windReceived a fiery radiance; whose blastForced Boreas back: and breaking on the mistsWithin his regions, to the OccidentDrave all that shroud Arabia and the landOf Ganges; all that or by Caurus borneBedim the Orient sky, or rising sunsPermit to gather; pitiless flamed the dayBehind them, while in front the wide expanseWas driven; nor on mid earth sank the cloudsThough weighed with vapour. North and south alikeWere showerless, for on Calpe's rock aloneAll moisture gathered; here at last, forbiddenTo pass that sea by Zephyr's bounds contained,And by the furthest belt of heaven, they pause,In masses huge convolved; the widest breadthOf murky air scarce holds them, which dividesEarth from the heavens; till pressed by weight of skyIn densest volume to the earth they pourTheir cataracts; no lightning could endureSuch storm unquenched: though oft athwart the gloomGleamed its pale fire. Meanwhile a watery archScarce touched with colour, in imperfect shapeEmbraced the sky and drank the ocean waves,So rendering to the clouds their flood outpoured.And now the snows which Titan never yetCould melt were thawed: the Pyrenaean rocksAre wet with flowing ice; accustomed springsFind not discharge; and from the very banksEach stream receives a torrent. Caesar's armsAre shipwrecked on the field, his tottering campSwims on the rising flood; the trench is filledWith whirling waters; and the plain no moreYields corn or kine; for those who forage seek,Err from the hidden furrow. Famine knocks(First herald of o'erwhelming ills to come)Fierce at the door; and while no foe blockadesThe soldier hungers; fortunes buy not nowThe meanest measure; yet, alas! is foundThe fasting peasant, who, in gain of gold,Will sell his little all! And now the hillsAre seen no more; rivers in one vast seaOf whirlpools overwhelmed; beasts borne awayAnd sucked beneath the stream; their rocky densSweep onwards; and the torrent's raging forceBears back the inflowing ocean. Nor does nightAcknowledge Phoebus' rise, for all the skyFeels her dominion and obscures its face,And darkness joins with darkness. Thus doth lieThe lowest earth beneath the snowy zoneAnd never-ending winters, where the skyIs starless ever, and no growth of herbSprouts from the frozen earth; but standing iceTempers the stars which in the middle zoneKindle their flames. Thus, Father of the world,And thou, O trident-god who rul'st the seaSecond in place, Neptunus, load the airWith clouds continual; forbid the tide,Once risen, to return: forced by thy wavesLet rivers backward run in different course,Thy shores no longer reaching; and the earth,Shaken, make way for floods. Let Rhine o'erflowAnd Rhone their banks; let torrents spread afieldUnmeasured waters: melt Rhipaean snows:Spread lakes upon the land, and seas profound,And snatch the groaning world from civil war.
At procul extremis terrarum Caesar in orisMartem saevus agit, non multa caede nocentem,Maxima sed fati ducibus momenta daturum.Iure pari rector castris Afranius illisAc Petreius erat: concordia duxit in aequasImperium commune vices, tutelaque valliPervigil alterno paret custodia signo.His praeter Latias acies erat impiger Astur,Vettonesque leves, profugique a gente vetustaGallorum Celtae, miscentes nomen Iberis.Colle tumet modico, lenique excrevit in altumPingue solum tumulo: super hunc fundata vetustaSurgit Ilerda manu: placidis praelabitur undisHesperios inter Sicoris non ultimus amnes;Saxeus ingenti quem pons amplectitur arcu,Hibernas passurus aquas. At proxima rupesSigna tenet Magni: nec Caesar colle minoreCastra levat: medius dirimit tentoria gurges.Explicat hinc tellus campos effusa patentes,Vix oculo prendente modum, camposque coerces,Cinga rapax, vetitus fluctus et litora cursuOceani pepulisse tuo: nam gurgite mixto,Qui praestat terris, aufert tibi nomen Iberus.Prima dies belli cessavit Marte cruento,Spectandasque ducum vires numerosaque signaExposuit. Piguit sceleris; pudor arma furentumContinuit; patriaeque et ruptis legibus unumDonavere diem. Prono tunc Caesar OlympoIn noctem subita circumdedit agmina fossa,Dum primae perstant acies, hostemque fefellit,Et prope consertis obduxit castra maniplis.Luce nova collem subito conscendere cursu,Qui medius tutam castris dirimebat Ilerdam,Imperat. Huc hostem pariter terrorque pudorqueImpulit; et rapto tumulum prior agmine cepit.His virtus ferrumque locum promittit: at illisIpse locus. Miles rupes oneratus in altasNititur: adversoque acies in monte supinaHaeret, et in tergum casura, umbone sequentisErigitur. Nulli telum vibrare vacabat,Dum labat et fixo firmat vestigia pilo,Dum scopulos stirpesque tenent, atque, hoste relicto,Caedunt ense viam. Vidit lapsura ruinaAgmina dux, equitemque iubet succedere bello,Munitumque latus laevo praeducere gyro.Sic pedes ex facili, nulloque urgente, receptus,Irritus et victor, subducto Marte, pependit.Hactenus armorum discrimina: cetera belloFata dedit variis incertus motibus aer.Pigro bruma gelu, siccis Aquilonibus haerens,Aethere constricto pluvias in nube tenebat.Urebant montana nives, camposque iacentesNon duraturae conspecto sole pruinae:Atque omnis propior mergenti sidera coeloAruerat tellus hiberno dura sereno.Sed postquam vernus calidum Titana recepitSidera respiciens delapsae portitor Helles,Atque iterum, aequatis ad iustae pondera LibraeTemporibus, vicere dies: tunc, sole relicto,Cynthia quo primum cornu dubitanda refulsit,Exclusit Boream, flammasque accepit ab Euro.Ille suo nubes quascumque invenit in axe,Torsit in occiduum Nabataeis flatibus orbem:Et quas sentit Arabs, et quas Gangetica tellusExhalat nebulas, quidquid concrescere primusSol patitur, quidquid coeli fuscator EoiIntulerat Corus, quidquid defenderat Indos,Incendere diem nubes, oriente remotae;Nec medio potuere graves incumbere mundo,Sed nimbos rapuere fuga. Vacat imbribus ArctosEt Notus; in solam Calpen fluit humidus aer.Hic, ubi iam Zephyri fines et summus OlympiCardo tenet Tethyn, vetitae transcurrere, densosInvolvere globos; congestumque aeris atriVix recipit spatium, quod separat aethere terram.Iamque polo pressae largos densentur in imbres,Spissataeque fluunt: nec servant fulmina flammas,Quamvis crebra micent: moriuntur fulgura nimbisHinc imperfecto complectitur aera gyroArcus, vix ulla variatus luce colorem,Oceanumque bibit, raptosque ad nubila fluctusPertulit, et coelo diffusum reddidit aequor.Iamque Pyrenaeae, quas numquam solvere TitanEvaluit, fluxere nives, fractoque madescuntSaxa gelu. Tunc, quae solitis e fontibus exit,Non habet unda vias: tam largas alveus omnisA ripis accepit aquas. Iam naufraga campoCaesaris arma natant, impulsaque gurgite multoCastra labant: alto restagnant flumina vallo.Non pecorum raptus faciles, non pabula mersiUlla ferunt sulci: tectarum errore viarumFallitur occultis sparsus populator in agris.Iamque, comes semper magnorum prima malorum.Saeva fames aderat: nulloque obsesses ab hosteMiles eget; toto censu non prodigus emitExiguam Cererem. Pro lucri pallida tabes!Non deest prolato ieiunus venditor auro.Iam tumuli collesque latent: iam flumina cunctaCondidit una palus, vastaque voragine mersit:Absorpsit penitus rupes, ac tecta ferarumDetulit, atque ipsas hausit, subitisque frementesVorticibus contorsit aquas et repulit aestusFortior Oceani. Nec Phoebum surgere sentitNox subiecta polo; rerum discrimina miscetDeformis coeli facies iunctaeque tenebrae.Sic mundi pars ima iacet, quam zona nivalisPerpetuaeque premunt hiemes; non sidera coeloUlla videt, sterili non quidquam frigore gignit,Sed glacie medios signorum temperat ignes.Sic, o summe parens mundi, sic sorte secundaAequorei rector facias, Neptune, tridentis:Et tu perpetuis impendas aera nimbis;Tu remeare vetes quoscumque emiseris aestus.Non habeant amnes declivem ad litora cursum,Sed pelagi referantur aquis: concussaque tellusLaxet iter fluviis. Hos campos Rhenus inundet,.Hos Rhodanus: vastos obliquent flumina fontes.Rhipaeas huc solve nives, huc stagna lacusqueEt pigras, ubicumque iacent, effunde paludes:Et miseras bellis civilibus eripe terras.
Thus for a little moment Fortune triedHer darling son; then smiling to his partReturned; and gained her pardon for the pastBy greater gifts to come. For now the airHad grown more clear, and Phoebus' warmer raysCoped with the flood and scattered all the cloudsIn fleecy masses; and the reddening eastProclaimed the coming day; the land resumedIts ancient marks; no more in middle airThe moisture hung, but from about the starsSank to the depths; the forest glad uprearedIts foliage; hills again emerged to viewAnd 'neath the warmth of day the plains grew firm.When Sicoris kept his banks, the shallop lightOf hoary willow bark they build, which bentOn hides of oxen, bears the weight of manAnd swims the torrent. Thus on sluggish PoVenetians float; and on th' encircling seaAre borne Britannia's nations; and when NileFills all the land, are Memphis' thirsty reedsShaped into fragile boats that swim his waves.The further bank thus gained, they haste to curveThe fallen forest, and to form the archBy which imperious Sicoris shall be spanned.Yet fearing he might rise in wrath anew,Not on the nearest marge they place the beams,But in mid-field. Thus the presumptuous streamThey tame with chastisement, parting his floodIn devious channels out; and curb his pride.Petreius, seeing that all things gave wayTo Caesar's destiny, leaves Ilerda's steep,His trust no longer in the Roman world;And seeks for strength amid those distant tribes,Who, loving death, rush in upon the foe,And win their conquests at the point of sword.But in the dawn, when Caesar saw the campStand empty on the hill, ' To arms! ' he cries:' No bridge nor ford; but stem with brawny arms' The foaming river.' Rushing to the frayThey dare the torrent they had feared in flight.Their arms regained, they race until the bloodThrobs in their veins anew, and their wet limbsAre warm again. At length the shadows fallShort on the sward, and day is at the height.Then dash the horsemen on, and hold the foe'Twixt flight and battle. In the plain aroseTwo rocky heights: from each a loftier ridgeOf hills ranged onwards, sheltering in their midstA hollow vale, whose deep and winding pathsWere safe from warfare; which, when Caesar sawThat if Petreius held, the war must passTo lands remote by savage tribes possessed;'Speed on,' he cries, ' and meet their flight in front;'Fierce be your frown and battle in your glance:' No coward's death be theirs; but as they flee'Plunge in their breasts the sword.' They seize the passAnd place their camp. Short was the span betweenTh' opposing sentinels; with eager eyesUndimmed by space, they gazed on brothers, sons,Or friends and fathers; and within their soulsThey grasped the impious horror of the war.Yet for a little while no voice was heard,For fear restrained; by waving blade aloneOr gesture, spake they; but their passion grew,And broke all discipline; and soon they leapThe hostile rampart; every hand outstretchedEmbraces hand of foeman, palm in palm;One calls by name his neighbour, one his host,Another with his schoolmate talks againOf olden studies: he who in the campFound not a comrade, was no son of Rome.Wet are their arms with tears, and sobs break inUpon their kisses; each, unstained by blood,Dreads what he might have done. Why beat thy breast?Why, madman, weep? The guilt is thine aloneTo do or to abstain. Dost fear the manWho takes his title to be feared from thee?When Caesar's trumpets sound the call to armsHeed not the summons; when thou seest advanceHis standards, halt. The civil Fury thusShall fold her wings; and in a private robeCaesar shall love his kinsman.Holy LoveWho sway'st the universe, whose firm embraceBinds the compacted fabric of the world;Come, gentle Concord! these our times do nowFor good or evil destiny controlThe coming centuries! Ah, cruel fate!Now have the people lost their cloak for crime:Their hope of pardon. They have known their kin.Woe for the respite given by the godsMaking more black the hideous guilt to come!Now all was peaceful, and in either campSweet converse held the soldiers; on the grassThey place the meal, and pour the mingled cup;Bright glows the turf upon the friendly fire;On mutual couch with stories of their fights,They while the sleepless hours in talk away;'Where stood the ranks arrayed, from whose right handThe quivering lance was sped:' and while they boast,Or challenge, deeds of prowess in the war,Faith is renewed and trust. Thus envious fateMade worse their doom, and all the crimes to beGrew with their love. For when Petreius knewThe treaties made, himself and all his campSold to the foe, he stirred his guard to workAn impious slaughter: the defenceless foeFlung headlong forth: and parted fond embraceBy stroke of weapon and in streams of blood.And thus in words of wrath, to stir the war:'Of Rome forgetful, to your faith forsworn!'And could ye not with victory gained return,'Restorers of her liberty, to Rome?'Lose then! but losing call not Caesar lord.'While still your swords are yours, with blood to shed'In doubtful battle, while the fates are hid,'Will you like cravens to your master bear'Doomed eagles? Will you ask upon your knees'That Caesar deign to treat his slaves alike,'And spare, forsooth, like yours, your leaders' lives?'Nay! never shall our safety be the price'Of base betrayal! Not for boon of life'We wage a civil war. This name of peace'Drags us to slavery. Ne'er from depths of earth,'Fain to withdraw her wealth, should toiling men'Draw store of iron; ne'er entrench a town;'Ne'er should the war-horse dash into the fray'Nor fleet with turret bulwarks breast the main,If freedom ever could for peace be sold,And fame unsoiled: 'tis true our foes are swornTo cursed crime; should you whose cause is just,And who may hope for pardon in defeat,Hold cheap your honour? Shame upon your peace!Thou callest, Magnus, ignorant of fate,From all the world thy powers, and dost entreatMonarchs of distant realms, while haply hereWe in our treaties bargain for thy-life! 'Thus did he stir their minds and rouse anewThe love of impious battle. So when beastsGrown strange to forests, long confined in dens,Their fierceness lose, and learn to bear with man;Once should they taste of blood, their thirsty jawsSwell at the touch, and all the ancient rageComes back upon them till they hardly spareTheir keeper. Thus they rush on every crime:And blows which dealt in blindness of affrayMight seem the crimes of chance, or of the godsWreaking their hate, such recent vows of loveMade monstrous, horrid. Where they lately spreadThe mutual couch and banquet, and embracedSome new-found friend, now falls the fatal blowUpon the self-same breast; and though at firstGroaning at the fell chance, they drew the sword;Hate rises as they strike, the murderous armConfirms the doubtful will: in dreadful joyThrough the wild camp they smote their kinsmen down;And carnage raged unchecked; and each man strove,Proud of his crime, before his leader's faceTo prove his shamelessness of guilt.
Sed parvo Fortuna viri contenta pavore,Plena redit, solitoque magis favere secundiEt veniam meruere dei. Iam rarior aer,Et par Phoebus aquis, densas in vellera nubesSparserat, et noctes ventura luce rubebant:Servatoque loco rerum, discessit ab astrisHumor, et ima petit, quidquid pendebat aquarum.Tollere silva comas, stagnis emergere collesIncipiunt, visoque die durescere valles.Utque habuit ripas Sicoris, camposque reliquit,Primum cana salix madefacto vimine parvamTexitur in puppim, caesoque inducta iuvencoVectoris patiens tumidum superenatat amnem.Sic Venetus stagnante Pado, fusoque BritannusNavigat Oceano: sic, cum tenet omnis Nilus,Conseritur bibula Memphitis cymba papyro.His ratibus transiecta manus festinat utrinqueSuccisum curvare nemus; fluviique ferocisIncrementa timens, non primis robora ripisImposuit: medios pontem distendit in agros.Ac ne quid Sicoris repetitis audeat undis,Spargitur in sulcos, et scisso gurgite rivisDat poenas maioris aquae. Postquam omnia fatisCaesaris ire videt, celsam Petreius IlerdamDeserit, et noti diffisus viribus orbis,Indomitos quaerit populos et semper in armaMortis amore feros, et tendit in ultima mundi.Nudatos Caesar colles desertaque castraConspiciens, capere arma iubet, nec quaerere pontemNec vada, sed duris fluvium superare lacertis.Paretur, rapuitque ruens in proelia miles,Quod fugiens timuisset, iter. Mox uda receptisMembra fovent armis, gelidosque a gurgite cursuRestituunt artus, donec decresceret umbra,In medium surgente die. Iamque agmina summaCarpit eques, dubiique fugae pugnaeque tenentur.Adtollunt campo geminae iuga saxea rupes,Valle cava media. Tellus hinc ardua celsosContinuat colles: tutae quos inter opacoAnfractu latuere viae. Quibus hoste potitoFaucibus, emitti terrarum in devia MartemInque feras gentes, Caesar videt. Ite sine ulloOrdine, ait, raptumque fuga convertite bellum,Et faciem pugnae vultusque inferte minaces:Nec liceat pavidis ignava occumbere morte:Excipiant recto fugientes pectore ferrum.Dixit, et ad montes tendentem praevenit hostem.Illic exiguo paullum distantia valloCastra locant. Postquam spatio languentia nulloMutua conspicuos habuerunt lumina vultus,Et fratres natosque suos videre patresque,Deprensum est civile nefas! Tenuere parumperOra metu: tantum nutu motoque salutantEnse suos. Mox ut stimulis maioribus ardensRupit amor leges, audet transcendere vallumMiles, in amplexus effusas tendere palmas.Hospitis ille ciet nomen; vocat ille propinquum:Admonet hunc studiis consors puerilibus aetas:Nec Romanus erat, qui non agnoverat hostem.Arma rigant lacrimis, singultibus oscula rumpunt:Et, quamvis nullo maculatus sanguine, miles,Quae potuit, fecisse timet. Quid pectora pulses?Quid, vesane, gemis? fletus quid fundis inanes,Nec te sponte tua sceleri parere fateris?Usque adeone times, quem tu facis ipse timendum?Classica dent bellum; saevos tu neglige cantus:Signa ferant; cessa: iamiam civilis ErinnysConcidet, et Caesar generum privatus amabit.Nunc ades, aeterno complectens omnia nexu,O rerum mixtique salus, Concordia, mundi,Et sacer orbis amor: magnum nunc saecula nostraVenturi discrimen habent. Periere latebraeTot scelerum: populo venia est erepta nocenti:Agnovere suos. Pro numine fata sinistro,Exigua requie tantas augentia clades!Pax erat, et miles, castris permixtus utrisque,Errabat: duro concordes cespite mensasInstitnunt, et permixto libamina BacchoGramineis fluxere focis: iunctoque cubiliExtrahit insomnes bellorum fabula noctes:Quo primum steterint campo, qua lancea dextraExierit. Dum, quae gesserunt fortia, iactant,Et dum multa negant, quod solum fata petebant,Est miseris renovata fides, atque omne futurumCrevit amore nefas. Nam postquam foedera pacisCognita Petreio, seque et sua tradita venumCastra videt, famulas scelerata ad proelia dextrasExcitat, atque hostes turba stipatus inermesPraecipitat castris, iunctosque amplexibus enseSeparat, et multo disturbat sanguine pacem.Addidit ira ferox moturas proelia voces:Immemor o patriae, signorum oblite tuorum,Non potes hoc caussae, miles, praestare senatus,Adsertor victo redeas ut Caesare; certeUt vincare, potes. Dum ferrum, incertaque fata,Quique fluat multo non deerit vulnere sanguis,Ibitis ad dominum, damnataque signa feretis?Utque habeat famulos nullo discrimine, CaesarExorandus erit? ducibus quoque vita petenda est?Numquam nostra salus pretium mercesque nefandaeProditionis erit: non hoc civilia bella,Ut vivamus, agunt. Trahimur sub nomine pacis.Non chalybem gentes penitus fugiente metalloEruerent, nulli vallarent oppida muri,Non sonipes in bella ferox, non iret in aequorTurrigeras classis pelago sparsura carinas,Si bene libertas umquam pro pace daretur.Hostes nempe meos sceleri iurata nefandoSacramenta tenent: at vobis vilior hoc estVestra fides, quod pro caussa pugnantibus aequaEt veniam sperare licet. Pro dira pudorisFoedera! Nunc toto fatorum ignarus in orbe,Magne, paras acies, mundique extrema tenentesSollicitas reges, cum forsan foedere nostroIam tibi sit promissa salus. Sic fatur, et omnesConcussit mentes, scelerumque reduxit amorem.Sic, ubi desuetae silvis in carcere clausoMansuevere ferae, et vultus posuere minaces,Atque hominem didicere pati: si torrida parvusVenit in ora cruor, redeunt rabiesque furorque,Admonitaeque tument gustato sanguine fauces;Fervet, et a trepido vix abstinet ira magistro.Itur in omne nefas: et quae Fortuna deorum.Invidia caeca bellorum in nocte tulisset,Fecit monstra fides: inter mensasque torosque,Quae modo complexu foverunt, pectora caedunt.Et quamvis primo ferrum strinxere gementes,Ut dextrae iusti gladius dissuasor adhaesit,Dum feriant, odere suos, animosque labantesConfirmant ictu. Fervent iam castra tumultu,[Et scelerum turba: rapiuntur colla parentum.]Ac velut occultum pereat scelus, omnia monstraIn faciem posuere ducum: iuvat esse nocentes.
But thou,Caesar, though losing of thy best, dost knowThe gods do favour thee. Thessalian fieldsGave thee no better fortune, nor the wavesThat lave Massilia; nor on Pharos' mainDidst thou so triumph. By this crime aloneThou from this moment of the better causeShalt be the Captain.Since the troops were stainedWith foulest slaughter thus, their leaders shunnedAll camps with Caesar's joined, and sought againIlerda's lofty walls; but Caesar's horseSeized on the plain and forced them to the hillsReluctant. There by steepest trench shut in,He cuts them from the river, nor permitsTheir circling ramparts to enclose a spring.By this dread path Death trapped his captive prey.Which when they knew, fierce anger filled their souls,And took the place of fear. They slew the steedsNow useless grown, and rushed upon their fate;Hopeless of life and flight. But Caesar cried:Hold back your weapons, soldiers, from the foe,Strike not the breast advancing; let the war' Cost me no blood; he falls not without price' Who with his life-blood challenges the fray.Scorning their own base lives and hating light,To Caesar's loss they rush upon their death,Nor heed our blows. But let this frenzy pass,This madman onset; let the wish for deathDie in their souls.' Thus to its embers shrankThe fire within, when battle was denied,And fainter grew their rage until the nightDrew down her starry veil and sank the sun.Thus keener fights the gladiator whose woundIs recent, while the blood within the veinsStill gives the sinews motion, ere the skinShrinks on the bones: but as the victor standsHis fatal thrust achieved, and points the bladeUnfaltering, watching for the end, there creepsTorpor upon the limbs, the blood congealsAbout the gash, more faintly throbs the heart,And slowly fading, ebbs the life away.Raving for water now they dig the plainSeeking for hidden fountains, not with spadeAnd mattock only searching out the depths,But with the sword; they hack the stony heights,In shafts that reach the level of the plain.No further flees from light the pallid wretchWho tears the bowels of the earth for gold.Yet neither riven stones revealed a spring,Nor streamlet whispered from its hidden source;No water trickled on the gravel bed,Nor dripped within the cavern. Worn at lengthWith labour huge, they crawl to light again,After such toil to fall to thirst and heatThe readier victims: this was all they won.All food they loathe; and 'gainst their deadly thirstCall famine to their aid. Damp clods of earthThey squeeze upon their mouths with straining hands.Wherever on foulest mud some stagnant slimeOr moisture lies, each dying soldier strivesWith dying comrade first to lap the draught,Loathsome had life been his. Like beasts they drainThe swollen udder, and where milk was not,They suck the life-blood forth. From herbs and boughsDripping with dew, from tender shoots they press,Nay, from the pith of trees, the juice within.Happy the host that onward marching findsIts savage enemy has fouled the wellsWith murderous venom; hadst thou, Caesar, castThe reeking filth of shambles in the stream,And henbane dire and all the poisonous herbsThat lurk on Cretan slopes, still had they drunkThe fatal waters, rather than endureSuch lingering agony. Their bowels rackedWith torments as of flame; the swollen tongueAnd jaws now parched and rigid, and the veins;Each laboured breath with anguish from the lungsEnfeebled, moistureless, is scarcely drawn,And scarce again returned; and yet agape,Their panting mouths suck in the nightly dew;They watch for showers from heaven, and in despairGaze on the clouds, whence lately poured a flood.Nor were their tortures less that MeroeSaw not their sufferings, nor Cancer's zone,Nor where the Garamantian turns the soil;But Sicoris and Iberus at their feet,Two mighty floods, but far beyond their reach,Rolled down in measureless volume to the main.
Tu, Caesar, quamvis spoliatus milite multo,Agnoscis superos. Neque enim tibi maior in arvisEmathiis fortuna fuit, nec Phocidos undisMassiliae, Phario nec tantum est aequore gestum.Hoc siquidem solo civilis crimine belliDux caussae melioris eris. Polluta nefandaAgmina caede duces iunctis committere castrisNon audent, altaeque ad moenia rursus IlerdaeIntendere fugam. Campos eques obvius omnesAbstulit, et siccis inclusit collibus hostem.Tunc inopes undae praerupta cingere fossaCaesar avet, nec castra pati contingere ripas,Aut circum largos curvari brachia fontes.Ut leti videre viam, conversus in iramPraecipitem timor est. Miles, non utile clausisAuxilium, mactavit equos: tandemque coactusSpe posita damnare fugam, casurus in hostesFertur. Ut effuso Caesar decurrere passuVidit, et ad certam devotos tendere mortem:Tela tene iam, miles, ait, ferrumque ruentiSubtrahe: non ullo constet mihi sanguine bellum:Vincitur haud gratis, iugulo qui provocat hostem.En sibi vilis adest invisa luce iuventus,Iam damno peritura meo. Non sentiet ictus,Incumbet gladiis, gaudebit sanguine fuso.Deserat hic fervor mentes, cadat impetus amens.Perdant velle mori. Sic deflagrare minacesIncassum et vetito passus languescere bello,Substituit merso dum nox sua lumina Phoebo.Inde ubi nulla data est miscendi copia Martis,Paullatim cadit ira ferox, mentesque tepescunt;Saucia maiores animos ut pectora gestant,Dum dolor est ictusque recens, et mobile nervisConamen calidus praebet cruor, ossaque nondumAdduxere cutem: si conscius ensis adactiStat victor, tenuitque manus, tunc frigidus artusAdligat atque animum subducto robore torpor,Postquam sicca rigens adstrinxit vulnera sanguis.Iamque inopes undae, primum tellure refossa,Occultos latices abstrusaque flumina quaerunt:Nec solum rastris durisque ligonibus arva,Sed gladiis fodere suis: puteusque cavatiMontis ad irrigui premitur fastigia campi.Non se tam penitus, tam longe luce relictaMerserit Asturii scrutator pallidus auri.Non tamen aut tectis sonuerunt cursibus amnes,Aut micuere novi, percusso pumice, fontes:Atra nec exiguo stillant sudantia rore,Aut impulsa levi turbatur glarea vena.Tunc exhausta super multo sudore iuventusExtrahitur, duris silicum lassata metallis.Quoque minus possent siccos tolerare vapores,Quaesitae fecistis aquae. Nec languida fessiCorpora sustentant epulis, mensasque perosiAuxilium fecere famem. Si mollius arvumProdidit humorem, pingues manus utraque glebasExprimit ora super. Nigro si turbida limoColluvies immota iacet, cadit omnis in haustusCertatim obscoenos miles: moriensque recepit,Quas nollet victurus, aquas: rituque ferarumDistentas siccant pecudes, et lacte negato,Sordidus exhausto sorbetur ab ubere sanguis.tunc herbas frondesque terunt, et rore madentesDestringunt ramos: ac si quos palmite crudoArboris aut tenera succos pressere medulla.O fortunati, fugiens quos barbarus hostisFontibus immixto stravit per rura veneno.Hos licet in fluvios saniem tabemque ferarum,Pallida Dictaeis, Caesar, nascentia saxisInfundas aconita palam, Romana iuventusNon decepta bibet. Torrentur viscera flamma,Oraque sicca rigent squamosis aspera linguis.Iam marcent venae, nulloque humore rigatusAeris alternos angustat pulmo meatus,Rescissoque nocent suspiria dura palato.Pandunt ora tamen, nocturnumque aera captant.Exspectant imbres, quorum modo cuncta natabantImpulsu, et siccis vultus in nubibus haerent.Quoque magis miseros undae ieiunia solvant,Non super arentem Meroen Cancrique sub axe,Qua nudi Garamantes arant, sedere: sed interStagnantem Sicorim et rapidum deprensus IberumSpectat vicinos sitiens exercitus amnes.
But now their leaders yield; Afranius,Vanquished, throws down his arms, and leads his troops,Now hardly living, to the hostile campBefore the victor's feet, and sues for peace.Proud is his bearing, and despite of ills,His mien majestic, of his triumphs pastStill mindful in disaster thus he stands,Though suppliant for grace, a leader yet;From fearless heart thus speaking: 'Had the fatesThrown me before some base ignoble foe,Not, Caesar, thee; still had this arm fought onAnd snatched my death. Now if I suppliant ask,'Tis that I value still the boon of lifeGiven by a worthy hand. No party ties'Roused us to arms against thee; when the war,'This civil war, broke out, it found us chiefs;And with our former cause we kept the faith,So long as brave men should. The fates' decree'No longer we withstand. Unto thy willWe yield the western tribes: the east is thine'And all the world lies open to thy march.'Be generous! blood nor sword nor wearied arm'Thy conquests bought. Thou hast not to forgiveAught but thy victory won. Nor ask we much.'Give us repose; to lead in peace the life'Thou shalt bestow; suppose these armed lines'Are corpses prostrate on the field of war,'Ne'er were it meet that thy victorious ranksShould mix with ours, the vanquished. Destiny'Has run for us its course: one boon I beg;'Bid not the conquered conquer in thy train.'Such were his words, and Caesar's gracious smileGranted his prayer, remitting rights that warGives to the victor. To th' unguarded streamThe soldiers speed: prone on the bank they lieAnd lap the flood or foul the crowded waves.In many a burning throat the sudden draughtPoured in too copious, filled the empty veinsAnd choked the breath within: yet left unquenchedThe burning pest which, though their frames were full,Craved water for itself. Then, nerved once more,Their strength returned. Oh, lavish luxury,Contented never with the frugal meal!Oh, greed that searchest over land and seaTo furnish forth the banquet! Pride that joy'stIn sumptuous tables! learn what life requires,How little nature needs! No ruddy juicePressed from the vintage in some famous year,Whose consuls are forgotten, served in cupsWith gold and jewels wrought, restores the spark,The failing spark, of life; but water pureAnd simplest fruits of earth. The flood, the fieldSuffice for nature. Ah! the weary lotOf those who war! But these, their armour laidLow at the victor's feet, with lightened breast,Secure themselves, no longer dealing death,Beset by care no more, seek out their homes.What priceless gift in peace had they secured!How grieved it now their souls to have poised the dartWith arm outstretched; to have felt their raving thirst;And prayed the gods for victory in vain!Nay, hard they think the victor's lot, for whomA thousand risks and battles still remain;If fortune never is to leave his side,How often must he triumph! and how oftPour out his blood where'er great Caesar leads!Happy, thrice happy, he who, when the worldIs nodding to its ruin, knows the spotWhere he himself shall, though in ruin, lie!No trumpet call shall break his sleep again:But in his humble home, with faithful spouseAnd sons unlettered, Fortune leaves him freeFrom rage of party; for if life he owesTo Caesar, Magnus sometime was his lord.Thus happy they alone live on apart,Nor hope nor dread the event of civil war.
Iam domiti cessere duces, pacisque petendaeAuctor damnatis supplex Afranius armis,Semianimes in castra trahens hostilia turmas,Victoris stetit ante pedes. Servata precantiMaiestas, non fracta malis, interque prioremFortunam casusque novos gerit omnia victi,Sed ducis, et veniam securo pectore poscit:Si me degeneri stravissent fata sub hosteNon deerat fortis rapiendo dextera leto:At nunc sola mihi est orandae caussa salutis,Dignum donanda, Caesar, te credere vita.Non partis studiis agimur, nec sumsimus armaConsiliis inimica tuis. Nos denique bellumInvenit civile duces; caussaeque priori,Dum potuit, servata fides. Nil fata moramur:Tradimus Hesperias gentes, aperimus Eoas,Securumque orbis patimur post terga relicti.Nec cruor effusus campis tibi bella peregit,Nec ferrum lassaeque manus. Hoc hostibus unum,Quod vincas, ignosce tuis. Nec magna petuntur.Otia des fessis, vitam patiaris inermesDegere, quam tribuis: campis prostrata iacereAgmina nostra putes: neque enim felicibus armisMisceri damnata decet, partemque triumphiCaptos ferre tui: turba haec sua fata peregit.Hoc petimus, victos ne tecum vincere cogas.Dixerat: at facilis Caesar vultuque serenusFlectitur, atque usum belli poenamque remittit.Ut primum iustae placuerunt foedera pacis,Incustoditos decurrit miles ad amnes;Incumbit ripis, permissaque flumina turbat.Continuus multis subitarum tractus aquarum,Aera non passus vacuis discurrere venis,Arctavit clausitque animam: nec fervida pestisCedit adhuc: sed morbus egens iam gurgite plenisVisceribus sibi poscit aquas. Mox robora nervisEt vires rediere viris. O prodiga rerumLuxuries, numquam parvo contenta parato,Et quaesitorum terra pelagoque ciborumAmbitiosa fames, et lautae gloria mensae,Discite, quam parvo liceat producere vitam,Et quantum natura petat. Non erigit aegrosNobilis ignoto diffusus consule Bacchus:Non auro murrhaque bibunt; sed gurgite puroVita redit. Satis est populis fluviusque Ceresque.Heu miseri, qui bella gerunt! Tunc, arma relinquensVictori, miles spoliato pectore tutusInnocuusque suas, curarum liber, in urbesSpargitur. O quantum donata pace potitosExcussis umquam ferrum librasse lacertisPoenituit, tolerasse sitim, frustraque rogasseProspera bella deos. Nempe usis Marte secundoTot dubiae restant acies, tot in orbe labores:Ut numquam fortuna labet successibus anceps,Vincendum toties, terras fundendus in omnesEst cruor, et Caesar per tot sua fata sequendus.Felix, qui potuit, mundi nutante ruina,Quo iaceat iam scire loco. Non proelia fessosUlla vocant, certos non rumpunt classica somnos.Iam coniux natique rudes et sordida tectaEt non deductos recipit sua terra colonos.Hoc quoque securis oneris fortuna remisit,Sollicitus menti quod abest favor. Ille salutisEst auctor, dux ille fuit. Sic proelia soliFelices nullo spectant civilia voto.
Not thus did Fortune upon Caesar smileIn all the parts of earth; but 'gainst his armsDared somewhat, where Salona's lengthy wasteIs laved by Hadria, and Iadar warmMeets with his waves the breezes of the west.There brave Curectae dwell, whose island homeIs girded by the main; on whom reliedAntonius, and, beleaguered by the foe,Upon the furthest margin of the shore(Safe from all ills but famine) placed his camp.But for his steeds the earth no forage gave,Nor golden Ceres harvest; and his troopsGnawed the dry herbage of the scanty turfWithin their rampart lines. But when they knewThat Basilus was on th' opposing shoreWith friendly force, by novel mode of flightThey aim to reach him. Not the accustomed keelThey lay, nor build the ship, but shapeless raftsOf timbers knit together, strong to bearAll ponderous weight; on empty casks beneathBy tightened chains made firm, in double rowsSupported; nor upon the deck were placedThe oarsmen, to the hostile dart exposed,But in a hidden space, by beams concealed.And thus the eye amazed beheld the massMove silent on its path across the sea,By neither sail nor stalwart arm propelled.They watch the main until the refluent wavesEbb from the growing sands; then, on the tideReceding, launch their vessel; thus she floatsWith comrades twin: and rises over eachWith quivering battlements a lofty tower.Octavius, guardian of Illyrian seas,Restrained his swifter keels, and left the raftsFree from attack, in hope of larger spoilFrom fresh adventures; for the peaceful seaMight tempt them, and their goal in safety reached,To dare a second voyage. Round the stagThus will the cunning hunter draw a lineOf tainted feathers poisoning the air;Or spread the mesh, and muzzle in his graspThe straining jaws of the Molossian hound,And leash the Spartan pack; nor is the brakeTrusted to any dog but such as tracksThe scent with lowered nostrils, and refrainsFrom giving tongue the while; content to markBy shaking cord the covert of the prey.Ere long they manned the rafts in eager wishTo quit the island, when the latest glowStill parted day from night. But Magnus' troops,Cilician once, taught by their ancient art,In fraudulent deceit had left the seaTo view unguarded; but with chains unseenFast to Illyrian shores, and hanging loose,They blocked the outlet in the waves beneath.The leading rafts passed safely, but the third,Caught by the rope, was drawn beneath the rocks.These, hollowed by the sea, in ponderous massO'erhanging, seemed upon the point to fall;And trees made dark the wave. Here oft the mainWithin the deep recess sweeps broken wrecksAnd bodies of the drowned, till ebbing tidesReturn the spoil. Then from the cavernous archIs belched the ocean forth in such turmoilOf swirling billows, as excels the rageOf that famed whirlpool on Sicilian shores.Here, with Venetian settlers for its load,Stood motionless the raft. Octavius' shipsGathered around, while foemen on the landFilled all the shore. But well the captain knew,Volteius, how the secret fraud was planned,And tried in vain with sword and steel to burstThe chains that held them; without hope he fights,Uncertain where to avoid or front the foe.Caught in the strait they strove as brave men shouldAgainst opposing hosts; nor long the fight,For fallen darkness brought a truce to arms.Then to his men disheartened and in fearOf coming fate Volteius, great of soul,Thus spake in tones commanding: ' Free no more,'Save for this little night, consult ye now'In this last moment, soldiers, how to face'Your final fortunes. No man's life is short' Who can take thought for death, nor is your fame' Less than a conqueror's, if with breast advanced'Ye meet your destined doom. None know how long'The life that waits them. Summon your own fate,'And equal is your praise, whether the hand'Quench the last flicker of departing light,' Or shear the hope of years. But choice to die'Is thrust not on the mind-we cannot flee;'See at our throats, e'en now, our kinsmen's swords.' Then choose for death; desire what fate decrees.'At least in war's blind cloud we shall not fall;' Nor when the flying weapons hide the day,'And slaughtered heaps of foemen load the field,'And death is common, and the brave man sinks'Unknown, inglorious. Us within this ship,'Seen of both friends and foes, the gods have placed;'Both land and sea and island cliffs shall bear,'From either shore, their witness to our death,'In which some great and memorable fame'Thou, Fortune, dost prepare. What glorious deeds' Of warlike heroism, of noble faith,'Time's annals show! All these shall we surpass.'True, Caesar, that to fall upon our swords'For thee is little; yet beleaguered thus,'With neither sons nor parents at our sides,'Shorn of the glory that we might have earned,'We give thee here the only pledge we may.'Yet let these hostile thousands fear the souls'That rage for battle and that welcome death,'And know us for invincible, and joy'That no more rafts were stayed. They'll offer terms,'And tempt us with a base unhonoured life.'Would that, to give that death which shall be ours'The greater glory, they may bid us hope'For pardon and for life! lest when our swords'Are reeking with our hearts'-blood, they may say'This was despair of living. Great must be'The prowess of our end, if in the hosts'That fight his battles, Caesar is to mourn'This little handful lost. For me, should fate'Grant us retreat-myself would scorn to shun'The coming onset. Life I cast away,'The frenzy of the death that comes apace'Controls my being. Those whose end is near'Alone may know the happiness of death;'Which pitying heaven from all else conceals'That men may bear to live.' His stirring wordsWarmed his brave comrades' hearts-they who with fearAnd tearful eyes had looked upon the Wain,Turning his nightly course, now hoped for day,Such precepts deep within them. Nor delayedThe sky to dip the stars below the main;For Phoebus in the Twins his chariot draveAt noon near Cancer; and the hours of nightWere shortened by the Archer.When day broke,Lo! on the rocks the Istrians; while the seaSwarmed with the galleys and their Grecian fleetAll armed for fight: but first the war was stayedAnd terms proposed: life to the foe they thoughtWould seem the sweeter, by delay of deathThus granted. But the band devoted stood,Proud of their promised end, life all forsworn,And careless of the fight: no jarring noteOpposed their high resolve. In numbers few'Gainst foemen numberless by land and sea,They wage the desperate war; then satiateTurn from the foe. And first demanding deathVolteius bared his throat. ' What youth,' he cries,' Dares strike me down, and through his captain's wounds'Attest his love for death? ' Then through his sidePlunge blades uncounted on the moment drawn.He praises all: but him who struck the firstGrateful, with dying strength, he does to death.They rush together, and without a foeWork all the guilt of battle. Thus of yore,Rose up the glittering Dircaean bandFrom seed by Cadmus sown, and fought and died,Dire omen for the brother kings of Thebes.And so in Phasis' fields the sons of earth,Born of the sleepless dragon, all inflamedBy magic incantations, with their bloodDeluged the monstrous furrow, while the QueenFeared at the spells she wrought. Devoted thusTo death, they fall, yet in their death itselfLess valour show than in the fatal woundsThey take and give; for e'en the dying handMissed not a blow nor did the stroke aloneInflict the wound, but rushing on the swordTheir throat or breast received it to the hilt;And when by fatal chance or sire with son,Or brothers met, yet with unfaltering weightDown flashed the pitiless sword: this proved their love,To give no second blow. Half living nowThey dragged their mangled bodies to the side,Whence flowed into the sea a crimson streamOf slaughter. 'Twas their pleasure yet to seeThe light they scorned; with haughty looks to scanThe faces of their victors, and to feelThe death approaching. But the raft was nowPiled up with dead; which, when the foemen saw,Wondering at such a chief and such a deed,They gave them burial. Never through the worldOf any brave achievement was the fameMore widely blazed. Yet meaner men, untaughtBy such examples, see not that the handWhich frees from slavery needs no valiant mindTo guide the stroke. But tyranny is fearedAs dealing death; and Freedom's self is galledBy ruthless arms; and knows not that the swordWas given for this, that none need live a slave.Ah Death! wouldst thou but let the coward liveAnd grant the brave alone the prize to die!Nor less were Libyan fields ablaze with war.
Non eadem belli totum fortuna per orbemConstitit: in partes aliquid sed Caesaris ausa eat,Qua maria Hadriaci longas ferit unda Salonas,Et tepidum in molles Zephyros excurrit Iader.Illic, bellaci confisus gente Curictum,Quos alit Hadriaco tellus circumflua ponto,Clauditur extrema residens Antonius ora,Cautus ab incursu belli, si sola recedat,Expugnat quae tuta, fames. Non pabula tellusPascendis submittit equis, non proserit ullamFlava Ceres segetem: spoliabat gramine campumMiles, et adtonso miseris iam dentibus arvoCastrorum siccas de cespite vulserat herbas,Ut primum adversae socios in litore terraeEt Basilum videre ducem: nova furta per aequorExquisita fugae. Neque enim de more carinasExtendunt, puppesque levant, sed firma gerendisMolibus insolito contexunt robora ductu.Namque ratem vacuae sustentant undique cuppae,Quarum porrectis series constricta catenisOrdinibus geminis obliquas excipit alnos.Nec gerit expositum telis in fronte patentiRemigium: sed, quod trabibus circumdedit aequor,Hoc ferit, et taciti praebet miracula cursus,Quod nec vela ferat, nec apertas verberet undas.Tunc freta servantur, dum se declivibus undisAestus agat, refluoque mari nudentur arenae.Iamque relabenti crescebant litora ponto;Missa ratis prono defertur lapsa profundo,Et geminae comites. Cunctas super ardua turrisEminet, et tremulis tabulata minantia pinnis.Noluit Illyricae custos Octavius undaeConfestim tentare ratem, celeresque carinasContinuit, cursu crescat dum praeda secundo:Et temere ingressos repetendum invitat ad aequorPace maris. Sic dum pavidos formidine cervosClaudat odoratae metuentes aera pennae,Aut dum dispositis adtollat retia varisVenator, tenet ora levis clamosa Molossi,Spartanos Cretasque ligat: nec creditur ulliSilva cani, nisi qui presso vestigia rostroColligit, et praeda nescit latrare reperta,Contentus tremulo monstrasse cubilia loro.Nec mora: complentur moles, avideque petitisInsula deseritur ratibus, quo tempore primasImpedit ad noctem iam lux extrema tenebras.At Pompeianus fraudes innectere pontoAntiqua parat arte Cilix, passusque vacareSumma freti, medio suspendit vincula ponto,Et laxas fluitare sinit religatque catenasRupis ab Illyricae scopulis. Nec prima, nec illa,Quae sequitur, tardata ratis: sed tertia molesHaesit, et ad cautes adducto fune secuta est.Impendent cava saxa mari, ruituraque semperStat (mirum) moles, et silvis aequor inumbrat.Huc fractas Aquilone rates submersaque pontusCorpora saepe tulit, caecisque abscondit in antris:Restituit raptus tectum mare: quumque cavernaeEvomuere fretum, contorti verticis undaeTauromenitanam vincunt fervore Charybdin.Hic Opiterginis moles onerata colonisConstitit: hanc omni puppes statione solutaeCircumeunt: alii rupes ac litora complent.Vulteius tacitas sensit sub gurgite fraudes;(Dux erat ille ratis,) frustra qui vincula ferroRumpere conatus, poscit spe proelia nulla,Incertus qua terga daret, qua pectora bello.Hoc tamen in casu, quantum deprensa valebat,Effecit virtus: inter tot millia captaeCircumfusa rati et plenam vix inde cohortemPugna fuit; non longa quidem: nam condidit atraNox lucem dubiam, pacemque habuere tenebrae.Tunc sic adtonitam venturaque fata paventemRexit magnanima Vulteius voce cohortem:Libera non ultra, parva quam nocte, iuventus,Consulite extremis angusto tempore rebus.Vita brevis nulli super est, qui tempus in illaQuaerendae sibi mortis habet: nec gloria letiInferior, iuvenes, admoto occurrere fato.Omnibus incerto venturae tempore vitae,Par animi laus est, et quos speraveris annosPerdere, et extremae momentum abrumpere lucis,Accersas dum fata manu. Non cogitur ullusVelle mori. Fuga nulla patet: stant undique nostrisIntenti cives iugulis. Decernite letum,Et metus omnis abest: cupias quodcumque necesse est.Non tamen in caeca bellorum nube cadendum est,Aut cum permixtis acies sua tela tenebrisInvolvunt, conserta iacent cum corpora campo,In medium mors omnis abit, perit obruta virtus.Nos in conspicua sociis hostique carinaConstituere dei. Praebebunt aequora testes,Praebebunt terrae, summis dabit insula saxis:Spectabunt geminae diverso e litore partes.Nescio quod nostris magnum et memorabile fatisExemplum, Fortuna, paras. Quaecumque per aevumExhibuit monumenta fides, servataque ferroMilitiae pietas, transibit nostra iuventus.Namque suis pro te gladiis incumbere, Caesar,Esse parum scimus: sed non maiora supersuntObsessis, tanti quae pignora demus amoris.Abscidit nostrae multum sors invida laudi,Quod non cum senibus capti natisque tenemur.Indomitos sciat esse viros, timeatque furentesEt morti faciles animos, et gaudeat hostisNon plures haesisse rates. Tentare parabuntFoederibus, turpique volent corrumpere vita.O utinam, quo plus habeat mors unica famae,Promittant veniam, iubeant sperare salutem:Ne nos, cum calido fodiemus viscera ferro,Desperasse putent. Magna virtute merendum est,Caesar ut, amissis inter tot millia paucis,Hoc damnum clademque vocet. Dent fata recessumEmittantque licet, vitare instantia nolim.Proieci vitam, comites, totusque futuraeMortis agor stimulis: furor est. Agnoscere solisPermissum est, quos iam tangit vicinia fati,Victurosque dei celant, ut vivere durent,Felix esse mori. Sic cunctas sustulit ardorNobilium mentes iuvenum: cum sidera coeliAnte ducis voces oculis humentibus omnesAdspicerent, flexoque Ursae temone paverent,Iidem, cum fortes animos praecepta subissent,Optavere diem. Nec segnis mergere pontoTunc erat astra polus: nam sol Ledaea tenebatSidera, vicino cum lux altissima Cancro est:Nox tum Thessalicas urgebat parva sagittas.Detegit orta dies stantes in rupibus Istros,Pugnacesque mari Graia cum classe Liburnos.Tentavere prius suspenso vincere belloFoederibus, fieret captis si dulcior ipsaMortis vita mora. Stabat devota inventus,Damnata iam luce ferox, securaque pugnaePromisso sibi fine manu: nullique tumultusExcussere viris mentes ad summa paratas:Innumerasque simul pauci terraque mariqueSustinuere manus: tanta est fiducia mortis.Utque satis bello visum est fluxisse cruoris,Versus ab hoste furor. Primus dux ipse carinaeVulteius, iugulo poscens iam fata retecto,Ecquis, ait, iuvenum est, cuius sit dextra cruoreDigna meo, certaque fide per vulnera nostraTestetur se velle mori? Nec plura locutoViscera non unus iamdudum transigit ensis.Collaudat cunctos: sed eum, cui vulnera primaDebebat, grato moriens interficit ictu.Concurrent alii, totamque in partibus unisBellorum fecere nefas. Sic semine CadmiEmicuit Dircaea cohors, ceciditque suorumVulneribus, dirum Thebanis fratribus omen:Phasidos et campis insomni dente creatiTerrigenae, missa magicis e cantibus ira,Cognato tantos complerunt sanguine sulcos:Ipsaque, inexpertis quod primum fecerat herbis,Expavit Medea nefas. Sic mutua pactiFata cadunt iuvenes: nimiumque in morte virorumMors virtutis habet: pariter sternuntque caduntqueVulnere letali: nec quemquam dextra fefellit,Cum feriat moriente manu. Nec vulnus adactisDebetur gladiis: percussum est pectore ferrum,Et iugulis pressere manum. Cum sorte cruentaFratribus incurrant fratres, natusque parenti,Haud trepidante tamen toto cum pondere dextraExegere enses. Pietas ferientibus una,Non repetisse, fuit. Iam latis viscera lapsaSemianimes traxere foris, multumque cruorisInfudere mari. Despectam cernere lucem,Victoresque suos vultu spectare superbo,Et mortem sentire iuvat. Iam strage cruentaConspicitur cumulata ratis: bustisque remittuntCorpora victores, ducibus mirantibus, ulliEsse ducem tanti. Nullam maiore locuta estOre ratem totum discurrens fama per orbem.Non tamen ignavae post haec exempla virorumPercipient gentes, quam sit non ardua virtusServitium fugisse manu. Sed regna timenturOb ferrum, et saevis libertas uritur armis:Ignoratque datos, ne quisquam serviat, enses.Mors, utinam pavidos vitae subducere nolles,Sed virtus te sola daret! Non segnior illoMarte fuit, qui tunc Libycis exarsit in arvis.