THUS had the smiles of Fortune and her frownsBrought either chief to Macedonian shoresStill equal to his foe. From cooler skiesSank Atlas' daughters down, and Haemus' slopesWere white with winter, and the day drew nighDevoted to the god who leads the months,And marking with new names the book of Rome,When came the Fathers from their distant postsBy both the Consuls to Epirus calledEre yet their year was dead: a foreign landObscure received the magistrates of Rome;A senate sojourning in foreign landsHeld there high questions, not in warlike campBut hedged by all the axes of the law;And all men gazing on the reverend ranksKnew that no Magnus' party there was met,But all the state; and Magnus was but one.Mid silent sadness from his lofty seatThus spake the Consul: ' If your hearts still beat' With Latian blood, and if within your breasts' Still lives your fathers' vigour, look not now' On this strange land that holds us, nor enquire'How far the captured city. Know the faceOf your own company; the rulers youIn all that comes. Be this your first decree,' Whose truth all peoples and all kings confess;' Be this the Senate. Let the frozen wain' Demand your presence, or the torrid zone' Wherein the day and night with equal tread'For ever march; still follows in your steps' The central power of Imperial Rome.' When flamed the Capitol with fires of Gaul,' When Veii held Camillus, there with him' Was Rome, nor ever though it changed its clime' Your order lost its rights. In Caesar's hands' Are sorrowing houses and deserted homes,' Laws silent for a space, and forums closed' In public fast. His Senate-house beholds' Those Fathers only whom from Rome it drove,' While Rome was full. Of that high order all' Not here, are exiles. Ignorant of war,'Its crimes and bloodshed, through long years of peace,'Ye fled its outburst: now in session all'Are here assembled. See ye how the godsWeigh down Italia's loss by all the world'Thrown in the other scale? Illyria's wave'Rolls on our foes: in Libya's arid wastes'Is fallen their Curio, the weightier part'Of Caesar's senate! Lift your standards, then,'Spur on your fates and prove your hopes to heaven.'Let Fortune, smiling, give you courage now'As, when ye fled, your cause. The Consuls' power' Fails with the dying year: not so does yours;' By your commandment for the common weal' Decree Pompeius leader.' With applauseThey heard his words, and placed their country's fates,Nor less their own, within the chieftain's hands.Then did they shower on people and on kingsHonours well earned-Rhodes, Mistress of the Seas,Was decked with gifts; Athena, old in fame,Received her praise, and the rude tribes who dwellOn cold Taygetus; Massilia's sonsTheir own Phocaea's freedom; on the chiefsOf Thracian tribes, fit honours were bestowed.They order Libya by their high decreeTo serve King Juba's sceptre; and, alas!On Ptolemaeus, of a faithless raceThe faithless sovereign, scandal to the gods,And shame to Fortune, placed the diademOf Pella. Boy! against the common herdFierce is thy weapon. Ah, if that were all!The fatal gift gave, too, Pompeius' life;Bereft thy sister of her sire's bequest,Half of the kingdom: Caesar of a crime.Then all to arms. While soldier thus and chief,In doubtful sort, against their hidden fateDevised their counsel, Appius only fearedTo face the chances of the war, and soughtThrough Phoebus' ancient oracle to breakThe silence of the gods, and know the end.
Sic alterna duces bellorum vulnera passosIn Macetum terras, miscens adversa secundis,Servavit fortuna pares. Iam sparserat AemoBruma nives, gelidoque cadens Atlantis Olympo:Instabatque dies, qui dat nova nomina fastis,Quique colit primus ducentem tempora Ianum.Dum tamen emeriti remanet pars ultima iuris,Consul uterque vagos belli per munia PatresElicit Epirum. Peregrina ac sordida sedesRomanos cepit proceres: secretaque rerumHospes in externis audivit curia tectis.Nam quis castra vocet tot strictas iure secures,Tot fasces? Docuit populos venerabilis ordo,Non Magni partes, sed Magnum in partibus esse.Ut primum moestum tenuere silentia coetum,Lentulus excelsa sublimis sede profatur:Indole si dignum Latia, si sanguine priscoRobur inest animis, non qua tellure coacti,Quamque procul tectis captae sedeamus ab urbis,Cernite: sed vestrae faciem cognoscite turbae:Cunctaque iussuri, primum hoc decernite, Patres,Quod regnis populisque liquet, nos esse senatum.Nam, vel Hyperboreae plaustrum glaciale sub ursae,Vel plaga qua torrens claususque vaporibus axisNec patitur noctes nec iniquos crescere soles,Si fortuna ferat, rerum nos summa sequetur,Imperiumque comes. Tarpeia sede perustaGallorum facibus, Veiosque habitante Camillo,Illic Roma fuit. Non umquam perdidit ordoMutato sua iura solo. Moerentia tectaCaesar habet, vacuasque domos, legesque silentes,Clausaque iustitio tristi fora. Curia solosIlla videt Patres, plena quos urbe fugavit.Ordine de tanto quisquis non exsulat, hic est.Ignaros scelerum, longaque in pace quietosBellorum primus sparsi furor: omnia rursusMembra loco redeunt. En, totis viribus orbisHesperiam pensant superi: iacet hostis in undisObrutus Illyricis: Libyae squalentibus arvisCurio Caesarei cecidit pars magna senatus.Tollite signa, duces: fatorum impellite cursum:Spem vestram praestate deis fortunaque tantosDet nobis animos, quantos fugientibus hostemCaussa dabat. Nostrum exhausto ius clauditur anno:Vos, quorum finem non est sensura potestas,Consulite in medium, Patres, Magnumque iubeteEsse ducem. Laeto nomen clamore senatusExcipit: et Magno fatum patriaeque suumqueImposuit. Tunc in reges populosque merentesSparsus honos, pelagique potens Phoebeia donisExornata Rhodos, gelidique inculta iuventusTaygeti: fama veteres laudantur Athenae:Massiliaeque suae donatur libera Phocis.Tunc Sadalen, fortemque Cotyn, fidumque per armaDeiotarum, et gelidae dominum Rhasipolin oraeCollaudant: Libyamque iubent auctore senatuSceptrifero parere Iubae. Pro tristia fata!En tibi, non fidae gentis dignissime regno,Fortunae, Ptolemaee, pudor, crimenque deorum,Cingere Pellaeo pressos diademate crinesPermissum. Saevum in populos puer accipis ensem:Atque utinam in populos! Donata est regia Lagi;Accessit Magni iugulus: regnumque sororiEreptum est, soceroque nefas. Iam turba solutoArma petit coetu. Quae cum populique ducesqueCasibus incertis et caeca sorte pararent,Solus in ancipites metuit descendere MartisAppius eventus: finemque expromere rerumSollicitat superos, multosque obducta per annosDelphica fatidici reserat penetralia Phoebi.
Between the western belt and that which boundsThe furthest east, midway Parnassus rearsHis double summit: to the Bromian godAnd Paean consecrate, to whom conjoinedThe Theban band leads up the Delphic feastOn each third year. This mountain, when the seaPoured o'er the earth her billows, rose alone,By loftiest peak scarce master of the waves,Parting the crest of waters from the stars.There, to avenge his mother, from her homeChased by the angered goddess while as yetShe bore him quick within her, Paean came(When Themis ruled the tripods and the spot)And with unpractised darts the Python slew.But when he saw how from the yawning caveA godlike knowledge breathed, and all the airWas full of voices murmured from the depths,He took the shrine and filled the deep recess;Henceforth a prophet. Which of all the godsHas left heaven's light in this dark cave to hide?What spirit that knows the secrets of the worldAnd things to come, here condescends to dwell,Divine, omnipotent? bear the touch of man,And at his bidding deigns to lift the veil?Perchance he sings the fates; perchance his song,Once sung, is fate. Haply some part of JoveSent here to rule the earth with mystic power,Balanced upon the void immense of air,Sounds through the caves, and in its flight returnsTo that high home of thunder whence it came.Caught in a virgin's breast, this deityStrikes on the human spirit: then a voiceSounds from her breast, as when the lofty peakOf Etna boils, forced by compelling flames,Or as Typheus on Campania's shoreFrets 'neath the pile of huge Inarime.Though free to all that ask, denied to none,No human passion lurks within the voiceThat heralds forth the god; no whispered vow,No evil prayer prevails; none favour gain:Of things unchangeable the song divine;Yet loves the just. When men have left their homesTo seek another, it has turned their stepsAright, as with the Tyrians; and raisedThe hearts of men to war, as prove the wavesOf Salamis: when earth refused her fruitsOr plague has filled the air, this voice benignHas given fresh hope and pointed to the end.No gift from heaven's high gods so great as thisOur centuries have lost, since Delphi's shrineHas silent stood, and kings forbade the godsTo speak the future, fearing for their fates.Nor does the priestess sorrow that the voiceIs heard no longer; and the silent faneTo her is happiness; for whatever breastContains the deity, its shattered frameSurges with frenzy, and the soul divineShakes the frail breath that with the god receives,As prize or punishment, untimely death.These tripods Appius seeks, unmoved for years,These soundless caverned rocks, in quest to learnHesperia's destinies. At his commandTo loose the sacred gateways and permitThe prophetess to enter to the god,The keeper calls Phemonoe; whose stepsRound the Castalian fount and in the groveWere wandering careless; her he bids to passThe portals. But the priestess feared to treadThe awful threshold, and with vain deceitsSought to dissuade the chieftain from his zealTo learn the future. ' What this hope,' she cried,Roman, that moves thy breast to know the fates?'Long has Parnassus and its silent cleft'Stifled the god; perhaps the breath divine'Has left its ancient gorge and through the world'Wanders in devious paths; or else the fane,'Consumed to ashes by barbarian fire,'Closed up the deep recess and choked the path'Of Phoebus; or the ancient Sibyl's books'Disclosed enough of fate, and thus the gods'Decreed to close the oracle; or else'Since wicked steps are banished from the fane,'In this our impious age the god finds none'Whom he may answer.' But the maiden's guileWas known, for though she would deny the godsHer fears approved them. On her front she bindsA twisted fillet, while a shining wreathOf Phocian laurels crowns the locks that flowUpon her shoulders. Hesitating yet,The priest compelled her, and she passed within.But horror filled her of the holiest depthsFrom which the mystic oracle proceeds;And resting near the doors, in breast unmovedShe dares invent the god in words confused,Which proved no mind possessed with fire divine;By such false chant less injuring the chiefThan faith in Phoebus and the sacred fane.No burst of words with tremor in their tones,No voice re-echoing through the spacious vaultProclaimed the deity, no bristling locksShook off the laurel chaplet; but the groveUnshaken, and the summits of the shrine,Gave proof she shunned the god. The Roman knewThe tripods yet were idle, and in rage,'Wretch,' he exclaimed, 'to us and to the gods,'Whose presence thou pretendest, thou shalt pay'The punishment; unless thou enter the recess,'And cease to speak in phrases of thine ownOf this vast conflict, of a world by war'Convulsed and shaken.' Then by fear compelled,At length the priestess sought the furthest depths,And stayed beside the tripods; and there cameInto her unaccustomed breast the god,Breathed from the living rock for centuriesUntouched; nor ever with a mightier powerDid Paean's inspiration seize the frameOf Delphic priestess; his pervading touchExpelled the mortal, and her former mind,And made her wholly his. In maddened tranceShe whirled throughout the cave, her locks erectWith horror, and the fillets of the godDashed to the ground; her steps unguided turnedTo this side and to that; the tripods fellO'erturned; within her seethed the mighty fireOf angry Phoebus; nor with whip aloneHe urged her onwards, but with curb restrained;Nor was it given her by the god to speakAll that she knew; for into one vast massAll time was gathered, and her panting chestGroaned 'neath the centuries. In order longAll things lay bare: the future yet unveiledStruggled for light; each fate required a voice;The compass of the seas, Creation's birth,Creation's death, the number of the sands,All these she knew. Thus on a former dayThe prophetess upon the Cuman shore,Disdaining that her frenzy should be slaveTo other nations, from the boundless threadsChose out with pride of hand the fates of Rome.E'en so Phemonoe, for a time oppressedWith fates unnumbered, laboured ere she found,Beneath such mighty destinies concealed,Thine, Appius, who alone hadst sought the godIn land Castalian; then from foaming lipsFirst rushed the madness forth, and murmurs loudUttered with panting breath and blent with groans;Till through the spacious vault a voice at lengthBroke from the virgin conquered by the god:'From this great struggle thou, O Roman, free'Escap'st the threats of war: alive, in peace,'Thou shalt possess the hollow in the coast'Of vast Euboea.' Thus she spake, no more.Ye mystic tripods, guardians of the fatesAnd Paean, thou, from whom no day is hidBy heaven's high rulers, Master of the truth,Why fear'st thou to reveal the deaths of kings,Rome's murdered princes, and the latest doomOf her great Empire tottering to its fall,And all the bloodshed of that western land?Were yet the stars in doubt on Magnus' fateNot yet decreed, and did the gods yet shrinkFrom that, the greatest crime? Or wert thou dumbThat Fortune's sword for civil strife might wreakJust vengeance, and a Brutus' arm once moreStrike down the tyrant?From the temple doorsRushed forth the prophetess in frenzy driven,Not all her knowledge uttered; and her eyes,Still troubled by the god who reigned within,Or filled with wild affright, or fired with rageGaze on the wide expanse: still works her faceConvulsive; on her cheeks a crimson blushWith ghastly pallor blent, though not of fear.Her weary heart throbs ever; and as seasBoom swollen by northern winds, she finds in sighs,All inarticulate, relief. But whileShe hastes from that dread light in which she sawThe fates, to common day, lo! on her pathThe darkness fell. Then by a Stygian draughtOf the forgetful river, Phoebus snatchedBack from her soul his secrets; and she fellYet hardly living. Nor did Appius dreadApproaching death, but by dark oraclesBaffled, while yet the Empire of the worldHung in the balance, sought his promised realmIn Chalcis of Euboea. Yet to escapeAll ills of earth, the crash of war-what godCan give thee such a boon, but death alone?For on the solitary shore a graveAwaits thee, where Carystos' marble cragsDraw in the passage of the sea, and whereThe fane of Rhamnus rises to the godsWho hate the proud, and where the ocean straitBoils in swift whirlpools, and Euripus drawsDeceitful in his tides, a bane to ships,Chalcidian vessels to bleak Aulis' shore.
Hesperio tantum, quantum submotus EooCardine, Parnasus gemino petit aethera colle,Mons Phoebo Bromioque sacer cui numine mixtoDelphica Thebanae referunt trieterica Bacchae.Hoc solum fluctu terras mergente cacumenEmicuit, pontoque fuit discrimen et astris.Tu quoque vix summam seductus ab aequore rupemExtuleras, unoque iugo, Parnase, latebas.Ultor ibi expulsae, premeret cum viscera partus,Matris, adhuc rudibus Paean Pythona sagittisExplicuit, cum regna Themis tripodasque teneret.Ut vidit Paean vastos telluris hiatusDivinam spirare fidem, ventosque loquacesExhalare solum, sacris se condidit antris,Incubuitque adyto, vates ibi factus Apollo.Quis latet hic superum? quod numen ab aethere pressumDignatur caecas inclusum habitare cavernas?Quis terram coeli patitur deus, omnia cursusAeterni secreta tenens, mundique futuriConscius, ac populis sese proferre paratus,Contactusque ferens hominum, magnusque potensque,Sive canit fatum, seu, quod iubet ille canendo,Fit fatum? Forsan terris inserta regendis,Aere libratum vacuo quae sustinet orbem,Totius pars magna Iovis, Cirrhaea per antraExit, et aetherio trahitur connexa Tonanti.Hoc ubi virgineo conceptum est pectore numen,Humanam feriens animam sonat, oraque vatisSolvit, ceu Siculus flammis urgentibus AetnamUndat apex: Campana fremens ceu saxa vaporatConditus Inarimes aeterna mole Typhoeus.Hoc tamen expositum cunctis nullique negatumNumen ab humani solum se labe furorisVindicat. Haud illic tacito mala vota susurroConcipiunt. Nam, fixa canens mutandaque nulli,Mortales optare vetat: iustisque benignusSaepe dedit sedem totas mutantibus urbes,Ut Tyriis: dedit ille minas impellere belli,Ut Salaminiacum meminit mare: sustulit irasTelluris sterilis, monstrato fine: resolvitAera tabificum. Non ullo saecula donoNostra carent maiore deum, quam Delphica sedesQuod siluit, postquam rege timuere futura,Et superos vetuere loqui. Nec, voce negata,Cirrhaeae moerent vates; templique fruunturIustitio. Nam si qua deus sub pectora venit,Numinis aut poena est mors immatura recepti,Aut pretium: quippe stimulo fluctuque furorisCompages humana labat, pulsusque deorumConcutiunt fragiles animas. Sic tempore longoImmotos tripodas vastaeque silentia rupisAppius Hesperii scrutator ad ultima fatiSollicitat. Iussus sedes laxare verendasAntistes, pavidamque deis immittere vatem,Castalios circum latices nemorumque recessusPhemonoen errore vagam curisque vacantemCorripuit, cogitque fores irrumpere templi.Limine terrifico metuens consistere Phoebas,Absterrere ducem noscendi ardore futuraCassa fraude parat. Quid spes, ait, improba veriTe, Romane, trahit? Muto Parnasus hiatuConticuit, pressitque deum: seu spiritus istasDestitit fauces, mundique in devia versumDuxit iter: seu, barbarica cum lampade PythonArsit, in immensas oneres abiere cavernas,Et Phoebi tenuere viam: seu sponte deorumCirrha silet, fatique sat est arcana futuriCarmine longaevae vobis commissa Sibyllae:Seu Paean, solitus templis arcere nocentes,Ora quibus solvat, nostro non invenit aevo.Virginei patuere doli, fecitque negatisNuminibus metus ipse fidem. Tum torta prioresStringit vitta comas, crinesque in terga solutosCandida Phocaica complectitur infula lauro.Haerentem dubiamque premens in templa sacerdosImpulit. Illa, pavens adyti penetrale remotiFatidicum, prima templorum in parte resistit,Atque, deum simulans, sub pectore ficta quietoVerba refert, nullo confusae murmure vocisInstinctam sacro mentem testata furore,Haud aeque laesura ducem, cui falsa canebat,Quam tripodas, Phoebique fidem. Non rupta trementiVerba sono, nec vox antri complere capacisSufficiens spatium, nulloque horrore comarumExcussae laurus, immotaque culmina templi,Securumque nemus, veritam se credere PhoeboProdiderant. Sentit tripodas cessare, furensqueAppius: Et nobis meritas dabis, impia, poenas,Et superis, quos fingis, ait, nisi mergeris antris,Deque orbis trepidi tanto consulta tumultuDesinis ipsa loqui. Tandem conterrita virgoConfugit ad tripodas, vastisque abducta cavernisHaesit, et insueto concepit pectore numen,Quod non exhaustae per tot iam saecula rupisSpiritus ingessit vati: tandemque potitusPectore Cirrhaeo, non umquam plenior artusPhoebados irrupit Paean: mentemque prioremExpulit, atque hominem toto sibi cedere iussitPectore. Bacchatur demens aliena per antrumColla ferens, vittasque dei Phoebeaque sertaErectis discussa comis, per inania templiAncipiti cervice rotat, spargitque vagantiObstantes tripodas, magnoque exaestuat igne,Iratum te, Phoebe, ferens. Nec verbere soloUteris et stimulis, flammasque in viscera mergis:Accipit et fraenos: nec tantum prodere vati,Quantum scire, licet. Venit aetas omnis in unamCongeriem: miserumque premunt tot saecula pectus.Tanta patet rerum series, atque omne futurumNititur in lucem: vocemque petentia fataLuctantur: non prima dies, non ultima mundi,Non modus Oceani, numerus non deerat arenae.Talis in Euboico vates Cumana recessu,Indignata suum multis servire furoremGentibus, ex tanta fatorum strage superbaExcerpsit Romana manu. Sic plena laboratPhemonoe Phoebo, dum te, consultor opertiCastalia tellure dei, vix invenit, Appi,Inter fata diu quaerens tam magna latentem.Spumea tunc primum rabies vesana per oraEffluit, et gemitus, et anhelo clara meatuMurmura: tunc moestus vastis ululatus in antris,Extremaeque sonant, domita iam virgine, voces:Effugis ingentes, tanti discriminis expers,Bellorum, o Romane, minas: solusque quietemEuboici vasta lateris convalle tenebis.Caetera suppressit, faucesque obstruxit Apollo.Custodes tripodes fatorum, arcanaque mundi,Tuque potens veri Paean, nullumque futuriA superis celate diem, suprema ruentisImperii, caesosque duces, et funera regum,Et tot in Hesperio collapsas sanguine gentesCur aperire times? An nondum numina tantumDecrevere nefas? et adhuc dubitantibus astrisPompeii damnare caput, tot fata tenentur?Vindicis an gladii facinus, poenasque furoris,Regnaque ad ultores iterum redeuntia Brutos,Ut peragat fortuna, taces? Tunc pectore vatisImpactae cessere fores, expulsaque templisProsiluit. Perstat rabies; nec cuncta locutae,Quem non emisit, superest deus. Illa ferocesTorquet adhuc oculos, totoque vagantia coeloLumina, nunc vultu pavido, nunc torva minaci:Stat numquam facies: rubor igneus inficit ora,Liventesque genas: nec, qui solet esse timenti,Terribilis sed pallor inest: nec fessa quiescuntCorda; sed, ut tumidus Boreae post flamina pontusRauca gemit, sic muta levant suspiria vatem.Dumque a luce sacra, qua vidit fata, referturAd vulgare iubar, mediae venere tenebrae.Immisit Stygiam Paean in viscera Lethen,Quae raperet secreta deum. Tunc pectore verumFugit, et ad Phoebi tripodas rediere futura:Vixque refecta cadit. Nec te vicinia letiTerritat, ambiguis frustratum sortibus, Appi:Iure sed incerto mundi, subsidere regnumChalcidos Euboicae, vana spe rapte, parabas.Heu demens, nullum belli sentire fragorem,Tot mundi caruisse malis, praestare deorumExcepta quis morte potest? Secreta tenebisLitoris Euboici, memorando condite busto,Qua maris angustat fauces saxosa Carystos,Et tumidis infesta colit qua numina Rhamnus,Arctatus rapida fervet qua gurgite pontus,Euripusque trahit, cursum mutantibus undis,Chalcidicas puppes ad iniquam classibus Aulim.
But Caesar carried from the conquered westHis eagles to another world of war;When envying his victorious course the godsAlmost turned back the prosperous tide of fate.Not on the battle-field borne down by arms,But in his tents, within the rampart lines,The hoped-for prize of this unholy warSeemed for a moment gone. That faithful host,His comrades trusted in a hundred fields,Almost forsook him. The sad trump perchanceMute for a moment, and the blade in sheathGrown cold, had tamed their frenzy for the war;Or else in hope of greater gifts, their causeAnd leader they betrayed, and sold the swordStill soiled with murder. By no other riskCaesar more surely learned how as he lookedO'er all things else, the height on which he stoodTrembled beneath him. But a moment sinceHis high behest drew nations to the war;Now, maimed of all who smote, no weapon leftSaving his own, he knows that swords unsheathedAre wielded by the soldier, not the chief.No timorous voice was there; no silent wrathConcealed; nor doubting mind, as though aloneIndignant at the wrong, and in distrustOf those in turn distrusting. Fear in eachHad fled before the boldness of the host:The crime is free where thousands bear the guilt.They hurled their menace: 'Caesar, give us leave'To quit thy crimes; thou seek'st by land and sea'The sword to slay us; let the fields of GaulAnd far Iberia, and the world proclaim'How for thy victories our comrades fell.'What boots it us that by an army's blood'The Rhine and Rhone and all the northern lands'Thou hast subdued? Thou giv'st us civil war'For all these battles; such the prize. When fled'The Senate trembling, and when Rome was ours'What homes or temples did we spoil? Our hands'Reek with offence! Aye, but our poverty'Proclaims our innocence! What end shall beOf arms and armies? What shall be enough'If Rome suffice not? and what lies beyond?'Behold these silvered locks, these nerveless hands'And shrunken arms, once stalwart! In thy wars'Gone is the strength of life, gone all its pride!'Dismiss thine aged soldiers to their deaths.'How shameless is our prayer! Not on hard turf'To stretch our dying limbs; nor seek in vain,' When parts the soul, a hand to close our eyes;'Not with the helm to strike the stony ground:' Rather to feel the dear one's last embrace,' And gain a humble but a separate tomb.'Let sickness end old age. If Caesar's slaves,' Let something more than battle be our doom.' Deem'st thou we are thy dupes? that we alone' In civil war are ignorant what crime' Will fetch the highest price? What thou canst dare' These years have proved, or nothing; law divine' Nor human ordinance shall hold thine hand.'He was our leader on the banks of Rhine;' Now is our equal; for the stain of crime' Makes all men like. And for a judge ingrate' We waste our valour; for as fortune's gift' He takes the victory which our arms have won:'But we his fortunes are, his fates are ours'To fashion as we will. Boast that the gods' Shall do thy bidding! Nay, thy soldiers' will' Shall close the war.' With threatening mien and speechThus through the camp the troops demand their chief.When faith and loyalty are fled, and hopeFor aught but evil, thus may civil warIn mutiny and discord find its end!What general had not feared at such revolt?But mighty Caesar trusting on the throw,As was his wont, his fortune, and o'erjoyedTo front their anger raging at its heightUnflinching comes. No temples of the gods,Not Jove's high fane on the Tarpeian rock,Not Rome's high dames nor maidens had he grudgedTo their most savage lust: that they should askThe worst, his wish, and love the spoils of war.Nor feared he aught save order at the handsOf that unconquered host. Art thou not shamedThat strife should please thee only, now condemnedEven by thy minions? Shall they shrink from blood,They from the sword recoil? and thou rush onHeedless of guilt, through right and through unright,Nor learn that men may lay their arms asideYet bear to live? This civil butcheryEscapes thy grasp. Stay thou thy crimes at length;Nor force thy will on those who will no more.Upon a turfy mound unmoved he stoodAnd, since he feared not, worthy to be feared;And thus while anger stirred his soul began:' Thou that with voice and hand didst rage but now' Against thine absent chief, behold me here;Plunge in this breast, all ready for the woundAnd bare, thy sword; and end the war and flee.This mutiny devoid of daring deedBetrays your coward souls, betrays the youth' Who tires of victories which gild the armsOf an unconquered chief, and yearns for flight.Leave me to fate; with that I'll wage the warYou I cast forth. For every weapon left,Fortune shall find a man, to wield it well.Shall Magnus in his flight with such a fleetDraw nations in his train; and not to me' My victories bring legions? They shall reap' For its mere close the prizes of the war' Won by your toil, and scatheless join the train'That leads my chariot to the sacred hill:' While you, despised in age and battle worn,' Gaze on our triumph from the civic crowd.' Think you your dastard flight shall give me pause?' If all the rivers that now seek the sea' Were to withdraw their waters, it would fail' By not one inch, no more than by their flow'It rises now. Have then your efforts given' Strength to my cause? Not so: the heavenly gods' Stoop not so low; fate has no time to judge' Your lives and deaths. The fortunes of the world' Follow heroic souls: for the fit few'The many live; and you who terrified' With me the northern and Iberian worlds,' Would flee when led by Magnus. Strong with me' Was Labienus: vile deserter now;' A homeless exile with his chief preferred.' Nor were your faith more firm if, neither side'Espoused, you ceased from arms. Who leaves me once,'Though not to fight against me with the foe,'Joins not my ranks again. Surely the gods'Smile on these arms who for so great a war'Grant me fresh soldiers. From what heavy load'Fortune relieves me! for the hands which aimed'At all, to which the world did not suffice,'I now disarm, and for myself alone'Reserve the conflict. Quit ye, then, my camp,'And leave my standards to the grasp of men,'Coward Quirites! But some guilty few'I keep, not as their captain, but their judge.'Lie, traitors, prone on earth, stretch out the neck'And take th' avenging blow. And thou whose strength'Shall now support me, young and yet untaught,'Behold the doom and learn to strike and die.'Such were his words of ire, and all the hostDrew back and trembled at the voice of himThey would depose, as though their very swordsWould from their scabbards leap at his commandThemselves unwilling; but he only fearedLest hand and blade to satisfy the doomMight be denied; till they submitting pledgedTheir lives and swords alike, beyond his hope.To strike and suffer holds in surest thrallThe heart inured to guilt; and Caesar kept,By dreadful compact ratified in blood,Those whom he feared to lose.
Interea domitis Caesar remeabat Iberis,Victrices aquilas alium laturus in orbem:Cum prope fatorum tantos per prospera cursusAvertere dei. Nullo nam Marte subactus,Intra castrorum timuit tentoria ductorPerdere successus scelerum: cum paene fidelesPer tot bella manus, satiatae sanguine, tandemDestituere ducem: seu moesto classica paullumIntermissa sono, claususque et frigidus ensisExpulerat belli furias: seu praemia milesDum maiora petit, damnat caussamque ducemque,Et scelere imbutos etiamnunc venditat enses.Haud magis expertus discrimine Caesar in ullo est,Quam non e stabili, tremulo sed culmine cunctaDespiceret, staretque super titubantia fultus:Tot raptis truncus manibus, gladioque relictusPaene suo, qui tot gentes in bella trahebat,Scit non esse ducis strictos, sed militis, enses.Non pavidum iam murmur erat, nec pectore tectoIra latens: nam quae dubias constringere mentesCaussa solet, dum quisque pavet, quibus ipse timori est,Seque putat solum regnorum iniusta gravari,Haud retinet. Quippe ipsa metus exsolverat audaxTurba suos. Quidquid multis peccatur, inultum est.Effudere minas: Liceat discedere, Caesar,A rabie scelerum. Quaeris terraque mariqueHis ferrum iugulis, animasque effundere vilesQuolibet hoste paras. Partem tibi Gallia nostriEripuit: partem duris Hispania bellis:Pars iacet Hesperia: totoque exercitus orbeTe vincente perit. Terris fudisse cruoremQuid iuvat Arctois, Rhodano Rhenoque subactis?Tot mihi pro bellis bellum civile dedisti.Cepimus expulso patriae cum tecta senatu,Quos hominum, vel quos licuit spoliare deorum?Imus in omne nefas, manibus ferroque nocentes,Paupertate pii. Finis quis quaeritur armis?Quid satis est, si Roma parum? Iam respice canos,Invalidasque manus, et inanes cerne lacertos.Usus abit vitae, bellis consumsimus aevum:Ad mortem dimitte senes. En, improba vota!Non duro liceat morientia cespite membraPonere, non anima glebam fugiente ferire,Atque oculos morti clausuram quaerere dextramConiugis illabi lacrimis, unique paratumScire rogum. Liceat morbis finire senectam.Sit praeter gladios aliquod sub Caesare fatum.Quid, velut ignaros ad quae portenta paremur,Spe trahis? Usque adeo soli civilibus armisNescimus cuius sceleris sit maxima merces?Nil actum est bellis, si nondum comperit, istasOmnia posse manus. Nec fas nec vincula iurisHoc audere vetant. Rheni mihi Caesar in undisDux erat, hic socius. Facinus quos inquinat, aequat.Adde, quod ingrato meritorum iudice virtusNostra perit. Quidquid gerimus, fortuna vocatur.Nos fatum sciat esse suum. Licet omne deorumObsequium speres: irato milite, Caesar,Pax erit. Haec fatus, totis discurrere castrisCoeperat, infestoque ducem deposcere vultu.Sic eat, o superi! quando pietasque fidesqueDestituunt, moresque malos sperare relictum est,Finem civili faciat discordia bello.Quem non ille ducem potuit terrere tumultus?Fata sed in praeceps solitus demittere Caesar,Fortunamque suam per summa pericula gaudensExercere, venit: nec, dum desaeviat ira,Expectat; medios properat tentare furores.Non illis urbes spoliandaque templa negasset,Tarpeiamque Iovis sedem, matresque senatus,Passurasque infanda nurus. Vult omnia certeA se saeva peti, vult praemia Martis amari:Militia indomiti tantum mens sana timetur.Non pudet heu, Caesar, soli tibi bella placereIam manibus damnata tuis? hos ante pigebitSanguinis? his ferri grave ins erit ipse per omneFasque nefasque rues Lassare, et disce sine armisPosse pati: liceat scelerum tibi ponere finem.Saeve, quid insequeris quid iam nolentibus instas?Bellum te civile fugit. Stetit aggere fultiCespitis, intrepidus vultu, meruitque timeriNon metuens: atque haec ira dictante profatur:Qui modo in absentem vultu dextraque furebas,Miles, habes nudum promtumque ad vulnera pectus.Hic fuge, si belli finis placet, ense relicto.Detegit imbelles animos nil fortiter ausaSeditio, tantumque fugam meditata iuventus,Ac ducis invicti rebus lassata secundis.Vadite, meque meis ad bella relinquite fatis:Invenient haec arma manus, vobisque repulsisTot reddet Fortuna viros, quot tela vacabunt.Anne fugam Magni tanta cum classe sequunturHesperiae gentes, nobis victoria turbamNon dabit, impulsi tantum quae praemia belliAuferat et, vestri rapta mercede laboris,Lauriferos nullo comitetur vulnere currus?Vos despecta, senes, exhaustaque sanguine turbaCernetis nostros iam plebs Romana triumphos.Caesaris an cursus vestrae sentire putatisDamnum posse fugae? veluti, si cuncta minenturFlumina, quos miscent pelago, subducere fontes,Non magis ablatis umquam descenderet aequor,Quam nunc crescit, aquis. An vos momenta putatisUlla dedisse mihi? Numquam sic cura deorumSe premit, ut vestrae morti vestraeque salutiFata vacent. Procerum motus haec cuncta sequuntur.Humanum paucis vivit genus. Orbis IberiHorror et Arctoi nostro sub nomine miles,Pompeio certe fugeres duce. Fortis in armisCaesareis Labienus erat: nunc, transfuga vilis,Cum duce praelato terras atque aequora lustrat.Nec melior mihi vestra fides, si bella nec hosteNec duce me geritis. Quisquis mea signa relinquit,Nec Pompeianis tradit sua partibus arma,Hic numquam vult esse meus. Sunt ista profectoCurae castra deis, qui me committere tantisNon nisi mutato voluerunt milite bellis.Heu, quantum Fortuna humeris iam pondera fessisAmolitur onus! sperantes omnia dextrasExarmare datur, quibus hic non sufficit orbis.Iam certe mihi bella geram: discedite castris,Tradite nostra viris ignavi signa Quirites.At paucos, quibus haec rabies auctoribus arsit,Non Caesar, sed poena tenet. Procumbite terra,Infidumque caput feriendaque tendite colla.Et tu, quo solo stabunt iam robore castra,Tiro rudis, specta poenas, et disce ferire,Disce mori. Tremuit saeva sub voce minantisVulgus iners: unumque caput tam magna iuventusPrivatum factura timet: velut ensibus ipsisImperet, invito moturus milite ferrum.Ipse pavet, ne tela sibi dextraeque negenturAd scelus hoc Caesar: vicit patientia saeviSpem ducis, et iugulos, non tantum praestitit enses.Nil magis, adsuetas sceleri quam perdere mentes,Atque perire timet; tam diro foederis ictuParta quies, poenaque redit placata iuventus.
He bids them reachIn ten days' march Brundusium, and recallFrom old Tarentum and from Hydrus loneHis navy, and from Leucas' point remote,And the Salapian marsh where Sipus liesBy rich Garganus, jutting from the shoreIn huge escarpment that divides the wavesOf Hadria; on each hand, his seaward slopesBuffeted by the winds; or Auster borneFrom sweet Apulia, or the sterner blastOf Boreas rushing from Dalmatian strands.But Caesar entered safe without a guardRome, trembling, taught to serve the garb of peace,Dictator named, to grant their prayers, forsooth:Consul, in honour of the roll of Rome.Then first of all the names by which we nowLie to our masters, men found out the use:For to preserve his right to wield the swordHe mixed the civil axes with his brands;With eagles, fasces; with an empty wordClothing his power; and stamped upon the timeA worthy designation; for what nameCould better mark the dread Pharsalian yearThan 'Caesar, Consul'? Now the famous fieldPretends its ancient ceremonies: callsThe tribes in order and divides the votesIn vain solemnity of empty urns.Nor did they heed the portents of the sky:Deaf were the augurs to the thunder roll;The owl flew on the left; yet were the birdsPropitious sworn. Then was the ancient nameDegraded first; and monthly Consuls, nowShorn of their rank, were chosen to mark the years.And Trojan Alba's god (since Latium's fallDeserving not) beheld the wonted firesBlaze from his altars on the festal night.Then through Apulia's fallows, which her hindsLeft all untilled, to sluggish weeds a preyPassed Caesar onward, swifter than the fireOf heaven, or tigress dam: until he reachedBrundusium's winding ramparts, built of oldBy Cretan colonists. There icy windsConstrained the billows, and his trembling fleetFeared for the winter storms nor dared the main.But Caesar's soul burned at the moments lostFor speedy battle, nor could brook delayWithin the port, indignant that the seaShould give safe passage to his routed foe:And thus he stirred his troops, in seas unskilled,With words of courage: 'When the winter wind'Has seized on sky and ocean, firm its hold;But the inconstancy of cloudy spring'Permits no certain breezes to prevail'Upon the billows. Straight shall be our course.'No winding nooks of coast, but open seasStruck by the northern wind alone we plough,'And may he bend the spars, and bear us swift'To Grecian cities; else Pompeius' ships'From coasts Phaeacian, with their swifter oarsMay catch our flagging sails. Cast loose the ropes'From our victorious prows. Too long we waste'Tempests that blow to bear us to our goal.'Now sank the sun to rest; the evening starShone on the darkening heaven, and the moonReigned with her paler light, when all the fleetFreed from retaining cables seized the main.With slackened sheet the canvas wooed the breeze,Which rose and fell and fitful died away,Till motionless the sails, and all the wavesWere still as deepest pool, where never windRipples the surface. Thus in Scythian climesCimmerian Bosphorus restrains the deepBound fast in frosty fetters; Ister's streamsNo more impel the main, and ships constrainedStand fast in ice; and while in depths belowThe waves still murmur, loud the charger's hoofSounds on the surface, and the travelling wheelFurrows a track upon the frozen marsh.Cruel as tempest was the calm that layIn stagnant pools upon the mournful deep:Against the course of nature lay outstretchedA rigid ocean: 'twas as if the seaForgat its ancient ways and knew no moreThe ceaseless tides, nor any breeze of heaven,Nor quivered at the image of the sun,Mirrored upon its wave. For while the fleetHung in mid passage motionless, the foeMight hurry to attack, with sturdy strokeChurning the deep; or famine's deadly gripMight seize the ships becalmed. For dangers newNew vows they found: for tempests was their prayer,To rouse the billows till the watery plainFreed from its torpor should be sea once more.But cloudless was the sky and calm the deep,All hope of shipwreck gone, till night was fled,And marred by gathering mist the day aroseAnd stirred the depths, and moved the fleet alongTowards the Ceraunian headland; and the wavesAnd favouring breezes followed on the ships,Now speeding faster, till (their goal attained)They cast their anchors on Palaeste's shore.This land first saw the chiefs in neighbouring campsConfronted, which the streams of Apsus boundAnd swifter Genusus; a lengthy courseIs run by neither, but on Apsus' wavesScarce flowing from a marsh, the frequent boatFinds room to swim; while on the foamy bedOf Genusus by sun or shower compelledThe melted snows pour seawards. Here were met(So Fortune ordered it) the mighty pair;And in its woes the world yet vainly hopedThat, brought to nearer touch, their crime itselfMight breed abhorrence: for from either campVoices were clearly heard and features seen.Nor e'er, Pompeius, since that distant dayWhen Caesar's daughter and thy spouse was reftBy pitiless fate away, nor left a pledge,Did thy loved kinsman (save on sands of Nile)So nearly look upon thy face again.
Brundusium decimis iubet hanc adtingere castris,Et cunctas revocare rates, quas avius Hydrus,Antiquusque Taras, secretaque litora Leucae,Quas recipit Salapina palus, et subdita SipusMontibus: Ausoniam qua torquens frugifer oram,Dalmatico Boreae, Calabroque obnoxius AustroAppulus Hadriacas exit Garganus in undas.Ipse petit trepidam tutus sine milite Romam,Iam doctam servire togae: populoque precantiScilicet indulgens, summum dictator honoremContigit, et laetos fecit se console fastos.Namque omnes voces, per quas iam tempore tantoMentimur dominis, haec primum reperit aetas,Qua sibi ne ferri ius ullum Caesar abesset,Ausonias voluit gladiis miscere secures.Addidit et fasces aquilis, et nomen inaneImperii rapiens, signavit tempora dignaMoesta nota. Nam quo melius Pharsalicus annusConsule notus erit? Fingit solemnis Campus,Et non admissae dirimit suffragia plebis,Decantatque tribus, et vana versat in urna.Nec coelum servare licet: tonat augure surdo,Et laetae iurantur aves, bubone sinistro.Inde perit primum quondam veneranda potestasIuris inops: careat tantum ne nomine tempus,Menstruus in fastos distinguit saecula consul.Nec non Iliacae numen quod praesidet Albae,Haud meritum Latio sollemnia sacra subacto,Vidit flammifera confectas nocte Latinas.Inde rapit cursus, et, quae piger Appulus arvaDeseruit rastris, et inerti tradidit herbae,Ocior et coeli flammis et tigride foetaTranscurrit; curvique tenens Minoia tectaBrundusii, clausas ventis brumalibus undasInvenit, et pavidas hiberno sidere classes.Turpe duci visum, rapiendi tempora belliIn segnes exisse moras, portuque teneri,Dum pateat tutum vel non felicibus aequor.Expertes animos pelagi sic robore complet:Fortius hiberni flatus, coelumque fretumqueCum cepere, tenent, quam quos incumbere certosPerfida nubiferi vetat inconstantia veris.Nec maris anfractus lustrandaque litora nobis,Sed recti fluctus soloque Aquilone secandi.Hic utinam summi curvet carchesia mali,Incumbatque furens, et Graia ad moenia perflet,Ne Pompeiani Phaeacum e litore totoLanguida iactatis comprendant carbasa remis:Rumpite, quae retinent felices vincula proras.Iamdudum nubes et saevas perdimus undas.Sidera prima poli, Phoebo labente sub undas,Exierant, et luna suas iam fecerat umbras,Cum pariter solvere rates, totosque rudentesLaxavere sinus: et flexo navita cornuObliquat laevo pede carbasa, summaque pandensSuppara velorum perituras colligit auras.Ut primum levior propellere lintea ventusIncipit, exiguumque tument, mox reddita maloIn mediam cecidere ratem: terraque relicta,Non valet ipsa sequi puppes, quae vexerat aura.Aequora lenta iacent, alto torpore ligata.Pigrius immotis haesere paludibus undae.Sic stat iners Scythicas adstringens Bosporus undas,Cum, glacie retinente, fretum non impulit Ister,Immensumque gelu tegitur mare: comprimit unda,Deprendit quascunque rates: nec pervia velisAequora frangit eques, fluctuque latente sonantemOrbita migrantis scindit Maeotida Bessi.Saeva quies pelagi, moestoque ignava profundoStagna iacentis aquae: veluti deserta rigenteAequora natura cessant, pontusque vetustasOblitus servare vices, non commeat aestu,Non horrore tremit, non solis imagine vibratCasibus innumeris fixae patuere carinae,Illinc infestae classes et inertia tonsisAequora moturae; gravis hinc languore profundiObsessis ventura fames. Nova vota timoriSunt inventa novo, fluctus nimiasque precariVentorum vires, dum se torpentibus undaExcutiat stagnis, et sit mare. Nubila nusquamUndarumque minae: coelo languente fretoque,Naufragii spes omnis abit. Sed nocte fugata,Laesum nube dies iubar extulit, imaque sensimConcussit pelagi, movitque Ceraunia nautis.Inde rapi coepere rates, atque aequora classemCurva sequi, quae iam vento fluctuque secundoLapsa Palaestinas uncis confixit arenas.Prima duces vidit iunctis consistere castrisTellus, quam volucer Genusus, quam mollior ApsusCircueunt ripis. Apso gestare carinasCaussa palus, leni quam fallens egerit unda.At Genusum nunc sole nives, nunc imbre solutaePraecipitant: neuter longo se gurgite lassat,Sed minimum terrae, vicino litore, novit.Hoc fortuna loco tantae duo nomina famaeComposuit: miserique fuit spes irrita mundiPosse duces parva campi statione diremtosAdmotum damnare nefas. Nam cernere vultusEt voces audire datur: multosque per annosDilectus tibi, Magne, socer, post pignera tantaSanguinis, infausti sobolem mortemque nepotis,Te nisi Niliaca propias non vidit arena.