Lucan None Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of     The     Civil Wars (Fiscle Part-X) 
 
 
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 Wars Worse Than Civil On Emathian (1) Plains, 
 And Crime Let Loose We Sing; How Rome's High Race 
 Plunged In Her Vitals Her Victorious Sword; 
 Armies Akin Embattled, With The     Force 
 Of All The     Shaken Earth Bent On The     Fray; 
 And Burst Asunder, To The     Common Guilt, 
 A Kingdom's Compact; Eagle With Eagle Met, 
 Standard To Standard, Spear Opposed To Spear. 
   
   
   
 Whence, Citizens, This Rage, This Boundless Lust 
 To Sate Barbarians With The     Blood Of     Rome? 
 Did Not The     Shade Of     Crassus, Wandering Still, (2) 
 Cry For His Vengeance?  Could Ye Not Have Spoiled, 
 To Deck Your Trophies, Haughty Babylon? 
 Why Wage Campaigns That Send No Laurels Home? 
 What Lands, What Oceans Might Have Been The     Prize 
 Of All The     Blood Thus Shed In Civil Strife! 
 Where Titan Rises, Where Night Hides The     Stars, 
 'Neath Southern Noons All Quivering With Heat, 
 Or Where Keen Frost That Never Yields To Spring 
 In Icy Fetters Binds The     Scythian Main: 
 Long Since Barbarians By The     Eastern Sea 
 And Far Araxes' Stream, And Those Who Know 
 (If Any Such There Be) The     Birth Of     Nile 
 Had Felt Our Yoke.  Then, Rome, Upon Thyself 
 With All The     World Beneath Thee, If Thou Must, 
 Wage This Nefarious War, But Not Till Then. 
   
   
   
 Now View The     Houses With Half-Ruined Walls 
 Throughout Italian Cities; Stone From Stone 
 Has Slipped And Lies At Length; Within The     Home 
 No Guard Is Found, And In The     Ancient Streets So 
 Scarce Seen The     Passer By.  The     Fields In Vain, 
 Rugged With Brambles And Unploughed For Years, 
 Ask For The     Hand Of     Man; For Man Is Not. 
 Nor Savage Pyrrhus Nor The     Punic Horde 
 E'er Caused Such Havoc: To No Foe Was Given 
 
 
 
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 To Strike Thus Deep; But Civil Strife Alone 
 Dealt The     Fell Wound And Left The     Death Behind. 
 Yet If The     Fates Could Find No Other Way (3) 
 For Nero Coming, Nor The     Gods With Ease 
 Gain Thrones In Heaven; And If The     Thunderer 
 Prevailed Not Till The     Giant's War Was Done, 
 Complaint Is Silent.  For This Boon Supreme 
 Welcome, Ye Gods, Be Wickedness And Crime; 
 Thronged With Our Dead Be Dire Pharsalia's Fields, 
 Be Punic Ghosts Avenged By Roman Blood; 
 Add To These Ills The     Toils Of     Mutina; 
 Perusia's Dearth; On Munda's Final Field 
 The Shock Of     Battle Joined; Let Leucas' Cape 
 Shatter The     Routed Navies; Servile Hands 
 Unsheath The     Sword On Fiery Etna's Slopes: 
 Still Rome Is Gainer By The     Civil War. 
 Thou, Caesar, Art Her Prize.  When Thou Shalt Choose, 
 Thy Watch Relieved, To Seek Divine Abodes, 
 All Heaven Rejoicing; And Shalt Hold A Throne, 
 Or Else Elect To Govern Phoebus' Car 
 And Light A Subject World That Shall Not Dread 
 To Owe Her Brightness To A Different Sun; 
 All Shall Concede Thy Right: Do What Thou Wilt, 
 Select Thy Godhead, And The     Central Clime 
 Whence Thou Shalt Rule The     World With Power Divine. 
 And Yet The     Northern Or The     Southern Pole 
 We Pray Thee, Choose Not; But In Rays Direct 
 Vouchsafe Thy Radiance To Thy City Rome. 
 Press Thou On Either Side, The     Universe 
 Should Lose Its Equipoise: Take Thou The     Midst, 
 And Weight The     Scales, And Let That Part Of     Heaven 
 Where Caesar Sits, Be Evermore Serene 
 And Smile Upon Us With Unclouded Blue. 
 Then May All Men Lay Down Their Arms, And Peace 
 Through All The     Nations Reign, And Shut The     Gates 
 That Close The     Temple Of     The     God Of     War. 
 Be Thou My Help, To Me E'en Now Divine! 
 Let Delphi's Steep Her Own Apollo Guard, 
 And Nysa Keep Her Bacchus, Uninvoked. 
 Rome Is My Subject And My Muse Art Thou! 
   
   
   
 First Of     Such Deeds I Purpose To Unfold 
 The Causes -- Task Immense -- What Drove To Arms 
 A Maddened Nation, And From All The     World 
 Struck Peace Away. 
   
   
   
                     By Envious Fate's Decrees 
 Abide Not Long The     Mightiest Lords Of     Earth; 
 Beneath Too Heavy A Burden Great The     Fall. 
 Thus Rome O'ergrew Her Strength.  So When That Hour 
 
 
 
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 The Last In All The     Centuries, Shall Sound 
 The World's Disruption, All Things Shall Revert 
 To That Primaeval Chaos, Stars On Stars 
 Shall Crash; And Fiery Meteors From The     Sky 
 Plunge In The     Ocean.  Earth Shall Then No More 
 Front With Her Bulwark The     Encroaching Sea: 
 The Moon, Indignant At Her Path Oblique, 
 Shall Drive Her Chariot 'Gainst Her Brother Sun 
 And Claim The     Day For Hers; And Discord Huge 
 Shall Rend The     Spheres Asunder. 
                                    On Themselves 
 Great Powers Are Dashed: Such Bounds The     Gods Have Placed 
 Upon The     Prosperous; Nor Doth Fortune Lend 
 To Any Nations, So That They May Strike 
 The Sovereign Power That Rules The     Earth And Sea, 
 The Weapons Of     Her Envy.  Triple Reign 
 And Baleful Compact For Divided Power -- 
 Ne'er Without Peril Separate Before -- 
 Made Rome Their Victim.  Oh!  Ambition Blind, 
 That Stirred The     Leaders So To Join Their Strength 
 In Peace That Ended Ill, Their Prize The     World! 
 For While The     Sea On Earth And Earth On Air 
 Lean For Support: While Titan Runs His Course, 
 And Night With Day Divides An Equal Sphere, 
 No King Shall Brook His Fellow, Nor Shall Power 
 Endure A Rival.  Search No Foreign Lands: 
 These Walls Are Proof That In Their Infant Days 
 A Hamlet, Not The     World, Was Prize Enough 
 To Cause The     Shedding Of     A Brother's Blood. 
   
   
   
 Concord, On Discord Based, Brief Time Endured, 
 Unwelcome To The     Rivals; And Alone 
 Crassus Delayed The     Advent Of     The     War. 
 Like To The     Slender Neck That Separates 
 The Seas Of     Graecia: Should It Be Engulfed 
 Then Would Th' Ionian And Aegean Mains (4) 
 Break Each On Other: Thus When Crassus Fell, 
 Who Held Apart The     Chiefs, In Piteous Death, 
 And Stained Assyria's Plains With Latian Blood, 
 Defeat In Parthia Loosed The     War In Rome. 
 More In That Victory Than Ye Thought Was Won, 
 Ye Sons Of     Arsaces; Your Conquered Foes 
 Took At Your Hands The     Rage Of     Civil Strife. 
 The Mighty Realm That Earth And Sea Contained, 
 To Which All Peoples Bowed, Split By The     Sword, 
 Could Not Find Space For Two (5).  For Julia Bore, 
 Cut Off By Fate Unpitying(6), The     Bond 
 Of That Ill-Omened Marriage, And The     Pledge 
 Of Blood United, To The     Shades Below. 
 Had'st Thou But Longer Stayed, It Had Been Thine 
 To Keep The     Husband And The     Sire Apart, 
 And, As The     Sabine Women Did Of     Old, 
 
 
 
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 Dash Down The     Threatening Swords And Join The     Hands. 
 With Thee All Trust Was Buried, And The     Chiefs 
 Could Give Their Courage Vent, And Rushed To War. 
   
   
   
 Lest Newer Glories Triumphs Past Obscure, 
 Late Conquered Gaul The     Bays From Pirates Won, 
 This, Magnus, Was Thy Fear; Thy Roll Of     Fame, 
 Of Glorious Deeds Accomplished For The     State 
 Allows No Equal; Nor Will Caesar's Pride 
 A Prior Rival In His Triumphs Brook; 
 Which Had The     Right 'Twere Impious To Enquire; 
 Each For His Cause Can Vouch A Judge Supreme; 
 The Victor, Heaven: The     Vanquished, Cato, Thee. (7) 
 Nor Were They Like To Like: The     One In Years 
 Now Verging Towards Decay, In Times Of     Peace 
 Had Unlearned War; But Thirsting For Applause 
 Had Given The     People Much, And Proud Of     Fame 
 His Former Glory Cared Not To Renew, 
 But Joyed In Plaudits Of     The     Theatre, (8) 
 His Gift To Rome: His Triumphs In The     Past, 
 Himself The     Shadow Of     A Mighty Name. 
 As When Some Oak, In Fruitful Field Sublime, 
 Adorned With Venerable Spoils, And Gifts 
 Of Bygone Leaders, By Its Weight To Earth 
 With Feeble Roots Still Clings; Its Naked Arms 
 And Hollow Trunk, Though Leafless, Give A Shade; 
 And Though Condemned Beneath The     Tempest's Shock 
 To Speedy Fall, Amid The     Sturdier Trees 
 In Sacred Grandeur Rules The     Forest Still. 
 No Such Repute Had Ceesar Won, Nor Fame; 
 But Energy Was His That Could Not Rest -- 
 The Only Shame He Knew Was Not To Win. 
 Keen And Unvanquished (9), Where Revenge Or Hope 
 Might Call, Resistless Would He Strike The     Blow 
 With Sword Unpitying: Every Victory Won 
 Reaped To The     Full; The     Favour Of     The     Gods 
 Pressed To The     Utmost; All That Stayed His Course 
 Aimed At The     Summit Of     Power, Was Thrust Aside: 
 Triumph His Joy, Though Ruin Marked His Track. 
 As Parts The     Clouds A Bolt By Winds Compelled, 
 With Crack Of     Riven Air And Crash Of     Worlds, 
 And Veils The     Light Of     Day, And On Mankind, 
 Blasting Their Vision With Its Flames Oblique, 
 Sheds Deadly Fright; Then Turning To Its Home, ' 
 Nought But The     Air Opposing, Through Its Path 
 Spreads Havoc, And Collects Its Scattered Fires. 
   
   
   
 Such Were The     Hidden Motives Of     The     Chiefs; 
 But In The     Public Life The     Seeds Of     War 
 Their Hold Had Taken, Such As Are The     Doom 
 
 
 
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 Of Potent Nations: And When Fortune Poured 
 Through Roman Gates The     Booty Of     A World, 
 The Curse Of     Luxury, Chief Bane Of     States, 
 Fell On Her Sons.  Farewell The     Ancient Ways! 
 Behold The     Pomp Profuse, The     Houses Decked 
 With Ornament; Their Hunger Loathed The     Food 
 Of Former Days; Men Wore Attire For Dames 
 Scarce Fitly Fashioned; Poverty Was Scorned, 
 Fruitful Of     Warriors; And From All The     World 
 Came That Which Ruins Nations; While The     Fields 
 Furrowed Of     Yore By Great Camillus' Plough, 
 Or By The     Mattock Which A Curius Held, 
 Lost Their Once Narrow Bounds, And Widening Tracts 
 By Hinds Unknown Were Tilled.  No Nation This 
 To Sheathe The     Sword, With Tranquil Peace Content 
 And With Her Liberties; But Prone To Ire; 
 Crime Holding Light As Though By Want Compelled: 
 And Great The     Glory In The     Minds Of     Men, 
 Ambition Lawful Even At Point Of     Sword, 
 To Rise Above Their Country: Might Their Law: 
 Decrees Are Forced From Senate And From Plebs: 
 Consul And Tribune Break The     Laws Alike: 
 Bought Are The     Fasces, And The     People Sell 
 For Gain Their Favour: Bribery's Fatal Curse 
 Corrupts The     Annual Contests Of     The     Field. 
 Then Covetous Usury Rose, And Interest 
 Was Greedier Ever As The     Seasons Came; 
 Faith Tottered; Thousands Saw Their Gain In War. 
   
   
   
 Caesar Has Crossed The     Alps, His Mighty Soul 
 Great Tumults Pondering And The     Coming Shock. 
 Now On The     Marge Of     Rubicon, He Saw, 
 In Face Most Sorrowful And Ghostly Guise, 
 His Trembling Country's Image; Huge It Seemed 
 Through Mists Of     Night Obscure; And Hoary Hair 
 Streamed From The     Lofty Front With Turrets Crowned: 
 Torn Were Her Locks And Naked Were Her Arms. 
 Then Thus, With Broken Sighs The     Vision Spake: 
 "What Seek Ye, Men Of     Rome?  And Whither Hence 
 Bear Ye My Standards?  If By Right Ye Come, 
 My Citizens, Stay Here; These Are The     Bounds; 
 No Further Dare."  But Caesar's Hair Was Stiff 
 With Horror As He Gazed, And Ghastly Dread 
 Restrained His Footsteps On The     Further Bank. 
 Then Spake He, "Thunderer, Who From The     Rock 
 Tarpeian Seest The     Wall Of     Mighty Rome; 
 Gods Of     My Race Who Watched O'er Troy Of     Old; 
 Thou Jove Of     Alba's Height, And Vestal Fires, 
 And Rites Of     Romulus Erst Rapt To Heaven, 
 And God-Like Rome; Be Friendly To My Quest. 
 Not With Offence Or Hostfie Arms I Come, 
 Thy Caesar, Conqueror By Land And Sea, 
 
 
 
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 Thy Soldier Here And Wheresoe'er Thou Wilt: 
 No Other's; His, His Only Be The     Guilt 
 Whose Acts Make Me Thy Foe.'  He Gives The     Word 
 And Bids His Standards Cross The     Swollen Stream. 
 So In The     Wastes Of     Afric's Burning Clime 
 The Lion Crouches As His Foes Draw Near, 
 Feeding His Wrath The     While, His Lashing Tail 
 Provokes His Fury; Stiff Upon His Neck 
 Bristles His Mane: Deep From His Gaping Jaws 
 Resounds A Muttered Growl, And Should A Lance 
 Or Javelin Reach Him From The     Hunter's Ring, 
 Scorning The     Puny Scratch He Bounds Afield. 
   
   
   
 From Modest Fountain Blood-Red Rubicon 
 In Summer's Heat Flows On; His Pigmy Tide 
 Creeps Through The     Valleys And With Slender Marge 
 Divides The     Italian Peasant From The     Gaul. 
 Then Winter Gave Him Strength, And Fraught With Rain 
 The Third Day's Crescent Moon; While Eastern Winds 
 Thawed From The     Alpine Slopes The     Yielding Snow. 
 The Cavalry First Form Across The     Stream ' 
 To Break The     Torrent's Force; The     Rest With Ease 
 Beneath Their Shelter Gain The     Further Bank. 
 When Csesar Crossed And Trod Beneath His Feet 
 The Soil Of     Italy's Forbidden Fields, 
 "Here," Spake He, "Peace, Here Broken Laws Be Left; 
 Farewell To Treaties.  Fortune, Lead Me On; 
 War Is Our Judge, And In The     Fates Our Trust." 
 Then In The     Shades Of     Night He Leads The     Troops 
 Swifter Than Balearic Sling Or Shaft 
 Winged By Retreating Parthian, To The     Walls 
 Of Threatened Rimini, While Fled The     Stars, 
 Save Lucifer, Before The     Coming Sun, 
 Whose Fires Were Veiled In Clouds, By South Wind Driven, 
 Or Else At Heaven's Command: And Thus Drew On 
 The First Dark Morning Of     The     Civil War. 
   
   
   
 Now Stand The     Troops Within The     Captured Town, 
 Their Standards Planted; And The     Trumpet Clang 
 Rings Forth In Harsh Alarums, Giving Note 
 Of Impious Strife: Roused From Their Sleep The     Men 
 Rush To The     Hall And Snatch The     Ancient Arms 
 Long Hanging Through The     Years Of     Peace; The     Shield 
 With Crumbling Frame; Dark With The     Tooth Of     Rust 
 Their Swords (10); And Javelins With Blunted Point. 
 But When The     Well-Known Signs And Eagles Shone, 
 And Caesar Towering O'er The     Throng Was Seen, 
 They Shook For Terror, Fear Possessed Their Limbs, 
 And Thoughts Unuttered Stirred Within Their Souls. 
 "O Miserable Those To Whom Their Home 
 
 
 
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 Denies The     Peace That All Men Else Enjoy! 
 Placed As We Are Beside The     Northern Bounds 
 And Scarce A Footstep From The     Restless Gaul, 
 We Fall The     First; Would That Our Lot Had Been 
 Beneath The     Eastern Sky, Or Frozen North, 
 To Lead A Wandering Life, Rather Than Keep 
 The Gates Of     Latium.  Brennus Sacked The     Town 
 And Hannibal, And All The     Teuton Hosts. 
 For When The     Fate Of     Rome Is In The     Scale 
 By This Path War Advances."  Thus They Moan 
 Their Fears But Speak Them Not; No Sound Is Heard 
 Giving Their Anguish Utterance: As When 
 In Depth Of     Winter All The     Fields Are Still, 
 The Birds Are Voiceless And No Sound Is Heard 
 To Break The     Silence Of     The     Central Sea. 
 But When The     Day Had Broken Through The     Shades 
 Of Chilly Darkness, Lo!  The     Torch Of     War! 
 For By The     Hand Of     Fate Is Swift Dispersed 
 All Caesar's Shame Of     Battle, And His Mind 
 Scarce Doubted More; And Fortune Toiled To Make 
 His Action Just And Give Him Cause For Arms. 
 For While Rome Doubted And The     Tongues Of     Men 
 Spoke Of     The     Chiefs Who Won Them Rights Of     Yore, 
 The Hostile Senate, In Contempt Of     Right, 
 Drove Out The     Tribunes.  They To Caesar's Camp 
 With Curio Hasten, Who Of     Venal Tongue, 
 Bold, Prompt, Persuasive, Had Been Wont To Preach 
 Of Freedom To The     People, And To Call 
 Upon The     Chiefs To Lay Their Weapons Down (11). 
 And When He Saw How Deeply Caesar Mused, 
 "While From The     Rostrum I Had Power," He Said, 
 To Call The     Populace To Aid Thy Cause, 
 By This My Voice Against The     Senate's Will 
 Was Thy Command Prolonged.  But Silenced Now 
 Are Laws In War: We Driven From Our Homes; 
 Yet Is Our Exile Willing; For Thine Arms 
 Shall Make Us Citizens Of     Rome Again. 
 Strike; For No Strength As Yet The     Foe Hath Gained. 
 Occasion Calls, Delay Shall Mar It Soon: 
 Like Risk, Like Labour, Thou Hast Known Before, 
 But Never Such Reward.  Could Gallia Hold 
 Thine Armies Ten Long Years Ere Victory Came, 
 That Little Nook Of     Earth?  One Paltry Fight 
 Or Twain, Fought Out By Thy Resistless Hand, 
 And Rome For Thee Shall Have Subdued The     World: 
 'Tis True No Triumph Now Would Bring Thee Home; 
 No Captive Tribes Would Grace Thy Chariot Wheels 
 Winding In Pomp Around The     Ancient Hill. 
 Spite Gnaws The     Factions; For Thy Conquests Won 
 Scarce Shalt Thou Be Unpunished.  Yet 'Tis Fate 
 Thou Should'st Subdue Thy Kinsman: Share The     World 
 With Him Thou Canst Not; Rule Thou Canst, Alone." 
 As When At Elis' Festival A Horse 
 In Stable Pent Gnaws At His Prison Bars 
 
 
 
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 Impatient, And Should Clamour From Without 
 Strike On His Ear, Bounds Furious At Restraint, 
 So Then Was Caesar, Eager For The     Fight, 
 Stirred By The     Words Of     Curio.  To The     Ranks 
 He Bids His Soldiers; With Majestic Mien 
 And Hand Commanding Silence As They Come. 
 "Comrades," He Cried, "Victorious Returned, 
 Who By My Side For Ten Long Years Have Faced, 
 'Mid Alpine Winters And On Arctic Shores, 
 The Thousand Dangers Of     The     Battle-Field -- 
 Is This Our Country's Welcome, This Her Prize 
 For Death And Wounds And Roman Blood Outpoured? 
 Rome Arms Her Choicest Sons; The     Sturdy Oaks 
 Are Felled To Make A Fleet; -- What Could She More 
 If From The     Alps Fierce Hannibal Were Come 
 With All His Punic Host?  By Land And Sea 
 Caesar Shall Fly!  Fly?  Though In Adverse War 
 Our Best Had Fallen, And The     Savage Gaul 
 Were Hard Upon Our Track, We Would Not Fly. 
 And Now, When Fortune Smiles And Kindly Gods 
 Beckon Us On To Glory! -- Let Him Come 
 Fresh From His Years Of     Peace, With All His Crowd 
 Of Conscript Burgesses, Marcellus' Tongue (12) 
 And Cato's Empty Name!  We Will Not Fly. 
 Shall Eastern Hordes And Greedy Hirelings Keep 
 Their Loved Pompeius Ever At The     Helm? 
 Shall Chariots Of     Triumph Be For Him 
 Though Youth And Law Forbad Them?  Shall He Seize 
 On Rome's Chief Honours Ne'er To Be Resigned? 
 And What Of     Harvests (13) Blighted Through The     World 
 And Ghastly Famine Made To Serve His Ends? 
 Who Hath Forgotten How Pompeius' Bands 
 Seized On The     Forum, And With Glittering Arms 
 Made Outraged Justice Tremble, While Their Swords 
 Hemmed In The     Judgment-Seat Where Milo (14) Stood? 
 And Now When Worn And Old And Ripe For Rest (15), 
 Greedy Of     Power, The     Impious Sword Again 
 He Draws.  As Tigers In Hyrcanian Woods 
 Wandering, Or In The     Caves That Saw Their Birth, 
 Once Having Lapped The     Blood Of     Slaughtered Kine, 
 Shall Never Cease From Rage; E'en So This Whelp 
 Of Cruel Sulla, Nursed In Civil War, 
 Outstrips His Master; And The     Tongue Which Licked 
 That Reeking Weapon Ever Thirsts For More. 
 Stain Once The     Lips With Blood, No Other Meal 
 They Shall Enjoy.  And Shall There Be No End 
 Of These Long Years Of     Power And Of     Crime? 
 Nay, This One Lesson, E'er It Be Too Late, 
 Learn Of     Thy Gentle Sulla -- To Retire! 
 Of Old His Victory O'er Cilician Thieves 
 And Pontus' Weary Monarch Gave Him Fame, 
 By Poison Scarce Attained.  His Latest Prize 
 Shall I Be, Caesar, I, Who Would Not Quit 
 My Conquering Eagles At His Proud Command? 
 
 
 
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 Nay, If No Triumph Is Reserved For Me, 
 Let These At Least Of     Long And Toilsome War 
 'Neath Other Leaders The     Rewards Enjoy. 
 Where Shall The     Weary Soldier Find His Rest? 
 What Cottage Homes Their Joys, What Fields Their Fruit 
 Shall To Our Veterans Yield?  Will Magnus Say 
 That Pirates Only Till The     Fields Alight? 
 Unfurl Your Standards; Victory Gilds Them Yet, 
 As Through Those Glorious Years.  Deny Our Rights! 
 He That Denies Them Makes Our Quarrel Just. 
 Nay!  Use The     Strength That We Have Made Our Own. 
 No Booty Seek We, Nor Imperial Power. 
 This Would-Be Ruler Of     Subservient Rome 
 We Force To Quit His Grasp; And Heaven Shall Smile 
 On Those Who Seek To Drag The     Tyrant Down." 
   
   
   
 Thus Caesar Spake; But Doubtful Murmurs Ran 
 Throughout The     Listening Crowd, This Way And That 
 Their Wishes Urging Them; The     Thoughts Of     Home 
 And Household Gods And Kindred Gave Them Pause: 
 But Fear Of     Caesar And The     Pride Of     War 
 Their Doubts Resolved.  Then Laelius, Who Wore 
 The Well-Earned Crown For Roman Life Preserved, 
 The Foremost Captain Of     The     Army, Spake: 
 "O Greatest Leader Of     The     Roman Name, 
 If 'Tis Thy Wish The     Very Truth To Hear 
 'Tis Mine To Speak It; We Complain Of     This, 
 That Gifted With Such Strength Thou Did'st Refrain 
 From Using It.  Had'st Thou No Trust In Us? 
 While The     Hot Life-Blood Fills These Glowing Veins, 
 While These Strong Arms Avail To Hurl The     Lance, 
 Wilt Thou Make Peace And Bear The     Senate's Rule? 
 Is Civil Conquest Then So Base And Vile? 
 Lead Us Through Scythian Deserts, Lead Us Where 
 The Inhospitable Syrtes Line The     Shore 
 Of Afric's Burning Sands, Or Where Thou Wilt: 
 This Hand, To Leave A Conquered World Behind, 
 Held Firm The     Oar That Tamed The     Northern Sea 
 And Rhine's Swift Torrent Foaming To The     Main. 
 To Follow Thee Fate Gives Me Now The     Power: 
 The Will Was Mine Before.  No Citizen 
 I Count The     Man 'Gainst Whom Thy Trumpets Sound. 
 By Ten Campaigns Of     Victory, I Swear, 
 By All Thy World-Wide Triumphs, Though With Hand 
 Unwilling, Should'st Thou Now Demand The     Life 
 Of Sire Or Brother Or Of     Faithful Spouse, 
 Caesar, The     Life Were Thine.  To Spoil The     Gods 
 And Sack Great Juno's Temple On The     Hill, 
 To Plant Our Arms O'er Tiber's Yellow Stream, 
 To Measure Out The     Camp, Against The     Wall 
 To Drive The     Fatal Ram, And Raze The     Town, 
 This Arm Shall Not Refuse, Though Rome The     Prize." 
 
 
 
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 His Comrades Swore Consent With Lifted Hands 
 And Vowed To Follow Wheresoe'er He Led. 
 And Such A Clamour Rent The     Sky As When 
 Some Thracian Blast On Ossa's Pine-Clad Rocks 
 Falls Headlong, And The     Loud Re-Echoing Woods, 
 Or Bending, Or Rebounding From The     Stroke, 
 In Sounding Chorus Lift The     Roar On High. 
   
   
   
 When Csesar Saw Them Welcome Thus The     War 
 And Fortune Leading On, And Favouring Fates, 
 He Seized The     Moment, Called His Troops From Gaul, 
 And Breaking Up His Camp Set On For Rome. 
   
   
   
 The Tents Are Vacant By Lake Leman's Side; 
 The Camps Upon The     Beetling Crags Of     Vosges 
 No Longer Hold The     Warlike Lingon Down, 
 Fierce In His Painted Arms; Isere Is Left, 
 Who Past His Shallows Gliding, Flows At Last 
 Into The     Current Of     More Famous Rhone, 
 To Reach The     Ocean In Another Name. 
 The Fair-Haired People Of     Cevennes Are Free: 
 Soft Aude Rejoicing Bears No Roman Keel, 
 Nor Pleasant Var, Since Then Italia's Bound; 
 The Harbour Sacred To Alcides' Name 
 Where Hollow Crags Encroach Upon The     Sea, 
 Is Left In Freedom: There Nor Zephyr Gains 
 Nor Caurus Access, But The     Circian Blast (16) 
 Forbids The     Roadstead By Monaecus' Hold. 
 And Others Left The     Doubtful Shore, Which Sea 
 And Land Alternate Claim, Whene'er The     Tide 
 Pours In Amain Or When The     Wave Rolls Back -- 
 Be It The     Wind Which Thus Compels The     Deep 
 From Furthest Pole, And Leaves It At The     Flood; 
 Or Else The     Moon That Makes The     Tide To Swell, 
 Or Else, In Search Of     Fuel (17) For His Fires, 
 The Sun Draws Heavenward The     Ocean Wave; -- 
 Whate'er The     Cause That May Control The     Main 
 I Leave To Others; Let The     Gods For Me 
 Lock In Their Breasts The     Secrets Of     The     World. 
   
   
   
 Those Who Kept Watch Beside The     Western Shore 
 Have Moved Their Standards Home; The     Happy Gaul 
 Rejoices In Their Absence; Fair Garonne 
 Through Peaceful Meads Glides Onward To The     Sea. 
 And Where The     River Broadens, Neath The     Cape 
 
 
 
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 Her Quiet Harbour Sleeps.  No Outstretched Arm 
 Except In Mimic War Now Hurls The     Lance. 
 No Skilful Warrior Of     Seine Directs 
 The Scythed Chariot 'Gainst His Country's Foe. 
 Now Rest The     Belgians, And The     Arvernian Race 
 That Boasts Our Kinship By Descent From Troy; 
 And Those Brave Rebels Whose Undaunted Hands 
 Were Dipped In Cotta's Blood, And Those Who Wear 
 Sarmatian Garb.  Batavia's Warriors Fierce 
 No Longer Listen For The     Bugle Call, 
 Nor Those Who Dwell Where Rhone's Swift Eddies Sweep 
 Saone To The     Ocean; Nor The     Mountain Tribes 
 Who Dwell About Its Source.  Thou, Too, Oh Treves, 
 Rejoicest That The     War Has Left Thy Bounds. 
 Ligurian Tribes, Now Shorn, In Ancient Days 
 First Of     The     Long-Haired Nations, On Whose Necks 
 Once Flowed The     Auburn Locks In Pride Supreme; 
 And Those Who Pacify With Blood Accursed 
 Savage Teutates, Hesus' Horrid Shrines, 
 And Taranis' Altars Cruel As Were Those 
 Loved By Diana (18), Goddess Of     The     North; 
 All These Now Rest In Peace.  And You, Ye Bards, 
 Whose Martial Lays Send Down To Distant Times 
 The Fame Of     Valorous Deeds In Battle Done, 
 Pour Forth In Safety More Abundant Song. 
 While You, Ye Druids (19), When The     War Was Done, 
 To Mysteries Strange And Hateful Rites Returned: 
 To You Alone 'Tis Given The     Gods And Stars 
 To Know Or Not To Know; Secluded Groves 
 Your Dwelling-Place, And Forests Far Remote. 
 If What Ye Sing Be True, The     Shades Of     Men 
 Seek Not The     Dismal Homes Of     Erebus 
 Or Death's Pale Kingdoms; But The     Breath Of     Life 
 Still Rules These Bodies In Another Age -- 
 Life On This Hand And That, And Death Between. 
 Happy The     Peoples 'Neath The     Northern Star 
 In This Their False Belief; For Them No Fear 
 Of That Which Frights All Others: They With Hands 
 And Hearts Undaunted Rush Upon The     Foe 
 And Scorn To Spare The     Life That Shall Return. 
 Ye Too Depart Who Kept The     Banks Of     Rhine 
 Safe From The     Foe, And Leave The     Teuton Tribes 
 Free At Their Will To March Upon The     World. 
   
   
   
 Caesar, With Strength Increased And Gathered Troops 
 New Efforts Daring, Spreads His Bands Afar 
 Through Italy, And Fills The     Neighbouring Towns. 
 Then Empty Rumour To Well-Grounded Fear 
 Gave Strength, And Heralding The     Coming War 
 In Hundred Voices 'Midst The     People Spread. 
 One Cries In Terror, "Swift The     Squadrons Come 
 Where Nar With Tiber Joins: And Where, In Meads 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book Name 1( The Crossing Of The Rubicon) Pg 12 
 By Oxen Loved, Mevania Spreads Her Walls, 
 Fierce Caesar Hurries His Barbarian Horse. 
 Eagles And Standards Wave Above His Head, 
 And Broad The     March That Sweeps Across The     Land." 
 Nor Is He Pictured Truly; Greater Far 
 More Fierce And Pitiless -- From Conquered Foes 
 Advancing; In His Rear The     Peoples March. 
 Snatched From Their Homes Between The     Rhine And Alps, 
 To Pillage Rome While Roman Chiefs Look On. 
 Thus Each Man's Panic Thought Swells Rumour's Lie: 
 They Fear The     Phantoms They Themselves Create. 
 Nor Does The     Terror Seize The     Crowd Alone: 
 But Fled The     Fathers, To The     Consuls (20) First 
 Issuing Their Hated Order, As For War; 
 And Doubting Of     Their Safety, Doubting Too 
 Where Lay The     Peril, Through The     Choking Gates, 
 Each Where He Would, Rushed All The     People Forth. 
 Thou Would'st Believe That Blazing To The     Torch 
 Were Men's Abodes, Or Nodding To Their Fall. 
 So Streamed They Onwards, Frenzied With Affright, 
 As Though In Exile Only Could They Find 
 Hope For Their Country.  So, When Southern Blasts 
 From Libyan Whirlpools Drive The     Boundless Main, 
 And Mast And Sail Crash Down Upon A Ship 
 With Ponderous Weight, But Still The     Frame Is Sound, 
 Her Crew And Captain Leap Into The     Sea, 
 Each Making Shipwreck For Himself. 'Twas Thus 
 They Passed The     City Gates And Fled To War. 
 No Aged Parent Now Could Stay His Son; 
 Nor Wife Her Spouse, Nor Did They Pray The     Gods 
 To Grant The     Safety Of     Their Fatherland. 
 None Linger On The     Threshold For A Look 
 Of Their Loved City, Though Perchance The     Last. 
   
   
   
 Ye Gods, Who Lavish Priceless Gifts On Men, 
 Nor Care To Guard Them, See Victorious Rome 
 Teeming With Life, Chief City Of     The     World, 
 With Ample Walls That All Mankind Might Hold, 
 To Coming Caesar Left An Easy Prey. 
 The Roman Soldier, When In Foreign Lands 
 Pressed By The     Enemy, In Narrow Trench 
 And Hurried Mound Finds Guard Enough To Make 
 His Slumber Safe; But Thou, Imperial Rome, 
 Alone On Rumour Of     Advancing Foes 
 Art Left A Desert, And Thy Battlements 
 They Trust Not For One Night.  Yet For Their Fear 
 This One Excuse Was Left; Pompeius Fled. 
 Nor Found They Room For Hope; For Nature Gave 
 Unerring Portents Of     Worse Ills To Come. 
 The Angry Gods Filled Earth And Air And Sea 
 With Frequent Prodigies; In Darkest Nights 
 Strange Constellations Sparkled Through The     Gloom: 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book Name 1( The Crossing Of The Rubicon) Pg 13 
 The Pole Was All Afire, And Torches Flew 
 Across The     Depths Of     Heaven; With Horrid Hair 
 A Blazing Comet Stretched From East To West 
 And Threatened Change To Kingdoms.  From The     Blue 
 Pale Lightning Flashed, And In The     Murky Air 
 The Fire Took Divers Shapes; A Lance Afar 
 Would Seem To Quiver Or A Misty Torch; 
 A Noiseless Thunderbolt From Cloudless Sky 
 Rushed Down, And Drawing Fire In Northern Parts 
 Plunged On The     Summit Of     The     Alban Mount. 
 The Stars That Run Their Courses In The     Night 
 Shone In Full Daylight; And The     Orbed Moon, 
 Hid By The     Shade Of     Earth, Grew Pale And Wan. 
 The Sun Himself, When Poised In Mid Career, 
 Shrouded His Burning Car In Blackest Gloom 
 And Plunged The     World In Darkness, So That Men 
 Despaired Of     Day -- Like As He Veiled His Light 
 From That Fell Banquet Which Mycenae Saw (21). 
 The Jaws Of     Etna Were Agape With Flame 
 That Rose Not Heavenwards, But Headlong Fell 
 In Smoking Stream Upon The     Italian Flank. 
 Then Black Charybdis, From Her Boundless Depth, 
 Threw Up A Gory Sea.  In Piteous Tones 
 Howled The     Wild Dogs; The     Vestal Fire Was Snatched 
 From Off The     Altar; And The     Flame That Crowned 
 The Latin Festival Was Split In Twain, 
 As On The     Theban Pyre (22), In Ancient Days; 
 Earth Tottered On Its Base: The     Mighty Alps 
 From Off Their Summits Shook Th' Eternal Snow (23). 
 In Huge Upheaval Ocean Raised His Waves 
 O'er Calpe's Rock And Atlas' Hoary Head. 
 The Native Gods Shed Tears, And Holy Sweat 
 Dropped From The     Idols; Gifts In Temples Fell: 
 Foul Birds Defiled The     Day; Beasts Left The     Woods 
 And Made Their Lair Among The     Streets Of     Rome. 
 All This We Hear; Nay More: Dumb Oxen Spake; 
 Monsters Were Brought To Birth And Mothers Shrieked 
 At Their Own Offspring; Words Of     Dire Import 
 From Cumae's Prophetess Were Noised Abroad. 
 Bellona's Priests With Bleeding Arms, And Slaves 
 Of Cybele's Worship, With Ensanguined Hair, 
 Howled Chants Of     Havoc And Of     Woe To Men. 
 Arms Clashed; And Sounding In The     Pathless Woods 
 Were Heard Strange Voices; Spirits Walked The     Earth: 
 And Dead Men's Ashes Muttered From The     Urn. 
 Those Who Live Near The     Walls Desert Their Homes, 
 For Lo!  With Hissing Serpents In Her Hair, 
 Waving In Downward Whirl A Blazing Pine, 
 A Fiend Patrols The     Town, Like That Which Erst 
 At Thebes Urged On Agave (24), Or Which Hurled 
 Lycurgus' Bolts, Or That Which As He Came 
 From Hades Seen, At Haughty Juno's Word, 
 Brought Terror To The     Soul Of     Hercules. 
 Trumpets Like Those That Summon Armies Forth 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book Name 1( The Crossing Of The Rubicon) Pg 14 
 Were Heard Re-Echoing In The     Silent Night: 
 And From The     Earth Arising Sulla's (25) Ghost 
 Sang Gloomy Oracles, And By Anio's Wave 
 All Fled The     Homesteads, Frighted By The     Shade 
 Of Marius Waking From His Broken Tomb. 
   
   
   
 In Such Dismay They Summon, As Of     Yore, 
 The Tuscan Sages To The     Nation's Aid. 
 Aruns, The     Eldest, Leaving His Abode 
 In Desolate Luca, Came, Well Versed In All 
 The Lore Of     Omens; Knowing What May Mean 
 The Flight Of     Hovering Bird, The     Pulse That Beats 
 In Offered Victims, And The     Levin Bolt. 
 All Monsters First, By Most Unnatural Birth 
 Brought Into Being, In Accursd Flames 
 He Bids Consume (26).  Then Round The     Walls Of     Rome 
 Each Trembling Citizen In Turn Proceeds. 
 The Priests, Chief Guardians Of     The     Public Faith, 
 With Holy Sprinkling Purge The     Open Space 
 That Borders On The     Wall; In Sacred Garb 
 Follows The     Lesser Crowd: The     Vestals Come 
 By Priestess Led With Laurel Crown Bedecked, 
 To Whom Alone Is Given The     Right To See 
 Minerva's Effigy That Came From Troy (27). 
 Next Come The     Keepers Of     The     Sacred Books 
 And Fate's Predictions; Who From Almo's Brook 
 Bring Back Cybebe Laved; The     Augur Too 
 Taught To Observe Sinister Flight Of     Birds; 
 And Those Who Serve The     Banquets To The     Gods; 
 And Titian Brethren; And The     Priest Of     Mars, 
 Proud Of     The     Buckler That Adorns His Neck; 
 By Him The     Flamen, On His Noble Head 
 The Cap Of     Office.  While They Tread The     Path 
 That Winds Around The     Walls, The     Aged Seer 
 Collects The     Thunderbolts That Fell From Heaven, 
 And Lays Them Deep In Earth, With Muttered Words 
 Naming The     Spot Accursed.  Next A Steer, 
 Picked For His Swelling Neck And Beauteous Form, 
 He Leads To The     Altar, And With Slanting Knife 
 Spreads On His Brow The     Meal, And Pours The     Wine. 
 The Victim's Struggles Prove The     Gods Averse; 
 But When The     Servers Press Upon His Horns 
   
   
   
 He Bends The     Knee And Yields Him To The     Blow. 
 No Crimson Torrent Issued At The     Stroke, 
 But From The     Wound A Dark Empoisoned Stream 
 Ebbed Slowly Downward.  Aruns At The     Sight 
 Aghast, Upon The     Entrails Of     The     Beast 
 Essayed To Read The     Anger Of     The     Gods. 
 Their Very Colour Terrified The     Seer; 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 1( The Crossing Of The Rubicon) Pg 15 
 Spotted They Were And Pale, With Sable Streaks 
 Of Lukewarm Gore Bespread; The     Liver Damp 
 With Foul Disease, And On The     Hostile Part 
 The Angry Veins Defiant; Of     The     Lungs 
 The Fibre Hid, And Through The     Vital Parts 
 The Membrane Small; The     Heart Had Ceased To Throb; 
 Blood Oozes Through The     Ducts; The     Caul Is Split: 
 And, Fatal Omen Of     Impending Ill, 
 One Lobe O'ergrows The     Other; Of     The     Twain 
 The One Lies Flat And Sick, The     Other Beats 
 And Keeps The     Pulse In Rapid Strokes Astir. 
   
   
   
 Disaster's Near Approach Thus Learned, He Cries -- 
 "Whate'er May Be The     Purpose Of     The     Gods, 
 'Tis Not For Me To Tell; This Offered Beast 
 Not Jove Possesses, But The     Gods Below. 
 We Dare Not Speak Our Fears, Yet Fear Doth Make 
 The Future Worse Than Fact.  May All The     Gods 
 Prosper The     Tokens, And The     Sacrifice 
 Be Void Of     Truth, And Tages (Famous Seer) 
 Have Vainly Taught These Mysteries."  Such His Words 
 Involved, Mysterious.  Figulus, To Whom 
 For Knowledge Of     The     Secret Depths Of     Space 
 And Laws Harmonious That Guide The     Stars, 
 Memphis Could Find No Peer, Then Spake At Large: 
 "Either," He Said, "The World And Countless Orbs 
 Throughout The     Ages Wander At Their Will; 
 Or, If The     Fates Control Them, Ruin Huge 
 Hangs O'er This City And O'er All Mankind. 
 Shall Earth Yawn Open And Engulph The     Towns? 
 Shall Scorching Heat Usurp The     Temperate Air 
 And Fields Refuse Their Timely Fruit?  The     Streams 
 Flow Mixed With Poison?  In What Plague, Ye Gods, 
 In What Destruction Shall Ye Wreak Your Ire? 
 Whate'er The     Truth, The     Days In Which We Live 
 Shall Find A Doom For Many.  Had The     Star 
 Of Baleful Saturn, Frigid In The     Height, 
 Kindled His Lurid Fires, The     Sky Had Poured 
 Its Torrents Forth As In Deucalion's Time, 
 And Whelmed The     World In Waters.  Or If Thou, 
 Phoebus, Beside The     Nemean Lion Fierce 
 Wert Driving Now Thy Chariot, Flames Should Seize 
 The Universe And Set The     Air Ablaze. 
 These Are At Peace; But, Mars, Why Art Thou Bent 
 On Kindling Thus The     Scorpion, His Tail 
 Portending Evil And His Claws Aflame? 
 Deep Sunk Is Kindly Jupiter, And Dull 
 Sweet Venus' Star, And Rapid Mercury 
 Stays On His Course: Mars Only Holds The     Sky. 
 Why Does Orion's Sword Too Brightly Shine? 
 Why Planets Leave Their Paths And Through The     Void 
 Thus Journey On Obscure?  'Tis War That Comes, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 1( The Crossing Of The Rubicon) Pg 16 
 Fierce Rabid War: The     Sword Shall Bear The     Rule 
 Confounding Justice; Hateful Crime Usurp 
 The Name Of     Virtue; And The     Havoc Spread 
 Through Many A Year.  But Why Entreat The     Gods? 
 The End Rome Longs For And The     Final Peace 
 Comes With A Despot.  Draw Thou Out Thy Chain 
 Of Lengthening Slaughter, And (For Such Thy Fate) 
 Make Good Thy Liberty Through Civil War." 
   
   
   
 The Frightened People Heard, And As They Heard 
 His Words Prophetic Made Them Fear The     More. 
 But Worse Remained; For As On Pindus' Slopes 
 Possessed With Fury From The     Theban God 
 Speeds Some Bacchante, Thus In Roman Streets 
 Behold A Matron Run, Who, In Her Trance, 
 Relieves Her Bosom Of     The     God Within. 
   
   
   
 "Where Dost Thou Snatch Me, Paean, To What Shore 
 Through Airy Regions Borne?  I See The     Snows 
 Of Thracian Mountains; And Philippi's Plains 
 Lie Broad Beneath.  But Why These Battle Lines, 
 No Foe To Vanquish -- Rome On Either Hand? 
 Again I Wander 'Neath The     Rosy Hues 
 That Paint Thine Eastern Skies, Where Regal Nile 
 Meets With His Flowing Wave The     Rising Tide. 
 Known To Mine Eyes That Mutilated Trunk 
 That Lies Upon The     Sand!  Across The     Seas 
 By Changing Whirlpools To The     Burning Climes 
 Of Libya Borne, Again I See The     Hosts 
 From Thracia Brought By Fate's Command.  And Now 
 Thou Bear'st Me O'er The     Cloud-Compelling Alps 
 And Pyrenean Summits; Next To Rome. 
 There In Mid-Senate See The     Closing Scene 
 Of This Foul War In Foulest Murder Done. 
 Again The     Factions Rise; Through All The     World 
 Once More I Pass; But Give Me Some New Land, 
 Some Other Region, Phoebus, To Behold! 
 Washed By The     Pontic Billows!  For These Eyes 
 Already Once Have Seen Philippi's Plains!" (28) 
   
   
   
 The Frenzy Left Her And She Speechless Fell. 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 1( The Crossing Of The Rubicon) ( End notes) Pg 17 
 Endnotes: 
   
   
   
 (1)  'The Great Emathian Conqueror' (Milton's Sonnet).  Emathia 
      Was Part Of     Macedonia, But The     Word Is Used Loosely For 
      Thessaly Or Macedonia. 
 (2)  Crassus Had Been Defeated And Slain By The     Parthians In B.C. 
      53, Four Years Before This Period. 
 (3)  Mr. Froude In His Essay Entitled "Divus Caesar" Hints That 
      These Famous Lines May Have Been Written In Mockery. 
      Probably The     Five Years Known As The     Golden Era Of     Nero Had 
      Passed When They Were Written: Yet The     Text Itself Does Not 
      Aid Such A Suggestion; And The     View Generally Taken, Namely 
      That Lucan Was In Earnest, Appears Preferable.  There Were 
      Many Who Dreamed At The     Time That The     Disasters Of     The     Civil 
      War Were Being Compensated By The     Wealth And Prosperity Of 
      The     Empire Under Nero; And The     Assurance Of     Universal Peace, 
      Then Almost Realised, Which Is Expressed In Lines 69-81, 
      Seems Inconsistent With The     Idea That This Passage Was 
      Written In Irony.  (See Lecky's "European Morals From 
      Augustus To Charlemagne", Vol. I.P.240, Who Describes These 
      Latter Verses As Written With All The     Fervour Of     A Christian 
      Poet.  See Also Merivale's "Roman Empire," Chapter Liv.) 
 (4)  See A Similar Passage In The     Final Scene Of     Ben Jonson's 
      "Catiline".  The     Cutting Of     The     Isthmus Of     Corinth Was 
      Proposed In Nero's Reign, And Actually Commenced In His 
      Presence; But Abandoned Because It Was Asserted That The 
      Level Of     The     Water In The     Corinthian Gulf Was Higher Than 
      That In The     Saronic Gulf, So That, If The     Canal Were Cut, 
      The     Island Of     Aegina Would Be Submerged.  Merivale's "Roman 
      Empire", Chapter Iv. 
 (5)  Compare: 
           "Two Stars Keep Not Their Motion In One Sphere; 
           Nor Can One England Brook A Double Reign 
           Of     Harry Percy And The     Prince Of     Wales." 
                     -- "1 Henry Iv", Act V., Scene 4. 
 (6)  This Had Taken Place In B.C.54, About Five Years Before The 
      Action Of     The     Poem Opens. 
 (7)  This Famous Line Was Quoted By Lamartine When Addressing The 
      French Assembly In 1848.  He Was Advocating, Against The 
      Interests Of     His Own Party (Which In The     Assembly Was All- 
      Powerful), That The     President Of     The     Republic Should Be 
      Chosen By The     Nation, And Not By The     Assembly; And He Ended 
      By Saying That If The     Course He Advocated Was Disastrous To 
      Himself, 'Victrix Causa Diis Placuit, Sed Victa Catoni.' 
 (8)  'Plausuque Sui Gaudere Theatri.'  Quoted By Mr. Pitt, In His 
      Speech On The     Address In 1783, On The     Occasion Of     Peace 
      Being Made With France, Spain, And America; In Allusion To 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 1( The Crossing Of The Rubicon) ( End notes) Pg 18 
      Mr. Sheridan.  The     Latter Replied, 'If Ever I Again Engage 
      In The     Compositions He Alludes To, I May Be Tempted To An 
      Act Of     Presumption -- To Attempt An Improvement On One Of 
      Ben Jonson's Best Characters -- The     Character Of     The     Angry 
      Boy In The     "Alchymist."' 
 (9)  Cicero Wrote Thus Of     Caesar: 1have You Ever Read Or Heard Of 
      A Man More Vigorous In Action Or More Moderate In The     Use Of 
      Victory Than Our Caesar?' -- Epp. Ad Diversos,' Viii. 15. 
 (10) Marlowe Has It: 
                                         "...And Swords 
           With Ugly Teeth Of     Black Rust Foully Scarred." 
 (11) In The     Senate, Curio Had Proposed And Carried A Resolution 
      That Pompeius And Caesar Should Lay Their Arms Down 
      Simultaneously; But This Was Resisted By The     Oligarchal 
      Party, Who Endeavoured, Though Unsuccessfully, To Expel 
      Curio From The     Senate, And Who Placed Pompeius In Command Of 
      The     Legions At Capua.  This Was In Effect A Declaration Of 
      War; And Curio, After A Last Attempt At Resistance, Left The 
      City, And Betook Himself To Caesar. (See The     Close Of     Book 
      Iv.) 
 (12) Marcus Marcellus, Consul In B.C. 51. 
 (13) Plutarch, "Pomp.", 49.  The     Harbours And Places Of     Trade 
      Were Placed Under His Control In Order That He Might Find A 
      Remedy For The     Scarcity Of     Grain.  But His Enemies Said That 
      He Had Caused The     Scarcity In Order To Get The     Power. 
 (14) Milo Was Brought To Trial For The     Murder Of     Clodius In 
      B.C.52, About Three Years Before This.  Pompeius, Then Sole 
      Consul, Had Surrounded The     Tribunal With Soldiers, Who At 
      One Time Charged The     Crowd.  Milo Was Sent Into Exile At 
      Massilia. 
 (15) See Book Ii., 630. 
 (16) The     North-West Wind.  Circius Was A Violent Wind From About 
      The     Same Quarter, But Peculiar To The     District. 
 (17) This Idea That The     Sun Found Fuel In The     Clouds Appears 
      Again In Book Vii., Line 7; Book Ix., Line 379; And Book X., 
      Line 317. 
 (18) This Diana Was Worshipped By The     Tauri, A People Who Dwelt 
      In The     Crimea; And, According To Legend, Was Propitiated By 
      Human Sacrifices.  Orestes On His Return From His Expiatory 
      Wanderings Brought Her Image To Greece, And The     Greeks 
      Identified Her With Their Artemis. (Compare Book Vi., 93.) 
 (19) The     Horror Of     The     Druidical Groves Is Again Alluded To In 
      Book Iii., Lines 462-489.  Dean Merivale Remarks (Chapter 
      Li.) On This Passage, That In The     Despair Of     Another Life 
      Which Pervaded Paganism At The     Time, The     Roman Was 
      Exasperated At The     Druids' Assertion Of     The     Transmigration 
      Of     Souls.  But The     Passage Seems Also To Betray A Lingering 
      Suspicion That The     Doctrine May In Some Shape Be True, 
      However Horrible Were The     Rites And Sacrifices.  The     Reality 
      Of     A Future Life Was A Part Of     Lucan's Belief, As A State Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 1( The Crossing Of The Rubicon) ( End notes) Pg 19 
      Reward For Heroes. (See The     Passage At The     Beginning Of     Book 
      Ix.; And Also Book Vi., Line 933).  But All Was Vague And 
      Uncertain, And He Appears To Have Viewed The     Druidical 
      Transmigration Rather With Doubt And Unbelief, As A Possible 
      Form Of     Future Or Recurring Life, Than With Scorn As An 
      Absurdity. 
 (20) Plutarch Says The     Consuls Fled Without Making The     Sacrifices 
      Usual Before Wars. ("Pomp." 61.) 
 (21) Compare Ben Jonson's "Catiline," I. 1: -- 
           Lecca:    The     Day Goes Back, 
                     Or Else My Senses. 
           Curius:   As At Atreus' Feast. 
 (22) When The     Theban Brothers, Eteocles And Polynices, Were Being 
      Burned On The     Same Pyre, The     Flame Shot Up In Two Separate 
      Tongues, Indicating That Even In Death They Could Not Be 
      Reconciled. (Mr. Haskins' Note, Citing Statius, "Thebiad") 
 (23) "Shook The     Old Snow From Off Their Trembling Laps." 
      (Marlowe.)  The     Latin Word Is "Jugis". 
 (24) Book Vi., 420. 
 (25) Sulla Was Buried In The     Campus Martius.  (Plutarch, 
      "Sulla,".)  The     Corpse Of     Marius Was Dragged From His Tomb 
      By Sulla's Order, And Thrown Into The     Anio. 
 (26) Such A Ceremonial Took Place In A.D. 56 Under Nero, After 
      The     Temples Of     Jupiter And Minerva Had Been Struck By 
      Lightning, And Was Probably Witnessed By Lucan Himself. 
      (See Merivale's "History Of     The     Roman Empire," Chapter Lii.) 
 (27) See Book Ix., 1178. 
 (28) The     Confusion Between The     Site Of     The     Battle Of     Philippi And 
      That Of     The     Battle Of     Pharsalia Is Common Among The     Roman 
      Writers. (See The     Note To Merivale, Chapter Xxvi.) 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 20 
   
 This Was Made Plain The     Anger Of     The     Gods; 
 The Universe Gave Signs Nature Reversed 
 In Monstrous Tumult Fraught With Prodigies 
 Her Laws, And Prescient Spake The     Coming Guilt. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 21 
 How Seemed It Just To Thee, Olympus' King, 
 That Suffering Mortals At Thy Doom Should Know 
 By Omens Dire The     Massacre To Come? 
 Or Did The     Primal Parent Of     The     World 
 When First The     Flames Gave Way And Yielding Left 
 Matter Unformed To His Subduing Hand, 
 And Realms Unbalanced, Fix By Stern Decree' 
 Unalterable Laws To Bind The     Whole 
 (Himself, Too, Bound By Law), So That For Aye 
 All Nature Moves Within Its Fated Bounds? 
 Or, Is Chance Sovereign Over All, And We 
 The Sport Of     Fortune And Her Turning Wheel? 
 Whate'er Be Truth, Keep Thou The     Future Veiled 
 From Mortal Vision, And Amid Their Fears 
 May Men Still Hope. 
   
   
   
                     Thus Known How Great The     Woes 
 The World Should Suffer, From The     Truth Divine, 
 A Solemn Fast Was Called, The     Courts Were Closed, 
 All Men In Private Garb; No Purple Hem 
 Adorned The     Togas Of     The     Chiefs Of     Rome; 
 No Plaints Were Uttered, And A Voiceless Grief 
 Lay Deep In Every Bosom: As When Death 
 Knocks At Some Door But Enters Not As Yet, 
 Before The     Mother Calls The     Name Aloud 
 Or Bids Her Grieving Maidens Beat The     Breast, 
 While Still She Marks The     Glazing Eye, And Soothes 
 The Stiffening Limbs And Gazes On The     Face, 
 In Nameless Dread, Not Sorrow, And In Awe 
 Of Death Approaching: And With Mind Distraught 
 Clings To The     Dying In A Last Embrace. 
   
   
   
 The Matrons Laid Aside Their Wonted Garb: 
 Crowds Filled The     Temples -- On The     Unpitying Stones 
 Some Dashed Their Bosoms; Others Bathed With Tears 
 The Statues Of     The     Gods; Some Tore Their Hair 
 Upon The     Holy Threshold, And With Shrieks 
 And Vows Unceasing Called Upon The     Names 
 Of Those Whom Mortals Supplicate.  Nor All 
 Lay In The     Thunderer's Fane: At Every Shrine 
 Some Prayers Are Offered Which Refused Shall Bring 
 Reproach On Heaven.  One Whose Livid Arms 
 Were Dark With Blows, Whose Cheeks With Tears Bedewed 
 And Riven, Cried, "Beat, Mothers, Beat The     Breast, 
 Tear Now The     Lock; While Doubtful In The     Scales 
 Still Fortune Hangs, Nor Yet The     Fight Is Won, 
 You Still May Grieve: When Either Wins Rejoice." 
 Thus Sorrow Stirs Itself. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 22 
                          Meanwhile The     Men 
 Seeking The     Camp And Setting Forth To War, 
 Address The     Cruel Gods In Just Complaint. 
 "Happy The     Youths Who Born In Punic Days 
 On Cannae's Uplands Or By Trebia's Stream 
 Fought And Were Slain!  What Wretched Lot Is Ours! 
 No Peace We Ask For: Let The     Nations Rage; 
 Rouse Fiercest Cities!  May The     World Find Arms 
 To Wage A War With Rome: Let Parthian Hosts 
 Rush Forth From Susa; Scythian Ister Curb 
 No More The     Massagete: Unconquered Rhine 
 Let Loose From Furthest North Her Fair-Haired Tribes: 
 Elbe, Pour Thy Suevians Forth!  Let Us Be Foes 
 Of All The     Peoples.  May The     Getan Press 
 Here, And The     Dacian There; Pompeius Meet 
 The Eastern Archers, Caesar In The     West 
 Confront Th' Iberian.  Leave To Rome No Hand 
 To Raise Against Herself In Civil Strife. 
 Or, If Italia By The     Gods Be Doomed, 
 Let All The     Sky, Fierce Parent, Be Dissolved 
 And Falling On The     Earth In Flaming Bolts, 
 Their Hands Still Bloodless, Strike Both Leaders Down, 
 With Both Their Hosts!  Why Plunge In Novel Crime 
 To Settle Which Of     Them Shall Rule In Rome? 
 Scarce Were It Worth The     Price Of     Civil War 
 To Hinder Either."  Thus The     Patriot Voice 
 Still Found An Utterance, Soon To Speak No More. 
   
   
   
 Meantime, The     Aged Fathers O'er Their Fates 
 In Anguish Grieved, Detesting Life Prolonged 
 That Brought With It Another Civil War. 
 And Thus Spake One, To Justify His Fears: 
 "No Other Deeds The     Fates Laid Up In Store 
 When Marius (1), Victor Over Teuton Hosts, 
 Afric's High Conqueror, Cast Out From Rome, 
 Lay Hid In Marshy Ooze, At Thy Behest, 
 O Fortune!  By The     Yielding Soil Concealed 
 And Waving Rushes; But Ere Long The     Chains 
 Of Prison Wore His Weak And Aged Frame, 
 And Lengthened Squalor: Thus He Paid For Crime 
 His Punishment Beforehand; Doomed To Die 
 Consul In Triumph Over Wasted Rome. 
 Death Oft Refused Him; And The     Very Foe, 
 In Act To Murder, Shuddered In The     Stroke 
 And Dropped The     Weapon From His Nerveless Hand. 
 For Through The     Prison Gloom A Flame Of     Light 
 He Saw; The     Deities Of     Crime Abhorred; 
 The Marius To Come.  A Voice Proclaimed 
 Mysterious, 'Hold!  The     Fates Permit Thee Not 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 23 
 That Neck To Sever.  Many A Death He Owes 
 To Time's Predestined Laws Ere His Shall Come; 
 Cease From Thy Madness.  If Ye Seek Revenge 
 For All The     Blood Shed By Your Slaughtered Tribes To 
 Let This Man, Cimbrians, Live Out All His Days.' 
 Not As Their Darling Did The     Gods Protect 
 The Man Of     Blood, But For His Ruthless Hand 
 Fit To Prepare That Sacrifice Of     Gore 
 Which Fate Demanded.  By The     Sea's Despite 
 Borne To Our Foes, Jugurtha's Wasted Realm 
 He Saw, Now Conquered; There In Squalid Huts 
 Awhile He Lay, And Trod The     Hostile Dust 
 Of Carthage, And His Ruin Matched With Hers: 
 Each From The     Other's Fate Some Solace Drew, 
 And Prostrate, Pardoned Heaven.  On Libyan Soil (2) 
 Fresh Fury Gathering (3), Next, When Fortune Smiled 
 The Prisons He Threw Wide And Freed The     Slaves. 
 Forth Rushed The     Murderous Bands, Their Melted Chains 
 Forged Into Weapons For His Ruffian Needs. 
 No Charge He Gave To Mere Recruits In Guilt 
 Who Brought Not To The     Camp Some Proof Of     Crime. 
 How Dread That Day When Conquering Marius Seized 
 The City's Ramparts!  With What Fated Speed 
 Death Strode Upon His Victims!  Plebs Alike 
 And Nobles Perished; Far And Near The     Sword 
 Struck At His Pleasure, Till The     Temple Floors 
 Ran Wet With Slaughter And The     Crimson Stream 
 Befouled With Slippery Gore The     Holy Walls. 
 No Age Found Pity Men Of     Failing Years, 
 Just Tottering To The     Grave, Were Hurled To Death; 
 From Infants, In Their Being's Earliest Dawn (4), 
 The Growing Life Was Severed.  For What Crime? 
 Twas Cause Enough For Death That They Could Die. 
 The Fury Grew: Soon 'Twas A Sluggard's Part 
 To Seek The     Guilty: Hundreds Died To Swell 
 The Tale Of     Victims.  Shamed By Empty Hands, 
 The Bloodstained Conqueror Snatched A Reeking Head 
 From Neck Unknown.  One Way Of     Life Remained, 
 To Kiss With Shuddering Lips The     Red Right Hand (5). 
 Degenerate People!  Had Ye Hearts Of     Men, 
 Though Ye Were Threatened By A Thousand Swords, 
 Far Rather Death Than Centuries Of     Life 
 Bought At Such Price; Much More That Breathing Space 
 Till Sulla Comes Again (6).  But Time Would Fail 
 In Weeping For The     Deaths Of     All Who Fell. 
 Encircled By Innumerable Bands 
 Fell Baebius, His Limbs Asunder Torn, 
 His Vitals Dragged Abroad.  Antonius Too, 
 Prophet Of     Ill, Whose Hoary Head (7) Was Placed, 
 Dripping With Blood, Upon The     Festal Board. 
 There Headless Fell The     Crassi; Mangled Frames 
 'Neath Fimbria's Falchion: And The     Prison Cells 
 Were Wet With Tribunes' Blood.  Hard By The     Fane 
 Where Dwells The     Goddess And The     Sacred Fire, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 24 
 Fell Aged Scaevola, Though That Gory Hand (8) 
 Had Spared Him, But The     Feeble Tide Of     Blood 
 Still Left The     Flame Alive Upon The     Hearth. 
 That Selfsame Year The     Seventh Time Restored (9) 
 The Consul's Rods; That Year To Marius Brought 
 The End Of     Life, When He At Fortune's Hands 
 All Ills Had Suffered; All Her Goods Enjoyed. 
   
   
   
 "And What Of     Those Who At The     Sacriport (10) 
 And Colline Gate Were Slain, Then, When The     Rule 
 Of Earth And All Her Nations Almost Left 
 This City For Another, And The     Chiefs 
 Who Led The     Samnite Hoped That Rome Might Bleed 
 More Than At Caudium's Forks She Bled Of     Old? 
 Then Came Great Sulla To Avenge The     Dead, 
 And All The     Blood Still Left Within Her Frame 
 Drew From The     City; For The     Surgeon Knife 
 Which Shore The     Cancerous Limbs Cut In Too Deep, 
 And Shed The     Life Stream From Still Healthy Veins. 
 True That The     Guilty Fell, But Not Before 
 All Else Had Perished.  Hatred Had Free Course 
 And Anger Reigned Unbridled By The     Law. 
 The Victor's Voice Spake Once; But Each Man Struck 
 Just As He Wished Or Willed.  The     Fatal Steel 
 Urged By The     Servant Laid The     Master Low. 
 Sons Dripped With Gore Of     Sires; And Brothers Fought 
 For The     Foul Trophy Of     A Father Slain, 
 Or Slew Each Other For The     Price Of     Blood. 
 Men Sought The     Tombs And, Mingling With The     Dead, 
 Hoped For Escape; The     Wild Beasts' Dens Were Full. 
 One Strangled Died; Another From The     Height 
 Fell Headlong Down Upon The     Unpitying Earth, 
 And From The     Encrimsoned Victor Snatched His Death: 
 One Built His Funeral Pyre And Oped His Veins, 
 And Sealed The     Furnace Ere His Blood Was Gone. 
 Borne Through The     Trembling Town The     Leaders' Heads 
 Were Piled In Middle Forum: Hence Men Knew 
 Of Murders Else Unpublished.  Not On Gates 
 Of Diomedes (11), Tyrant King Of     Thrace, 
 Nor Of     Antaeus, Libya's Giant Brood, 
 Were Hung Such Horrors; Nor In Pisa's Hall 
 Were Seen And Wept For When The     Suitors Died. 
 Decay Had Touched The     Features Of     The     Slain 
 When Round The     Mouldering Heap, With Trembling Steps 
 The Grief-Struck Parents Sought And Stole Their Dead. 
 I, Too, The     Body Of     My Brother Slain 
 Thought To Remove, My Victim To The     Peace 
 Which Sulla Made, And Place His Loved Remains 
 On The     Forbidden Pyre.  The     Head I Found, 
 But Not The     Butchered Corse. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 25 
   
                               "Why Now Renew 
 The Tale Of     Catulus's Shade Appeased? 
 And Those Dread Tortures Which The     Living Frame 
 Of Marius (12) Suffered At The     Tomb Of     Him 
 Who Haply Wished Them Not?  Pierced, Mangled, Torn -- 
 Nor Speech Nor Grasp Was Left: His Every Limb 
 Maimed, Hacked And Riven; Yet The     Fatal Blow 
 The Murderers With Savage Purpose Spared. 
 'Twere Scarce Believed That One Poor Mortal Frame 
 Such Agonies Could Bear E'er Death Should Come. 
 Thus Crushed Beneath Some Ruin Lie The     Dead; 
 Thus Shapeless From The     Deep Are Borne The     Drowned. 
 Why Spoil Delight By Mutilating Thus, 
 The Head Of     Marius?  To Please Sulla's Heart 
 That Mangled Visage Must Be Known To All. 
 Fortune, High Goddess Of     Praeneste's Fane, 
 Saw All Her Townsmen Hurried To Their Deaths 
 In One Fell Instant.  All The     Hope Of     Rome, 
 The Flower Of     Latium, Stained With Blood The     Field 
 Where Once The     Peaceful Tribes Their Votes Declared. 
 Famine And Sword, The     Raging Sky And Sea, 
 And Earth Upheaved, Have Laid Such Numbers Low: 
 But Ne'er One Man's Revenge.  Between The     Slain 
 And Living Victims There Was Space No More, 
 Death Thus Let Slip, To Deal The     Fatal Blow. 
 Hardly When Struck They Fell; The     Severed Head 
 Scarce Toppled From The     Shoulders; But The     Slain 
 Blent In A Weighty Pile Of     Massacre 
 Pressed Out The     Life And Helped The     Murderer's Arm. 
 Secure From Stain Upon His Lofty Throne, 
 Unshuddering Sat The     Author Of     The     Whole, 
 Nor Feared That At His Word Such Thousands Fell. 
 At Length The     Tuscan Flood Received The     Dead 
 The First Upon His Waves; The     Last On Those 
 That Lay Beneath Them; Vessels In Their Course 
 Were Stayed, And While The     Lower Current Flowed 
 Still To The     Sea, The     Upper Stood On High 
 Dammed Back By Carnage.  Through The     Streets Meanwhile 
 In Headlong Torrents Ran A Tide Of     Blood, 
 Which Furrowing Its Path Through Town And Field 
 Forced The     Slow River On.  But Now His Banks 
 No Longer Held Him, And The     Dead Were Thrown 
 Back On The     Fields Above.  With Labour Huge 
 At Length He Struggled To His Goal And Stretched 
 In Crimson Streak Across The     Tuscan Sea. 
   
   
   
 "For Deeds Like These, Shall Sulla Now Be Styled 
 'Darling Of     Fortune', 'Saviour Of     The     State'? 
 For These, A Tomb In Middle Field Of     Mars 
 Record His Fame?  Like Horrors Now Return 
 For Us To Suffer; And The     Civil War 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 26 
 Thus Shall Be Waged Again And Thus Shall End. 
 Yet Worse Disasters May Our Fears Suggest, 
 For Now With Greater Carnage Of     Mankind 
 The Rival Hosts In Weightier Battle Meet. 
 To Exiled Marius, Successful Strife 
 Was Rome Regained; Triumphant Sulla Knew 
 No Greater Joy Than On His Hated Foes 
 To Wreak His Vengeance With Unsparing Sword. 
 But These More Powerful Rivals Fortune Calls 
 To Worse Ambitions; Nor Would Either Chief 
 For Such Reward As Sulla's Wage The     War." 
 Thus, Mindful Of     His Youth, The     Aged Man 
 Wept For The     Past, But Feared The     Coming Days. 
   
   
   
 Such Terrors Found In Haughty Brutus' Breast 
 No Home.  When Others Sat Them Down To Fear 
 He Did Not So, But In The     Dewy Night 
 When The     Great Wain Was Turning Round The     Pole 
 He Sought His Kinsman Cato's Humble Home. 
 Him Sleepless Did He Find, Not For Himself 
 Fearing, But Pondering The     Fates Of     Rome, 
 And Deep In Public Cares.  And Thus He Spake: 
 "O Thou In Whom That Virtue, Which Of     Yore 
 Took Flight From Earth, Now Finds Its Only Home, 
 Outcast To All Besides, But Safe With Thee: 
 Vouchsafe Thy Counsel To My Wavering Soul 
 And Make My Weakness Strength.  While Caesar Some, 
 Pompeius Others, Follow In The     Fight, 
 Cato Is Brutus' Guide.  Art Thou For Peace, 
 Holding Thy Footsteps In A Tottering World 
 Unshaken?  Or Wilt Thou With The     Leaders' Crimes 
 And With The     People's Fury Take Thy Part, 
 And By Thy Presence Purge The     War Of     Guilt? 
 In Impious Battles Men Unsheath The     Sword; 
 But Each By Cause Impelled: The     Household Crime; 
 Laws Feared In Peace; Want By The     Sword Removed; 
 And Broken Credit, That Its Ruin Hides 
 In General Ruin.  Drawn By Hope Of     Gain, 
 And Not By Thirst For Blood, They Seek The     Camp. 
 Shall Cato For War's Sake Make War Alone? 
 What Profits It Through All These Wicked Years 
 That Thou Hast Lived Untainted?  This Were All 
 Thy Meed Of     Virtue, That The     Wars Which Find 
 Guilt In All Else, Shall Make Thee Guilty Too. 
 Ye Gods, Permit Not That This Fatal Strife 
 Should Stir Those Hands To Action!  When The     Clouds 
 Of Flying Javelins Hiss Upon The     Air, 
 Let Not A Dart Be Thine; Nor Spent In Vain 
 Such Virtue!  All The     Fury Of     The     War 
 Shall Launch Itself On Thee, For Who, When Faint 
 And Wounded, Would Not Rush Upon Thy Sword, 
 Take Thence His Death, And Make The     Murder Thine? 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 27 
 Do Thou Live On Thy Peaceful Life Apart 
 As On Their Paths The     Stars Unshaken Roll. 
 The Lower Air That Verges On The     Earth 
 Gives Flame And Fury To The     Levin Bolt; 
 The Deeps Below The     World Engulph The     Winds 
 And Tracts Of     Flaming Fire.  By Jove's Decree 
 Olympus Rears His Summit O'er The     Clouds: 
 In Lowlier Valleys Storms And Winds Contend, 
 But Peace Eternal Reigns Upon The     Heights. 
 What Joy For Caesar, If The     Tidings Come 
 That Such A Citizen Has Joined The     War? 
 Glad Would He See Thee E'en In Magnus' Tents; 
 For Cato's Conduct Shall Approve His Own. 
 Pompeius, With The     Consul In His Ranks, 
 And Half The     Senate And The     Other Chiefs, 
 Vexes My Spirit; And Should Cato Too 
 Bend To A Master's Yoke, In All The     World 
 The One Man Free Is Caesar.  But If Thou 
 For Freedom And Thy Country's Laws Alone 
 Be Pleased To Raise The     Sword, Nor Magnus Then 
 Nor Caesar Shall In Brutus Find A Foe. 
 Not Till The     Fight Is Fought Shall Brutus Strike, 
 Then Strike The     Victor." 
   
   
   
                          Brutus Thus; But Spake 
 Cato From Inmost Breast These Sacred Words: 
 "Chief In All Wickedness Is Civil War, 
 Yet Virtue In The     Paths Marked Out By Fate 
 Treads On Securely.  Heaven's Will Be The     Crime 
 To Have Made Even Cato Guilty.  Who Has Strength 
 To Gaze Unawed Upon A Toppling World? 
 When Stars And Sky Fall Headlong, And When Earth 
 Slips From Her Base, Who Sits With Folded Hands? 
 Shall Unknown Nations, Touched By Western Strife, 
 And Monarchs Born Beneath Another Clime 
 Brave The     Dividing Seas To Join The     War? 
 Shall Scythian Tribes Desert Their Distant North, 
 And Getae Haste To View The     Fall Of     Rome, 
 And I Look Idly On?  As Some Fond Sire, 
 Reft Of     His Sons, Compelled By Grief, Himself 
 Marshals The     Long Procession To The     Tomb, 
 Thrusts His Own Hand Within The     Funeral Flames, 
 Soothing His Heart, And, As The     Lofty Pyre 
 Rises On High, Applies The     Kindled Torch: 
 Nought, Rome, Shall Tear Thee From Me, Till I Hold 
 Thy Form In Death Embraced; And Freedom's Name, 
 Shade Though It Be, I'll Follow To The     Grave. 
 Yea!  Let The     Cruel Gods Exact In Full 
 Rome's Expiation: Of     No Drop Of     Blood 
 The War Be Robbed.  I Would That, To The     Gods 
 Of Heaven And Hell Devoted, This My Life 
 Might Satisfy Their Vengeance.  Decius Fell, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 28 
 Crushed By The     Hostile Ranks.  When Cato Falls 
 Let Rhine's Fierce Barbarous Hordes And Both The     Hosts 
 Thrust Through My Frame Their Darts!  May I Alone 
 Receive In Death The     Wounds Of     All The     War! 
 Thus May The     People Be Redeemed, And Thus 
 Rome For Her Guilt Pay The     Atonement Due. 
 Why Should Men Die Who Wish To Bear The     Yoke 
 And Shrink Not From The     Tyranny To Come? 
 Strike Me, And Me Alone, Of     Laws And Rights 
 In Vain The     Guardian: This Vicarious Life 
 Shall Give Hesperia Peace And End Her Toils. 
 Who Then Will Reign Shall Find No Need For War. 
 You Ask, 'Why Follow Magnus?  If He Wins (13) 
 He Too Will Claim The     Empire Of     The     World.' 
 Then Let Him, Conquering With My Service, Learn 
 Not For Himself To Conquer."  Thus He Spoke 
 And Stirred The     Blood That Ran In Brutus' Veins 
 Moving The     Youth To Action In The     War. 
   
   
   
 Soon As The     Sun Dispelled The     Chilly Night, 
 The Sounding Doors Flew Wide, And From The     Tomb 
 Of Dead Hortensius Grieving Marcia Came (14). 
 First Joined In Wedlock To A Greater Man 
 Three Children Did She Bear To Grace His Home: 
 Then Cato To Hortensius Gave The     Dame 
 To Be A Fruitful Mother Of     His Sons 
 And Join Their Houses In A Closer Tie. 
 And Now The     Last Sad Offices Were Done 
 She Came With Hair Dishevelled, Beaten Breast, 
 And Ashes On Her Brow, And Features Worn 
 With Grief; Thus Only Pleasing To The     Man. 
 "When Youth Was In Me And Maternal Power 
 I Did Thy Bidding, Cato, And Received 
 A Second Husband: Now In Years Grown Old 
 Ne'er To Be Parted I Return To Thee. 
 Renew Our Former Pledges Undefiled: 
 Give Back The     Name Of     Wife: Upon My Tomb 
 Let 'Marcia, Spouse To Cato,' Be Engraved. 
 Nor Let Men Question In The     Time To Come, 
 Did'st Thou Compel, Or Did I Willing Leave 
 My First Espousals.  Not In Happy Times, 
 Partner Of     Joys, I Come; But Days Of     Care 
 And Labour Shall Be Mine To Share With Thee. 
 Nor Leave Me Here, But Take Me To The     Camp, 
 Thy Fond Companion: Why Should Magnus' Wife 
 Be Nearer, Cato, To The     Wars Than Thine?" 
   
   
   
 Although The     Times Were Warlike And The     Fates 
 Called To The     Fray, He Lent A Willing Ear. 
 Yet Must They Plight Their Faith In Simple Form 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 29 
 Of Law; Their Witnesses The     Gods Alone. 
 No Festal Wreath Of     Flowers Crowned The     Gate 
 Nor Glittering Fillet On Each Post Entwined; 
 No Flaming Torch Was There, Nor Ivory Steps, 
 No Couch With Robes Of     Broidered Gold Adorned; 
 No Comely Matron Placed Upon Her Brow 
 The Bridal Garland, Or Forbad The     Foot (15) 
 To Touch The     Threshold Stone; No Saffron Veil 
 Concealed The     Timid Blushes Of     The     Bride; 
 No Jewelled Belt Confined Her Flowing Robe (16) 
 Nor Modest Circle Bound Her Neck; No Scarf 
 Hung Lightly On The     Snowy Shoulder's Edge 
 Around The     Naked Arm. Just As She Came, 
 Wearing The     Garb Of     Sorrow, While The     Wool 
 Covered The     Purple Border Of     Her Robe, 
 Thus Was She Wedded.  As She Greets Her Sons 
 So Doth She Greet Her Husband.  Festal Games 
 Graced Not Their Nuptials, Nor Were Friends And Kin 
 As By The     Sabines Bidden: Silent Both 
 They Joined In Marriage, Yet Content, Unseen 
 By Any Save By Brutus.  Sad And Stern 
 On Cato's Lineaments The     Marks Of     Grief 
 Were Still Unsoftened, And The     Hoary Hair 
 Hung O'er His Reverend Visage; For Since First 
 Men Flew To Arms, His Locks Were Left Unkempt 
 To Stream Upon His Brow, And On His Chin 
 His Beard Untended Grew.  'Twas His Alone 
 Who Hated Not, Nor Loved, For All Mankind 
 To Mourn Alike.  Nor Did Their Former Couch 
 Again Receive Them, For His Lofty Soul 
 E'en Lawful Love Resisted.  'Twas His Rule 
 Inflexible, To Keep The     Middle Path 
 Marked Out And Bounded; To Observe The     Laws 
 Of Natural Right; And For His Country's Sake 
 To Risk His Life, His All, As Not For Self 
 Brought Into Being, But For All The     World: 
 Such Was His Creed.  To Him A Sumptuous Feast 
 Was Hunger Conquered, And The     Lowly Hut, 
 Which Scarce Kept Out The     Winter, Was A Home 
 Equal To Palaces: A Robe Of     Price 
 Such Hairy Garments As Were Worn Of     Old: 
 The End Of     Marriage, Offspring.  To The     State 
 Father Alike And Husband, Right And Law 
 He Ever Followed With Unswerving Step: 
 No Thought Of     Selfish Pleasure Turned The     Scale 
 In Cato's Acts, Or Swayed His Upright Soul. 
   
   
   
 Meanwhile Pompeius Led His Trembling Host 
 To Fields Campanian, And Held The     Walls 
 First Founded By The     Chief Of     Trojan Race (17). 
 These Chose He For The     Central Seat Of     War, 
 Some Troops Despatching Who Might Meet The     Foe 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 30 
 Where Shady Apennine Lifts Up The     Ridge 
 Of Mid Italia; Nearest To The     Sky 
 Upsoaring, With The     Seas On Either Hand, 
 The Upper And The     Lower.  Pisa's Sands 
 Breaking The     Margin Of     The     Tuscan Deep, 
 Here Bound His Mountains: There Ancona's Towers 
 Laved By Dalmatian Waves.  Rivers Immense, 
 In His Recesses Born, Pass On Their Course, 
 To Either Sea Diverging.  To The     Left 
 Metaurus, And Crustumium's Torrent, Fall 
 And Sena's Streams And Aufidus Who Bursts 
 On Adrian Billows; And That Mighty Flood 
 Which, More Than All The     Rivers Of     The     Earth, 
 Sweeps Down The     Soil And Tears The     Woods Away 
 And Drains Hesperia's Springs.  In Fabled Lore 
 His Banks Were First By Poplar Shade Enclosed: (18) 
 And When By Phaethon The     Waning Day 
 Was Drawn In Path Transverse, And All The     Heaven 
 Blazed With His Car Aflame, And From The     Depths 
 Of Inmost Earth Were Rapt All Other Floods, 
 Padus Still Rolled In Pride Of     Stream Along. 
 Nile Were No Larger, But That O'er The     Sand 
 Of Level Egypt He Spreads Out His Waves; 
 Nor Ister, If He Sought The     Scythian Main 
 Unhelped Upon His Journey Through The     World 
 By Tributary Waters Not His Own. 
 But On The     Right Hand Tiber Has His Source, 
 Deep-Flowing Rutuba, Vulturnus Swift, 
 And Sarnus Breathing Vapours Of     The     Night 
 Rise There, And Liris With Vestinian Wave 
 Still Gliding Through Marica's Shady Grove, 
 And Siler Flowing Through Salernian Meads: 
 And Macra's Swift Unnavigable Stream 
 By Luna Lost In Ocean.  On The     Alps 
 Whose Spurs Strike Plainwards, And On Fields Of     Gaul 
 The Cloudy Heights Of     Apennine Look Down 
 In Further Distance: On His Nearer Slopes 
 The Sabine Turns The     Ploughshare; Umbrian Kine 
 And Marsian Fatten; With His Pineclad Rocks 
 He Girds The     Tribes Of     Latium, Nor Leaves 
 Hesperia's Soil Until The     Waves That Beat 
 On Scylla's Cave Compel.  His Southern Spurs 
 Extend To Juno's Temple, And Of     Old 
 Stretched Further Than Italia, Till The     Main 
 O'erstepped His Limits And The     Lands Repelled. 
 But, When The     Seas Were Joined, Pelorus Claimed 
 His Latest Summits For Sicilia's Isle. 
   
   
   
 Caesar, In Rage For War, Rejoicing Found 
 Foes In Italia; No Bloodless Steps 
 Nor Vacant Homes Had Pleased Him (19); So His March 
 Were Wasted: Now The     Coming War Was Joined 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 31 
 Unbroken To The     Past; To Force The     Gates 
 Not Find Them Open, Fire And Sword To Bring 
 Upon The     Harvests, Not Through Fields Unharmed 
 To Pass His Legions -- This Was Caesar's Joy; 
 In Peaceful Guise To March, This Was His Shame. 
 Italia's Cities, Doubtful In Their Choice, 
 Though To The     Earliest Onset Of     The     War 
 About To Yield, Strengthened Their Walls With Mounds 
 And Deepest Trench Encircling: Massive Stones 
 And Bolts Of     War To Hurl Upon The     Foe 
 They Place Upon The     Turrets.  Magnus Most 
 The People's Favour Held, Yet Faith With Fear 
 Fought In Their Breasts.  As When, With Strident Blast, 
 A Southern Tempest Has Possessed The     Main 
 And All The     Billows Follow In Its Track: 
 Then, By The     Storm-King Smitten, Should The     Earth 
 Set Eurus Free Upon The     Swollen Deep, 
 It Shall Not Yield To Him, Though Cloud And Sky 
 Confess His Strength; But In The     Former Wind 
 Still Find Its Master.  But Their Fears Prevailed, 
 And Caesar's Fortune, O'er Their Wavering Faith. 
 For Libo Fled Etruria; Umbria Lost 
 Her Freedom, Driving Thermus (20) From Her Bounds; 
 Great Sulla's Son, Unworthy Of     His Sire, 
 Feared At The     Name Of     Caesar: Varus Sought 
 The Caves And Woods, When Smote The     Hostile Horse 
 The Gates Of     Auximon; And Spinther Driven 
 From Asculum, The     Victor On His Track, 
 Fled With His Standards, Soldierless; And Thou, 
 Scipio, Did'st Leave Nuceria's Citadel 
 Deserted, Though By Bravest Legions Held 
 Sent Home By Caesar For The     Parthian War (21); 
 Whom Magnus Earlier, To His Kinsman Gave 
 A Loan Of     Roman Blood, To Fight The     Gaul. 
   
   
   
 But Brave Domitius Held Firm His Post (22) 
 Behind Corfinium's Ramparts; His The     Troops 
 Who Newly Levied Kept The     Judgment Hall 
 At Milo's Trial (23).  When From Far The     Plain 
 Rolled Up A Dusty Cloud, Beneath Whose Veil 
 The Sheen Of     Armour Glistening In The     Sun, 
 Revealed A Marching Host.  "Dash Down," He Cried, 
 Swift; As Ye Can, The     Bridge That Spans The     Stream; 
 And Thou, O River, From Thy Mountain Source 
 With All Thy Torrents Rushing, Planks And Beams 
 Ruined And Broken On Thy Foaming Breast 
 Bear Onward To The     Sea.  The     War Shall Stop 
 Here, To Our Triumph; For This Headlong Chief 
 Here First At Our Firm Bidding Shall Be Stayed." 
 He Bade His Squadrons, Speeding From The     Walls, 
 Charge On The     Bridge: In Vain: For Caesar Saw 
 They Sought To Free The     River From His Chains (24) 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 32 
 And Bar His March; And Roused To Ire, He Cried: 
 "Were Not The     Walls Sufficient To Protect 
 Your Coward Souls?  Seek Ye By Barricades 
 And Streams To Keep Me Back?  What Though The     Flood 
 Of Swollen Ganges Were Across My Path? 
 Now Rubicon Is Passed, No Stream On Earth 
 Shall Hinder Caesar!  Forward, Horse And Foot, 
 And Ere It Totters Rush Upon The     Bridge." 
 Urged In Their Swiftest Gallop To The     Front 
 Dashed The     Light Horse Across The     Sounding Plain; 
 And Suddenly, As Storm In Summer, Flew 
 A Cloud Of     Javelins Forth, By Sinewy Arms 
 Hurled At The     Foe; The     Guard Is Put To Flight, 
 And Conquering Caesar, Seizing On The     Bridge, 
 Compels The     Enemy To Keep The     Walls. 
 Now Do The     Mighty Engines, Soon To Hurl 
 Gigantic Stones, Press Forward, And The     Ram 
 Creeps 'Neath The     Ramparts; When The     Gates Fly Back, 
 And Lo! The     Traitor Troops, Foul Crime In War, 
 Yield Up Their Leader.  Him They Place Before 
   
   
   
 His Proud Compatriot; Yet With Upright Form, 
 And Scornful Features And With Noble Mien, 
 He Asks His Death.  But Caesar Knew His Wish 
 Was Punishment, And Pardon Was His Fear: 
 "Live Though Thou Would'st Not," So The     Chieftain Spake, 
 "And By My Gift, Unwilling, See The     Day: 
 Be To My Conquered Foes The     Cause Of     Hope, 
 Proof Of     My Clemency -- Or If Thou Wilt 
 Take Arms Again -- And Should'st Thou Conquer, Count 
 This Pardon Nothing."  Thus He Spake, And Bade 
 Let Loose The     Bands And Set The     Captive Free. 
 Ah!  Better Had He Died, And Fortune Spared 
 The Roman's Last Dishonour, Whose Worse Doom 
 It Is, That He Who Joined His Country's Camp 
 And Fought With Magnus For The     Senate's Cause 
 Should Gain For This -- A Pardon!  Yet He Curbed 
 His Anger, Thinking, "Wilt Thou Then To Rome 
 And Peaceful Scenes, Degenerate?  Rather War, 
 The Furious Battle And The     Certain End! 
 Break With Life's Ties: Be Caesar's Gift In Vain." 
   
   
   
 Pompeius, Ignorant That His Captain Thus 
 Was Taken, Armed His Levies Newly Raised 
 To Give His Legions Strength; And As He Thought 
 To Sound His Trumpets With The     Coming Dawn, 
 To Test His Soldiers Ere He Moved His Camp 
 Thus In Majestic Tones Their Ranks Addressed: 
 "Soldiers Of     Rome!  Avengers Of     Her Laws! 
 To Whom The     Senate Gives No Private Arms, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 33 
 Ask By Your Voices For The     Battle Sign. 
 Fierce Falls The     Pillage On Hesperian Fields, 
 And Gallia's Fury O'er The     Snowy Alps (25) 
 Is Poured Upon Us.  Caesar's Swords At Last 
 Are Red With Roman Blood.  But With The     Wound 
 We Gain The     Better Cause; The     Crime Is Theirs. 
 No War Is This, But For Offended Rome 
 We Wreak The     Vengeance; As When Catiline 
 Lifted Against Her Roofs The     Flaming Brand 
 And, Partner In His Fury, Lentulus, 
 And Mad Cethegus (26) With His Naked Arm. 
 Is Such Thy Madness, Caesar?  When The     Fates 
 With Great Camillus' And Metellus' Names 
 Might Place Thine Own, Dost Thou Prefer To Rank 
 With Marius And Cinna?  Swift Shall Be 
 Thy Fall: As Lepidus Before The     Sword 
 Of Catulus; Or Who My Axes Felt, 
 Carbo (27), Now Buried In Sicanian Tomb; 
 Or Who, In Exile, Roused Iberia's Hordes, 
 Sertorius -- Yet, Witness Heaven, With These 
 I Hate To Rank Thee; Hate The     Task That Rome 
 Has Laid Upon Me, To Oppose Thy Rage. 
 Would That In Safety From The     Parthian War 
 And Scythian Steppes Had Conquering Crassus Come! 
 Then Haply Had'st Thou Fallen By The     Hand 
 That Smote Vile Spartacus The     Robber Foe. 
 But If Among My Triumphs Fate Has Said 
 Thy Conquest Shall Be Written, Know This Heart 
 Still Sends The     Life Blood Coursing: And This Arm (28) 
 Still Vigorously Flings The     Dart Afield. 
 He Deems Me Slothful.  Caesar, Thou Shalt Learn 
 We Brook Not Peace Because We Lag In War. 
 Old, Does He Call Me?  Fear Not Ye Mine Age. 
 Let Me Be Elder, If His Soldiers Are. 
 The Highest Point A Citizen Can Reach 
 And Leave His People Free, Is Mine: A Throne 
 Alone Were Higher; Whoso Would Surpass 
 Pompeius, Aims At That.  Both Consuls Stand 
 Here; Here For Battle Stand Your Lawful Chiefs: 
 And Shall This Caesar Drag The     Senate Down? 
 Not With Such Blindness, Not So Lost To Shame 
 Does Fortune Rule.  Does He Take Heart From Gaul: 
 For Years On Years Rebellious, And A Life 
 Spent There In Labour?  Or Because He Fled 
 Rhine's Icy Torrent And The     Shifting Pools 
 He Calls An Ocean?  Or Unchallenged Sought 
 Britannia's Cliffs; Then Turned His Back In Flight? 
 Or Does He Boast Because His Citizens 
 Were Driven In Arms To Leave Their Hearths And Homes? 
 Ah, Vain Delusion!  Not From Thee They Fled: 
 My Steps They Follow -- Mine, Whose Conquering Signs 
 Swept All The     Ocean (29), And Who, Ere The     Moon 
 Twice Filled Her Orb And Waned, Compelled To Flight 
 The Pirate, Shrinking From The     Open Sea, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2 ( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 34 
 And Humbly Begging For A Narrow Home 
 In Some Poor Nook On Shore.  'Twas I Again 
 Who, Happier Far Than Sulla, Drave To Death (30) 
 That King Who, Exiled To The     Deep Recess 
 Of Scythian Pontus, Held The     Fates Of     Rome 
 Still In The     Balances.  Where Is The     Land 
 That Hath Not Seen My Trophies?  Icy Waves 
 Of Northern Phasis, Hot Egyptian Shores, 
 And Where Syene 'Neath Its Noontide Sun 
 Knows Shade On Neither Hand (31): All These Have Learned 
 To Fear Pompeius: And Far Baetis' (32) Stream, 
 Last Of     All Floods To Join The     Refluent Sea. 
 Arabia And The     Warlike Hordes That Dwell 
 Beside The     Euxine Wave: The     Famous Land 
 That Lost The     Golden Fleece; Cilician Wastes, 
 And Cappadocian, And The     Jews Who Pray 
 Before An Unknown God; Sophene Soft -- 
 All Felt My Yoke.  What Conquests Now Remain, 
 What Wars Not Civil Can My Kinsman Wage?" 
   
   
   
 No Loud Acclaim Received His Words, Nor Shout 
 Asked For The     Promised Battle: And The     Chief 
 Drew Back The     Standards, For The     Soldier's Fears 
 Were In His Soul Alike; Nor Dared He Trust 
 An Army, Vanquished By The     Fame Alone 
 Of Caesar's Powers, To Fight For Such A Prize. 
 And As Some Bull, His Early Combat Lost, 
 Forth Driven From The     Herd, In Exile Roams 
 Through Lonely Plains Or Secret Forest Depths, 
 Whets On Opposing Trunks His Growing Horn, 
 And Proves Himself For Battle, Till His Neck 
 Is Ribbed Afresh With Muscle: Then Returns, 
 Defiant Of     The     Hind, And Victor Now 
 Leads Wheresoe'er He Will His Lowing Bands: 
 Thus Magnus, Yielding To A Stronger Foe, 
 Gave Up Italia, And Sought In Flight 
 Brundusium's Sheltering Battlements. 
   
   
   
                                    Here Of     Old 
 Fled Cretan Settlers When The     Dusky Sail (33) 
 Spread The     False Message Of     The     Hero Dead; 
 Here, Where Hesperia, Curving As A Bow, 
 Draws Back Her Coast, A Little Tongue Of     Land 
 Shuts In With Bending Horns The     Sounding Main. 
 Yet Insecure The     Spot, Unsafe In Storm, 
 Were It Not Sheltered By An Isle On Which 
 The Adriatic Billows Dash And Fall, 
 And Tempests Lose Their Strength: On Either Hand 
 A Craggy Cliff Opposing Breaks The     Gale 
 That Beats Upon Them, While The     Ships Within 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2 ( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 35 
 Held By Their Trembling Cables Ride Secure. 
 Hence To The     Mariner The     Boundless Deep 
 Lies Open, Whether For Corcyra's Port 
 He Shapes His Sails, Or For Illyria's Shore, 
 And Epidamnus Facing To The     Main 
 Ionian.  Here, When Raging In His Might 
 Fierce Adria Whelms In Foam Calabria's Coast, 
 When Clouds Tempestuous Veil Ceraunus' Height, 
 The Sailor Finds A Haven. 
   
   
   
                          When The     Chief 
 Could Find No Hope In Battle On The     Soil 
 He Now Was Quitting, And The     Lofty Alps 
 Forbad Iberia, To His Son He Spake, 
 The Eldest Scion Of     That Noble Stock: 
 "Search Out The     Far Recesses Of     The     Earth, 
 Nile And Euphrates, Wheresoe'er The     Fame 
 Of Magnus Lives, Where, Through Thy Father's Deeds, 
 The People Tremble At The     Name Of     Rome. 
 Lead To The     Sea Again The     Pirate Bands; 
 Rouse Egypt's Kings; Tigranes, Wholly Mine, 
 And Pharnaces And All The     Vagrant Tribes 
 Of Both Armenias; And The     Pontic Hordes, 
 Warlike And Fierce; The     Dwellers On The     Hills 
 Rhipaean, And By That Dead Northern Marsh 
 Whose Frozen Surface Bears The     Loaded Wain. 
 Why Further Stay Thee?  Let The     Eastern World 
 Sound With The     War, All Cities Of     The     Earth 
 Conquered By Me, As Vassals, To My Camp 
 Send All Their Levied Hosts.  And You Whose Names 
 Within The     Latian Book Recorded Stand, 
 Strike For Epirus With The     Northern Wind; 
 And Thence In Greece And Macedonian Tracts, 
 (While Winter Gives Us Peace) New Strength Acquire 
 For Coming Conflicts."  They Obey His Words 
 And Loose Their Ships And Launch Upon The     Main. 
   
   
   
 But Caesar's Might, Intolerant Of     Peace 
 Or Lengthy Armistice, Lest Now Perchance 
 The Fates Might Change Their Edicts, Swift Pursued 
 The Footsteps Of     His Foe.  To Other Men, 
 So Many Cities Taken At A Blow, 
 So Many Strongholds Captured, Might Suffice; 
 And Rome Herself, The     Mistress Of     The     World, 
 Lay At His Feet, The     Greatest Prize Of     All. 
 Not So With Caesar: Instant On The     Goal 
 He Fiercely Presses; Thinking Nothing Done 
 While Aught Remained To Do.  Now In His Grasp 
 Lay All Italia; -- But While Magnus Stayed 
 Upon The     Utmost Shore, His Grieving Soul 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2 ( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 36 
 Deemed All Was Shared With Him.  Yet He Essayed 
 Escape To Hinder, And With Labour Vain 
 Piled In The     Greedy Main Gigantic Rocks: 
 Mountains Of     Earth Down To The     Sandy Depths 
 Were Swallowed By The     Vortex Of     The     Sea; 
 Just As If Eryx And Its Lofty Top 
 Were Cast Into The     Deep, Yet Not A Speck 
 Should Mark The     Watery Plain; Or Gaurus Huge 
 Split From His Summit To His Base, Were Plunged 
 In Fathomless Avernus' Stagnant Pool. 
 The Billows Thus Unstemmed, 'Twas Caesar's Will 
 To Hew The     Stately Forests And With Trees 
 Enchained To Form A Rampart.  Thus Of     Old 
 (If Fame Be True) The     Boastful Persian King 
 Prepared A Way Across The     Rapid Strait 
 'Twixt Sestos And Abydos, And Made One 
 The European And The     Trojan Shores; 
 And Marched Upon The     Waters, Wind And Storm 
 Counting As Nought, But Trusting His Emprise 
 To One Frail Bridge, So That His Ships Might Pass 
 Through Middle Athos.  Thus A Mighty Mole 
 Of Fallen Forests Grew Upon The     Waves, 
 Free Until Then, And Lofty Turrets Rose, 
 And Land Usurped The     Entrance To The     Main. 
   
   
   
 This When Pompeius Saw, With Anxious Care 
 His Soul Was Filled; Yet Hoping To Regain 
 The Exit Lost, And Win A Wider World 
 Wherein To Wage The     War, On Chosen Ships 
 He Hoists The     Sails; These, Driven By The     Wind 
 And Drawn By Cables Fastened To Their Prows, 
 Scattered The     Beams Asunder; And At Night 
 Not Seldom Engines, Worked By Stalwart Arms, 
 Flung Flaming Torches Forth.  But When The     Time 
 For Secret Flight Was Come, No Sailor Shout 
 Rang On The     Shore, No Trumpet Marked The     Hour, 
 No Bugle Called The     Armament To Sea. 
 Already Shone The     Virgin In The     Sky 
 Leading The     Scorpion In Her Course, Whose Claws 
 Foretell The     Rising Sun, When Noiseless All 
 They Cast The     Vessels Loose; No Song Was Heard 
 To Greet The     Anchor Wrenched From Stubborn Sand; 
 No Captain's Order, When The     Lofty Mast 
 Was Raised, Or Yards Were Bent; A Silent Crew 
 Drew Down The     Sails Which Hung Upon The     Ropes, 
 Nor Shook The     Mighty Cables, Lest The     Wind 
 Should Sound Upon Them.  But The     Chief, In Prayer, 
 Thus Spake To Fortune: "Thou Whose High Decree 
 Has Made Us Exiles From Italia's Shores, 
 Grant Us At Least To Leave Them."  Yet The     Fates 
 Hardly Permitted, For A Murmur Vast 
 Came From The     Ocean, As The     Countless Keels 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2 ( The Flight Of Pompeius)  Pg 37 
 Furrowed The     Waters, And With Ceaseless Splash 
 The Parted Billows Rose Again And Fell. 
 Then Were The     Gates Thrown Wide; For With The     Fates 
 The City Turned To Caesar: And The     Foe, 
 Seizing The     Town, Rushed Onward By The     Pier 
 That Circled In The     Harbour; Then They Knew 
 With Shame And Sorrow That The     Fleet Was Gone 
 And Held The     Open: And Pompeius' Flight 
 Gave A Poor Triumph. 
   
   
   
                          Yet Was Narrower Far 
 The Channel Which Gave Access To The     Sea 
 Than That Euboean Strait (34) Whose Waters Lave 
 The Shore By Chalcis.  Here Two Ships Stuck Fast 
 Alone, Of     All The     Fleet; The     Fatal Hook 
 Grappled Their Decks And Drew Them To The     Land, 
 And The     First Bloodshed Of     The     Civil War 
 Here Left A Blush Upon The     Ocean Wave. 
 As When The     Famous Ship (36) Sought Phasis' Stream 
 The Rocky Gates Closed In And Hardly Gripped 
 Her Flying Stern; Then From The     Empty Sea 
 The Cliffs Rebounding To Their Ancient Seat 
 Were Fixed To Move No More.  But Now The     Steps 
 Of Morn Approaching Tinged The     Eastern Sky 
 With Roseate Hues: The     Pleiades Were Dim, 
 The Wagon Of     The     Charioteer Grew Pale, 
 The Planets Faded, And The     Silvery Star 
 Which Ushers In The     Day, Was Lost In Light. 
   
   
   
 Then Magnus, Hold'st The     Deep; Yet Not The     Same 
 Now Are Thy Fates, As When From Every Sea 
 Thy Fleet Triumphant Swept The     Pirate Pest. 
 Tired Of     Thy Conquests, Fortune Now No More 
 Shall Smile Upon Thee.  With Thy Spouse And Sons, 
 Thy Household Gods, And Peoples In Thy Train, 
 Still Great In Exile, In A Distant Land 
 Thou Seek'st Thy Fated Fall; Not That The     Gods, 
 Wishing To Rob Thee Of     A Roman Grave, 
 Decreed The     Strands Of     Egypt For Thy Tomb: 
 'Twas Italy They Spared, That Far Away 
 Fortune On Shores Remote Might Hide Her Crime, 
 And Roman Soil Be Pure Of     Magnus' Blood. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2 ( The Flight Of Pompeius) (Endnotes)  Pg 38 
 (1)  When Dragged From His Hiding Place In The     Marsh, Marius Was 
      Sent By The     Magistrates Of     Minturnae To The     House Of     A Woman 
      Named Fannia, And There Locked Up In A Dark Apartment.  It 
      Does Not Appear That He Was There Long.  A Gallic Soldier 
      Was Sent To Kill Him; "And The     Eyes Of     Marius Appeared To 
      Him To Dart A Strong Flame, And A Loud Voice Issued From The 
      Gloom, 'Man, Do You Dare To Kill Caius Marius?'"  He Rushed 
      Out Exclaiming, "I Cannot Kill Caius Marius." (Plutarch, 
      "Marius", 38.) 
 (2)  The     Governor Of     Libya Sent An Officer To Marius, Who Had 
      Landed In The     Neighbourhood Of     Carthage.  The     Officer 
      Delivered His Message, And Marius Replied, "Tell The 
      Governor You Have Seen Caius Marius, A Fugitive Sitting On 
      The     Ruins Of     Carthage," A Reply In Which He Not Inaptly 
      Compared The     Fate Of     That City And His Own Changed Fortune. 
      (Plutarch, "Marius", 40.) 
 (3)  In The     "Gathering Of     Fresh Fury On Libyan Soil", There 
      Appears To Be An Allusion To The     Story Of     Antruns, In Book 
      Iv. 
 (4)  See Ben Jonson's "Catiline", Act I., Scene 1, Speaking Of 
      The     Sullan Massacre. 
           Cethegus: Not Infants In The     Porch Of     Life Were Free. 
           .... 
           Catiline: 'Twas Crime Enough That They Had Lives: To 
           Strike But Only Those That Could Do Hurt Was Dull And 
           Poor: Some Fell To Make The     Number As Some The     Prey. 
 (5)  Whenever He Did Not Salute A Man, Or Return His Salute, This 
      Was A Signal For Massacre. (Plutarch, "Marius", 49.) 
 (6)  The     Marian Massacre Was In B.C. 87-86; The     Sullan In 82-81. 
 (7)  The     Head Of     Antonius Was Struck Off And Brought To Marius At 
      Supper.  He Was The     Grandfather Of     The     Triumvir. 
 (8)  Scaevola, It Would Appear, Was Put To Death After Marius The 
      Elder Died, By The     Younger Marius.  He Was Pontifex Maximus, 
      And Slain By The     Altar Of     Vesta. 
 (9)  B.C. 86, Marius And Cinna Were Consuls.  Marius Died 
      Seventeen Days Afterwards, In The     Seventieth Year Of     His 
      Age. 
 (10) The     Battle Of     Sacriportus Was Fought Between Marius The 
      Younger And The     Sullan Army In B.C. 82.  Marius Was Defeated 
      With Great Loss, And Fled To Praeneste, A Town Which 
      Afterwards Submitted To Sulla, Who Put All The     Inhabitants 
      To Death (Line 216).  At The     Colline Gate Was Fought The 
      Decisive Battle Between Sulla And The     Saranires, Who, After 
      A Furious Contest, Were Defeated. 
 (11) Diomedes Was Said To Feed His Horses On Human Flesh. (For 
      Antaeus See Book Iv., 660.)  Enomaus Was King Of     Pisa In 
      Elis.  Those Who Came To Sue For His Daughter's Hand Had To 
      Compete With Him In A Chariot Race, And If Defeated Were Put 
      To Death. 
 (12) The     Brother Of     The     Consul. 
 (13) So Cicero: "Our Cnaeus Is Wonderfully Anxious For Such A 
      Royalty As Sulla's.  I Who Tell You Know It." ("Ep. Ad 
      Att.", Ix. 7.) 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2 ( The Flight Of Pompeius) (Endnotes)  Pg 39 
 14) Marcia Was First Married To Cato, And Bore Him Three Sons; 
      He Then Yielded Her To Hortensius.  On His Death She 
      Returned To Cato. (Plutarch, "Cato", 25, 52.)  It Was In 
      Reference To This That Caesar Charged Him With Making A 
      Traffic Of     His Marriage; But Plutarch Says "To Accuse Cato 
      Of     Filthy Lucre Is Like Upbraiding Hercules With Cowardice." 
      After The     Marriage Marcia Remained At Rome While Cato 
      Hurried After Pompeius. 
 (15) The     Bride Was Carried Over The     Threshold Of     Her New Home, 
      For To Stumble On It Would Be Of     Evil Omen.  Plutarch 
      ("Romulus") Refers This Custom To The     Rape Of     The     Sabine 
      Women, Who Were "So Lift Up And Carried Away By Force." 
      (North, Volume I., P. 88, Edition By Windham.)  I Have Read 
      "Vetuit" In This Passage, Though "Vitat" Appears To Be A 
      Better Variation According To The     Manuscripts. 
 (16) The     Bride Was Dressed In A Long White Robe, Bound Round The 
      Waist With A Girdle.  She Had A Veil Of     Bright Yellow 
      Colour. ("Dict. Antiq.") 
 (17) Capua, Supposed To Be Founded By Capys, The     Trojan Hero. 
      (Virgil, "Aeneid", X., 145.) 
 (18) Phaethon's Sisters, Who Yoked The     Horses Of     The     Sun To The 
      Chariot For Their Brother, Were Turned Into Poplars. 
      Phaethon Was Flung By Jupiter Into The     River Po. 
 (19) See The     Note To Book I., 164.  In Reality Caesar Found 
      Little Resistance, And Did Not Ravage The     Country. 
 (20) Thermus. To Whom Iguvium Had Been Entrusted By The     Senate, 
      Was Compelled To Quit It Owing To The     Disaffection Of     The 
      Inhabitants. (Merivale, Chapter Xiv.)  Auximon In A Similar 
      Way Rose Against Varus. 
 (21) After Caesar's Campaign With The     Nervii, Pompeius Had Lent 
      Him A Legion.  When The     Parthian War Broke Out And The 
      Senate Required Each Of     The     Two Leaders To Supply A Legion 
      For It, Pompeius Demanded The     Return Of     The     Legion Which He 
      Had Sent To Gaul; And Caesar Returned It, Together With One 
      Of     His Own.  They Were, However, Retained In Italy. 
 (22) See Book Vii., 695. 
 (23) See Book I., 368. 
 (24) That Is To Say, By The     Breaking Of     The     Bridge, The     River 
      Would Become A Serious Obstacle To Caesar. 
 (25) See Line 497. 
 (26) This Family Is Also Alluded To By Horace ("Ars Poetica,") As 
      Having Worn A Garment Of     Ancient Fashion Leaving Their Arms 
      Bare. (See Also Book Vi., 945.) 
 (27) In B.C. 77, After The     Death Of     Sulla, Carbo Had Been 
      Defeated By Pompeius In 81 B.C., In Which Occasion Pompeius 
      Had, At The     Early Age Of     Twenty-Five, Demanded And Obtained 
      His First Triumph.  The     War With Sertorius Lasted Till 71 
      B.C., When Pompeius And Metellus Triumphed In Respect Of     His 
      Overthrow. 
 (28) See Book I., Line 369. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 2 ( The Flight Of Pompeius) (Endnotes)  Pg 40 
 (29) In B.C. 67, Pompeius Swept The     Pirates Off The     Seas.  The 
      Whole Campaign Did Not Last Three Months. 
 (30) From B.C. 66 To B.C. 63, Pompeius Conquered Mithridates, 
      Syria And The     East, Except Parthia. 
 (31) Being (As Was Supposed) Exactly Under The     Equator.  Syene 
      (The Modern Assouan) Is The     Town Mentioned By The     Priest Of 
      Sais, Who Told Herodotus That "Between Syene And Elephantine 
      Are Two Hills With Conical Tops.  The     Name Of     One Of     Them Is 
      Crophi, And Of     The     Other, Mophi.  Midway Between Them Are 
      The     Fountains Of     The     Nile." (Herod., Ii., Chapter 28.)  And 
      See "Paradise Regained," Iv., 70: -- 
           "Syene, And Where The     Shadow Both Way Falls, 
           "Meroe, Nilotick Isle;..." 
 (32) Baetis Is The     Guadalquivir. 
 (33) Theseus, On Returning From His Successful Exploit In Crete, 
      Hoisted By Mistake Black Sails Instead Of     White, Thus 
      Spreading False Intelligence Of     Disaster. 
 (34) It Seems That The     Euripus Was Bridged Over. (Mr. Haskins' 
      Note.) 
 (35) The     "Argo". 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 41 
   
 With Canvas Yielding To The     Western Wind 
 The Navy Sailed The     Deep, And Every Eye 
 Gazed On Ionian Billows.  But The     Chief 
 Turned Not His Vision From His Native Shore 
 Now Left For Ever, While The     Morning Mists 
 Drew Down Upon The     Mountains, And The     Cliffs 
 Faded In Distance Till His Aching Sight 
 No Longer Knew Them.  Then His Wearied Frame 
 Sank In The     Arms Of     Sleep.  But Julia's Shape, 
 In Mournful Guise, Dread Horror On Her Brow, 
 Rose Through The     Gaping Earth, And From Her Tomb 
 Erect (1), In Form As Of     A Fury Spake: 
 "Driven From Elysian Fields And From The     Plains 
 The Blest Inhabit, When The     War Began, 
 I Dwell In Stygian Darkness Where Abide 
 The Souls Of     All The     Guilty.  There I Saw 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 42 
 Th' Eumenides With Torches In Their Hands 
 Prepared Against Thy Battles; And The     Fleets (2) 
 Which By The     Ferryman Of     The     Flaming Stream 
 Were Made To Bear Thy Dead: While Hell Itself 
 Relaxed Its Punishments; The     Sisters Three 
 With Busy Fingers All Their Needful Task 
 Could Scarce Accomplish, And The     Threads Of     Fate 
 Dropped From Their Weary Hands.  With Me Thy Wife, 
 Thou, Magnus, Leddest Happy Triumphs Home: 
 New Wedlock Brings New Luck.  Thy Concubine, 
 Whose Star Brings All Her Mighty Husbands Ill, 
 Cornelia, Weds In Thee A Breathing Tomb. (3) 
 Through Wars And Oceans Let Her Cling To Thee 
 So Long As I May Break Thy Nightly Rest: 
 No Moment Left Thee For Her Love, But All 
 By Night To Me, By Day To Caesar Given. 
 Me Not The     Oblivious Banks Of     Lethe's Stream 
 Have Made Forgetful; And The     Kings Of     Death 
 Have Suffered Me To Join Thee; In Mid Fight 
 I Will Be With Thee, And My Haunting Ghost 
 Remind Thee Caesar's Daughter Was Thy Spouse. 
 Thy Sword Kills Not Our Pledges; Civil War 
 Shall Make Thee Wholly Mine."  She Spake And Fled. 
 But He, Though Heaven And Hell Thus Bode Defeat, 
 More Bent On War, With Mind Assured Of     Ill, 
 "Why Dread Vain Phantoms Of     A Dreaming Brain? 
 Or Nought Of     Sense And Feeling To The     Soul 
 Is Left By Death; Or Death Itself Is Nought." 
   
   
   
 Now Fiery Titan In Declining Path 
 Dipped To The     Waves, His Bright Circumference 
 So Much Diminished As A Growing Moon 
 Not Yet Full Circled, Or When Past The     Full; 
 When To The     Fleet A Hospitable Coast 
 Gave Access, And The     Ropes In Order Laid, 
 The Sailors Struck The     Masts And Rowed Ashore. 
   
   
   
 When Caesar Saw The     Fleet Escape His Grasp 
 And Hidden From His View By Lengthening Seas, 
 Left Without Rival On Hesperian Soil, 
 He Found No Joy In Triumph; Rather Grieved 
 That Thus In Safety Magnus' Flight Was Sped. 
 Not Any Gifts Of     Fortune Now Sufficed 
 His Fiery Spirit; And No Victory Won, 
 Unless The     War Was Finished With The     Stroke. 
 Then Arms He Laid Aside, In Guise Of     Peace 
 Seeking The     People's Favour; Skilled To Know 
 How To Arouse Their Ire, And How To Gain 
 The Popular Love By Corn In Plenty Given. 
 For Famine Only Makes A City Free; 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 43 
 By Gifts Of     Food The     Tyrant Buys A Crowd 
 To Cringe Before Him: But A People Starved 
 Is Fearless Ever. 
   
   
   
                     Curio He Bids 
 Cross Over To Sicilian Cities, Where 
 Or Ocean By A Sudden Rise O'erwhelmed 
 The Land, Or Split The     Isthmus Right In Twain, 
 Leaving A Path For Seas.  Unceasing Tides 
 There Labour Hugely Lest Again Should Meet 
 The Mountains Rent Asunder.  Nor Were Left 
 Sardinian Shores Unvisited: Each Isle 
 Is Blest With Noble Harvests Which Have Filled 
 More Than All Else The     Granaries Of     Rome, 
 And Poured Their Plenty On Hesperia's Shores. 
 Not Even Libya, With Its Fertile Soil, 
 Their Yield Surpasses, When The     Southern Wind 
 Gives Way To Northern And Permits The     Clouds 
 To Drop Their Moisture On The     Teeming Earth. 
 This Ordered, Caesar Leads His Legions On, 
 Not Armed For War, But As In Time Of     Peace 
 Returning To His Home.  Ah!  Had He Come 
 With Only Gallia Conquered And The     North (4), 
 What Long Array Of     Triumph Had He Brought! 
 What Pictured Scenes Of     Battle!  How Had Rhine 
 And Ocean Borne His Chains!  How Noble Gaul, 
 And Britain's Fair-Haired Chiefs His Lofty Car 
 Had Followed!  Such A Triumph Had He Lost 
 By Further Conquest.  Now In Silent Fear 
 They Watched His Marching Troops, Nor Joyful Towns 
 Poured Out Their Crowds To Welcome His Return. 
 Yet Did The     Conqueror's Proud Soul Rejoice, 
 Far More Than At Their Love, At Such A Fear. 
   
   
   
 Now Anxur's Hold Was Passed, The     Oozy Road 
 That Separates The     Marsh, The     Grove Sublime (5) 
 Where Reigns The     Scythian Goddess, And The     Path 
 By Which Men Bear The     Fasces To The     Feast 
 On Alba's Summit.  From The     Height Afar -- 
 Gazing In Awe Upon The     Walls Of     Rome 
 His Native City, Since The     Northern War 
 Unseen, Unvisited -- Thus Caesar Spake: 
 "Who Would Not Fight For Such A God-Like Town? 
 And Have They Left Thee, Rome, Without A Blow? 
 Thank The     High Gods No Eastern Hosts Are Here 
 To Wreak Their Fury; Nor Sarmatian Horde 
 With Northern Tribes Conjoined; By Fortune's Gift 
 This War Is Civil: Else This Coward Chief 
 Had Been Thy Ruin." 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 44 
                     Trembling At His Feet 
 He Found The     City: Deadly Fire And Flame, 
 As From A Conqueror, Gods And Fanes Dispersed; 
 Such Was The     Measure Of     Their Fear, As Though 
 His Power And Wish Were One.  No Festal Shout 
 Greeted His March, No Feigned Acclaim Of     Joy. 
 Scarce Had They Time For Hate.  In Phoebus' Hall 
 Their Hiding Places Left, A Crowd Appeared 
 Of Senators, Uncalled, For None Could Call. 
 No Consul There The     Sacred Shrine Adorned 
 Nor Praetor Next In Rank, And Every Seat 
 Placed For The     Officers Of     State Was Void: 
 Caesar Was All; And To His Private Voice (6) 
 All Else Were Listeners.  The     Fathers Sat 
 Ready To Grant A Temple Or A Throne, 
 If Such His Wish; And For Themselves To Vote 
 Or Death Or Exile.  Well It Was For Rome 
 That Caesar Blushed To Order What They Feared. 
 Yet In One Breast The     Spirit Of     Freedom Rose 
 Indignant For The     Laws; For When The     Gates 
 Of Saturn's Temple Hot Metellus Saw, 
 Were Yielding To The     Shock, He Clove The     Ranks 
 Of Caesar's Troops, And Stood Before The     Doors 
 As Yet Unopened.  'Tis The     Love Of     Gold 
 Alone That Fears Not Death; No Hand Is Raised 
 For Perished Laws Or Violated Rights: 
 But For This Dross, The     Vilest Cause Of     All, 
 Men Fight And Die.  Thus Did The     Tribune Bar 
 The Victor's Road To Rapine, And With Voice 
 Clear Ringing Spake: "Save O'er Metellus Dead 
 This Temple Opens Not; My Sacred Blood 
 Shall Flow, Thou Robber, Ere The     Gold Be Thine. 
 And Surely Shall The     Tribune's Power Defied 
 Find An Avenging God; This Crassus Knew (7), 
 Who, Followed By Our Curses, Sought The     War 
 And Met Disaster On The     Parthian Plains. 
 Draw Then Thy Sword, Nor Fear The     Crowd That Gapes 
 To View Thy Crimes: The     Citizens Are Gone. 
 Not From Our Treasury Reward For Guilt 
 Thy Hosts Shall Ravish: Other Towns Are Left, 
 And Other Nations; Wage The     War On Them -- 
 Drain Not Rome's Peace For Spoil."  The     Victor Then, 
 Incensed To Ire: "Vain Is Thy Hope To Fall 
 In Noble Death, As Guardian Of     The     Right; 
 With All Thine Honours, Thou Of     Caesar's Rage 
 Art Little Worthy: Never Shall Thy Blood 
 Defile His Hand.  Time Lowest Things With High 
 Confounds Not Yet So Much That, If Thy Voice 
 Could Save The     Laws, It Were Not Better Far 
 They Fell By Caesar."  Such His Lofty Words. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 45 
   
 But As The     Tribune Yielded Not, His Rage 
 Rose Yet The     More, And At His Soldiers' Swords 
 One Look He Cast, Forgetting For The     Time 
 What Robe He Wore; But Soon Metellus Heard 
 These Words From Cotta: "When Men Bow To Power 
 Freedom Of     Speech Is Only Freedom's Bane (8), 
 Whose Shade At Least Survives, If With Free Will 
 Thou Dost Whate'er Is Bidden Thee.  For Us 
 Some Pardon May Be Found: A Host Of     Ills 
 Compelled Submission, And The     Shame Is Less 
 That To Have Done Which Could Not Be Refused. 
 Yield, Then, This Wealth, The     Seeds Of     Direful War. 
 A Nation's Anger Is By Losses Stirred, 
 When Laws Protect It; But The     Hungry Slave 
 Brings Danger To His Master, Not Himself." 
   
   
   
 At This Metellus Yielded From The     Path; 
 And As The     Gates Rolled Backward, Echoed Loud 
 The Rock Tarpeian, And The     Temple's Depths 
 Gave Up The     Treasure Which For Centuries 
 No Hand Had Touched: All That The     Punic Foe 
 And Perses And Philippus Conquered Gave, 
 And All The     Gold Which Pyrrhus Panic-Struck 
 Left When He Fled: That Gold (9), The     Price Of     Rome, 
 Which Yet Fabricius Sold Not, And The     Hoard 
 Laid Up By Saving Sires; The     Tribute Sent 
 By Asia's Richest Nations; And The     Wealth 
 Which Conquering Metellus Brought From Crete, 
 And Cato (10) Bore From Distant Cyprus Home; 
 And Last, The     Riches Torn From Captive Kings 
 And Borne Before Pompeius When He Came 
 In Frequent Triumph.  Thus Was Robbed The     Shrine, 
 And Caesar First Brought Poverty To Rome. 
   
   
   
 Meanwhile All Nations Of     The     Earth Were Moved 
 To Share In Magnus' Fortunes And The     War, 
 And In His Fated Ruin.  Graecia Sent, 
 Nearest Of     All, Her Succours To The     Host. 
 From Cirrha And Parnassus' Double Peak 
 And From Amphissa, Phocis Sent Her Youth: 
 Boeotian Leaders Muster In The     Meads 
 By Dirce Laved, And Where Cephisus Rolls 
 Gifted With Fateful Power His Stream Along: 
 And Where Alpheus, Who Beyond The     Sea (11) 
 In Fount Sicilian Seeks The     Day Again. 
 Pisa Deserted Stands, And Oeta, Loved 
 By Hercules Of     Old; Dodona's Oaks 
 Are Left To Silence By The     Sacred Train, 
 And All Epirus Rushes To The     War. 
 
 
 
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 And Proud Athena, Mistress Of     The     Seas, 
 Sends Three Poor Ships (Alas! Her All) To Prove 
 Her Ancient Victory O'er The     Persian King. 
 Next Seek The     Battle Creta's Hundred Tribes 
 Beloved Of     Jove And Rivalling The     East 
 In Skill To Wing The     Arrow From The     Bow. 
 The Walls Of     Dardan Oricum, The     Woods 
 Where Athamanians Wander, And The     Banks 
 Of Swift Absyrtus Foaming To The     Main 
 Are Left Forsaken.  Enchelaean Tribes 
 Whose King Was Cadmus, And Whose Name Records 
 His Transformation (12), Join The     Host; And Those 
 Who Till Penean Fields And Turn The     Share 
 Above Iolcos In Thessalian Lands." 
 There First Men Steeled Their Hearts To Dare The     Waves (13) 
 And 'Gainst The     Rage Of     Ocean And The     Storm 
 To Match Their Strength, When The     Rude Argo Sailed 
 Upon That Distant Quest, And Spurned The     Shore, 
 Joining Remotest Nations In Her Flight, 
 And Gave The     Fates Another Form Of     Death. 
 Left Too Was Pholoe; Pretended Home 
 Where Dwelt The     Fabled Race Of     Double Form (14); 
 Arcadian Maenalus; The     Thracian Mount 
 Named Haemus; Strymon Whence, As Autumn Falls, 
 Winged Squadrons Seek The     Banks Of     Warmer Nile; 
 And All The     Isles The     Mouths Of     Ister Bathe 
 Mixed With The     Tidal Wave; The     Land Through Which 
 The Cooling Eddies Of     Caicus Flow 
 Idalian; And Arisbe Bare Of     Glebe. 
 The Hinds Of     Pitane, And Those Who Till 
 Celaenae's Fields Which Mourned Of     Yore The     Gift 
 Of Pallas (15), And The     Vengeance Of     The     God, 
 All Draw The     Sword; And Those From Marsyas' Flood 
 First Swift, Then Doubling Backwards With The     Stream 
 Of Sinuous Meander: And From Where 
 Pactolus Leaves His Golden Source And Leaps 
 From Earth Permitting; And With Rival Wealth 
 Rich Hermus Parts The     Meads.  Nor Stayed The     Bands 
 Of Troy, But (Doomed As In Old Time) They Joined 
 Pompeius' Fated Camp: Nor Held Them Back 
 The Fabled Past, Nor Caesar's Claimed Descent 
 From Their Iulus.  Syrian Peoples Came 
 From Palmy Idumea And The     Walls 
 Of Ninus Great Of     Yore; From Windy Plains 
 Of Far Damascus And From Gaza's Hold, 
 From Sidon's Courts Enriched With Purple Dye, 
 And Tyre Oft Trembling With The     Shaken Earth. 
 All These Led On By Cynosura's Light (16) 
 Furrow Their Certain Path To Reach The     War. 
   
   
   
 Phoenicians First (If Story Be Believed) 
 Dared To Record In Characters; For Yet 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 47 
 Papyrus Was Not Fashioned, And The     Priests 
 Of Memphis, Carving Symbols Upon Walls 
 Of Mystic Sense (In Shape Of     Beast Or Fowl) 
 Preserved The     Secrets Of     Their Magic Art. 
   
   
   
 Next Persean Tarsus And High Taurus' Groves 
 Are Left Deserted, And Corycium's Cave; 
 And All Cilicia's Ports, Pirate No More, 
 Resound With Preparation.  Nor The     East 
 Refused The     Call, Where Furthest Ganges Dares, 
 Alone Of     Rivers, To Discharge His Stream 
 Against The     Sun Opposing; On This Shore (17) 
 The Macedonian Conqueror Stayed His Foot 
 And Found The     World His Victor; Here Too Rolls 
 Indus His Torrent With Hydaspes Joined 
 Yet Hardly Feels It; Here From Luscious Reed 
 Men Draw Sweet Liquor; Here They Dye Their Locks 
 With Tints Of     Saffron, And With Coloured Gems 
 Bind Down Their Flowing Garments; Here Are They, 
 Who Satiate Of     Life And Proud To Die, 
 Ascend The     Blazing Pyre, And Conquering Fate, 
 Scorn To Live Longer; But Triumphant Give 
 The Remnant Of     Their Days In Flame To Heaven. (18) 
   
   
   
 Nor Fails To Join The     Host A Hardy Band 
 Of Cappadocians, Tilling Now The     Soil, 
 Once Pirates Of     The     Main: Nor Those Who Dwell 
 Where Steep Niphates Hurls The     Avalanche, 
 And Where On Median Coatra's Sides 
 The Giant Forest Rises To The     Sky. 
 And You, Arabians, From Your Distant Home 
 Came To A World Unknown, And Wondering Saw 
 The Shadows Fall No Longer To The     Left. (19) 
 Then Fired With Ardour For The     Roman War 
 Oretas Came, And Far Carmania's Chiefs, 
 Whose Clime Lies Southward, Yet Men Thence Descry 
 Low Down The     Pole Star, And Bootes Runs 
 Hasting To Set, Part Seen, His Nightly Course; 
 And Ethiopians From That Southern Land 
 Which Lies Without The     Circuit Of     The     Stars, 
 Did Not The     Bull With Curving Hoof Advanced 
 O'erstep The     Limit.  From That Mountain Zone 
 They Come, Where Rising From A Common Fount 
 Euphrates Flows And Tigris, And Did Earth 
 Permit, Were Joined With Either Name; But Now 
 While Like Th' Egyptian Flood Euphrates Spreads 
 His Fertilising Water, Tigris First 
 Drawn Down By Earth In Covered Depths Is Plunged 
 And Holds A Secret Course; Then Born Again 
 Flows On Unhindered To The     Persian Sea. 
 
 
 
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 But Warlike Parthia Wavered 'Twixt The     Chiefs, 
 Content To Have Made Them Two (20); While Scythia's Hordes 
 Dipped Fresh Their Darts In Poison, Whom The     Stream 
 Of Bactros Bounds And Vast Hyrcanian Woods. 
 Hence Springs That Rugged Nation Swift And Fierce, 
 Descended From The     Twins' Great Charioteer. (21) 
 Nor Failed Sarmatia, Nor The     Tribes That Dwell 
 By Richest Phasis, And On Halys' Banks, 
 Which Sealed The     Doom Of     Croesus' King; Nor Where 
 From Far Rhipaean Ranges Tanais Flows, 
 On Either Hand A Quarter Of     The     World, 
 Asia And Europe, And In Winding Course 
 Carves Out A Continent; Nor Where The     Strait 
 In Boiling Surge Pours To The     Pontic Deep 
 Maeotis' Waters, Rivalling The     Pride 
 Of Those Herculean Pillar-Gates That Guard 
 The Entrance To An Ocean.  Thence With Hair 
 In Golden Fillets, Arimaspians Came, 
 And Fierce Massagetae, Who Quaff The     Blood 
 Of The     Brave Steed On Which They Fight And Flee. 
   
   
   
 Not When Great Cyrus On Memnonian Realms 
 His Warriors Poured; Nor When, Their Weapons Piled, (22) 
 The Persian Told The     Number Of     His Host; 
 Nor When Th' Avenger (23) Of     A Brother's Shame 
 Loaded The     Billows With His Mighty Fleet, 
 Beneath One Chief So Many Kings Made War; 
 Nor E'er Met Nations Varied Thus In Garb 
 And Thus In Language.  To Pompeius' Death 
 Thus Fortune Called Them: And A World In Arms 
 Witnessed His Ruin.  From Where Afric's God, 
 Two-Horned Ammon, Rears His Temple, Came 
 All Libya Ceaseless, From The     Wastes That Touch 
 The Bounds Of     Egypt To The     Shore That Meets 
 The Western Ocean.  Thus, To Award The     Prize 
 Of Empire At One Blow, Pharsalia Brought 
 'Neath Caesar's Conquering Hand The     Banded World. 
   
   
   
 Now Caesar Left The     Walls Of     Trembling Rome 
 And Swift Across The     Cloudy Alpine Tops 
 He Winged His March; But While All Others Fled 
 Far From His Path, In Terror Of     His Name, 
 Phocaea's (24) Manhood With Un-Grecian Faith 
 Held To Their Pledged Obedience, And Dared 
 To Follow Right Not Fate; But First Of     All 
 With Olive Boughs Of     Truce Before Them Borne 
 The Chieftain They Approach, With Peaceful Words 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 49 
 In Hope To Alter His Unbending Will 
 And Tame His Fury.  "Search The     Ancient Books 
 Which Chronicle The     Deeds Of     Latian Fame; 
 Thou'lt Ever Find, When Foreign Foes Pressed Hard, 
 Massilia's Prowess On The     Side Of     Rome. 
 And Now, If Triumphs In An Unknown World 
 Thou Seekest, Caesar, Here Our Arms And Swords 
 Accept In Aid: But If, In Impious Strife 
 Of Civil Discord, With A Roman Foe 
 Thou Seek'st To Join In Battle, Weeping Then 
 We Hold Aloof: No Stranger Hand May Touch 
 Celestial Wounds.  Should All Olympus' Hosts 
 Have Rushed To War, Or Should The     Giant Brood 
 Assault The     Stars, Yet Men Would Not Presume 
 Or By Their Prayers Or Arms To Help The     Gods: 
 And, Ignorant Of     The     Fortunes Of     The     Sky, 
 Taught By The     Thunderbolts Alone, Would Know 
 That Jupiter Supreme Still Held The     Throne. 
 Add That Unnumbered Nations Join The     Fray: 
 Nor Shrinks The     World So Much From Taint Of     Crime 
 That Civil Wars Reluctant Swords Require. 
 But Grant That Strangers Shun Thy Destinies 
 And Only Romans Fight -- Shall Not The     Son 
 Shrink Ere He Strike His Father?  On Both Sides 
 Brothers Forbid The     Weapon To Be Hurled? 
 The World's End Comes When Other Hands Are Armed (25) 
 Than Those Which Custom And The     Gods Allow. 
 For Us, This Is Our Prayer: Leave, Caesar, Here 
 Thy Dreadful Eagles, Keep Thy Hostile Signs 
 Back From Our Gates, But Enter Thou In Peace 
 Massilia's Ramparts; Let Our City Rest 
 Withdrawn From Crime, To Magnus And To Thee 
 Safe: And Should Favouring Fate Preserve Our Walls 
 Inviolate, When Both Shall Wish For Peace 
 Here Meet Unarmed.  Why Hither Turn'st Thou Now 
 Thy Rapid March?  Nor Weight Nor Power Have We 
 To Sway The     Mighty Conflicts Of     The     World. 
 We Boast No Victories Since Our Fatherland 
 We Left In Exile: When Phocaea's Fort 
 Perished In Flames, We Sought Another Here; 
 And Here On Foreign Shores, In Narrow Bounds 
 Confined And Safe, Our Boast Is Sturdy Faith; 
 Nought Else.  But If Our City To Blockade 
 Is Now Thy Mind -- To Force The     Gates, And Hurl 
 Javelin And Blazing Torch Upon Our Homes -- 
 Do What Thou Wilt: Cut Off The     Source That Fills 
 Our Foaming River, Force Us, Prone In Thirst, 
 To Dig The     Earth And Lap The     Scanty Pool; 
 Seize On Our Corn And Leave Us Food Abhorred: 
 Nor Shall This People Shun, For Freedom's Sake, 
 The Ills Saguntum Bore In Punic Siege; (26) 
 Torn, Vainly Clinging, From The     Shrunken Breast 
 The Starving Babe Shall Perish In The     Flames. 
 Wives At Their Husbands' Hands Shall Pray Their Fate, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 50 
 And Brothers' Weapons Deal A Mutual Death. 
 Such Be Our Civil War; Not, Caesar, Thine." 
   
   
   
 But Caesar's Visage Stern Betrayed His Ire 
 Which Thus Broke Forth In Words: "Vain Is The     Hope 
 Ye Rest Upon My March: Speed Though I May 
 Towards My Western Goal, Time Still Remains 
 To Blot Massilia Out.  Rejoice, My Troops! 
 Unsought The     War Ye Longed For Meets You Now: 
 The Fates Concede It.  As The     Tempests Lose 
 Their Strength By Sturdy Forests Unopposed, 
 And As The     Fire That Finds No Fuel Dies, 
 Even So To Find No Foe Is Caesar's Ill. 
 When Those Who May Be Conquered Will Not Fight 
 That Is Defeat.  Degenerate, Disarmed 
 Their Gates Admit Me!  Not Content, Forsooth, 
 With Shutting Caesar Out They Shut Him In! 
 They Shun The     Taint Of     War!  Such Prayer For Peace 
 Brings With It Chastisement.  In Caesar's Age 
 Learn That Not Peace, But War Within His Ranks 
 Alone Can Make You Safe." 
   
   
   
                               Fearless He Turns 
 His March Upon The     City, And Beholds 
 Fast Barred The     Gate-Ways, While In Arms The     Youths 
 Stand On The     Battlements.  Hard By The     Walls 
 A Hillock Rose, Upon The     Further Side 
 Expanding In A Plain Of     Gentle Slope, 
 Fit (As He Deemed It) For A Camp With Ditch 
 And Mound Encircling.  To A Lofty Height 
 The Nearest Portion Of     The     City Rose, 
 While Intervening Valleys Lay Between. 
 These Summits With A Mighty Trench To Bind 
 The Chief Resolves, Gigantic Though The     Toil. 
 But First, From Furthest Boundaries Of     His Camp, 
 Enclosing Streams And Meadows, To The     Sea 
 To Draw A Rampart, Upon Either Hand 
 Heaved Up With Earthy Sod; With Lofty Towers 
 Crowned; And To Shut Massilia From The     Land. 
   
   
   
 Then Did The     Grecian City Win Renown 
 Eternal, Deathless, For That Uncompelled 
 Nor Fearing For Herself, But Free To Act 
 She Made The     Conqueror Pause: And He Who Seized 
 All In Resistless Course Found Here Delay: 
 And Fortune, Hastening To Lay The     World 
 Low At Her Favourite's Feet, Was Forced To Stay 
 For These Few Moments Her Impatient Hand. 
 
 
 
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 Now Fell The     Forests Far And Wide, Despoiled 
 Of All Their Giant Trunks: For As The     Mound 
 On Earth And Brushwood Stood, A Timber Frame 
 Held Firm The     Soil, Lest Pressed Beneath Its Towers 
 The Mass Might Topple Down.  There Stood A Grove 
 Which From The     Earliest Time No Hand Of     Man 
 Had Dared To Violate; Hidden From The     Sun (27) 
 Its Chill Recesses; Matted Boughs Entwined 
 Prisoned The     Air Within.  No Sylvan Nymphs 
 Here Found A Home, Nor Pan, But Savage Rites 
 And Barbarous Worship, Altars Horrible 
 On Massive Stones Upreared; Sacred With Blood 
 Of Men Was Every Tree.  If Faith Be Given 
 To Ancient Myth, No Fowl Has Ever Dared 
 To Rest Upon Those Branches, And No Beast 
 Has Made His Lair Beneath: No Tempest Falls, 
 Nor Lightnings Flash Upon It From The     Cloud. 
 Stagnant The     Air, Unmoving, Yet The     Leaves 
 Filled With Mysterious Trembling; Dripped The     Streams 
 From Coal-Black Fountains; Effigies Of     Gods 
 Rude, Scarcely Fashioned From Some Fallen Trunk 
 Held The     Mid Space: And, Pallid With Decay, 
 Their Rotting Shapes Struck Terror.  Thus Do Men 
 Dread Most The     God Unknown.  'Twas Said That Caves 
 Rumbled With Earthquakes, That The     Prostrate Yew 
 Rose Up Again; That Fiery Tongues Of     Flame 
 Gleamed In The     Forest Depths, Yet Were The     Trees 
 Unkindled; And That Snakes In Frequent Folds 
 Were Coiled Around The     Trunks.  Men Flee The     Spot 
 Nor Dare To Worship Near: And E'en The     Priest 
 Or When Bright Phoebus Holds The     Height, Or When 
 Dark Night Controls The     Heavens, In Anxious Dread 
 Draws Near The     Grove And Fears To Find Its Lord. 
   
   
   
 Spared In The     Former War, Still Dense It Rose 
 Where All The     Hills Were Bare, And Caesar Now 
 Its Fall Commanded.  But The     Brawny Arms 
 Which Swayed The     Axes Trembled, And The     Men, 
 Awed By The     Sacred Grove's Dark Majesty, 
 Held Back The     Blow They Thought Would Be Returned. 
 This Caesar Saw, And Swift Within His Grasp 
 Uprose A Ponderous Axe, Which Downward Fell 
 Cleaving A Mighty Oak That Towered To Heaven, 
 While Thus He Spake: "Henceforth Let No Man Dread 
 To Fell This Forest: All The     Crime Is Mine. 
 This Be Your Creed."  He Spake, And All Obeyed, 
 For Caesar's Ire Weighed Down The     Wrath Of     Heaven. 
 Yet Ceased They Not To Fear.  Then First The     Oak, 
 Dodona's Ancient Boast; The     Knotty Holm; 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 52 
 The Cypress, Witness Of     Patrician Grief, 
 The Buoyant Alder, Laid Their Foliage Low 
 Admitting Day; Though Scarcely Through The     Stems 
 Their Fall Found Passage.  At The     Sight The     Gauls 
 Grieved; But The     Garrison Within The     Walls 
 Rejoiced: For Thus Shall Men Insult The     Gods 
 And Find No Punishment?  Yet Fortune Oft 
 Protects The     Guilty; On The     Poor Alone 
 The Gods Can Vent Their Ire.  Enough Hewn Down, 
 They Seize The     Country Wagons; And The     Hind, 
 His Oxen Gone Which Else Had Drawn The     Plough, 
 Mourns For His Harvest. 
   
   
   
                          But The     Eager Chief 
 Impatient Of     The     Combat By The     Walls 
 Carries The     Warfare To The     Furthest West. 
   
   
   
 Meanwhile A Giant Mound, On Star-Shaped Wheels 
 Concealed, They Fashion, Crowned With Double Towers 
 High As The     Battlements, By Cause Unseen 
 Slow Creeping Onwards; While Amazed The     Foe, 
 Beheld, And Thought Some Subterranean Gust 
 Had Burst The     Caverns Of     The     Earth And Forced 
 The Nodding Pile Aloft, And Wondered Sore 
 Their Walls Should Stand Unshaken.  From Its Height 
 Hissed Clown The     Weapons; But The     Grecian Bolts 
 With Greater Force Were On The     Romans Hurled; 
 Nor By The     Arm Unaided, For The     Lance 
 Urged By The     Catapult Resistless Rushed 
 Through Arms And Shield And Flesh, And Left A Death 
 Behind, Nor Stayed Its Course: And Massive Stones 
 Cast By The     Beams Of     Mighty Engines Fell; 
 As From The     Mountain Top Some Time-Worn Rock 
 At Length By Winds Dislodged, In All Its Track 
 Spreads Ruin Vast: Nor Crushed The     Life Alone 
 Forth From The     Body, But Dispersed The     Limbs 
 In Fragments Undistinguished And In Blood. 
 But As Protected By The     Armour Shield 
 The Might Of     Rome Drew Nigh Beneath The     Wall 
 (The Front Rank With Their Bucklers Interlaced 
 And Held Above Their Helms), The     Missiles Fell 
 Behind Their Backs, Nor Could The     Toiling Greeks 
 Deflect Their Engines, Throwing Still The     Bolts 
 Far Into Space; But From The     Rampart Top 
 Flung Ponderous Masses Down.  Long As The     Shields 
 Held Firm Together, Like To Hail That Falls 
 Harmless Upon A Roof, So Long The     Stones 
 Crushed Down Innocuous; But As The     Blows 
 Rained Fierce And Ceaseless And The     Romans Tired, 
 Some Here And There Sank Fainting.  Next The     Roof 
 
 
 
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 Advanced With Earth Besprinkled: Underneath 
 The Ram Conceals His Head, Which, Poised And Swung, 
 They Dash With Mighty Force Upon The     Wall, 
 Covered Themselves With Mantlets.  Though The     Head 
 Light On The     Lower Stones, Yet As The     Shock 
 Falls And Refalls, From Battlement To Base 
 The Rampart Soon Shall Topple.  But By Balks 
 And Rocky Fragments Overwhelmed, And Flames, 
 The Roof At Length Gave Way; And Worn With Toil 
 All Spent In Vain, The     Wearied Troops Withdrew 
 And Sought The     Shelter Of     Their Tents Again. 
   
   
   
 Thus Far To Hold Their Battlements Was All 
 The Greeks Had Hoped; Now, Venturing Attack, 
 With Glittering Torches For Their Arms, By Night 
 Fearless They Sallied Forth: Nor Lance They Bear 
 Nor Deadly Bow, Nor Shaft; For Fire Alone 
 Is Now Their Weapon.  Through The     Roman Works 
 Driven By The     Wind The     Conflagration Spread: 
 Nor Did The     Newness Of     The     Wood Make Pause 
 The Fury Of     The     Flames, Which, Fed Afresh 
 By Living Torches, 'Neath A Smoky Pall 
 Leaped On In Fiery Tongues.  Not Wood Alone 
 But Stones Gigantic Crumbling Into Dust 
 Dissolved Beneath The     Heat; The     Mighty Mound 
 Lay Prone, Yet In Its Ruin Larger Seemed. 
   
   
   
 Next, Conquered On The     Land, Upon The     Main 
 They Try Their Fortunes.  On Their Simple Craft 
 No Painted Figure-Head Adorned The     Bows 
 Nor Claimed Protection From The     Gods; But Rude, 
 Just As They Fell Upon Their Mountain Homes, 
 The Trees Were Knit Together, And The     Deck 
 Gave Steady Foot-Hold For An Ocean Fight. 
   
   
   
 Meantime Had Caesar's Squadron Kept The     Isles 
 Named Stoechades (28), And Brutus (29) Turret Ship 
 Mastered The     Rhone.  Nor Less The     Grecian Host -- 
 Boys Not Yet Grown To War, And Aged Men, 
 Armed For The     Conflict, With Their All At Stake. 
 Nor Only Did They Marshal For The     Fight 
 Ships Meet For Service; But Their Ancient Keels 
 Brought From The     Dockyards.  When The     Morning Rays 
 Broke From The     Waters, And The     Sky Was Clear, 
 And All The     Winds Were Still Upon The     Deep, 
 Smoothed For The     Battle, Swift On Either Part 
 The Fleets Essay The     Open; And The     Ships 
 Tremble Beneath The     Oars That Urge Them On, 
 
 
 
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 By Sinewy Arms Impelled.  Upon The     Wings 
 That Bound The     Roman Fleet, The     Larger Craft 
 With Triple And Quadruple Banks Of     Oars 
 Gird In The     Lesser: So They Front The     Sea; 
 While In Their Rear, Shaped As A Crescent Moon, 
 Liburnian Galleys Follow.  Over All 
 Towers Brutus' Deck Praetorian.  Oars On Oars 
 Propel The     Bulky Vessel Through The     Main, 
 Six Ranks; The     Topmost Strike The     Waves Afar. 
 When Such A Space Remained Between The     Fleets 
 As Could Be Covered By A Single Stroke, 
 Innumerable Voices Rose In Air 
 Drowning With Resonant Din The     Beat Of     Oars 
 And Note Of     Trumpet Summoning: And All 
 Sat On The     Benches And With Mighty Stroke 
 Swept O'er The     Sea And Gained The     Space Between. 
 Then Crashed The     Prows Together, And The     Keels 
 Rebounded Backwards, And Unnumbered Darts 
 Or Darkened All The     Sky Or, In Their Fall, 
 The Vacant Ocean.  As The     Wings Grew Wide, 
 Less Densely Packed The     Fleet, Some Grecian Ships 
 Pressed In Between; As When With West And East 
 The Tide Contends, This Way The     Waves Are Driven 
 And That The     Sea; So As They Plough The     Deep 
 In Various Lines Converging, What The     Prow 
 Throws Up Advancing, From The     Foemen's Oars 
 Falls Back Repelled.  But Soon The     Grecian Fleet 
 Was Handier Found In Battle, And In Flight 
 Pretended, And In Shorter Curves Could Round; 
 More Deftly Governed By The     Guiding Helm: 
 While On The     Roman Side Their Steadier Keels 
 Gave Vantage, As To Men Who Fight On Land. 
 Then Brutus To The     Pilot Of     His Ship: 
 "Dost Suffer Them To Range The     Wider Deep, 
 Contending With The     Foe In Naval Skill? 
 Draw Close The     War And Drive Us On The     Prows 
 Of These Phocaeans."  Him The     Pilot Heard; 
 And Turned His Vessel Slantwise To The     Foe. 
 Then Was The     Sea All Covered With The     War: 
 Then Grecian Ships Attacking Brutus Found 
 Their Ruin In The     Stroke, And Vanquished Lay 
 Beside His Bulwarks; While With Grappling Hooks 
 Others Laid Fast The     Foe, Themselves By Oars 
 Held Back The     While.  And Now No Outstretched Arm 
 Hurls Forth The     Javelin, But Hand To Hand 
 With Swords They Wage The     Fight: Each From His Ship 
 Leans Forward To The     Stroke, And Falls When Slain 
 Upon A Foeman's Deck.  Deep Flows The     Stream 
 Of Purple Slaughter To The     Foamy Main: 
 By Piles Of     Floating Corpses Are The     Sides, 
 Though Grappled, Kept Asunder.  Some, Half Dead, 
 Plunge In The     Ocean, Gulping Down The     Brine 
 Encrimsoned With Their Blood; Some Lingering Still 
 Draw Their Last Struggling Breath Amid The     Wreck 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 55 
 Of Broken Navies: Weapons Which Have Missed 
 Find Yet Their Victims, And The     Falling Steel 
 Fails Not In Middle Deep To Deal The     Wound. 
 One Vessel Circled By Phocaean Keels 
 Divides Her Strength, And On The     Right And Left 
 On Either Side With Equal War Contends; 
 On Whose High Poop While Tagus Fighting Gripped 
 The Stern Phocaean, Pierced His Back And Breast 
 Two Fatal Weapons; In The     Midst The     Steel 
 Meets, And The     Blood, Uncertain Whence To Flow, 
 Stands Still, Arrested, Till With Double Course 
 Forth By A Sudden Gush It Drives Each Dart, 
 And Sends The     Life Abroad Through Either Wound. 
   
   
   
 Here Fated Telon Also Steered His Ship: 
 No Pilot's Hand Upon An Angry Sea 
 More Deftly Ruled A Vessel.  Well He Knew, 
 Or By The     Sun Or Crescent Moon, How Best 
 To Set His Canvas Fitted For The     Breeze 
 To-Morrow's Light Would Bring.  His Rushing Stem 
 Shattered A Roman Vessel: But A Dart 
 Hurled At The     Moment Quivers In His Breast. 
 He Falls, And In The     Fall His Dying Hand 
 Diverts The     Prow.  Then Gyareus, In Act 
 To Climb The     Friendly Deck, By Javelin Pierced, 
 Still As He Hung, By The     Retaining Steel 
 Fast To The     Side Was Nailed. 
                               Twin Brethren Stand 
 A Fruitful Mother's Pride; With Different Fates, 
 But Ne'er Distinguished Till Death's Savage Hand 
 Struck Once, And Ended Error: He That Lived, 
 Cause Of     Fresh Anguish To Their Sorrowing Souls, 
 Called Ever To The     Weeping Parents Back 
 The Image Of     The     Lost: Who, As The     Oars 
 Grecian And Roman Mixed Their Teeth Oblique, 
 Grasped With His Dexter Hand The     Roman Ship; 
 When Fell A Blow That Shore His Arm Away. 
 So Died, Upon The     Side It Held, The     Hand, 
 Nor Loosed Its Grasp In Death.  Yet With The     Wound 
 His Noble Courage Rose, And Maimed He Dared 
 Renew The     Fray, And Stretched Across The     Sea 
 To Grasp The     Lost -- In Vain!  Another Blow 
 Lopped Arm And Hand Alike.  Nor Shield Nor Sword 
 Henceforth Are His.  Yet Even Now He Seeks 
 No Sheltering Hold, But With His Chest Advanced 
 Before His Brother Armed, He Claims The     Fight, 
 And Holding In His Breast The     Darts Which Else 
 Had Slain His Comrades, Pierced With Countless Spears, 
 He Fails In Death Well Earned; Yet Ere His End 
 Collects His Parting Life, And All His Strength 
 Strains To The     Utmost And With Failing Limbs 
 Leaps On The     Foeman's Deck; By Weight Alone 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 56 
 Injurious; For Streaming Down With Gore 
 And Piled On High With Corpses, While Her Sides 
 Sounded To Ceaseless Blows, The     Fated Ship 
 Let In The     Greedy Brine Until Her Ways 
 Were Level With The     Waters -- Then She Plunged 
 In Whirling Eddies Downwards -- And The     Main 
 First Parted, Then Closed In Upon Its Prey. 
   
   
   
 Full Many Wondrous Deaths, With Fates Diverse, 
 Upon The     Sea In That Day's Fight Befell. 
 Caught By A Grappling-Hook That Missed The     Side, 
 Had Lysidas Been Whelmed In Middle Deep; 
 But By His Feet His Comrades Dragged Him Back, 
 And Rent In Twain He Hung; Nor Slowly Flowed 
 As From A Wound The     Blood; But All His Veins (30) 
 Were Torn Asunder And The     Stream Of     Life 
 Gushed O'er His Limbs Till Lost Amid The     Deep. 
 From No Man Dying Has The     Vital Breath 
 Rushed By So Wide A Path; The     Lower Trunk 
 Succumbed To Death, But With The     Lungs And Heart 
 Long Strove The     Fates, And Hardly Won The     Whole. 
   
   
   
 While, Bent Upon The     Fight, An Eager Crew 
 Were Gathered To The     Margin Of     Their Deck 
 (Leaving The     Upper Side As Bare Of     Foes), 
 Their Ship Was Overset.  Beneath The     Keel 
 Which Floated Upwards, Prisoned In The     Sea, 
 And Powerless By Spread Of     Arms To Float 
 The Main, They Perished.  One Who Haply Swam 
 Amid The     Battle, Chanced Upon A Death 
 Strange And Unheard Of; For Two Meeting Prows 
 Transfixed His Body.  At The     Double Stroke 
 Wide Yawned His Chest; Blood Issued From His Mouth 
 With Flesh Commingled; And The     Brazen Beaks 
 Resounding Clashed Together, By The     Bones 
 Unhindered: Now They Part And Through The     Gap 
 Swift Pours The     Sea And Drags The     Corse Below. 
 Next, Of     A Shipwrecked Crew, The     Larger Part 
 Struggling With Death Upon The     Waters, Reached 
 A Comrade Bark; But When With Elbows Raised Do 
 They Seized Upon The     Bulwarks And The     Ship 
 Rolled, Nor Could Bear Their Weight, The     Ruthless Crew 
 Hacked Off Their Straining Arms; Then Maimed They Sank 
 Below The     Seething Waves, To Rise No More. 
   
   
   
 Now Every Dart Was Hurled And Every Spear, 
 The Soldier Weaponless; Yet Their Rage Found Arms: 
 One Hurls An Oar; Another's Brawny Arm 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 57 
 Tugs At The     Twisted Stern; Or From The     Seats 
 The Oarsmen Driving, Swings A Bench In Air. 
 The Ships Are Broken For The     Fight.  They Seize 
 The Fallen Dead And Snatch The     Sword That Slew. 
 Nay, Many From Their Wounds, Frenzied For Arms, 
 Pluck Forth The     Deadly Steel, And Pressing Still 
 Upon Their Yawning Sides, Hurl Forth The     Spear 
 Back To The     Hostile Ranks From Which It Came; 
 Then Ebbs Their Life Blood Forth. 
   
   
   
                                    But Deadlier Yet 
 Was That Fell Force Most Hostile To The     Sea; 
 For, Thrown In Torches And In Sulphurous Bolts 
 Fire All-Consuming Ran Among The     Ships, 
 Whose Oily Timbers Soaked In Pitch And Wax 
 Inflammable, Gave Welcome To The     Flames. 
 Nor Could The     Waves Prevail Against The     Blaze 
 Which Claimed As For Its Own The     Fragments Borne 
 Upon The     Waters.  Lo!  On Burning Plank 
 One Hardly 'Scapes Destruction; One To Save 
 His Flaming Ship, Gives Entrance To The     Main. 
 Of All The     Forms Of     Death Each Fears The     One 
 That Brings Immediate Dying: Yet Quails Not 
 Their Heart In Shipwreck: From The     Waves They Pluck 
 The Fallen Darts And Furnishing The     Ship 
 Essay The     Feeble Stroke; And Should That Hope 
 Still Fail Their Hand, They Call The     Sea To Aid 
 And Seizing In Their Grasp Some Floating Foe 
 Drag Him To Mutual Death. 
   
   
   
                               But On That Day 
 Phoceus Above All Others Proved His Skill. 
 Well Trained Was He To Dive Beneath The     Main 
 And Search The     Waters With Unfailing Eye; 
 And Should An Anchor 'Gainst The     Straining Rope 
 Too Firmly Bite The     Sands, To Wrench It Free. 
 Oft In His Fatal Grasp He Seized A Foe 
 Nor Loosed His Grip Until The     Life Was Gone. 
 Such Was His Frequent Deed; But This His Fate: 
 For Rising, Victor (As He Thought), To Air, 
 Full On A Keel He Struck And Found His Death. 
 Some, Drowning, Seized A Hostile Oar And Checked 
 The Flying Vessel; Not To Die In Vain, 
 Their Single Care; Some On Their Vessel's Side 
 Hanging, In Death, With Wounded Frame Essayed 
 To Check The     Charging Prow. 
   
   
   
                               Tyrrhenus High 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 58 
 Upon The     Bulwarks Of     His Ship Was Struck 
 By Leaden Bolt From Balearic Sling 
 Of Lygdamus; Straight Through His Temples Passed 
 The Fated Missile; And In Streams Of     Blood 
 Forced From Their Seats His Trembling Eyeballs Fell. 
 Plunged In A Darkness As Of     Night, He Thought 
 That Life Had Left Him; Yet Ere Long He Knew 
 The Living Rigour Of     His Limbs; And Cried, 
 "Place Me, O Friends, As Some Machine Of     War 
 Straight Facing Towards The     Foe; Then Shall My Darts 
 Strike As Of     Old; And Thou, Tyrrhenus, Spend 
 Thy Latest Breath, Still Left, Upon The     Fight: 
 So Shalt Thou Play, Not Wholly Dead, The     Part 
 That Fits A Soldier, And The     Spear That Strikes 
 Thy Frame, Shall Miss The     Living."  Thus He Spake, 
 And Hurled His Javelin, Blind, But Not In Vain; 
 For Argus, Generous Youth Of     Noble Blood, 
 Below The     Middle Waist Received The     Spear 
 And Failing Drave It Home.  His Aged Sire 
 From Furthest Portion Of     The     Conquered Ship 
 Beheld; Than Whom In Prime Of     Manhood None, 
 More Brave In Battle: Now No More He Fought, 
 Yet Did The     Memory Of     His Prowess Stir 
 Phocaean Youths To Emulate His Fame. 
 Oft Stumbling O'er The     Benches The     Old Man Hastes 
 To Reach His Boy, And Finds Him Breathing Still. 
 No Tear Bedewed His Cheek, Nor On His Breast 
 One Blow He Struck, But O'er His Eyes There Fell 
 A Dark Impenetrable Veil Of     Mist 
 That Blotted Out The     Day; Nor Could He More 
 Discern His Luckless Argus.  He, Who Saw 
 His Parent, Raising Up His Drooping Head 
 With Parted Lips And Silent Features Asks 
 A Father's Latest Kiss, A Father's Hand 
 To Close His Dying Eyes.  But Soon His Sire, 
 Recovering From His Swoon, When Ruthless Grief 
 Possessed His Spirit, "This Short Space," He Cried, 
 "I Lose Not, Which The     Cruel Gods Have Given, 
 But Die Before Thee.  Grant Thy Sorrowing Sire 
 Forgiveness That He Fled Thy Last Embrace. 
 Not Yet Has Passed Thy Life Blood From The     Wound 
 Nor Yet Is Death Upon Thee -- Still Thou May'st (31) 
 Outlive Thy Parent." Thus He Spake, And Seized 
 The Reeking Sword And Drave It To The     Hilt, 
 Then Plunged Into The     Deep, With Headlong Bound, 
 To Anticipate His Son: For This He Feared 
 A Single Form Of     Death Should Not Suffice. 
   
   
   
 Now Gave The     Fates Their Judgment, And In Doubt 
 No Longer Was The     War: The     Grecian Fleet 
 In Most Part Sunk; -- Some Ships By Romans Oared 
 Conveyed The     Victors Home: In Headlong Flight 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia)   Pg 59 
 Some Sought The     Yards For Shelter.  On The     Strand 
 What Tears Of     Parents For Their Offspring Slain, 
 How Wept The     Mothers!  'Mid The     Pile Confused 
 Ofttimes The     Wife Sought Madly For Her Spouse 
 And Chose For Her Last Kiss Some Roman Slain; 
 While Wretched Fathers By The     Blazing Pyres 
 Fought For The     Dead.  But Brutus Thus At Sea 
 First Gained A Triumph For Great Caesar's Arms. (32) 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia) ( End notes)  Pg 60 
 (1)  Reading Adscenso, As Francken (Leyden, 1896). 
 (2)  So:       "The Rugged Charon Fainted, 
           And Asked A Navy, Rather Than A Boat, 
           To Ferry Over The     Sad World That Came." 
                     (Ben Jonson, "Catiline", Act I., Scene 1.) 
 (3)  I Take "Tepido Busto" As The     Dative Case; And, As Referring 
      To Pompeius, Doomed, Like Cornelia's Former Husband, To 
      Defeat And Death. 
 (4)  It May Be Remarked That, In B.C. 46, Caesar, After The 
      Battle Of     Thapsus, Celebrated Four Triumphs: For His 
      Victories Over The     Gauls, Ptolemaeus, Pharnaces, And Juba. 
 (5)  Near Aricia. (See Book Vi., 92.) 
 (6)  He Held No Office At The     Time. 
 (7)  The     Tribune Ateius Met Crassus As He Was Setting Out From 
      Rome And Denounced Him With Mysterious And Ancient Curses. 
      (Plutarch, "Crassus", 16.) 
 (8)  That Is, The     Liberty Remaining To The     People Is Destroyed By 
      Speaking Freely To The     Tyrant. 
 (9)  That Is, The     Gold Offered By Pyrrhus, And Refused By 
      Fabricius, Which, After The     Final Defeat Of     Pyrrhus, Came 
      Into The     Possession Of     The     Victors. 
 (10) See Plutarch, "Cato", 34, 39. 
 (11) It Was Generally Believed That The     River Alpheus Of     The 
      Peloponnesus Passed Under The     Sea And Reappeared In The 
      Fountain Of     Arethusa At Syracuse.  A Goblet Was Said To Have 
      Been Thrown Into The     River In Greece, And To Have Reappeared 
      In The     Sicilian Fountain.  See The     Note In Grote's "History 
      Of     Greece", Edition 1863, Vol. Ii., P. 8.) 
 (12) As A Serpent. Xxxxx Is The     Greek Word For Serpent. 
 (13) Conf. Book Vi., 473. 
 (14) The     Centaurs. 
 (15) Probably The     Flute Thrown Away By Pallas, Which Marsyas 
      Picked Up And Then Challenged Apollo To A Musical Contest. 
      For His Presumption The     God Had Him Flayed Alive. 
 (16) That Is, The     Little Bear, By Which The     Phoenicians Steered, 
      While The     Greeks Steered By The     Great Bear.  (See Sir G. 
      Lewis's "Astronomy Of     The     Ancients", P. 447.)  In Book Vi., 
      Line 193, The     Pilot Declares That He Steers By The     Pole Star 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia) ( End notes)  Pg 61 
      Itself, Which Is Much Nearer To The     Little Than To The     Great 
      Bear, And Is (I Believe) Reckoned As One Of     The     Stars 
      Forming The     Group Known By That Name.  He May Have Been A 
      Phoenician. 
 (17) He Did Not In Fact Reach The     Ganges, As Is Well Known. 
 (18) Perhaps In Allusion To The     Embassy From India To Augustus In 
      B.C. 19, When Zarmanochanus, An Indian Sage, Declaring That 
      He Had Lived In Happiness And Would Not Risk The     Chance Of     A 
      Reverse, Burnt Himself Publicly.  (Merivale, Chapter Xxxiv.) 
 (19) That Is To Say, Looking Towards The     West; Meaning That They 
      Came From The     Other Side Of     The     Equator. (See Book Ix., 
      630.) 
 (20) See Book I., 117. 
 (21) A Race Called Heniochi, Said To Be Descended From The 
      Charioteer Of     Castor And Pollux. 
 (22) "Effusis Telis".  I Have So Taken This Difficult Expression. 
      Herodotus (7, 60) Says The     Men Were Numbered In Ten 
      Thousands By Being Packed Close Together And Having A Circle 
      Drawn Round Them.  After The     First Ten Thousand Had Been So 
      Measured A Fence Was Put Where The     Circle Had Been, And The 
      Subsequent Ten Thousands Were Driven Into The     Enclosure.  It 
      Is Not Unlikely That They Piled Their Weapons Before Being 
      So Measured, And Lucan's Account Would Then Be Made To Agree 
      With That Of     Herodotus.  Francken, On The     Other Hand, Quotes 
      A Scholiast, Who Says That Each Hundredth Man Shot Off An 
      Arrow. 
 (23) Agamemnon. 
 (24) Massilia (Marseilles) Was Founded From Phocaea In Asia Minor 
      About 600 B.C.  Lucan (Line 393) Appears To Think That The 
      Founders Were Fugitives From Their City When It Was Stormed 
      By The     Persians Sixty Years Later.  See Thucydides I. 13; 
      Grote, "History Of     Greece", Chapter Xxii. 
 (25) A Difficult Passage, Of     Which This Seems To Be The     Meaning 
      Least Free From Objection. 
 (26) Murviedro Of     The     Present Day.  Its Gallant Defence Against 
      Hannibal Has Been Compared To That Of     Saragossa Against The 
      French. 
 (27) See Note To Book I., 506. 
 (28) Three Islands Off The     Coast Near Toulon, Now Called The 
      Isles D'hyeres. 
 (29) This Was Decimus Brutus, An Able And Trusted Lieutenant Of 
      Caesar, Who Made Him One Of     His Heirs In The     Second Degree. 
      He, However, Joined The     Conspiracy, And It Was He Who On The 
      Day Of     The     Murder Induced Caesar To Go To The     Senate House. 
      Less Than Two Years Later, After The     Siege Of     Perasia, He 
      Was Deserted By His Army, Taken And Put To Death. 
 (30) According To Some These Were The     Lines Which Lucan Recited 
      While Bleeding To Death; According To Others, Those At Book 
      Ix., Line 952. 
 (31) It Was Regarded As The     Greatest Of     Misfortunes If A Child 
      Died Before His Parent. 
 (32) It Was Brutus Who Gained The     Naval Victory Over The     Veneti 
      Some Seven Years Before; The     First Naval Fight, That We Know 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 3 (Massilia) ( End notes)  Pg 62 
      Of, Fought In The     Atlantic Ocean. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 63 
 But In The     Distant Regions Of     The     Earth 
 Fierce Caesar Warring, Though In Fight He Dealt 
 No Baneful Slaughter, Hastened On The     Doom 
 To Swift Fulfillment.  There On Magnus' Side 
 Afranius And Petreius (1) Held Command, 
 Who Ruled Alternate, And The     Rampart Guard 
 Obeyed The     Standard Of     Each Chief In Turn. 
 There With The     Romans In The     Camp Were Joined 
 Asturians (2) 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 Ascends 
 And Forms A Modest Hill, Ilerda (3) Stands, 
 Founded In Ancient Days; Beside Her Glides 
 Not Least Of     Western Rivers, Sicoris 
 Of Placid Current, By A Mighty Arch 
 Of Stone O'erspanned, Which Not The     Winter Floods 
 Shall Overwhelm.  Upon A Rock Hard By 
 Was Magnus' Camp; But Caesar's On A Hill, 
 Rivalling The     First; And In The     Midst A Stream. 
 Here Boundless Plains Are Spread Beyond The     Range 
 Of Human Vision; Cinga Girds Them In 
 With Greedy Waves; Forbidden To Contend 
 With Tides Of     Ocean; For That Larger Flood 
 Who Names The     Land, Iberus, Sweeps Along 
 The Lesser Stream Commingled With His Own. 
   
   
   
 Guiltless Of     War, The     First Day Saw The     Hosts 
 In Long Array Confronted; Standard Rose 
 Opposing Standard, Numberless; Yet None 
 Essayed Attack, In Shame Of     Impious Strife. 
 One Day They Gave Their Country And Her Laws. 
 But Caesar, When From Heaven Fell The     Night, 
 Drew Round A Hasty Trench; His Foremost Rank 
 With Close Array Concealing Those Who Wrought. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 64 
 Then With The     Morn He Bids Them Seize The     Hill 
 Which Parted From The     Camp Ilerda's Walls, 
 And Gave Them Safety.  But In Fear And Shame 
 On Rushed The     Foe And Seized The     Vantage Ground, 
 First In The     Onset.  From The     Height They Held 
 Their Hopes Of     Conquest; But To Caesar's Men 
 Their Hearts By Courage Stirred, And Their Good Swords 
 Promised The     Victory.  Burdened Up The     Ridge 
 The Soldier Climbed, And From The     Opposing Steep 
 But For His Comrade's Shield Had Fallen Back; 
 None Had The     Space To Hurl The     Quivering Lance 
 Upon The     Foeman: Spear And Pike Made Sure 
 The Failing Foothold, And The     Falchion's Edge 
 Hewed Out Their Upward Path.  But Caesar Saw 
 Ruin Impending, And He Bade His Horse 
 By 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     Year 
 Governed 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 Nipped 
 With Snow Unmelted, And The     Lower Plains 
 By Frosts That Fled Before The     Rising Sun; 
 And All The     Lands That Stretched Towards The     Sky 
 Which Whelms The     Sinking Stars, 'Neath Wintry Heavens 
 Were Parched And Arid.  But When Titan Neared 
 The Ram, Who, Backward Gazing On The     Stars, 
 Bore Perished Helle, (4) And The     Hours Were Held 
 In Juster Balance, And The     Day Prevailed, 
 The Earliest Faded Moon Which In The     Vault 
 Hung With Uncertain Horn, From Eastern Winds 
 Received A Fiery Radiance; Whose Blasts 
 Forced Boreas Back: And Breaking On The     Mists 
 Within His Regions, To The     Occident 
 Drave All That Shroud Arabia And The     Land 
 Of Ganges; All That Or By Caurus (5) Borne 
 Bedim The     Orient Sky, Or Rising Suns 
 Permit To Gather; Pitiless Flamed The     Day 
 Behind Them, While In Front The     Wide Expanse 
 Was Driven; Nor On Mid Earth Sank The     Clouds 
 Though Weighed With Vapour.  North And South Alike 
 Were Showerless, For On Calpe's Rock Alone 
 All Moisture Gathered; Here At Last, Forbidden 
 To Pass That Sea By Zephyr's Bounds Contained, 
 And By The     Furthest Belt (6) Of     Heaven, They Pause, 
 In Masses Huge Convolved; The     Widest Breadth 
 Of Murky Air Scarce Holds Them, Which Divides 
 Earth From The     Heavens; Till Pressed By Weight Of     Sky 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 65 
 In Densest Volume To The     Earth They Pour 
 Their Cataracts; No Lightning Could Endure 
 Such Storm Unquenched: Though Oft Athwart The     Gloom 
 Gleamed Its Pale Fire.  Meanwhile A Watery Arch 
 Scarce Touched With Colour, In Imperfect Shape 
 Embraced The     Sky And Drank The     Ocean Waves, 
 So Rendering To The     Clouds Their Flood Outpoured. 
   
   
   
 And Now Were Thawed The     Pyrenaean Snows 
 Which Titan Had Not Conquered; All The     Rocks 
 Were Wet With Melting Ice; Accustomed Springs 
 Found Not Discharge; And From The     Very Banks 
 Each Stream Received A Torrent.  Caesar's Arms 
 Are Shipwrecked On The     Field, His Tottering Camp 
 Swims On The     Rising Flood; The     Trench Is Filled 
 With Whirling Waters; And The     Plain No More 
 Yields 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 Blockades 
 The Soldier Hungers; Fortunes Buy Not Now 
 The Meanest Measure; Yet, Alas!  Is Found 
 The Fasting Peasant, Who, In Gain Of     Gold, 
 Will Sell His Little All!  And Now The     Hills 
 Are Seen No More; And Rivers Whelmed In One; 
 Beasts With Their Homes Sweep Downwards; And The     Tide 
 Repels The     Foaming Torrent.  Nor Did Night 
 Acknowledge Phoebus' Rise, For All The     Sky 
 Felt Her Dominion And Obscured Its Face, 
 And Darkness Joined With Darkness.  Thus Doth Lie 
 The Lowest Earth Beneath The     Snowy Zone 
 And Never-Ending Winters, Where The     Sky 
 Is Starless Ever, And No Growth Of     Herb 
 Sprouts From The     Frozen Earth; But Standing Ice 
 Tempers (7) The     Stars Which In The     Middle Zone 
 Kindle Their Flames.  Thus, Father Of     The     World, 
 And Thou, Trident-God Who Rul'st The     Sea 
 Second In Place, Neptunus, Load The     Air 
 With Clouds Continual; Forbid The     Tide, 
 Once Risen, To Return: Forced By Thy Waves 
 Let Rivers Backward Run In Different Course, 
 Thy Shores No Longer Reaching; And The     Earth, 
 Shaken, Make Way For Floods.  Let Rhine O'erflow 
 And Rhone Their Banks; Let Torrents Spread Afield 
 Unmeasured Waters: Melt Rhipaean Snows: 
 Spread Lakes Upon The     Land, And Seas Profound, 
 And Snatch The     Groaning World From Civil War. 
   
   
   
 Thus For A Little Moment Fortune Tried 
 Her Darling Son; Then Smiling To His Part 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 66 
 Returned; And Gained Her Pardon For The     Past 
 By Greater Gifts To Come.  For Now The     Air 
 Had Grown More Clear, And Phoebus' Warmer Rays 
 Coped With The     Flood And Scattered All The     Clouds 
 In Fleecy Masses; And The     Reddening East 
 Proclaimed The     Coming Day; The     Land Resumed 
 Its Ancient Marks; No More In Middle Air 
 The Moisture Hung, But From About The     Stars 
 Sank To The     Depths; The     Forest Glad Upreared 
 Its Foliage; Hills Again Emerged To View 
 And 'Neath The     Warmth Of     Day The     Plains Grew Firm. 
   
   
   
 When Sicoris Kept His Banks, The     Shallop Light 
 Of Hoary Willow Bark They Build, Which Bent 
 On Hides Of     Oxen, Bore The     Weight Of     Man 
 And Swam The     Torrent.  Thus On Sluggish Po 
 Venetians Float; And On Th' Encircling Sea (8) 
 Are Borne Britannia's Nations; And When Nile 
 Fills All The     Land, Are Memphis' Thirsty Reeds 
 Shaped Into Fragile Boats That Swim His Waves. 
 The Further Bank Thus Gained, They Haste To Curve 
 The Fallen Forest, And To Form The     Arch 
 By Which Imperious Sicoris Shall Be Spanned. 
 Yet Fearing He Might Rise In Wrath Anew, 
 Not On The     Nearest Marge They Placed The     Beams, 
 But In Mid-Field.  Thus The     Presumptuous Stream 
 They Tame With Chastisement, Parting His Flood 
 In Devious Channels Out; And Curb His Pride. 
   
   
   
 Petreius, When He Saw That Caesar's Fates 
 Swept All Before Them, Left Ilerda's Steep, 
 His Trust No Longer In The     Roman World; 
 And Sought For Strength Amid Those Distant Tribes, 
 Who, Loving Death, Rush In Upon The     Foe, (9) 
 And Win Their Conquests At The     Point Of     Sword. 
 But In The     Dawn, When Caesar Saw The     Camp 
 Stand Empty On The     Hill, "To Arms!" He Cried: 
 "Seek Not The     Bridge Nor Ford: Plunge In The     Stream 
 And Breast The     Foaming Torrent."  Then Did Hope 
 Of Coming Battle Find For Them A Way 
 Which They Had Shunned In Flight. 
   
   
   
                                    Their Arms Regained, 
 Their Streaming Limbs They Cherished Till The     Blood 
 Coursed In Their Veins; Until The     Shadows Fell 
 Short On The     Sward, And Day Was At The     Height. 
 Then Dashed The     Horsemen On, And Held The     Foe 
 'Twixt Flight And Battle.  In The     Plain Arose 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 67 
 Two Rocky Heights: From Each A Loftier Ridge 
 Of Hills Ranged Onwards, Sheltering In Their Midst 
 A Hollow Vale, Whose Deep And Winding Paths 
 Were Safe From Warfare; Which, When Caesar Saw: 
 That If Petreius Held, The     War Must Pass 
 To Lands Remote By Savage Tribes Possessed; 
 "Speed On," He Cried, "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     Pass 
 And Place Their Camp.  Short Was The     Span Between 
 Th' Opposing Sentinels; With Eager Eyes 
 Undimmed By Space, They Gazed On Brothers, Sons, 
 Or Friends And Fathers; And Within Their Souls 
 They Grasped The     Impious Horror Of     The     War. 
 Yet For A Little While No Voice Was Heard, 
 For Fear Restrained; By Waving Blade Alone 
 Or Gesture, Spake They; But Their Passion Grew, 
 And Broke All Discipline; And Soon They Leaped 
 The Hostile Rampart; Every Hand Outstretched (10) 
 Embraced The     Hand Of     Foeman, Palm In Palm; 
 One Calls By Name His Neighhour, One His Host, 
 Another With His Schoolmate Talks Again 
 Of Olden Studies: He Who In The     Camp 
 Found Not A Comrade, Was No Son Of     Rome. 
 Wet Are Their Arms With Tears, And Sobs Break In 
 Upon Their Kisses; Each, Unstained By Blood, 
 Dreads What He Might Have Done.  Why Beat Thy Breast? 
 Why, Madman, Weep?  The     Guilt Is Thine Alone 
 To Do Or To Abstain.  Dost Fear The     Man 
 Who Takes His Title To Be Feared From Thee? 
 When Caesar's Trumpets Sound The     Call To Arms 
 Heed Not The     Summons; When Thou Seest Advance 
 His Standards, Halt.  The     Civil Fury Thus 
 Shall Fold Her Wings; And In A Private Robe 
 Caesar Shall Love His Kinsman. 
   
   
   
                                    Holy Peace 
 That Sway'st The     World; Thou Whose Eternal Bands 
 Sustain The     Order Of     Material Things, 
 Come, Gentle Concord! (11) These Our Times Do Now 
 For Good Or Evil Destiny Control 
 The 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     Gods 
 Making More Black The     Hideous Guilt To Come! 
   
   
   
 Now All Was Peaceful, And In Either Camp 
 Sweet Converse Held The     Soldiers; On The     Grass 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 68 
 They Place The     Meal; On Altars Built Of     Turf 
 Pour Out Libations From The     Mingled Cup; 
 On Mutual Couch With Stories Of     Their Fights, 
 They Wile The     Sleepless Hours In Talk Away; 
 "Where Stood The     Ranks Arrayed, From Whose Right Hand 
 The Quivering Lance Was Sped:" And While They Boast 
 Or Challenge, Deeds Of     Prowess In The     War, 
 Faith Was Renewed And Trust.  Thus Made The     Fates 
 Their Doom Complete, And All The     Crimes To Be; 
 Grew With Their Love. 
   
   
   
                          For When Petreius Knew 
 The Treaties Made; Himself And All His Camp 
 Sold To The     Foe; He Stirs His Guard To Work 
 An Impious Slaughter: The     Defenceless Foe 
 Flings Headlong Forth: And Parts The     Fond Embrace 
 By 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? (12) 
 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 For Dishonourable Peace 
 Could Thus Be Bought.  The     Foe Are Pledged To Fight 
 By Their Own Guilt.  But You, Who Still Might Hope 
 For Pardon If Defeated -- What Can Match 
 Your Deep Dishonour?  Shame Upon Your Peace. 
 Thou Callest, Magnus, Ignorant Of     Fate, 
 From All The     World Thy Powers, And Dost Entreat 
 Monarchs Of     Distant Realms, While Haply Here 
 We In Our Treaties Bargain For Thy Life!" 
   
   
   
 Thus Did He Stir Their Minds And Rouse Anew 
 The Love Of     Impious Battle.  So When Beasts 
 Grown Strange To Forests, Long Confined In Dens, 
 Their Fierceness Lose, And Learn To Bear With Man; 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 69 
 Once Should They Taste Of     Blood, Their Thirsty Jaws 
 Swell At The     Touch, And All The     Ancient Rage 
 Comes Back Upon Them Till They Hardly Spare 
 Their Keeper.  Thus They Rush On Every Crime: 
 And Blows Which Dealt At Chance, And In The     Night 
 Of Battle, Had Brought Hatred On The     Gods, 
 Though Blindly Struck, Their Recent Vows Of     Love 
 Made Monstrous, Horrid.  Where They Lately Spread 
 The Mutual Couch And Banquet, And Embraced 
 Some New-Found Friend, Now Falls The     Fatal Blow 
 Upon The     Self-Same Breast; And Though At First 
 Groaning At The     Fell Chance, They Drew The     Sword; 
 Hate Rises As They Strike, The     Murderous Arm 
 Confirms The     Doubtful Will: With Monstrous Joy 
 Through The     Wild Camp They Smite Their Kinsmen Down; 
 And Carnage Raged Unchecked; And Each Man Strove, 
 Proud Of     His Crime, Before His Leader's Face 
 To Prove His Shamelessness Of     Guilt. 
   
   
   
                                         But Thou, 
 Caesar, Though Losing Of     Thy Best, Dost Know 
 The Gods Do Favour Thee.  Thessalian Fields 
 Gave Thee No Better Fortune, Nor The     Waves 
 That Lave Massilia; Nor On Pharos' Main 
 Didst Thou So Triumph.  By This Crime Alone 
 Thou From This Moment Of     The     Better Cause 
 Shalt Be The     Captain. 
   
   
   
                          Since The     Troops Were Stained 
 With Foulest Slaughter Thus, Their Leaders Shunned 
 All Camps With Caesar's Joined, And Sought Again 
 Ilerda's Lofty Walls; But Caesar's Horse 
 Seized On The     Plain And Forced Them To The     Hills 
 Reluctant.  There By Steepest Trench Shut In, 
 He Cuts Them From The     River, Nor Permits 
 Their 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     Steeds 
 Now 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, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 70 
 Nor Heed Our Blows.  But Let This Frenzy Pass, 
 This Madman Onset; Let The     Wish For Death 
 Die In Their Souls."  Thus To Its Embers Shrank 
 The Fire Within When Battle Was Denied, 
 And Fainter Grew Their Rage Until The     Night 
 Drew Down Her Starry Veil And Sank The     Sun. 
 Thus Keener Fights The     Gladiator Whose Wound 
 Is Recent, While The     Blood Within The     Veins 
 Still Gives The     Sinews Motion, Ere The     Skin 
 Shrinks On The     Bones: But As The     Victor Stands 
 His Fatal Thrust Achieved, And Points The     Blade 
 Unfaltering, Watching For The     End, There Creeps 
 Torpor Upon The     Limbs, The     Blood Congeals 
 About The     Gash, More Faintly Throbs The     Heart, 
 And Slowly Fading, Ebbs The     Life Away. 
   
   
   
 Raving For Water Now They Dig The     Plains 
 Seeking For Hidden Fountains, Not With Spade 
 And 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 Wretch 
 Who Tears The     Bowels Of     The     Earth For Gold. 
 Yet Neither Riven Stones Revealed A Spring, 
 Nor Streamlet Whispered From Its Hidden Source; 
 To Water Trickled On The     Gravel Bed, 
 Nor Dripped Within The     Cavern.  Worn At Length 
 With Labour Huge, They Crawl To Light Again, 
 After Such Toil To Fall To Thirst And Heat 
 The Readier Victims: This Was All They Won. 
 All Food They Loathe; And 'Gainst Their Deadly Thirst 
 Call Famine To Their Aid.  Damp Clods Of     Earth 
 They Squeeze Upon Their Mouths With Straining Hands. 
 Where'er On Foulest Mud Some Stagnant Slime 
 Or Moisture Lies, Though Doomed To Die They Lap 
 With Greedy Tongues The     Draught Their Lips Had Loathed 
 Had Life Been Theirs To Choose.  Beast-Like They Drain 
 The Swollen Udder, And Where Milk Was Not, 
 They Sucked The     Life-Blood Forth.  From Herbs And Boughs 
 Dripping With Dew, From Tender Shoots They Pressed, 
 Say, From The     Pith Of     Trees, The     Juice Within. 
   
   
   
 Happy The     Host That Onward Marching Finds 
 Its Savage Enemy Has Fouled The     Wells 
 With Murderous Venom; Had'st Thou, Caesar, Cast 
 The Reeking Filth Of     Shambles In The     Stream, 
 And Henbane Dire And All The     Poisonous Herbs 
 That Lurk On Cretan Slopes, Still Had They Drunk 
 The Fatal Waters, Rather Than Endure 
 Such Lingering Agony.  Their Bowels Racked 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 71 
 With Torments As Of     Flame; The     Swollen Tongue 
 And Jaws Now Parched And Rigid, And The     Veins; 
 Each Laboured Breath With Anguish From The     Lungs 
 Enfeebled, Moistureless, Was Scarcely Drawn, 
 And Scarce Again Returned; And Yet Agape, 
 Their Panting Mouths Sucked In The     Nightly Dew; 
 They Watch For Showers From Heaven, And In Despair 
 Gaze On The     Clouds, Whence Lately Poured A Flood. 
 Nor Were Their Tortures Less That Meroe 
 Saw 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. 
   
   
   
 But Now Their Leaders Yield; Afranius, 
 Vanquished, Throws Down His Arms, And Leads His Troops, 
 Now Hardly Living, To The     Hostile Camp 
 Before The     Victor's Feet, And Sues For Peace. 
 Proud Was His Bearing, And Despite Of     Ills, 
 His Mien Majestic, Of     His Triumphs Past 
 Still Mindful In Disaster -- Thus He Stood, 
 Though Suppliant For Grace, A Leader Yet; 
 From Fearless Heart Thus Speaking: "Had The     Fates 
 Thrown Me Before Some Base Ignoble Foe, 
 Not, Caesar, Thee; Still Had This Arm Fought On 
 And Snatched My Death.  Now If I Suppliant Ask, 
 'Tis That I Value Still The     Boon Of     Life 
 Given 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 Will 
 We 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 Forgive 
 Aught 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 Ranks 
   
   
   
 Should Mix With Ours, The     Vanquished.  Destiny 
 Has Run For Us Its Course: One Boon I Beg; 
 Bid Not The     Conquered Conquer In Thy Train." 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 72 
 Such Were His Words, And Caesar's Gracious Smile 
 Granted His Prayer, Remitting Rights That War 
 Gives To The     Victor.  To Th' Unguarded Stream 
 The Soldiers Speed: Prone On The     Bank They Lie 
 And Lap The     Flood Or Foul The     Crowded Waves. 
 In Many A Burning Throat The     Sudden Draught 
 Poured In Too Copious, Filled The     Empty Veins 
 And Choked The     Breath Within: Yet Left Unquenched 
 The 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 Sea 
 To Furnish Forth The     Banquet!  Pride That Joy'st 
 In Sumptuous Tables!  Learn What Life Requires, 
 How Little Nature Needs!  No Ruddy Juice 
 Pressed From The     Vintage In Some Famous Year, 
 Whose Consuls Are Forgotten, Served In Cups 
 With Gold And Jewels Wrought Restores The     Spark, 
 The Failing Spark, Of     Life; But Water Pure 
 And Simplest Fruits Of     Earth.  The     Flood, The     Field 
 Suffice For Nature.  Ah!  The     Weary Lot 
 Of Those Who War!  But These, Their Amour Laid 
 Low 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     Dart 
 With 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 Whom 
 A Thousand Risks And Battles Still Remain; 
 If Fortune Never Is To Leave His Side, 
 How Often Must He Triumph!  And How Oft 
 Pour Out His Blood Where'er Great Caesar Leads! 
 Happy, Thrice Happy, He Who, When The     World 
 Is Nodding To Its Ruin, Knows The     Spot 
 Where He Himself Shall, Though In Ruin, Lie! 
 No Trumpet Call Shall Break His Sleep Again: 
 But In His Humble Home With Faithful Spouse 
 And Sons Unlettered Fortune Leaves Him Free 
 From Rage Of     Party; For If Life He Owes 
 To Caesar, Magnus Sometime Was His Lord. 
 Thus Happy They Alone Live On Apart, 
 Nor Hope Nor Dread The     Event Of     Civil War. 
   
   
   
 Not Thus Did Fortune Upon Caesar Smile 
 In All The     Parts Of     Earth; (13) But 'Gainst His Arms 
 Dared Somewhat, Where Salona's Lengthy Waste 
 Opposes Hadria, And Iadar Warm 
 Meets With His Waves The     Breezes Of     The     West. 
 There Brave Curectae Dwell, Whose Island Home 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 73 
 Is Girded By The     Main; On Whom Relied 
 Antonius; 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; But His Troops 
 Gnawed The     Dry Herbage Of     The     Scanty Turf 
 Within Their Rampart Lines.  But When They Knew 
 That Baslus Was On Th' Opposing Shore 
 With Friendly Force, By Novel Mode Of     Flight 
 They Aim To Reach Him.  Not The     Accustomed Keel 
 They Lay, Nor Build The     Ship, But Shapeless Rafts 
 Of Timbers Knit Together, Strong To Bear 
 All Ponderous Weight; On Empty Casks Beneath 
 By Tightened Chains Made Firm, In Double Rows 
 Supported; Nor Upon The     Deck Were Placed 
 The Oarsmen, To The     Hostile Dart Exposed, 
 But In A Hidden Space, By Beams Concealed. 
 And Thus The     Eye Amazed Beheld The     Mass 
 Move Silent On Its Path Across The     Sea, 
 By Neither Sail Nor Stalwart Arm Propelled. 
   
   
   
 They Watch The     Main Until The     Refluent Waves 
 Ebb From The     Growing Sands; Then, On The     Tide 
 Receding, Launch Their Vessel; Thus She Floats 
 With Twin Companions: Over Each Uprose 
 With Quivering Battlements A Lofty Tower. 
 Octavius, Guardian Of     Illyrian Seas, 
 Restrained His Swifter Keels, And Left The     Rafts 
 Free From Attack, In Hope Of     Larger Spoil 
 From Fresh Adventures; For The     Peaceful Sea 
 May Tempt Them, And Their Goal In Safety Reached, 
 To Dare A Second Voyage.  Round The     Stag 
 Thus Will The     Cunning Hunter Draw A Line 
 Of Tainted Feathers Poisoning The     Air; 
 Or Spread The     Mesh, And Muzzle In His Grasp 
 The Straining Jaws Of     The     Molossian Hound, 
 And Leash The     Spartan Pack; Nor Is The     Brake 
 Trusted To Any Dog But Such As Tracks 
 The Scent With Lowered Nostrils, And Refrains 
 From Giving Tongue The     While; Content To Mark 
 By Shaking Leash The     Covert Of     The     Prey. 
   
   
   
 Ere Long They Manned The     Rafts In Eager Wish 
 To Quit The     Island, When The     Latest Glow 
 Still Parted Day From Night.  But Magnus' Troops, 
 Cilician Once, Taught By Their Ancient Art, 
 In Fraudulent Deceit Had Left The     Sea 
 To View Unguarded; But With Chains Unseen 
 Fast To Illyrian Shores, And Hanging Loose, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 74 
 They Blocked The     Outlet In The     Waves Beneath. 
 The Leading Rafts Passed Safely, But The     Third 
 Hung In Mid Passage, And By Ropes Was Hauled 
 Below O'ershadowing Rocks.  These Hollowed Out 
 In Ponderous Masses Overhung The     Main, 
 And Nodding Seemed To Fall: Shadowed By Trees 
 Dark Lay The     Waves Beneath.  Hither The     Tide 
 Brings Wreck And Corpse, And, Burying With The     Flow, 
 Restores Them With The     Ebb: And When The     Caves 
 Belch Forth The     Ocean, Swirling Billows Fall 
 In Boisterous Surges Back, As Boils The     Tide 
 In That Famed Whirlpool On Sicilian Shores. 
   
   
   
 Here, With Venetian Settlers For Its Load, 
 Stood Motionless The     Raft.  Octavius' Ships 
 Gathered Around, While Foemen On The     Land 
 Filled All The     Shore.  But Well The     Captain Knew, 
 Volteius, How The     Secret Fraud Was Planned, 
 And Tried In Vain With Sword And Steel To Burst 
 The Bands That Held Them; Without Hope He Fights, 
 Uncertain Where To Avoid Or Front The     Foe. 
 Caught In This Strait They Strove As Brave Men Should 
 Against Opposing Hosts; Nor Long The     Fight, 
 For Fallen Darkness Brought A Truce To Arms. 
   
   
   
 Then To His Men Disheartened And In Fear 
 Of 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 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 75 
 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 Alone Whose End 
 Inspires Them, Know The     Happiness Of     Death, 
 Which The     High Gods, That Men May Bear To Live, 
 Keep Hid From Others."  Thus His Noble Words 
 Warmed His Brave Comrades' Hearts; And Who With Fear 
 And Tearful Eyes Had Looked Upon The     Wain, 
 Turning His Nightly Course, Now Hoped For Day, 
 Such Precepts Deep Within Them.  Nor Delayed 
 The Sky To Dip The     Stars Below The     Main; 
 For Phoebus In The     Twins His Chariot Drave 
 At Noon Near Cancer; And The     Hours Of     Night (14) 
 Were Shortened By The     Archer. 
   
   
   
                                    When Day Broke, 
 Lo!  On The     Rocks The     Istrians; While The     Sea 
 Swarmed With The     Galleys And Their Grecian Fleet 
 All Armed For Fight: But First The     War Was Stayed 
 And Terms Proposed: Life To The     Foe They Thought 
 Would Seem The     Sweeter, By Delay Of     Death 
 Thus Granted.  But The     Band Devoted Stood, 
 Proud Of     Their Promised End, And Life Forsworn, 
 And Careless Of     The     Battle: No Debate 
 Could Shake Their High Resolve. (15)  In Numbers Few 
 'Gainst Foemen Numberless By Land And Sea, 
 They Wage The     Desperate Fight; Then Satiate 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 76 
 Turn From The     Foe.  And First Demanding Death 
 Volteius 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 Side 
 Plunge Blades Uncounted On The     Moment Drawn. 
 He Praises All: But Him Who Struck The     First 
 Grateful, With Dying Strength, He Does To Death. 
 They Rush Together, And Without A Foe 
 Work All The     Guilt Of     Battle.  Thus Of     Yore, 
 Rose Up The     Glittering Dircaean Band 
 From 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 Inflamed 
 By Magic Incantations, With Their Blood 
 Deluged The     Monstrous Furrow, While The     Queen 
 Feared At The     Spells She Wrought.  Devoted Thus 
 To Death, They Fall, Yet In Their Death Itself 
 Less Valour Show Than In The     Fatal Wounds 
 They Take And Give; For E'en The     Dying Hand 
 Missed Not A Blow -- Nor Did The     Stroke Alone 
 Inflict The     Wound, But Rushing On The     Sword 
 Their Throat Or Breast Received It To The     Hilt; 
 And When By Fatal Chance Or Sire With Son, 
 Or Brothers Met, Yet With Unfaltering Weight 
 Down Flashed The     Pitiless Sword: This Proved Their Love, 
 To Give No Second Blow.  Half Living Now 
 They Dragged Their Mangled Bodies To The     Side, 
 Whence Flowed Into The     Sea A Crimson Stream 
 Of Slaughter.  'Twas Their Pleasure Yet To See 
 The Light They Scorned; With Haughty Looks To Scan 
 The Faces Of     Their Victors, And To Feel 
 The Death Approaching.  But The     Raft Was Now 
 Piled Up With Dead; Which, When The     Foemen Saw, 
 Wondering At Such A Chief And Such A Deed, 
 They Gave Them Burial.  Never Through The     World 
 Of Any Brave Achievement Was The     Fame 
 More Widely Blazed.  Yet Meaner Men, Untaught 
 By Such Examples, See Not That The     Hand 
 Which Frees From Slavery Needs No Valiant Mind 
 To Guide The     Stroke.  But Tyranny Is Feared 
 As Dealing Death; And Freedom's Self Is Galled 
 By Ruthless Arms; And Knows Not That The     Sword 
 Was Given For This, That None Need Live A Slave. 
 Ah Death!  Would'st Thou But Let The     Coward Live 
 And Grant The     Brave Alone The     Prize To Die! 
   
   
   
 Nor Less Were Libyan Fields Ablaze With War. 
 For Curio Rash From Lilybaean (16) Coast 
 Sailed With His Fleet, And Borne By Gentle Winds 
 Betwixt Half-Ruined Carthage, Mighty Once, 
 And Clupea's Cliff, Upon The     Well-Known Shore 
 
 
 
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 His Anchors Dropped.  First From The     Hoary Sea 
 Remote, Where Bagra Slowly Ploughs The     Sand, 
 He Placed His Camp: Then Sought The     Further Hills 
 And Mazy Passages Of     Cavernous Rocks, 
 Antaeus' Kingdom Called.  From Ancient Days 
 This Name Was Given; And Thus A Swain Retold 
 The Story Handed Down From Sire To Son: 
 "Not Yet Exhausted By The     Giant Brood, 
 Earth Still Another Monster Brought To Birth, 
 In Libya's Caverns: Huger Far Was He, 
 More Justly Far Her Pride, Than Briareus 
 With All His Hundred Hands, Or Typhon Fierce, 
 Or Tityos: 'Twas In Mercy To The     Gods 
 That Not In Phlegra's (17) Fields Antaeus Grew, 
 But Here In Libya; To Her Offspring's Strength, 
 Unmeasured, Vast, She Added Yet This Boon, 
 That When In Weariness And Labour Spent 
 He Touched His Parent, Fresh From Her Embrace 
 Renewed In Rigour He Should Rise Again. 
 In Yonder Cave He Dwelt, 'Neath Yonder Rock 
 He Made His Feast On Lions Slain In Chase: 
 There Slept He; Not On Skins Of     Beasts, Or Leaves, 
 But Fed His Strength Upon The     Naked Earth. 
 Perished The     Libyan Hinds And Those Who Came, 
 Brought Here In Ships, Until He Scorned At Length 
 The Earth That Gave Him Strength, And On His Feet 
 Invincible And With Unaided Might 
 Made All His Victims.  Last To Afric Shores, 
 Drawn By The     Rumour Of     Such Carnage, Came 
 Magnanimous Alcides, He Who Freed 
 Both Land And Sea Of     Monsters.  Down On Earth 
 He Threw His Mantle Of     The     Lion's Skin 
 Slain In Cleone; Nor Antaeus Less 
 Cast Down The     Hide He Wore.  With Shining Oil, 
 As One Who Wrestles At Olympia's Feast, 
 The Hero Rubs His Limbs: The     Giant Feared 
 Lest Standing Only On His Parent Earth 
 His Strength Might Fail; And Cast O'er All His Bulk 
 Hot Sand In Handfuls.  Thus With Arms Entwined 
 And Grappling Hands Each Seizes On His Foe; 
 With Hardened Muscles Straining At The     Neck 
 Long Time In Vain; For Firm The     Sinewy Throat 
 Stood Column-Like, Nor Yielded; So That Each 
 Wondered To Find His Peer.  Nor At The     First 
 Divine Alcides Put Forth All His Strength, 
 By Lengthy Struggle Wearing Out His Foe, 
 Till Chilly Drops Stood On Antaeas' Limbs, 
 And Toppled To Its Fall The     Stately Throat, 
 And Smitten By The     Hero's Blows, The     Legs 
 Began To Totter.  Breast To Breast They Strive 
 To Gain The     Vantage, Till The     Victor's Arms 
 Gird In The     Giant's Yielding Back And Sides, 
 And Squeeze His Middle Part: Next 'Twixt The     Thighs 
 He Puts His Feet, And Forcing Them Apart, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 78 
 Lays Low The     Mighty Monster Limb By Limb. 
 The Dry Earth Drank His Sweat, While In His Veins 
 Warm Ran The     Life-Blood, And With Strength Refreshed, 
 The Muscle Swelled And All The     Joints Grew Firm, 
 And With His Might Restored, He Breaks His Bonds 
 And Rives The     Arms Of     Hercules Away. 
 Amazed The     Hero Stood At Such A Strength. 
 Not Thus He Feared, Though Then Unused To War, 
 That Hydra Fierce, Which Smitten In The     Marsh 
 Of Inachus, Renewed Its Severed Heads. 
 Again They Join In Fight, One With The     Powers 
 Which Earth Bestowed, The     Other With His Own: 
 Nor Did The     Hatred Of     His Step-Dame (18) Find 
 In All His Conflicts Greater Room For Hope. 
 She Sees Bedewed In Sweat The     Neck And Limbs 
 Which Once Had Borne The     Mountain Of     The     Gods 
 Nor Knew The     Toil: And When Antaeus Felt 
 His Foeman's Arms Close Round Him Once Again, 
 He Flung His Wearying Limbs Upon The     Sand 
 To Rise With Strength Renewed; All That The     Earth, 
 Though Labouring Sore, Could Breathe Into Her Son 
 She Gave His Frame.  But Hercules At Last 
 Saw How His Parent Gave The     Giant Strength. 
 'Stand Thou,' He Cried; 'No More Upon The     Ground 
 Thou Liest At Thy Will -- Here Must Thou Stay 
 Within Mine Arms Constrained; Against This Breast, 
 Antaeus, Shalt Thou Fall.'  He Lifted Up 
 And Held By Middle Girth The     Giant Form, 
 Still Struggling For The     Earth: But She No More 
 Could Give Her Offspring Rigour.  Slowly Came 
 The Chill Of     Death Upon Him, And 'Twas Long 
 Before The     Hero, Of     His Victory Sure, 
 Trusted The     Earth And Laid The     Giant Down. 
 Hence Hoar Antiquity That Loves To Prate 
 And Wonders At Herself (19), This Region Called 
 Antaeus' Kingdom.  But A Greater Name 
 It Gained From Scipio, When He Recalled 
 From Roman Citadels The     Punic Chief. 
 Here Was His Camp; Here Can'st Thou See The     Trace 
 Of That Most Famous Rampart (20) Whence At Length 
 Issued The     Eagles Of     Triumphant Rome." 
   
   
   
 But Curio Rejoiced, As Though For Him 
 The Fortunes Of     The     Spot Must Hold In Store 
 The Fates Of     Former Chiefs: And On The     Place 
 Of Happy Augury Placed His Tents Ill-Starred, 
 Took From The     Hills Their Omens; And With Force 
 Unequal, Challenged His Barbarian Foe. 
   
   
   
 All Africa That Bore The     Roman Yoke 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 79 
 Then Lay 'Neath Varus.  He, Though Placing First 
 Trust In His Latian Troops, From Every Side 
 And Furthest Regions, Summons To His Aid 
 The Nations Who Confessed King Juba's Rule. 
 Not Any Monarch Over Wider Tracts 
 Held The     Dominion.  From The     Western Belt (21) 
 Near Gades, Atlas Parts Their Furthest Bounds; 
 But From The     Southern, Hammon Girds Them In 
 Hard By The     Whirlpools; And Their Burning Plains 
 Stretch Forth Unending 'Neath The     Torrid Zone, 
 In Breadth Its Equal, Till They Reach At Length 
 The Shore Of     Ocean Upon Either Hand. 
 From All These Regions Tribes Unnumbered Flock 
 To Juba's Standard: Moors Of     Swarthy Hue 
 As Though From Ind; Numidian Nomads There 
 And Nasamon's Needy Hordes; And Those Whose Darts 
 Equal The     Flying Arrows Of     The     Mede: 
 Dark Garamantians Leave Their Fervid Home; 
 And Those Whose Coursers Unrestrained By Bit 
 Or Saddle, Yet Obey The     Rider's Hand 
 Which Wields The     Guiding Switch: The     Hunter, Too, 
 Who Wanders Forth, His Home A Fragile Hut, 
 And Blinds With Flowing Robe (If Spear Should Fail) 
 The Angry Lion, Monarch Of     The     Steppe. 
   
   
   
 Not Eagerness Alone To Save The     State 
 Stirred Juba's Spirit: Private Hatred Too 
 Roused Him To War.  For In The     Former Year, 
 When Curio All Things Human And The     Gods 
 Polluted, He By Tribune Law Essayed 
 To Ravish Libya From The     Tyrant's Sway, 
 And Drive The     Monarch From His Father's Throne, 
 While Giving Rome A King.  To Juba Thus, 
 Still Smarting At The     Insult, Came The     War, 
 A Welcome Harvest For His Crown Retained. 
 These Rumours Curio Feared: Nor Had His Troops 
 (Ta'en In Corfinium's Hold) (23) In Waves Of     Rhine 
 Been Tested, Nor To Caesar In The     Wars 
 Had Learned Devotion: Wavering In Their Faith, 
 Their Second Chief They Doubt, Their First Betrayed. 
   
   
   
 Yet When The     General Saw The     Spirit Of     Fear 
 Creep Through His Camp, And Discipline To Fail, 
 And Sentinels Desert Their Guard At Night, 
 Thus In His Fear He Spake:  "By Daring Much 
 Fear Is Disguised; Let Me Be First In Arms, 
 And Bid My Soldiers To The     Plain Descend, 
 While Still My Soldiers.  Idle Days Breed Doubt. 
 By Fight Forestall The     Plot (24).  Soon As The     Thirst 
 Of Bloodshed Fills The     Mind, And Eager Hands 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 80 
 Grip Firm The     Sword, And Pressed Upon The     Brow 
 The Helm Brings Valour To The     Failing Heart -- 
 Who Cares To Measure Leaders' Merits Then? 
 Who Weighs The     Cause?  With Whom The     Soldier Stands, 
 For Him He Fights; As At The     Fatal Show 
 No Ancient Grudge The     Gladiator's Arm 
 Nerves For The     Combat, Yet As He Shall Strike 
 He Hates His Rival."  Thinking Thus He Leads 
 His Troops In Battle Order To The     Plain. 
 Then Victory On His Arms Deceptive Shone 
 Hiding The     Ills To Come: For From The     Field 
 Driving The     Hostile Host With Sword And Spear, 
 He Smote Them Till Their Camp Opposed His Way. 
 But After Varus' Rout, Unseen Till Then, 
 All Eager For The     Glory To Be His, 
 By Stealth Came Juba: Silent Was His March; 
 His Only Fear Lest Rumour Should Forestall 
 His Coming Victory.  In Pretended War 
 He Sends Sabura Forth With Scanty Force 
 To Tempt The     Enemy, While In Hollow Vale 
 He Holds The     Armies Of     His Realm Unseen. 
 Thus Doth The     Sly Ichneumon (25) With His Tail 
 Waving, Allure The     Serpent Of     The     Nile 
 Drawn To The     Moving Shadow: He, With Head 
 Turned Sideways, Watches Till The     Victim Glides 
 Within His Reach, Then Seizes By The     Throat 
 Behind The     Deadly Fangs: Forth From Its Seat 
 Balked Of     Its Purpose, Through The     Brimming Jaws 
 Gushes A Tide Of     Poison.  Fortune Smiled 
 On Juba's Stratagem; For Curio 
 (The Hidden Forces Of     The     Foe Unknown) 
 Sent Forth His Horse By Night Without The     Camp 
 To Scour More Distant Regions.  He Himself 
 At Earliest Peep Of     Dawn Bids Carry Forth 
 His Standards; Heeding Not His Captains' Prayer 
 Urged On His Ears: "Beware Of     Punic Fraud, 
 The Craft That Taints A Carthaginian War." 
 Hung Over Him The     Doom Of     Coming Death 
 And Gave The     Youth To Fate; And Civil Strife 
 Dragged Down Its Author. 
   
   
   
                          On The     Lofty Tops 
 Where Broke The     Hills Abruptly To Their Fall 
 He Ranks His Troops And Sees The     Foe Afar: 
 Who Still Deceiving, Simulated Flight, 
 Till From The     Height In Loose Unordered Lines 
 The Roman Forces Streamed Upon The     Plain, 
 In Thought That Juba Fled.  Then First Was Known 
 The Treacherous Fraud: For Swift Numidian Horse 
 On Every Side Surround Them: Leader, Men -- 
 All See Their Fate In One Dread Moment Come. 
 No Coward Flees, No Warrior Bravely Strides 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 81 
 To Meet The     Battle: Nay, The     Trumpet Call 
 Stirs Not The     Charger With Resounding Hoof 
 To Spurn The     Rock, Nor Galling Bit Compels 
 To Champ In Eagerness; Nor Toss His Mane 
 And Prick The     Ear, Nor Prancing With His Feet 
 To Claim His Share Of     Combat.  Tired, The     Neck 
 Droops Downwards: Smoking Sweat Bedews The     Limbs: 
 Dry From The     Squalid Mouth Protrudes The     Tongue, 
 Hoarse, Raucous Panting Issues From Their Chests; 
 Their Flanks Distend: And Every Curb Is Dry 
 With Bloody Foam; The     Ruthless Sword Alone 
 Could Move Them Onward, Powerless Even Then 
 To Charge; But Giving To The     Hostile Dart 
 A Nearer Victim.  But When The     Afric Horse 
 First Made Their Onset, Loud Beneath Their Hoofs 
 Rang The     Wide Plain, And Rose The     Dust In Air 
 As By Some Thracian Whirlwind Stirred; And Veiled 
 The Heavens In Darkness.  When On Curio's Host 
 The Tempest Burst, Each Footman In The     Rank 
 Stood There To Meet His Fate -- No Doubtful End 
 Hung In The     Balance: Destiny Proclaimed 
 Death To Them All.  No Conflict Hand To Hand 
 Was Granted Them, By Lances Thrown From Far 
 And Sidelong Sword-Thrusts Slain: Nor Wounds Alone, 
 But Clouds Of     Weapons Falling From The     Air 
 By Weight Of     Iron O'erwhelmed Them.  Still Drew In 
 The Straightening Circle, For The     First Pressed Back 
 On Those Behind; Did Any Shun The     Foe, 
 Seeking The     Inner Safety Of     The     Ring, 
 He Needs Must Perish By His Comrades' Swords. 
 And As The     Front Rank Fell, Still Narrower Grew 
 The Close Crushed Phalanx, Till To Raise Their Swords 
 Space Was Denied.  Still Close And Closer Forced 
 The Armed Breasts Against Each Other Driven 
 Pressed Out The     Life.  Thus Not Upon A Scene 
 Such As Their Fortune Promised, Gazed The     Foe. 
 No Tide Of     Blood Was There To Glut Their Eyes, 
 No Members Lopped Asunder, Though The     Earth So 
 Was Piled With Corpses; For Each Roman Stood 
 In Death Upright Against His Comrade Dead. 
   
   
   
 Let Cruel Carthage Rouse Her Hated Ghosts 
 By This Fell Offering; Let The     Punic Shades, 
 And Bloody Hannibal, From This Defeat 
 Receive Atonement: Yet 'Twas Shame, Ye Gods, 
 That Libya Gained Not For Herself The     Day; 
 And That Our Romans On That Field Should Die 
 To Save Pompeius And The     Senate's Cause. 
   
   
   
 Now Was The     Dust Laid Low By Streams Of     Blood, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio)  Pg 82 
 And Curio, Knowing That His Host Was Slain. 
 Chose Not To Live; And, As A Brave Man Should. 
 He Rushed Upon The     Heap, And Fighting Fell. 
   
   
   
 In Vain With Turbid Speech Hast Thou Profaned 
 The Pulpit Of     The     Forum: Waved In Vain 
 From That Proud (26) Citadel The     Tribune Flag: 
 And Armed The     People, And The     Senate's Rights 
 Betraying, Hast Compelled This Impious War 
 Betwixt The     Rival Kinsmen.  Low Thou Liest 
 Before Pharsalus' Fight, And From Thine Eyes 
 Is Hid The     War.  'Tis Thus To Suffering Rome, 
 For Arms Seditious And For Civil Strife 
 Ye Mighty Make Atonement With Your Blood. 
 Happy Were Rome And All Her Sons Indeed, 
 Did But The     Gods As Rigidly Protect 
 As They Avenge, Her Violated Laws! 
 There Curio Lies; Untombed His Noble Corpse, 
 Torn By The     Vultures Of     The     Libyan Wastes. 
 Yet Shall We, Since Such Merit, Though Unsung, 
 Lives By Its Own Imperishable Fame, 
 Give Thee Thy Meed Of     Praise.  Rome Never Bore 
 Another Son, Who, Had He Right Pursued, 
 Had So Adorned Her Laws; But Soon The     Times, 
 Their Luxury, Corruption, And The     Curse 
 Of Too Abundant Wealth, In Transverse Stream 
 Swept O'er His Wavering Mind: And Curio Changed, 
 Turned With His Change The     Scale Of     Human Things. 
 True, Mighty Sulla, Cruel Marius, 
 And Bloody Cinna, And The     Long Descent 
 Of Caesar And Of     Caesar's House Became 
 Lords Of     Our Lives.  But Who Had Power Like Him? 
 All Others Bought The     State: He Sold Alone. (27) 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio) (Endnotes) Pg 83 
 (1)  Both Of     These Generals Were Able And Distinguished Officers. 
      Afranius Was Slain By Caesar's Soldiers After The     Battle Of 
      Thapsus.  Petreius, After The     Same Battle, Escaped Along 
      With Juba; And Failing To Find A Refuge, They Challenged 
      Each Other To Fight.  Petreius Was Killed, And Juba, The 
      Survivor, Put An End To Himself. 
 (2)  These Are The     Names Of     Spanish Tribes.  The     Celtiberi Dwelt 
      On The     Ebro. 
 (3)  Lerida, On The     River Segre, Above Its Junction With The 
      Ebro.  Cinga Is The     Modern Cinca, Which Falls Into The     Segre 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio) (Endnotes) Pg 84 
      (Sicoris). 
 (4)  Phrixus And Helle, The     Children Of     Nephele, Were To Be 
      Sacrificed To Zeus: But Nephele Rescued Them, And They Rode 
      Away Through The     Air On The     Ram With The     Golden Fleece.  But 
      Helle Fell Into The     Sea, Which From Her Was Named The 
      Hellespont. (See Book Ix., 1126.)  The     Sun Enters Aries 
      About March 20.  The     Ram Is Pictured Among The 
      Constellations With His Head Averse. 
 (5)  See Book I., 463. 
 (6)  See Mr. Heitland's Introduction, Upon The     Meaning Of     The 
      Word "Cardo".  The     Word "Belt" Seems Fairly To Answer To The 
      Two Great Circles Or Four Meridians Which He Describes.  The 
      Word Occurs Again At Line 760; Book V., 80; Book Vii., 452. 
 (7)  The     Idea Is That The     Cold Of     The     Poles Tempers The     Heat Of 
      The     Equator. 
 (8)  Fuso: Either Spacious, Outspread; Or, Poured Into The     Land 
      (Referring To The     Estuaries) As Mr. Haskins Prefers; Or, 
      Poured Round The     Island.  Portable Leathern Skiffs Seem To 
      Have Been In Common Use In Caesar's Time In The     English 
      Channel.  These Were The     Rowing Boats Of     The     Gauls. 
      (Mommsen, Vol. Iv., 219.) 
 (9)  Compare Book I., 519. 
 (10) Compare The     Passage In Tacitus, "Histories", Ii., 45, 
      In Which The     Historian Describes How The     Troops Of     Otho 
      And Vitellius Wept Over Each Other After The     Battle And 
      Deplored The     Miseries Of     A Civil War.  "Victi 
      Victoresque In Lacrumas Effusi, Sortem Civilium Armorum 
      Misera Laetitia Detestantes." 
 (11) "Saecula Nostra" May Refer Either To Lucan's Own Time Or To 
      The     Moment Arrived At In The     Poem; Or It May, As Francken 
      Suggests, Have A More General Meaning. 
 (12) "Petenda Est"? -- "Is It Fit That You Should Beg For The 
      Lives Of     Your Leaders?"  Mr. Haskins Says, "Shall You Have 
      To Beg For Them?"  But It Means That To Do So Is The     Height 
      Of     Disgrace. 
 (13) The     Scene Is The     Dalmatian Coast Of     The     Adriatic.  Here Was 
      Diocletian's Palace. (Described In The     13th Chapter Of 
      Gibbon.) 
 (14) That Is, Night Was At Its Shortest. 
 (15) On The     Following Passage See Dean Merivale's Remarks, 
      "History Of     The     Roman Empire", Chapter Xvi. 
 (16) That Is, Sicilian. 
 (17) For Phlegra, The     Scene Of     The     Battle Between The     Giants And 
      The     Gods, See Book Vii., 170, And Book Ix., 774.  Ben Jonson 
      ("Sejanus", Act V., Scene 10) Says Of     Sejanus: -- 
           "Phlegra, The     Field Where All The     Sons Of     Earth 
           Mustered Against The     Gods, Did Ne'er Acknowledge 
           So Proud And Huge A Monster." 
 (18) Juno. 
 (19) That Is, Extols Ancient Deeds. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 4 (Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea.  Death Of Curio) (Endnotes) Pg 85 
 (20) Referring To The     Battle Of     Zama. 
 (21) See Line 82. 
 (22) Curio Was Tribune In B.C. 50.  His Earlier Years Are Stated 
      To Have Been Stained With Vice. 
 (23) See Book Ii., 537. 
 (24) Preferring The     Reading "Praeripe", With Francken. 
 (25) Bewick ("Quadrupeds," P. 238) Tells The     Following Anecdote 
      Of     A Tame Ichneumon Which Had Never Seen A Serpent, And To 
      Which He Brought A Small One.  "Its First Emotion Seemed To 
      Be Astonishment Mixed With Anger; Its Hair Became Erect; In 
      An Instant It Slipped Behind The     Reptile, And With 
      Remarkable Swiftness And Agility Leaped Upon Its Head, 
      Seized It And Crushed It With Its Teeth." 
 (26) Reading "Arce", Not "Arte".  The     Word "Signifer" Seems To 
      Favour The     Reading I Have Preferred; And Dean Merivale And 
      Hosius Adopted It. 
 (27) For The     Character And Career Of     Curio, See Merivale's 
      "History Of     The     Roman Empire", Chapter Xvi.  He Was Of 
      Profligate Character, But A Friend And Pupil Of     Cicero; At 
      First A Rabid Partisan Of     The     Oligarchy, He Had, About The 
      Period Of     His Tribuneship (B.C. 50-49), Become A Supporter 
      Of     Caesar.  How Far Gaulish Gold Was The     Cause Of     This 
      Conversion We Cannot Tell. It Is In Allusion To This Change 
      That He Was Termed The     Prime Mover Of     The     Civil War.  His 
      Arrival In Caesar's Camp Is Described In Book I., Line 303. 
      He Became Caesar's Chief Lieutenant In Place Of     The     Deserter 
      Labienus; And, As Described In Book Iii., Was Sent To 
      Sardinia And Sicily, Whence He Expelled The     Senatorial 
      Forces.  His Final Expedition To Africa, Defeat And Death, 
      Form The     Subject Of     The     Latter Part Of     This Book.  Mommsen 
      Describes Him As A Man Of     Talent, And Finds A Resemblance 
      Between Him And Caesar. (Vol. Iv., P. 393.) 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 86 
 Thus Had The     Smiles Of     Fortune And Her Frowns 
 Brought Either Chief To Macedonian Shores 
 Still Equal To His Foe.  From Cooler Skies 
 Sank Atlas' (1) Daughters Down, And Haemus' Slopes 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 87 
 Were White With Winter, And The     Day Drew Nigh 
 Devoted To The     God Who Leads The     Months, 
 And Marking With New Names The     Book Of     Rome, 
 When Came The     Fathers From Their Distant Posts 
 By Both The     Consuls To Epirus Called (2) 
 Ere Yet The     Year Was Dead: A Foreign Land 
 Obscure Received The     Magistrates Of     Rome, 
 And Heard Their High Debate.  No Warlike Camp 
 This; For The     Consul's And The     Praetor's Axe 
 Proclaimed The     Senate-House; And Magnus Sat 
 One Among Many, And The     State Was All. 
   
   
   
 When All Were Silent, From His Lofty Seat 
 Thus Lentulus Began, While Stern And Sad 
 The Fathers Listened: "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 
 Your Distance From The     Captured City: Yours 
 This Proud Assembly, Yours The     High Command 
 In 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. (3)  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     Gods 
 Weigh Down Italia's Loss By All The     World 
 Thrown In The     Other Scale?  Illyria's Wave 
 Rolls Deep Upon Our Foes: In Libyan Wastes 
 Is Fallen Their Curio, The     Weightier Part (4) 
 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 Applause 
 They Heard His Words, And Placed Their Country's Fates, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 88 
 Nor Less Their Own, Within The     Chieftain's Hands. 
   
   
   
 Then Did They Shower On People And On Kings 
 Honours Well Earned -- Rhodes, Mistress Of     The     Seas, 
 Was Decked With Gifts; Athena, Old In Fame, 
 Received Her Praise, And The     Rude Tribes Who Dwell 
 On Cold Taygetus; Massilia's Sons 
 Their Own Phocaea's Freedom; On The     Chiefs 
 Of Thracian Tribes, Fit Honours Were Bestowed. 
 They Order Libya By Their High Decree 
 To Serve King Juba's Sceptre; And, Alas! 
 On Ptolemaeus, Of     A Faithless Race 
 The Faithless Sovereign, Scandal To The     Gods, 
 And Shame To Fortune, Placed The     Diadem 
 Of Pella.  Boy!  Thy Sword Was Only Sharp 
 Against Thy People.  Ah If That Were All! 
 The Fatal Gift Gave, Too, Pompeius' Life; 
 Bereft Thy Sister Of     Her Sire's Bequest, (5) 
 Half Of     The     Kingdom; Caesar Of     A Crime. 
 Then All To Arms. 
   
   
   
                     While Soldier Thus And Chief, 
 In Doubtful Sort, Against Their Hidden Fate 
 Devised Their Counsel, Appius (6) Alone 
 Feared For The     Chances Of     The     War, And Sought 
 Through Phoebus' Ancient Oracle To Break 
 The Silence Of     The     Gods And Know The     End. 
   
   
   
 Between The     Western Belt And That Which Bounds (7) 
 The Furthest East, Midway Parnassus Rears 
 His Double Summit: To The     Bromian God 
 And Paean Consecrate, To Whom Conjoined 
 The Theban Band Leads Up The     Delphic Feast 
 On Each Third Year.  This Mountain, When The     Sea 
 Poured O'er The     Earth Her Billows, Rose Alone, 
 By One High Peak Scarce Master Of     The     Waves, 
 Parting The     Crest Of     Waters From The     Stars. 
 There, To Avenge His Mother, From Her Home 
 Chased By The     Angered Goddess While As Yet 
 She Bore Him Quick Within Her, Paean Came 
 (When Themis Ruled The     Tripods And The     Spot) (8) 
 And With Unpractised Darts The     Python Slew. 
 But When He Saw How From The     Yawning Cave 
 A Godlike Knowledge Breathed, And All The     Air 
 Was Full Of     Voices Murmured From The     Depths, 
 He Took The     Shrine And Filled The     Deep Recess; 
 Henceforth To Prophesy. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 89 
                          Which Of     The     Gods 
 Has Left Heaven's Light In This Dark Cave To Hide? 
 What Spirit That Knows The     Secrets Of     The     World 
 And 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     Jove 
 Sent Here To Rule The     Earth With Mystic Power, 
 Balanced Upon The     Void Immense Of     Air, 
 Sounds Through The     Caves, And In Its Flight Returns 
 To That High Home Of     Thunder Whence It Came. 
 Caught In A Virgin's Breast, This Deity 
 Strikes On The     Human Spirit: Then A Voice 
 Sounds From Her Breast, As When The     Lofty Peak 
 Of Etna Boils, Forced By Compelling Flames, 
 Or As Typheus On Campania's Shore 
 Frets 'Neath The     Pile Of     Huge Inarime. (9) 
   
   
   
 Though Free To All That Ask, Denied To None, 
 No Human Passion Lurks Within The     Voice 
 That 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 Homes 
 To Seek Another, It Hath Turned Their Steps 
 Aright, As With The     Tyrians; (10)  And Raised 
 The Hearts Of     Nations To Confront Their Foe, 
 As Prove The     Waves Of     Salamis: (11)  When Earth 
 Hath Been Unfruitful, Or Polluted Air 
 Has Plagued Mankind, This Utterance Benign 
 Hath Raised Their Hopes And Pointed To The     End. 
 No Gift From Heaven's High Gods So Great As This 
 Our Centuries Have Lost, Since Delphi's Shrine 
 Has Silent Stood, And Kings Forbade The     Gods (12) 
 To Speak The     Future, Fearing For Their Fates. 
 Nor Does The     Priestess Sorrow That The     Voice 
 Is Heard No Longer; And The     Silent Fane 
 To Her Is Happiness; For Whatever Breast 
 Contains The     Deity, Its Shattered Frame 
 Surges With Frenzy, And The     Soul Divine 
 Shakes 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 Learn 
 Hesperia's Destinies.  At His Command 
 To Loose The     Sacred Gateways And Permit 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 90 
 The Prophetess To Enter To The     God, 
 The Keeper Calls Phemonoe; (13) Whose Steps 
 Round The     Castalian Fount And In The     Grove 
 Were Wandering Careless; Her He Bids To Pass 
 The Portals.  But The     Priestess Feared To Tread 
 The Awful Threshold, And With Vain Deceits 
 Sought To Dissuade The     Chieftain From His Zeal 
 To 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 Thro' The     World 
 Wanders In Devious Paths; Or Else The     Fane, 
 Consumed To Ashes By Barbarian (14) 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 Guile 
 Was Known, For Though She Would Deny The     Gods 
 Her Fears Approved Them.  On Her Front She Binds 
 A Twisted Fillet, While A Shining Wreath 
 Of Phocian Laurels Crowns The     Locks That Flow 
 Upon Her Shoulders.  Hesitating Yet 
 The Priest Compelled Her, And She Passed Within. 
 But Horror Filled Her Of     The     Holiest Depths 
 From Which The     Mystic Oracle Proceeds; 
 And Resting Near The     Doors, In Breast Unmoved 
 She Dares Invent The     God In Words Confused, 
 Which Proved No Mind Possessed With Fire Divine; 
 By Such False Chant Less Injuring The     Chief 
 Than Faith In Phoebus And The     Sacred Fane. 
 No Burst Of     Words With Tremor In Their Tones, 
 No Voice Re-Echoing Through The     Spacious Vault 
 Proclaimed The     Deity, No Bristling Locks 
 Shook Off The     Laurel Chaplet; But The     Grove 
 Unshaken, And The     Summits Of     The     Shrine, 
 Gave Proof She Shunned The     God.  The     Roman Knew 
 The Tripods Yet Were Idle, And In Rage, 
 "Wretch," He Exclaimed, "To Us And To The     Gods, 
 Whose Presence Thou Pretendest, Thou Shalt Pay 
 For This Thy Fraud The     Punishment; Unless 
 Thou Enter The     Recess, And Speak No More, 
 Of This World-War, This Tumult Of     Mankind, 
 Thine Own Inventions."  Then By Fear Compelled, 
 At Length The     Priestess Sought The     Furthest Depths, 
 And Stayed Beside The     Tripods; And There Came 
 Into Her Unaccustomed Breast The     God, 
 Breathed From The     Living Rock For Centuries 
 Untouched; Nor Ever With A Mightier Power 
 Did Paean's Inspiration Seize The     Frame 
 Of Delphic Priestess; His Pervading Touch 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 91 
 Drove Out Her Former Mind, Expelled The     Man, 
 And Made Her Wholly His.  In Maddened Trance 
 She Whirls Throughout The     Cave, Her Locks Erect 
 With Horror, And The     Fillets Of     The     God 
 Dashed To The     Ground; Her Steps Unguided Turn 
 To This Side And To That; The     Tripods Fall 
 O'erturned; Within Her Seethes The     Mighty Fire 
 Of Angry Phoebus; Nor With Whip Alone 
 He Urged Her Onwards, But With Curb Restrained; 
 Nor Was It Given Her By The     God To Speak 
 All That She Knew; For Into One Vast Mass (15) 
 All Time Was Gathered, And Her Panting Chest 
 Groaned 'Neath The     Centuries.  In Order Long 
 All Things Lay Bare: The     Future Yet Unveiled 
 Struggled 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 Day 
 The Prophetess Upon The     Cuman Shore, (16) 
 Disdaining That Her Frenzy Should Be Slave 
 To Other Nations, From The     Boundless Threads 
 Chose Out With Pride Of     Hand The     Fates Of     Rome. 
 E'en So Phemonoe, For A Time Oppressed 
 With Fates Unnumbered, Laboured Ere She Found, 
 Beneath Such Mighty Destinies Concealed, 
 Thine, Appius, Who Alone Had'st Sought The     God 
 In Land Castalian; Then From Foaming Lips 
 First Rushed The     Madness Forth, And Murmurs Loud 
 Uttered With Panting Breath And Blent With Groans; 
 Till Through The     Spacious Vault A Voice At Length 
 Broke 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     Fates 
 And Paean, Thou, From Whom No Day Is Hid 
 By 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 Doom 
 Of Her Great Empire Tottering To Its Fall, 
 And All The     Bloodshed Of     That Western Land? 
 Were Yet The     Stars In Doubt On Magnus' Fate 
 Not Yet Decreed, And Did The     Gods Yet Shrink 
 From That, The     Greatest Crime?  Or Wert Thou Dumb 
 That Fortune's Sword For Civil Strife Might Wreak 
 Just Vengeance, And A Brutus' Arm Once More 
 Strike Down The     Tyrant? 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 92 
                          From The     Temple Doors 
 Rushed 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 Rage 
 Gaze On The     Wide Expanse: Still Works Her Face 
 Convulsive; On Her Cheeks A Crimson Blush 
 With Ghastly Pallor Blent, Though Not Of     Fear. 
 Her Weary Heart Throbs Ever; And As Seas 
 Boom Swollen By Northern Winds, She Finds In Sighs, 
 All Inarticulate, Relief.  But While 
 She Hastes From That Dread Light In Which She Saw 
 The Fates, To Common Day, Lo!  On Her Path 
 The Darkness Fell.  Then By A Stygian Draught 
 Of The     Forgetful River, Phoebus Snatched 
 Back From Her Soul His Secrets; And She Fell 
 Yet Hardly Living. 
   
   
   
                     Nor Did Appius Dread 
 Approaching Death, But By Dark Oracles 
 Baffled, While Yet The     Empire Of     The     World 
 Hung In The     Balance, Sought His Promised Realm 
 In Chalcis Of     Euboea.  Yet To Escape 
 All Ills Of     Earth, The     Crash Of     War -- What God 
 Can Give Thee Such A Boon, But Death Alone? 
 Far On The     Solitary Shore A Grave 
 Awaits Thee, Where Carystos' Marble Crags (17) 
 Draw In The     Passage Of     The     Sea, And Where 
 The Fane Of     Rhamnus Rises To The     Gods 
 Who Hate The     Proud, And Where The     Ocean Strait 
 Boils In Swift Whirlpools, And Euripus Draws 
 Deceitful In His Tides, A Bane To Ships, 
 Chalcidian Vessels To Bleak Aulis' Shore. 
   
   
   
 But Caesar Carried From The     Conquered West 
 His Eagles To Another World Of     War; 
 When Envying His Victorious Course The     Gods 
 Almost 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 War 
 Seemed For A Moment Gone.  That Faithful Host, 
 His Comrades Trusted In A Hundred Fields, 
 Or That The     Falchion Sheathed Had Lost Its Charm; 
 Or Weary Of     The     Mournful Bugle Call 
 Scarce Ever Silent; Or Replete With Blood, 
 Well Nigh Betrayed Their General And Sold 
 For Hope Of     Gain Their Honour And Their Cause. 
 No Other Perilous Shock Gave Surer Proof 
 How Trembled 'Neath His Feet The     Dizzy Height 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 93 
 From Which Great Caesar Looked.  A Moment Since 
 His High Behest Drew Nations To The     Field: 
 Now, Maimed Of     All, He Sees That Swords Once Drawn 
 Are Weapons For The     Soldier, Not The     Chief. 
 From The     Stern Ranks No Doubtful Murmur Rose; 
 Not Silent Anger As When One Conspires, 
 His Comrades Doubting, Feared Himself In Turn; 
 Alone (He Thinks) Indignant At The     Wrongs 
 Wrought By The     Despot.  In So Great A Host 
 Dread Found No Place.  Where Thousands Share The     Guilt 
 Crime Goes Unpunished.  Thus From Dauntless Throats 
 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     Gaul 
 And 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 Be 
 Of 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     Helmet Strike The     Stony Clod: (19) 
 Rather To Feel The     Dear One's Last Embrace, 
 And Gain A Humble But A Separate Tomb. 
 Let Nature End Old Age.  And Dost Thou Think 
 We Only Know Not What Degree Of     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. 
 Thou Wert Our Leader On The     Banks Of     Rhine; 
 Henceforth Our Equal; For The     Stain Of     Crime 
 Makes All Men Like To Like.  Add That We Serve 
 A Thankless Chief: As Fortune's Gift He Takes 
 The Fruits Of     Victory Our Arms Have Won. 
 We Are His Fortunes, And 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 Speech 
 Thus Through The     Camp The     Troops Demand Their Chief. 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 94 
 When Faith And Loyalty Are Fled, And Hope 
 For Aught But Evil, Thus May Civil War 
 In 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'erjoyed 
 To Front Their Anger Raging At Its Height 
 Unflinching Comes.  No Temples Of     The     Gods, 
 Not Jove's High Fane On The     Tarpeian Rock, 
 Not Rome's High Dames Nor Maidens Had He Grudged 
 To Their Most Savage Lust: That They Should Ask 
 The Worst, His Wish, And Love The     Spoils Of     War. 
 Nor Feared He Aught Save Order At The     Hands 
 Of That Unconquered Host.  Art Thou Not Shamed 
 That Strife Should Please Thee Only, Now Condemned 
 Even By Thy Minions?  Shall They Shrink From Blood, 
 They From The     Sword Recoil?  And Thou Rush On 
 Heedless Of     Guilt, Through Right And Through Unright, 
 Nor Learn That Men May Lay Their Arms Aside 
 Yet Bear To Live?  This Civil Butchery 
 Escapes Thy Grasp.  Stay Thou Thy Crimes At Length; 
 Nor Force Thy Will On Those Who Will No More. 
   
   
   
 Upon A Turfy Mound Unmoved He Stood 
 And, 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; 
 Here Strike Thy Sword Into This Naked Breast, 
 To Stay The     War; And Flee, If Such Thy Wish. 
 This Mutiny Devoid Of     Daring Deed 
 Betrays Your Coward Souls, Betrays The     Youth 
 Who Tires Of     Victories Which Gild The     Arms 
 Of An Unconquered Chief, And Yearns For Flight. 
 Well, Leave Me Then To Battle And To Fate! 
 I Cast You Forth; For Every Weapon Left, 
 Fortune Shall Find A Man, To Wield It Well. 
 Shall Magnus In His Flight With Such A Fleet 
 Draw Nations In His Train; And Not To Me As 
 My Victories Bring Hosts, To Whom Shall Fall 
 The Prize Of     War Accomplished, Who Shall Reap 
 Your Laurels Scorned, And Scathless Join The     Train 
 That Leads My Chariot To The     Sacred Hill? 
 While You, Despised In Age And Worn In War, 
 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 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 95 
 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 In Arms 
 For Caesar's Cause Was Labienus; (20) Now 
 That Vile Deserter, With His Chief Preferred, 
 Wanders O'er Land And Sea.  Nor Were Your Faith 
 One Whit More Firm To Me 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, 
 'Quirites', (21) Caesar's Soldiers Now No More, 
 And Leave My Standards To The     Grasp Of     Men! 
 Yet Some Who Led This Mad Revolt I Hold, 
 Not As Their Captain Now, But As 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     Host 
 Drew Back And Trembled At The     Voice Of     Him 
 They Would Depose, As Though Their Very Swords 
 Would From Their Scabbards Leap At His Command 
 Themselves Unwilling; But He Only Feared 
 Lest Hand And Blade To Satisfy The     Doom 
 Might Be Denied, Till They Submitting Pledged 
 Their Lives And Swords Alike, Beyond His Hope. 
 To Strike And Suffer (22) Holds In Surest Thrall 
 The Heart Inured To Guilt; And Caesar Kept, 
 By Dreadful Compact Ratified In Blood, 
 Those Whom He Feared To Lose. 
   
   
   
                                    He Bids Them March 
 Upon Brundusium, And Recalls The     Ships 
 From Soft Calabria's Inlets And The     Point 
 Of Leucas, And The     Salapinian Marsh, 
 Where Sheltered Sipus Nestles At The     Feet 
 Of Rich Garganus, Jutting From The     Shore 
 In Huge Escarpment That Divides The     Waves 
 Of Hadria; On Each Hand, His Seaward Slopes 
 Buffeted By The     Winds; Or Auster Borne 
 From Sweet Apulia, Or The     Sterner Blast 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 96 
 Of Boreas Rushing From Dalmatian Strands. 
   
   
   
 But Caesar Entered Trembling Rome Unarmed, 
 Now Taught To Serve Him In 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 Now 
 Lie To Our Masters, Men Found Out The     Use: 
 For To Preserve His Right To Wield The     Sword 
 He Mixed The     Civil Axes With His Brands; 
 With Eagles, Fasces; With An Empty Word 
 Clothing His Power; And Stamped Upon The     Time 
 A Worthy Designation; For What Name 
 Could Better Mark The     Dread Pharsalian Year 
 Than "Caesar, Consul"?  (23) Now The     Famous Field 
 Pretends Its Ancient Ceremonies: Calls 
 The Tribes In Order And Divides The     Votes 
 In Vain Solemnity Of     Empty Urns. 
 Nor Do They Heed The     Portents Of     The     Sky: 
 Deaf Were The     Augurs To The     Thunder Roll; 
 The Owl Flew On The     Left; Yet Were The     Birds 
 Propitious Sworn.  Then Was The     Ancient Name 
 Degraded First; And Monthly Consuls, (24) 
 Shorn Of     Their Rank, Are Chosen To Mark The     Years. 
 And Trojan Alba's (25) God (Since Latium's Fall 
 Deserving Not) Beheld The     Wonted Fires 
 Blaze From His Altars On The     Festal Night. 
   
   
   
 Then Through Apulia's Fallows, That Her Hinds 
 Left All Untilled, To Sluggish Weeds A Prey 
 Passed Caesar Onward, Swifter Than The     Fire 
 Of Heaven, Or Tigress Dam: Until He Reached 
 Brundusium's Winding Ramparts, Built Of     Old 
 By Cretan Colonists.  There Icy Winds 
 Constrained The     Billows, And His Trembling Fleet 
 Feared For The     Winter Storms Nor Dared The     Main. 
 But Caesar's Soul Burned At The     Moments Lost 
 For Speedy Battle, Nor Could Brook Delay 
 Within The     Port, Indignant That The     Sea 
 Should 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 Seas 
 Struck By The     Northern Wind Alone We Plough, 
 And May He Bend The     Spars, And Bear Us Swift 
 To Grecian Cities; Else Pompeius' Oars, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 97 
 Smiting The     Billows From Phaeacian (26) Coasts, 
 May 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 Star 
 Shone On The     Darkening Heaven, And The     Moon 
 Reigned With Her Paler Light, When All The     Fleet 
 Freed 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     Waves 
 Were Still As Deepest Pool, Where Never Wind 
 Ripples The     Surface.  Thus In Scythian Climes 
 Cimmerian Bosphorus Restrains The     Deep 
 Bound Fast In Frosty Fetters; Ister's Streams (27) 
 No More Impel The     Main, And Ships Constrained 
 Stand Fast In Ice; And While In Depths Below 
 The Waves Still Murmur, Loud The     Charger's Hoof 
 Sounds On The     Surface, And The     Travelling Wheel 
 Furrows A Track Upon The     Frozen Marsh. 
 Cruel As Tempest Was The     Calm That Lay 
 In Stagnant Pools Upon The     Mournful Deep: 
 Against The     Course Of     Nature Lay Outstretched 
 A Rigid Ocean: 'Twas As If The     Sea 
 Forgat Its Ancient Ways And Knew No More 
 The Ceaseless Tides, Nor Any Breeze Of     Heaven, 
 Nor Quivered At The     Image Of     The     Sun, 
 Mirrored Upon Its Wave.  For While The     Fleet 
 Hung In Mid Passage Motionless, The     Foe 
 Might Hurry To Attack, With Sturdy Stroke 
 Churning The     Deep; Or Famine's Deadly Grip 
 Might Seize The     Ships Becalmed.  For Dangers New 
 New Vows They Find.  "May Mighty Winds Arise 
 And Rouse The     Ocean, And This Sluggish Plain 
 Cast Off Stagnation And Be Sea Once More." 
 Thus Did They Pray, But Cloudless Shone The     Sky, 
 Unrippled Slept The     Surface Of     The     Main; 
 Until In Misty Clouds The     Moon Arose 
 And Stirred The     Depths, And Moved The     Fleet Along 
 Towards The     Ceraunian Headland; And The     Waves 
 And Favouring Breezes Followed On The     Ships, 
 Now Speeding Faster, Till (Their Goal Attained) 
 They Cast Their Anchors On Palaeste's (28) Shore. 
   
   
   
 This Land First Saw The     Chiefs In Neighbouring Camps 
 Confronted, Which The     Streams Of     Apsus Bound 
 And Swifter Genusus; A Lengthy Course 
 Is Run By Neither, But On Apsus' Waves 
 Scarce Flowing From A Marsh, The     Frequent Boat 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 98 
 Finds Room To Swim; While On The     Foamy Bed 
 Of Genusus By Sun Or Shower Compelled 
 The Melted Snows Pour Seawards.  Here Were Met 
 (So Fortune Ordered It) The     Mighty Pair; 
 And In Its Woes The     World Yet Vainly Hoped 
 That Brought To Nearer Touch Their Crime Itself 
 Might Bleed Abhorrence: For From Either Camp 
 Voices Were Clearly Heard And Features Seen. 
 Nor E'er, Pompeius, Since That Distant Day 
 When Caesar's Daughter And Thy Spouse Was Reft 
 By Pitiless Fate Away, Nor Left A Pledge, 
 Did Thy Loved Kinsman (Save On Sands Of     Nile) 
 So Nearly Look Upon Thy Face Again. 
   
   
   
 But Caesar's Mind Though Frenzied For The     Fight 
 Was Forced To Pause Until Antonius Brought 
 The Rearward Troops; Antonius Even Now 
 Rehearsing Leucas' Fight.  With Prayers And Threats 
 Caesar Exhorts Him.  "Why Delay The     Fates, 
 Thou Cause Of     Evil To The     Suffering World? 
 My Speed Hath Won The     Major Part: From Thee 
 Fortune Demands The     Final Stroke Alone. 
 Do Libyan Whirlpools With Deceitful Tides 
 Uncertain Separate Us?  Is The     Deep 
 Untried To Which I Call?  To Unknown Risks 
 Art Thou Commanded?  Caesar Bids Thee Come, 
 Thou Sluggard, Not To Leave Him.  Long Ago 
 I Ran My Ships Midway Through Sands And Shoals 
 To Harbours Held By Foes; And Dost Thou Fear 
 My Friendly Camp?  I Mourn The     Waste Of     Days 
 Which Fate Allotted Us.  Upon The     Waves 
 And Winds I Call Unceasing: Hold Not Back 
 Thy Willing Troops, But Let Them Dare The     Sea; 
 Here Gladly Shall They Come To Join My Camp, 
 Though Risking Shipwreck.  Not In Equal Shares 
 The World Has Fallen Between Us: Thou Alone 
 Dost Hold Italia, But Epirus I 
 And All The     Lords Of     Rome."  Twice Called And Thrice 
 Antonius Lingered Still: But Caesar Thought 
 To Reap In Full The     Favour Of     The     Gods, 
 Not Sit Supine; And Knowing Danger Yields 
 To Whom Heaven Favours, He Upon The     Waves 
 Feared By Antonius' Fleets, In Shallow Boat 
 Embarked, And Daring Sought The     Further Shore. 
   
   
   
 Now Gentle Night Had Brought Repose From Arms; 
 And Sleep, Blest Guardian Of     The     Poor Man's Couch, 
 Restored The     Weary; And The     Camp Was Still. 
 The Hour Was Come That Called The     Second Watch 
 When Mighty Caesar, In The     Silence Vast 
 
 
 
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 With Cautious Tread Advanced To Such A Deed (29) 
 As Slaves Should Dare Not.  Fortune For His Guide, 
 Alone He Passes On, And O'er The     Guard 
 Stretched In Repose He Leaps, In Secret Wrath 
 At Such A Sleep.  Pacing The     Winding Beach, 
 Fast To A Sea-Worn Rock He Finds A Boat 
 On Ocean's Marge Afloat.  Hard By On Shore 
 Its Master Dwelt Within His Humble Home. 
 No Solid Front It Reared, For Sterile Rush 
 And Marshy Reed Enwoven Formed The     Walls, 
 Propped By A Shallop With Its Bending Sides 
 Turned Upwards.  Caesar's Hand Upon The     Door 
 Knocks Twice And Thrice Until The     Fabric Shook. 
 Amyclas From His Couch Of     Soft Seaweed 
 Arising, Calls: "What Shipwrecked Sailor Seeks 
 My Humble Home?  Who Hopes For Aid From Me, 
 By Fates Adverse Compelled?"  He Stirs The     Heap 
 Upon The     Hearth, Until A Tiny Spark 
 Glows In The     Darkness, And Throws Wide The     Door. 
 Careless Of     War, He Knew That Civil Strife 
 Stoops Not To Cottages.  Oh!  Happy Life 
 That Poverty Affords!  Great Gift Of     Heaven 
 Too Little Understood!  What Mansion Wall, 
 What Temple Of     The     Gods, Would Feel No Fear 
 When Caesar Called For Entrance?  Then The     Chief: 
 "Enlarge Thine Hopes And Look For Better Things. 
 Do But My Bidding, And On Yonder Shore 
 Place Me, And Thou Shalt Cease From One Poor Boat 
 To Earn Thy Living; And In Years To Come 
 Look For A Rich Old Age: And Trust Thy Fates 
 To Those High Gods Whose Wont It Is To Bless 
 The Poor With Sudden Plenty."  So He Spake 
 E'en At Such Time In Accents Of     Command, 
 For How Could Caesar Else?  Amyclas Said, 
 "'Twere Dangerous To Brave The     Deep To-Night. 
 The Sun Descended Not In Ruddy Clouds 
 Or Peaceful Rays To Rest; Part Of     His Beams 
 Presaged A Southern Gale, The     Rest Proclaimed 
 A Northern Tempest; And His Middle Orb, 
 Shorn Of     Its Strength, Permitted Human Eyes 
 To Gaze Upon His Grandeur; And The     Moon 
 Rose Not With Silver Horns Upon The     Night 
 Nor Pure In Middle Space; Her Slender Points 
 Not Drawn Aright, But Blushing With The     Track 
 Of Raging Tempests, Till Her Lurid Light 
 Was Sadly Veiled Within The     Clouds.  Again 
 The Forest Sounds; The     Surf Upon The     Shore; 
 The Dolphin's Mood, Uncertain Where To Play; 
 The Sea-Mew On The     Land; The     Heron Used 
 To Wade Among The     Shallows, Borne Aloft 
 And Soaring On His Wings -- All These Alarm; 
 The Raven, Too, Who Plunged His Head In Spray, 
 As If To Anticipate The     Coming Rain, 
 And Trod The     Margin With Unsteady Gait. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 100 
 But If The     Cause Demands, Behold Me Thine. 
 Either We Reach The     Bidden Shore, Or Else 
 Storm And The     Deep Forbid -- We Can No More." 
   
   
   
 Thus Said He Loosed The     Boat And Raised The     Sail. 
 No Sooner Done Than Stars Were Seen To Fall 
 In Flaming Furrows From The     Sky: Nay, More; 
 The Pole Star Trembled In Its Place On High: 
 Black Horror Marked The     Surging Of     The     Sea; 
 The Main Was Boiling In Long Tracts Of     Foam, 
 Uncertain Of     The     Wind, Yet Seized With Storm. 
 Then Spake The     Captain Of     The     Trembling Bark: 
 "See What Remorseless Ocean Has In Store! 
 Whether From East Or West The     Storm May Come 
 Is Still Uncertain, For As Yet Confused 
 The Billows Tumble.  Judged By Clouds And Sky 
 A Western Tempest: By The     Murmuring Deep 
 A Wild South-Eastern Gale Shall Sweep The     Sea. 
 Nor Bark Nor Man Shall Reach Hesperia's Shore 
 In This Wild Rage Of     Waters.  To Return 
 Back On Our Course Forbidden By The     Gods, 
 Is Our One Refuge, And With Labouring Boat 
 To Reach The     Shore Ere Yet The     Nearest Land 
 Way Be Too Distant." 
   
   
   
                          But Great Caesar's Trust 
 Was In Himself, To Make All Dangers Yield. 
 And Thus He Answered: "Scorn The     Threatening Sea, 
 Spread Out Thy Canvas To The     Raging Wind; 
 If For Thy Pilot Thou Refusest Heaven, 
 Me In Its Stead Receive.  Alone In Thee 
 One Cause Of     Terror Just -- Thou Dost Not Know 
 Thy Comrade, Ne'er Deserted By The     Gods, 
 Whom Fortune Blesses E'en Without A Prayer. 
 Break Through The     Middle Storm And Trust In Me. 
 The Burden Of     This Fight Fails Not On Us 
 But On The     Sky And Ocean; And Our Bark 
 Shall Swim The     Billows Safe In Him It Bears. 
 Nor Shall The     Wind Rage Long: The     Boat Itself 
 Shall Calm The     Waters.  Flee The     Nearest Shore, 
 Steer For The     Ocean With Unswerving Hand: 
 Then In The     Deep, When To Our Ship And Us 
 No Other Port Is Given, Believe Thou Hast 
 Calabria's Harbours.  And Dost Thou Not Know 
 The Purpose Of     Such Havoc?  Fortune Seeks 
 In All This Tumult Of     The     Sea And Sky 
 A Boon For Caesar."  Then A Hurricane 
 Swooped On The     Boat And Tore Away The     Sheet: 
 The Fluttering Sail Fell On The     Fragile Mast: 
 And Groaned The     Joints.  From All The     Universe 
 
 
 
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 Commingled Perils Rush.  In Atlas' Seas 
 First Corus (30) Lifts His Head, And Stirs The     Depths 
 To Fury, And Had Forced Upon The     Rocks 
 Whole Seas And Oceans; But The     Chilly North 
 Drove Back The     Deep That Doubted Which Was Lord. 
 But Scythian Aquilo Prevailed, Whose Blast 
 Tossed Up The     Main And Showed As Shallow Pools 
 Each Deep Abyss; And Yet Was Not The     Sea 
 Heaped On The     Crags, For Corus' Billows Met 
 The Waves Of     Boreas: Such Seas Had Clashed 
 Even Were The     Winds Withdrawn; Eurus Enraged 
 Burst From The     Cave, And Notus Black With Rain, 
 And All The     Winds From Every Part Of     Heaven 
 Strove For Their Own; And Thus The     Ocean Stayed 
 Within His Boundaries.  No Petty Seas 
 Rapt In The     Storm Are Whirled.  The     Tuscan Deep 
 Invades Th' Aegean; In Ionian Gulfs 
 Sounds Wandering Hadria.  How Long The     Crags 
 Which That Day Fell, The     Ocean's Blows Had Braved! 
 What Lofty Peaks Did Vanquished Earth Resign! 
 And Yet On Yonder Coast Such Mighty Waves 
 Took Not Their Rise; From Distant Regions Came 
 Those Monster Billows, Driven On Their Course 
 By That Great Current Which Surrounds The     World. (31) 
 Thus Did The     King Of     Heaven, When Length Of     Years 
 Wore Out The     Forces Of     His Thunder, Call 
 His Brother's Trident To His Help, What Time 
 The Earth And Sea One Second Kingdom Formed 
 And Ocean Knew No Limit But The     Sky. 
 Now, Too, The     Sea Had Risen To The     Stars 
 In Mighty Mass, Had Not Olympus' Chief 
 Pressed Down Its Waves With Clouds: Came Not From Heaven 
 That Night, As Others; But The     Murky Air 
 Was Dim With Pallor Of     The     Realms Below; (32) 
 The Sky Lay On The     Deep; Within The     Clouds 
 The Waves Received The     Rain: The     Lightning Flash 
 Clove Through The     Parted Air A Path Obscured 
 By Mist And Darkness: And The     Heavenly Vaults 
 Re-Echoed To The     Tumult, And The     Frame 
 That Holds The     Sky Was Shaken.  Nature Feared 
 Chaos Returned, As Though The     Elements 
 Had Burst Their Bonds, And Night Had Come To Mix 
 Th' Infernal Shades With Heaven. 
   
   
   
                                    In Such Turmoil 
 Not To Have Perished Was Their Only Hope. 
 Far As From Leucas Point The     Placid Main 
 Spreads To The     Horizon, From The     Billow's Crest 
 They Viewed The     Dashing Of     Th' Infuriate Sea; 
 Thence Sinking To The     Middle Trough, Their Mast 
 Scarce Topped The     Watery Height On Either Hand, 
 Their Sails In Clouds, Their Keel Upon The     Ground. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 102 
 For All The     Sea Was Piled Into The     Waves, 
 And Drawn From Depths Between Laid Bare The     Sand. 
 The Master Of     The     Boat Forgot His Art, 
 For Fear O'ercame; He Knew Not Where To Yield 
 Or Where To Meet The     Wave: But Safety Came 
 From Ocean's Self At War: One Billow Forced 
 The Vessel Under, But A Huger Wave 
 Repelled It Upwards, And She Rode The     Storm 
 Through Every Blast Triumphant.  Not The     Shore 
 Of Humble Sason (33), Nor Thessalia's Coast 
 Indented, Not Ambracia's Scanty Ports 
 Dismay The     Sailors, But The     Giddy Tops 
 Of High Ceraunia's Cliffs. 
   
   
   
                               But Caesar Now, 
 Thinking The     Peril Worthy Of     His Fates: 
 "Are Such The     Labours Of     The     Gods?" Exclaimed, 
 "Bent On My Downfall Have They Sought Me Thus, 
 Here In This Puny Skiff In Such A Sea? 
 If To The     Deep The     Glory Of     My Fall 
 Is Due, And Not To War, Intrepid Still 
 Whatever Death They Send Shall Strike Me Down. 
 Let Fate Cut Short The     Deeds That I Would Do 
 And Hasten On The     End: The     Past Is Mine. 
 The Northern Nations Fell Beneath My Sword; 
 My Dreaded Name Compels The     Foe To Flee. 
 Pompeius Yields Me Place; The     People's Voice 
 Gave At My Order What The     Wars Denied. 
 And All The     Titles Which Denote The     Powers 
 Known To The     Roman State My Name Shall Bear. 
 Let None Know This But Thou Who Hear'st My Prayers, 
 Fortune, That Caesar Summoned To The     Shades, 
 Dictator, Consul, Full Of     Honours, Died 
 Ere His Last Prize Was Won.  I Ask No Pomp 
 Of Pyre Or Funeral; Let My Body Lie 
 Mangled Beneath The     Waves: I Leave A Name 
 That Men Shall Dread In Ages Yet To Come 
 And All The     Earth Shall Honour."  Thus He Spake, 
 When Lo!  A Tenth Gigantic Billow Raised 
 The Feeble Keel, And Where Between The     Rocks 
 A Cleft Gave Safety, Placed It On The     Shore. 
 Thus In A Moment Fortune, Kingdoms, Lands, 
 Once More Were Caesar's. 
   
   
   
                               But On His Return 
 When Daylight Came, He Entered Not The     Camp 
 Silent As When He Parted; For His Friends 
 Soon Pressed Around Him, And With Weeping Eyes 
 In Accents Welcome To His Ears Began: 
 "Whither In Reckless Daring Hast Thou Gone, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 103 
 Unpitying Caesar?  Were These Humble Lives 
 Left Here Unguarded While Thy Limbs Were Given, 
 Unsought For, To Be Scattered By The     Storm? 
 When On Thy Breath So Many Nations Hang 
 For Life And Safety, And So Great A World 
 Calls Thee Its Master, To Have Courted Death 
 Proves Want Of     Heart.  Was None Of     All Thy Friends 
 Deserving Held To Join His Fate With Thine? 
 When Thou Wast Tossed Upon The     Raging Deep 
 We Lay In Slumber!  Shame Upon Such Sleep! 
 And Why Thyself Didst Seek Italia's Shores? 
 'Twere Cruel (Such Thy Thought) To Speak The     Word 
 That Bade Another Dare The     Furious Sea. 
 All Men Must Bear What Chance Or Fate May Bring, 
 The Sudden Peril And The     Stroke Of     Death; 
 But Shall The     Ruler Of     The     World Attempt 
 The Raging Ocean?  With Incessant Prayers 
 Why Weary Heaven?  Is It Indeed Enough 
 To Crown The     War, That Fortune And The     Deep 
 Have Cast Thee On Our Shores?  And Would'st Thou Use 
 The Grace Of     Favouring Deities, To Gain 
 Not Lordship, Not The     Empire Of     The     World, 
 But Lucky Shipwreck!"  Night Dispersed, And Soon 
 The Sun Beamed On Them, And The     Wearied Deep, 
 The Winds Permitting, Lulled Its Waves To Rest. 
 And When Antonius Saw A Breeze Arise 
 Fresh From A Cloudless Heaven, To Break The     Sea, 
 He Loosed His Ships Which, By The     Pilots' Hands 
 And By The     Wind In Equal Order Held, 
 Swept As A Marching Host Across The     Main. 
 But Night Unfriendly From The     Seamen Snatched 
 All Governance Of     Sail, Parting The     Ships 
 In Divers Paths Asunder.  Like As Cranes 
 Deserting Frozen Strymon For The     Streams 
 Of Nile, When Winter Falls, In Casual Lines 
 Of Wedge-Like Figures (34) First Ascend The     Sky; 
 But When In Loftier Heaven The     Southern Breeze 
 Strikes On Their Pinions Tense, In Loose Array 
 Dispersed At Large, In Flight Irregular, 
 They Wing Their Journey Onwards.  Stronger Winds 
 With Day Returning Blew The     Navy On, 
 Past Lissus' Shelter Which They Vainly Sought, 
 Till Bare To Northern Blasts, Nymphaeum's Port, 
 But Safe In Southern, Gave The     Fleet Repose, 
 For Favouring Winds Came On. 
   
   
   
                               When Magnus Knew 
 That Caesar's Troops Were Gathered In Their Strength 
 And That The     War For Quick Decision Called 
 Before His Camp, Cornelia He Resolved 
 To Send To Lesbos' Shore, From Rage Of     Fight 
 Safe And Apart: So Lifting From His Soul 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 104 
 The Weight That Burdened It.  Thus, Lawful Love. 
 Thus Art Thou Tyrant O'er The     Mightiest Mind! 
 His Spouse Was The     One Cause Why Magnus Stayed 
 Nor Met His Fortunes, Though He Staked The     World 
 And All The     Destinies Of     Rome.  The     Word 
 He Speaks Not Though Resolved; So Sweet It Seemed, 
 When On The     Future Pondering, To Gain 
 A Pause From Fate!  But At The     Close Of     Night, 
 When Drowsy Sleep Had Fled, Cornelia Sought 
 To Soothe The     Anxious Bosom Of     Her Lord 
 And Win His Kisses.  Then Amazed She Saw 
 His Cheek Was Tearful, And With Boding Soul 
 She Shrank Instinctive From The     Hidden Wound, 
 Nor Dared To Rouse Him Weeping.  But He Spake: 
 "Dearer To Me Than Life Itself, When Life 
 Is Happy (Not At Moments Such As These); 
 The Day Of     Sorrow Comes, Too Long Delayed, 
 Nor Long Enough!  With Caesar At Our Gates 
 With All His Forces, A Secure Retreat 
 Shall Lesbos Give Thee.  Try Me Not With Prayers. 
 This Fatal Boon I Have Denied Myself. 
 Thou Wilt Not Long Be Absent From Thy Lord. 
 Disasters Hasten, And Things Highest Fall 
 With Speediest Ruin.  'Tis Enough For Thee 
 To Hear Of     Magnus' Peril; And Thy Love (35) 
 Deceives Thee With The     Thought That Thou Canst Gaze 
 Unmoved On Civil Strife.  It Shames My Soul 
 On The     Eve Of     War To Slumber At Thy Side, 
 And Rise From Thy Dear Breast When Trumpets Call 
 A Woeful World To Misery And Arms. 
 I Fear In Civil War To Feel No Loss 
 To Magnus.  Meantime Safer Than A King 
 Lie Hid, Nor Let The     Fortune Of     Thy Lord 
 Whelm Thee With All Its Weight.  If Unkind Heaven 
 Our Armies Rout, Still Let My Choicest Part 
 Survive In Thee; If Fated Is My Flight, 
 Still Leave Me That Whereto I Fain Would Flee." 
   
   
   
 Hardly At First Her Senses Grasped The     Words 
 In Their Full Misery; Then Her Mind Amazed 
 Could Scarce Find Utterance For The     Grief That Pressed. 
 "Nought, Magnus, Now Is Left Wherewith To Upbraid 
 The Gods And Fates Of     Marriage; 'Tis Not Death 
 That Parts Our Love, Nor Yet The     Funeral Pyre, 
 Nor That Dread Torch Which Marks The     End Of     All. 
 I Share The     Ignoble Lot Of     Vulgar Lives: 
 My Spouse Rejects Me.  Yes, The     Foe Is Come! 
 Break We Our Bonds And Julia's Sire Appease! -- 
 Is This Thy Consort, Magnus, This Thy Faith 
 In Her Fond Loving Heart?  Can Danger Fright 
 Her And Not Thee?  Long Since Our Mutual Fates 
 Hang By One Chain; And Dost Thou Bid Me Now 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm) Pg 105 
 The Thunder-Bolts Of     Ruin To Withstand 
 Without Thee?  Is It Well That I Should Die 
 Even While You Pray For Fortune?  And Suppose 
 I Flee From Evil And With Death Self-Sought 
 Follow Thy Footsteps To The     Realms Below -- 
 Am I To Live Till To That Distant Isle 
 Some Tardy Rumour Of     Thy Fall May Come? 
 Add That Thou Fain By Use Would'st Give Me Strength 
 To Bear Such Sorrow And My Doom.  Forgive 
 Thy Wife Confessing That She Fears The     Power. 
 And If My Prayers Shall Bring The     Victory, 
 The Joyful Tale Shall Come To Me The     Last 
 In That Lone Isle Of     Rocks.  When All Are Glad, 
 My Heart Shall Throb With Anguish, And The     Sail 
 Which Brings The     Message I Shall See With Fear, 
 Not Safe E'en Then: For Caesar In His Flight 
 Might Seize Me There, Abandoned And Alone 
 To Be His Hostage.  If Thou Place Me There, 
 The Spouse Of     Magnus, Shall Not All The     World 
 Well Know The     Secret Mitylene Holds? 
 This My Last Prayer: If All Is Lost But Flight, 
 And Thou Shalt Seek The     Ocean, To My Shores 
 Turn Not Thy Keel, Ill-Fated One: For There, 
 There Will They Seek Thee."  Thus She Spoke Distraught, 
 Leaped From The     Couch And Rushed Upon Her Fate; 
 No Stop Nor Stay: She Clung Not To His Neck 
 Nor Threw Her Arms About Him; Both Forego 
 The Last Caress, The     Last Fond Pledge Of     Love, 
 And Grief Rushed In Unchecked Upon Their Souls; 
 Still Gazing As They Part No Final Words 
 Could Either Utter, And The     Sweet Farewell 
 Remained Unspoken.  This The     Saddest Day 
 Of All Their Lives: For Other Woes That Came 
 More Gently Struck On Hearts Inured To Grief. 
 Borne To The     Shore With Failing Limbs She Fell 
 And Grasped The     Sands, Embracing, Till At Last 
 Her Maidens Placed Her Senseless In The     Ship. 
   
   
   
 Not In Such Grief She Left Her Country's Shores 
 When Caesar's Host Drew Near; For Now She Leaves, 
 Though Faithful To Her Lord, His Side In Flight 
 And Flees Her Spouse.  All That Next Night She Waked; 
 Then First What Means A Widowed Couch She Knew, 
 Its Cold, Its Solitude.  When Slumber Found 
 Her Eyelids, And Forgetfulness Her Soul, 
 Seeking With Outstretched Arms The     Form Beloved, 
 She Grasps But Air.  Though Tossed By Restless Love, 
 She Leaves A Place Beside Her As For Him 
 Returning.  Yet She Feared Pompeius Lost 
 To Her For Ever.  But The     Gods Ordained 
 Worse Than Her Fears, And In The     Hour Of     Woe 
 Gave Her To Look Upon His Face Again. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm)( Endnotes) Pg 106 
 (1)  The     Pleiades, Said To Be Daughters Of     Atlas. 
 (2)  These Were The     Consuls For The     Expiring Year, B.C. 49 -- 
      Caius Marcellus And L. Lentulus Crus. 
 (3)  That Is To Say, Caesar's Senate At Rome Could Boast Of     Those 
      Senators Only Whom It Had, Before Pompeius' Flight, Declared 
      Public Enemies.  But They Were To Be Regarded As Exiles, 
      Having Lost Their Rights, Rather Than The     Senators In 
      Epirus, Who Were In Full Possession Of     Theirs. 
 (4)  Dean Merivale Says That Probably Caesar's Senate Was Not 
      Less Numerous Than His Rival's.  Duruy Says There Were 
      Senators In Pompeius' Camp, Out Of     A Total Of     Between 500 
      And 600.  Mommsen Says, "They Were Veritably Emigrants. 
      This Roman Coblentz Presented A Pitiful Spectacle Of     The 
      High Pretensions And Paltry Performances Of     The     Grandees Of 
      Rome." (Vol. Iv., P. 397.)  Almost All The     Consulars Were 
      With Pompeius. 
 (5)  By The     Will Of     Ptolemy Auletes, Cleopatra Had Been Appointed 
      Joint Sovereign Of     Egypt With Her Young Brother.  Lucan 
      Means That Caesar Would Have Killed Pompeius If Young 
      Ptolemy Had Not Done So.  She Lost Her Hare Of     The     Kingdom, 
      And Caesar Was Clear Of     The     Crime. 
 (6)  Appius Was Proconsul, And In Command Of     Achaia, For The 
      Senate. 
 (7)  See Book Iv., 82. 
 (8)  Themis, The     Goddess Of     Law, Was In Possession Of     The     Delphic 
      Oracle, Previous To Apollo. (Aesch., "Eumenides", Line 2.) 
 (9)  The     Modern Isle Of     Ischia, Off The     Bay Of     Naples. 
 (10) The     Tyrians Consulted The     Oracle In Consequence Of     The 
      Earthquakes Which Vexed Their Country (Book Iii., Line 225), 
      And Were Told To Found Colonies. 
 (11) See Herodotus, Book Vii., 140-143.  The     Reference Is To The 
      Answer Given By The     Oracle To The     Athenians That Their 
      Wooden Walls Would Keep Them Safe; Which Themistocles 
      Interpreted As Meaning Their Fleet. 
 (12) Cicero, On The     Contrary, Suggests That The     Reason Why The 
      Oracles Ceased Was This, That Men Became Less Credulous. 
      ("De Div.", Ii., 57)  Lecky, "History Of     European Morals 
      From Augustus To Charlemagne", Vol. I., P. 368. 
 (13) This Name Is One Of     Those Given To The     Cumaean Sibyl 
      Mentioned At Line 210.  She Was Said To Have Been The 
      Daughter Of     Apollo. 
 (14) Probably By The     Gauls Under Brennus, B.C. 279. 
 (15) These Lines Form The     Latin Motto Prefixed To Shelley's Poem, 
      "The Demon Of     The     World". 
 (16) Referring To The     Visit Of     Aeneas To The     Sibyl. (Virgil, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm)( Endnotes) Pg 107 
      "Aeneid", Vi., 70, &C.) 
 (17) Appius Was Seized With Fever As Soon As He Reached The     Spot; 
      And There He Died And Was Buried, Thus Fulfilling The 
      Oracle. 
 (18) That Is, Nemesis. 
 (19) Reading "Galeam", With Francken; Not "Glebam". 
 (20) Labienus Left Caesar's Ranks After The     Rubicon Was Crossed, 
      And Joined His Rival.  In His Mouth Lucan Puts The     Speech 
      Made At The     Oracle Of     Hammon In Book Ix.  He Was Slain At 
      Munda, B.C. 45. 
 (21) That Is, Civilians; No Longer Soldiers.  This One 
      Contemptuous Expression Is Said To Have Shocked And Abashed 
      The     Army. (Tacitus, "Annals", I., 42.) 
 (22) Reading "Tenet", With Hosius And Francken; Not "Timet", As 
      Haskins.  The     Prospect Of     Inflicting Punishment Attracted, 
      While The     Suffering Of     It Subdued, The     Mutineers. 
 (23) Caesar Was Named Dictator While At Massilia.  Entering Rome, 
      He Held The     Office For Eleven Days Only, But Was Elected 
      Consul For The     Incoming Year, B.C. 48, Along With Servilius 
      Isauricus.  (Caesar, "De Bello Civili", Iii., 1; Merivale, 
      Chapter Xvi.) 
 (24) In The     Time Of     The     Empire, The     Degraded Consulship, 
      Preserved Only As A Name, Was Frequently Transferred 
      Monthly, Or Even Shorter, Intervals From One Favourite To 
      Another. 
 (25) Caesar Performed The     Solemn Rites Of     The     Great Latin 
      Festival On The     Alban Mount During His Dictatorship. 
      (Compare Book Vii., Line 471.) 
 (26) Dyrrhachium Was Founded By The     Corcyreams, With Whom The 
      Homeric Phaeacians Have Been Identified. 
 (27) Apparently Making The     Danube Discharge Into The     Sea Of     Azov. 
      See Mr. Heitland's Introduction, P. 53. 
 (28) At The     Foot Of     The     Acroceraunian Range. 
 (29) Caesar Himself Says Nothing Of     This Adventure.  But It Is 
      Mentioned By Dion, Appian And Plutarch ("Caesar", 38).  Dean 
      Merivale Thinks The     Story May Have Been Invented To 
      Introduce The     Apophthegm Used By Caesar To The     Sailor, "Fear 
      Nothing: You Carry Caesar And His Fortunes" (Lines 662-665). 
      Mommsen Accepts The     Story, As Of     An Attempt Which Was Only 
      Abandoned Because No Mariner Could Be Induced To Undertake 
      It.  Lucan Colours It With His Wildest And Most Exaggerated 
      Hyperbole. 
 (30) See Book I., 463. 
 (31) The     Ocean Current, Which, According To Hecataeus, Surrounded 
      The     World.  But Herodotus Of     This Theory Says, "For My Part 
      I Know Of     No River Called Ocean, And I Think That Homer Or 
      One Of     The     Earlier Poets Invented The     Name And Introduced It 
      Into His Poetry."  (Book Ii., 23, And Book Iv., 36.)  In 
      "Oceanus" Aeschylus Seems To Have Intended To Personify The 
      Great Surrounding Stream. ("Prom. Vinc.", Lines 291, 308.) 
 (32) Comp. Vi., 615. 
 (33) Sason Is A Small Island Just Off The     Ceraunian Rocks, The 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm)( Endnotes) Pg 108 
      Point Of     Which Is Now Called Cape Linguetta, And Is Nearly 
      Opposite To Brindisi. 
 (34) Compare "Paradise Lost", Vii., 425. 
 (35) Reading "Teque Tuus Decepit Amor", As Preferred By Hosius. 
   
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 109 
 Now That The     Chiefs With Minds Intent On Fight 
 Had Drawn Their Armies Near Upon The     Hills 
 And All The     Gods Beheld Their Chosen Pair, 
 Caesar, The     Grecian Towns Despising, Scorned 
 To Reap The     Glory Of     Successful War 
 Save At His Kinsman's Cost.  In All His Prayers 
 He Seeks That Moment, Fatal To The     World, 
 When Shall Be Cast The     Die, To Win Or Lose, 
 And All His Fortune Hang Upon The     Throw. 
 Thrice He Drew Out His Troops, His Eagles Thrice, 
 Demanding Battle; Thus To Increase The     Woe 
 Of Latium, Prompt As Ever: But His Foes, 
 Proof Against Every Art, Refused To Leave 
 The Rampart Of     Their Camp.  Then Marching Swift 
 By Hidden Path Between The     Wooded Fields 
 He Seeks, And Hopes To Seize, Dyrrhachium's (1) Fort; 
 But Magnus, Speeding By The     Ocean Marge, 
 First Camped On Petra's Slopes, A Rocky Hill 
 Thus By The     Natives Named.  From Thence He Keeps 
 Watch O'er The     Fortress Of     Corinthian Birth 
 Which By Its Towers Alone Without A Guard 
 Was Safe Against A Siege.  No Hand Of     Man 
 In Ancient Days Built Up Her Lofty Wall, 
 No Hammer Rang Upon Her Massive Stones: 
 Not All The     Works Of     War, Nor Time Himself 
 Shall Undermine Her.  Nature's Hand Has Raised 
 Her Adamantine Rocks And Hedged Her In 
 With Bulwarks Girded By The     Foamy Main: 
 And But For One Short Bridge Of     Narrow Earth 
 Dyrrhachium Were An Island.  Steep And Fierce, 
 Dreaded Of     Sailors, Are The     Cliffs That Bear 
 Her Walls; And Tempests, Howling From The     West, 
 Toss Up The     Raging Main Upon The     Roofs; 
 
 
 
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 And Homes And Temples Tremble At The     Shock. 
   
   
   
 Thirsting For Battle And With Hopes Inflamed 
 Here Caesar Hastes, With Distant Rampart Lines 
 Seeking Unseen To Coop His Foe Within, 
 Though Spread In Spacious Camp Upon The     Hills. 
 With Eagle Eye He Measures Out The     Land 
 Meet To Be Compassed, Nor Content With Turf 
 Fit For A Hasty Mound, He Bids His Troops 
 Tear From The     Quarries Many A Giant Rock: 
 And Spoils The     Dwellings Of     The     Greeks, And Drags 
 Their Walls Asunder For His Own.  Thus Rose 
 A Mighty Barrier Which No Ram Could Burst 
 Nor Any Ponderous Machine Of     War. 
 Mountains Are Cleft, And Level Through The     Hills 
 The Work Of     Caesar Strides: Wide Yawns The     Moat, 
 Forts Show Their Towers Rising On The     Heights, 
 And In Vast Circle Forests Are Enclosed 
 And Groves And Spacious Lands, And Beasts Of     Prey, 
 As In A Line Of     Toils.  Pompeius Lacked 
 Nor Field Nor Forage In Th' Encircled Span 
 Nor Room To Move His Camp; Nay, Rivers Rose 
 Within, And Ran Their Course And Reached The     Sea; 
 And Caesar Wearied Ere He Saw The     Whole, 
 And Daylight Failed Him.  Let The     Ancient Tale 
 Attribute To The     Labours Of     The     Gods 
 The Walls Of     Ilium: Let The     Fragile Bricks 
 Which Compass In Great Babylon, Amaze 
 The Fleeting Parthian.  Here A Larger Space 
 Than Those Great Cities Which Orontes Swift 
 And Tigris' Stream Enclose, Or That Which Boasts 
 In Eastern Climes, The     Lordly Palaces 
 Fit For Assyria's Kings, Is Closed By Walls 
 Amid The     Haste And Tumult Of     A War 
 Forced To Completion.  Yet This Labour Huge 
 Was Spent In Vain.  So Many Hands Had Joined 
 Or Sestos With Abydos, Or Had Tamed 
 With Mighty Mole The     Hellespontine Wave, 
 Or Corinth From The     Realm Of     Pelops' King 
 Had Rent Asunder, Or Had Spared Each Ship 
 Her Voyage Round The     Long Malean Cape, 
 Or Had Done Anything Most Hard, To Change 
 The World's Created Surface.  Here The     War 
 Was Prisoned: Blood Predestinate To Flow 
 In All The     Parts Of     Earth; The     Host Foredoomed 
 To Fall In Libya Or In Thessaly 
 Was Here: In Such Small Amphitheatre 
 The Tide Of     Civil Passion Rose And Fell. 
   
   
   
 At First Pompeius Knew Not: So The     Hind 
 
 
 
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 Who Peaceful Tills The     Mid-Sicilian Fields 
 Hears Not Pelorous (2) Sounding To The     Storm; 
 So Billows Thunder On Rutupian Shores (3), 
 Unheard By Distant Caledonia's Tribes. 
 But When He Saw The     Mighty Barrier Stretch 
 O'er Hill And Valley, And Enclose The     Land, 
 He Bade His Columns Leave Their Rocky Hold 
 And Seize On Posts Of     Vantage In The     Plain; 
 Thus Forcing Caesar To Extend His Troops 
 On Wider Lines; And Holding For His Own 
 Such Space Encompassed As Divides From Rome 
 Aricia, (4) Sacred To That Goddess Chaste 
 Of Old Mycenae; Or As Tiber Holds 
 From Rome's High Ramparts To The     Tuscan Sea, 
 Unless He Deviate.  No Bugle Call 
 Commands An Onset, And The     Darts That Fly 
 Fly Though Forbidden; But The     Arm That Flings 
 For Proof The     Lance, At Random, Here And There 
 Deals Impious Slaughter.  Weighty Care Compelled 
 Each Leader To Withhold His Troops From Fight; 
 For There The     Weary Earth Of     Produce Failed 
 Pressed By Pompeius' Steeds, Whose Horny Hoofs 
 Rang In Their Gallop On The     Grassy Fields 
 And Killed The     Succulence.  They Strengthless Lay 
 Upon The     Mown Expanse, Nor Pile Of     Straw, 
 Brought From Full Barns In Place Of     Living Grass, 
 Relieved Their Craving; Shook Their Panting Flanks, 
 And As They Wheeled Death Struck His Victim Down. 
 Then Foul Contagion Filled The     Murky Air 
 Whose Poisonous Weight Pressed On Them In A Cloud 
 Pestiferous; As In Nesis' Isle (5) The     Breath 
 Of Styx Rolls Upwards From The     Mist-Clad Rocks; 
 Or That Fell Vapour Which The     Caves Exhale 
 From Typhon (6) Raging In The     Depths Below. 
 Then Died The     Soldiers, For The     Streams They Drank 
 Held Yet More Poison Than The     Air: The     Skin 
 Was Dark And Rigid, And The     Fiery Plague 
 Made Hard Their Vitals, And With Pitiless Tooth 
 Gnawed At Their Wasted Features, While Their Eyes 
 Started From Out Their Sockets, And The     Head 
 Drooped For Sheer Weariness.  So The     Disease 
 Grew Swifter In Its Strides Till Scarce Was Room, 
 'Twixt Life And Death, For Sickness, And The     Pest 
 Slew As It Struck Its Victim, And The     Dead 
 Thrust From The     Tents (Such All Their Burial) Lay 
 Blent With The     Living.  Yet Their Camp Was Pitched 
 Hard By The     Breezy Sea By Which Might Come 
 All Nations' Harvests, And The     Northern Wind 
 Not Seldom Rolled The     Murky Air Away. 
 Their Foe, Not Vexed With Pestilential Air 
 Nor Stagnant Waters, Ample Range Enjoyed 
 Upon The     Spacious Uplands: Yet As Though 
 In Leaguer, Famine Seized Them For Its Prey. 
 Scarce Were The     Crops Half Grown When Caesar Saw 
 
 
 
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 How Prone They Seized Upon The     Food Of     Beasts, 
 And Stripped Of     Leaves The     Bushes And The     Groves, 
 And Dragged From Roots Unknown The     Doubtful Herb. 
 Thus Ate They, Starving, All That Teeth May Bite 
 Or Fire Might Soften, Or Might Pass Their Throats 
 Dry, Parched, Abraded; Food Unknown Before 
 Nor Placed On Tables: While The     Leaguered Foe 
 Was Blessed With Plenty. 
   
   
   
                          When Pompeius First 
 Was Pleased To Break His Bonds And Be At Large, 
 No Sudden Dash He Makes On Sleeping Foe 
 Unarmed In Shade Of     Night; His Mighty Soul 
 Scorns Such A Path To Victory.  'Twas His Aim, 
 To Lay The     Turrets Low; To Mark His Track, 
 By Ruin Spread Afar; And With The     Sword 
 To Hew A Path Between His Slaughtered Foes. 
 Minucius' (7) Turret Was The     Chosen Spot 
 Where Groves Of     Trees And Thickets Gave Approach 
 Safe, Unbetrayed By Dust. 
   
   
   
                               Up From The     Fields 
 Flashed All At Once His Eagles Into Sight 
 And All His Trumpets Blared.  But Ere The     Sword 
 Could Win The     Battle, On The     Hostile Ranks 
 Dread Panic Fell; Prone As In Death They Lay 
 Where Else Upright They Should Withstand The     Foe; 
 Nor More Availed Their Valour, And In Vain 
 The Cloud Of     Weapons Flew, With None To Slay. 
 Then Blazing Torches Rolling Pitchy Flame 
 Are Hurled, And Shaken Nod The     Lofty Towers 
 And Threaten Ruin, And The     Bastions Groan 
 Struck By The     Frequent Engine, And The     Troops 
 Of Magnus By Triumphant Eagles Led 
 Stride O'er The     Rampart, In Their Front The     World. 
   
   
   
 Yet Now That Passage Which Not Caesar's Self 
 Nor Thousand Valiant Squadrons Had Availed 
 To Rescue From Their Grasp, One Man In Arms 
 Steadfast Till Death Refused Them; Scaeva Named 
 This Hero Soldier: Long He Served In Fight 
 Waged 'Gainst The     Savage On The     Banks Of     Rhone; 
 And Now Centurion Made, Through Deeds Of     Blood, 
 He Bore The     Staff Before The     Marshalled Line. 
 Prone To All Wickedness, He Little Recked 
 How Valourous Deeds In Civil War May Be 
 Greatest Of     Crimes; And When He Saw How Turned 
 His Comrades From The     War And Sought In Flight 
 
 
 
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 A Refuge, (8) "Whence," He Cried, "This Impious Fear 
 Unknown To Caesar's Armies?  Do Ye Turn 
 Your Backs On Death, And Are Ye Not Ashamed 
 Not To Be Found Where Slaughtered Heroes Lie? 
 Is Loyalty Too Weak?  Yet Love Of     Fight 
 Might Bid You Stand.  We Are The     Chosen Few 
 Through Whom The     Foe Would Break.  Unbought By Blood 
 This Day Shall Not Be Theirs.  'Neath Caesar's Eye, 
 True, Death Would Be More Happy; But This Boon 
 Fortune Denies: At Least My Fall Shall Be 
 Praised By Pompeius.  Break Ye With Your Breasts 
 Their Weapons; Blunt The     Edges Of     Their Swords 
 With Throats Unyielding.  In The     Distant Lines 
 The Dust Is Seen Already, And The     Sound 
 Of Tumult And Of     Ruin Finds The     Ear 
 Of Caesar: Strike; The     Victory Is Ours: 
 For He Shall Come Who While His Soldiers Die 
 Shall Make The     Fortress His."  His Voice Called Forth 
 The Courage That The     Trumpets Failed To Rouse 
 When First They Rang: His Comrades Mustering Come 
 To Watch His Deeds; And, Wondering At The     Man, 
 To Test If Valour Thus By Foes Oppressed, 
 In Narrow Space, Could Hope For Aught But Death. 
 But Scaeva Standing On The     Tottering Bank 
 Heaves From The     Brimming Turret On The     Foe 
 The Corpses Of     The     Fallen; The     Ruined Mass 
 Furnishing Weapons To His Hands; With Beams, 
 And Ponderous Stones, Nay, With His Body Threats 
 His Enemies; With Poles And Stakes He Thrusts 
 The Breasts Advancing; When They Grasp The     Wall 
 He Lops The     Arm: Rocks Crush The     Foeman's Skull 
 And Rive The     Scalp Asunder: Fiery Bolts 
 Dashed At Another Set His Hair Aflame, 
 Till Rolls The     Greedy Blaze About His Eyes 
 With Hideous Crackle.  As The     Pile Of     Slain 
 Rose To The     Summit Of     The     Wall He Sprang, 
 Swift As Across The     Nets A Hunted Pard, 
 Above The     Swords Upraised, Till In Mid Throng 
 Of Foes He Stood, Hemmed In By Densest Ranks 
 And Ramparted By War; In Front And Rear, 
 Where'er He Struck, The     Victor.  Now His Sword 
 Blunted With Gore Congealed No More Could Wound, 
 But Brake The     Stricken Limb; While Every Hand 
 Flung Every Quivering Dart At Him Alone; 
 Nor Missed Their Aim, For Rang Against His Shield 
 Dart After Dart Unerring, And His Helm 
 In Broken Fragments Pressed Upon His Brow; 
 His Vital Parts Were Safeguarded By Spears 
 That Bristled In His Body.  Fortune Saw 
 Thus Waged A Novel Combat, For There Warred 
 Against One Man An Army.  Why With Darts, 
 Madmen, Assail Him And With Slender Shafts, 
 'Gainst Which His Life Is Proof?  Or Ponderous Stones 
 This Warrior Chief Shall Overwhelm, Or Bolts 
 
 
 
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 Flung By The     Twisted Thongs Of     Mighty Slings. 
 Let Steelshod Ram Or Catapult Remove 
 This Champion Of     The     Gate.  No Fragile Wall 
 Stands Here For Caesar, Blocking With Its Bulk 
 Pompeius' Way To Freedom.  Now He Trusts 
 His Shield No More, Lest His Sinister Hand, 
 Idle, Give Life By Shame; And On His Breast 
 Bearing A Forest Of     Spears, Though Spent With Toil 
 And Worn With Onset, Falls Upon His Foe 
 And Braves Alone The     Wounds Of     All The     War. 
 Thus May An Elephant In Afric Wastes, 
 Oppressed By Frequent Darts, Break Those That Fall 
 Rebounding From His Horny Hide, And Shake 
 Those That Find Lodgment, While His Life Within 
 Lies Safe, Protected, Nor Doth Spear Avail 
 To Reach The     Fount Of     Blood.  Unnumbered Wounds 
 By Arrow Dealt, Or Lance, Thus Fail To Slay 
 This Single Warrior.  But Lo!  From Far 
 A Cretan Archer's Shaft, More Sure Of     Aim 
 Than Vows Could Hope For, Strikes On Scaeva's Brow 
 To Light Within His Eye: The     Hero Tugs 
 Intrepid, Bursts The     Nerves, And Tears The     Shaft 
 Forth With The     Eyeball, And With Dauntless Heel 
 Treads Them To Dust.  Not Otherwise A Bear 
 Pannonian, Fiercer For The     Wound Received, 
 Maddened By Dart From Libyan Thong Propelled, 
 Turns Circling On Her Wound, And Still Pursues 
 The Weapon Fleeing As She Whirls Around. 
 Thus, In His Rage Destroyed, His Shapeless Face 
 Stood Foul With Crimson Flow.  The     Victors' Shout 
 Glad To The     Sky Arose; No Greater Joy 
 A Little Blood Could Give Them Had They Seen 
 That Caesar's Self Was Wounded.  Down He Pressed 
 Deep In His Soul The     Anguish, And, With Mien, 
 No Longer Bent On Fight, Submissive Cried, 
 "Spare Me, Ye Citizens; Remove The     War 
 Far Hence: No Weapons Now Can Haste My Death; 
 Draw From My Breast The     Darts, But Add No More. 
 Yet Raise Me Up To Place Me In The     Camp 
 Of Magnus, Living: This Your Gift To Him; 
 No Brave Man's Death My Title To Renown, 
 But Caesar's Flag Deserted."  So He Spake. 
 Unhappy Aulus Thought His Words Were True, 
 Nor Saw Within His Hand The     Pointed Sword; 
 And Leaping Forth In Haste To Make His Own 
 The Prisoner And His Arms, In Middle Throat 
 Received The     Lightning Blade.  By This One Death 
 Rose Scaeva's Valour Again; And Thus He Cried, 
 Such Be The     Punishment Of     All Who Thought 
 Great Scaeva Vanquished; If Pompeius Seeks 
 Peace From This Reeking Sword, Low Let Him Lay 
 At Caesar's Feet His Standards.  Me Do Ye Think 
 Such As Yourselves, And Slow To Meet The     Fates? 
 Your Love For Magnus And The     Senate's Cause 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 115 
 Is Less Than Mine For Death."  These Were His Words; 
 And Dust In Columns Proved That Caesar Came. 
 Thus Was Pompeius' Glory Spared The     Stain 
 Of Flight Compelled By Scaeva.  He, When Ceased 
 The Battle, Fell, No More By Rage Of     Fight, 
 Or Sight Of     Blood Out-Pouring From His Wounds, 
 Roused To The     Combat.  Fainting There He Lay 
 Upon The     Shoulders Of     His Comrades Borne, 
 Who Him Adoring (As Though Deity 
 Dwelt In His Bosom) For His Matchless Deeds, 
 Plucked Forth The     Gory Shafts And Took His Arms 
 To Deck The     Gods And Shield The     Breast Of     Mars. 
 Thrice Happy Thou With Such A Name Achieved, 
 Had But The     Fierce Iberian From Thy Sword, 
 Or Heavy Shielded Teuton, Or Had Fled 
 The Light Cantabrian: With No Spoils Shalt Thou 
 Adorn The     Thunderer's Temple, Nor Upraise 
 The Shout Of     Triumph In The     Ways Of     Rome. 
 For All Thy Prowess, All Thy Deeds Of     Pride 
 Do But Prepare Her Lord. 
   
   
   
                          Nor On This Hand 
 Repulsed, Pompeius Idly Ceased From War, 
 Content Within His Bars; But As The     Sea 
 Tireless, Which Tempests Force Upon The     Crag 
 That Breaks It, Or Which Gnaws A Mountain Side 
 Some Day To Fall In Ruin On Itself; 
 He Sought The     Turrets Nearest To The     Main, 
 On Double Onset Bent; Nor Closely Kept 
 His Troops In Hand, But On The     Spacious Plain 
 Spread Forth His Camp.  They Joyful Leave The     Tents 
 And Wander At Their Will.  Thus Padus Flows 
 In Brimming Flood, And Foaming At His Bounds, 
 Making Whole Districts Quake; And Should The     Bank 
 Fail 'Neath His Swollen Waters, All His Stream 
 Breaks Forth In Swirling Eddies Over Fields 
 Not His Before; Some Lands Are Lost, The     Rest 
 Gain From His Bounty. 
   
   
   
                          Hardly From His Tower 
 Had Caesar Seen The     Fire Or Known The     Fight: 
 And Coming Found The     Rampart Overthrown, 
 The Dust No Longer Stirred, The     Rains Cold 
 As From A Battle Done.  The     Peace That Reigned 
 There And On Magnus' Side, As Though Men Slept, 
 Their Victory Won, Aroused His Angry Soul. 
 Quick He Prepares, So That He End Their Joy 
 Careless Of     Slaughter Or Defeat, To Rush 
 With Threatening Columns On Torquatus' Post. 
 But Swift As Sailor, By His Trembling Mast 
 
 
 
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 Warned Of     Circeian Tempest, Furls His Sails, 
 So Swift Torquatus Saw, And Prompt To Wage 
 The War More Closely, He Withdrew His Men 
 Within A Narrower Wall. 
   
   
   
                          Now Past The     Trench 
 Were Caesar's Companies, When From The     Hills 
 Pompeius Hurled His Host Upon Their Ranks 
 Shut In, And Hampered.  Not So Much O'erwhelmed 
 As Caesar's Soldiers Is The     Hind Who Dwells 
 On Etna's Slopes, When Blows The     Southern Wind, 
 And All The     Mountain Pours Its Cauldrons Forth 
 Upon The     Vale; And Huge Enceladus (9) 
 Writhing Beneath His Load Spouts O'er The     Plains 
 A Blazing Torrent. 
   
   
   
                     Blinded By The     Dust, 
 Encircled, Vanquished, Ere The     Fight, They Fled 
 In Cloud Of     Terror On Their Rearward Foe, 
 So Rushing On Their Fates.  Thus Had The     War 
 Shed Its Last Drop Of     Blood And Peace Ensued, 
 But Magnus Suffered Not, And Held His Troops. 
 Back From The     Battle. 
   
   
   
                          Thou, Oh Rome, Had'st Been 
 Free, Happy, Mistress Of     Thy Laws And Rights 
 Were Sulla Here.  Now Shalt Thou Ever Grieve 
 That In His Crowning Crime, To Have Met In Fight 
 A Pious Kinsman, Caesar's Vantage Lay. 
 Oh Tragic Destiny!  Nor Munda's Fight 
 Hispania Had Wept, Nor Libya Mourned 
 Encrimsoned Utica, Nor Nilus' Stream, 
 With Blood Unspeakable Polluted, Borne 
 A Nobler Corse Than Her Egyptian Kings: 
 Nor Juba (10) Lain Unburied On The     Sands, 
 Nor Scipio With His Blood Outpoured Appeased 
 The Ghosts Of     Carthage; Nor The     Blameless Life 
 Of Cato Ended: And Pharsalia's Name 
 Had Then Been Blotted From The     Book Of     Fate. 
   
   
   
 But Caesar Left The     Region Where His Arms 
 Had Found The     Deities Averse, And Marched 
 His Shattered Columns To Thessalian Lands. 
 Then To Pompeius Came (Whose Mind Was Bent 
 To Follow Caesar Wheresoe'er He Fled) 
 His Captains, Striving To Persuade Their Chief 
 
 
 
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 To Seek Ausonia, His Native Land, 
 Now Freed From Foes.  "Ne'er Will I Pass," He Said, 
 "My Country's Limit, Nor Revisit Rome 
 Like Caesar, At The     Head Of     Banded Hosts. 
 Hesperia When The     War Began Was Mine; 
 Mine, Had I Chosen In Our Country's Shrines, (11) 
 In Midmost Forum Of     Her Capital, 
 To Join The     Battle.  So That Banished Far 
 Be War From Rome, I'll Cross The     Torrid Zone 
 Or Those For Ever Frozen Scythian Shores. 
 What!  Shall My Victory Rob Thee Of     The     Peace 
 I Gave Thee By My Flight?  Rather Than Thou 
 Should'st Feel The     Evils Of     This Impious War, 
 Let Caesar Deem Thee His."  Thus Said, His Course 
 He Turned Towards The     Rising Of     The     Sun, 
 And Following Devious Paths, Through Forests Wide, 
 Made For Emathia, The     Land By Fate 
 Foredoomed To See The     Issue. 
   
   
   
 Thessalia On That Side Where Titan First 
 Raises The     Wintry Day, By Ossa's Rocks 
 Is Prisoned In: But In Th' Advancing Year 
 When Higher In The     Vault His Chariot Rides 
 'Tis Pelion That Meets The     Morning Rays. 
 And When Beside The     Lion's Flames He Drives 
 The Middle Course, Othrys With Woody Top 
 Screens His Chief Ardour.  On The     Hither Side 
 Pindus Receives The     Breezes Of     The     West 
 And As The     Evening Falls Brings Darkness In. 
 There Too Olympus, At Whose Foot Who Dwells 
 Nor Fears The     North Nor Sees The     Shining Bear. 
 Between These Mountains Hemmed, In Ancient Time 
 The Fields Were Marsh, For Tempe's Pass Not Yet 
 Was Cleft, To Give An Exit To The     Streams 
 That Filled The     Plain: But When Alcides' Hand 
 Smote Ossa From Olympus At A Blow, (12) 
 And Nereus Wondered At The     Sudden Flood 
 Of Waters To The     Main, Then On The     Shore 
 (Would It Had Slept For Ever 'Neath The     Deep) 
 Seaborn Achilles' Home Pharsalus Rose; 
 And Phylace (13) Whence Sailed That Ship Of     Old 
 Whose Keel First Touched Upon The     Beach Of     Troy; 
 And Dorion Mournful For The     Muses' Ire 
 On Thamyris (14) Vanquished: Trachis; Melibe 
 Strong In The     Shafts (15) Of     Hercules, The     Price 
 Of That Most Awful Torch; Larissa's Hold 
 Potent Of     Yore; And Argos, (16) Famous Erst, 
 O'er Which Men Pass The     Ploughshare: And The     Spot 
 Fabled As Echionian Thebes, (17) Where Once 
 Agave Bore In Exile To The     Pyre 
 (Grieving 'Twas All She Had) The     Head And Neck 
 Of Pentheus Massacred.  The     Lake Set Free 
 
 
 
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 Flowed Forth In Many Rivers: To The     West 
 Aeas, (18) A Gentle Stream; Nor Stronger Flows 
 The Sire Of     Isis Ravished From His Arms; 
 And Achelous, Rival For The     Hand 
 Of Oeneus' Daughter, Rolls His Earthy Flood (19) 
 To Silt The     Shore Beside The     Neighbouring Isles. 
 Evenus (20) Purpled By The     Centaur's Blood 
 Wanders Through Calydon: In The     Malian Gulf 
 Thy Rapids Fall, Spercheius: Pure The     Wave 
 With Which Amphrysos (21) Irrigates The     Meads 
 Where Once Apollo Served: Anaurus (22) Flows 
 Breathing No Vapour Forth; No Humid Air 
 Ripples His Face: And Whatever Stream, 
 Nameless Itself, To Ocean Gives Its Waves 
 Through Thee, Peneus: (23) Whirled In Eddies Foams 
 Apidanus; Enipeus Lingers On 
 Swift Only When Fresh Streams His Volume Swell: 
 And Thus Asopus Takes His Ordered Course, 
 Phoenix And Melas; But Eurotas Keeps 
 His Stream Aloof From That With Which He Flows, 
 Peneus, Gliding On His Top As Though 
 Upon The     Channel.  Fable Says That, Sprung 
 From Darkest Pools Of     Styx, With Common Floods 
 He Scorns To Mingle, Mindful Of     His Source, 
 So That The     Gods Above May Fear Him Still. 
   
   
   
 Soon As Were Sped The     Rivers, Boebian Ploughs 
 Dark With Its Riches Broke The     Virgin Soil; 
 Then Came Lelegians To Press The     Share, 
 And Dolopes And Sons Of     Oeolus 
 By Whom The     Glebe Was Furrowed.  Steed-Renowned 
 Magnetians Dwelt There, And The     Minyan Race 
 Who Smote The     Sounding Billows With The     Oar. 
 There In The     Cavern From The     Pregnant Cloud 
 Ixion's Sons Found Birth, The     Centaur Brood 
 Half Beast, Half Human: Monychus Who Broke 
 The Stubborn Rocks Of     Pholoe, Rhoetus Fierce 
 Hurling From Oeta's Top Gigantic Elms 
 Which Northern Storms Could Hardly Overturn; 
 Pholus, Alcides' Host: Nessus Who Bore 
 The Queen Across Evenus' (24) Waves, To Feel 
 The Deadly Arrow For His Shameful Deed; 
 And Aged Chiron (25) Who With Wintry Star 
 Against The     Huger Scorpion Draws His Bow. 
 Here Sparkled On The     Land The     Warrior Seed; (26) 
 Here Leaped The     Charger From Thessalian Rocks (27) 
 Struck By The     Trident Of     The     Ocean King, 
 Omen Of     Dreadful War; Here First He Learned, 
 Champing The     Bit And Foaming At The     Curb, 
 Yet To Obey His Lord.  From Yonder Shore 
 The Keel Of     Pine First Floated, (28) And Bore Men 
 To Dare The     Perilous Chance Of     Seas Unknown: 
 
 
 
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 And Here Ionus Ruler Of     The     Land 
 First From The     Furnace Molten Masses Drew 
 Of Iron And Brass; Here First The     Hammer Fell 
 To Weld Them, Shapeless; Here In Glowing Stream 
 Ran Silver Forth And Gold, Soon To Receive 
 The Minting Stamp.  'Twas Thus That Money Came 
 Whereby Men Count Their Riches, Cause Accursed 
 Of Warfare.  Hence Came Down That Python Huge 
 On Cirrha: Hence The     Laurel Wreath Which Crowns 
 The Pythian Victor: Here Aloeus' Sons 
 Gigantic Rose Against The     Gods, What Time 
 Pelion Had Almost Touched The     Stars Supreme, 
 And Ossa's Loftier Peak Amid The     Sky 
 Opposing, Barred The     Constellations' Way. 
   
   
   
 When In This Fated Land The     Chiefs Had Placed 
 Their Several Camps, Foreboding Of     The     End 
 Now Fast Approaching, All Men's Thoughts Were Turned 
 Upon The     Final Issue Of     The     War. 
 And As The     Hour Drew Near, The     Coward Minds 
 Trembling Beneath The     Shadow Of     The     Fate 
 Now Hanging O'er Them, Deemed Disaster Near: 
 While Some Took Heart; Yet Doubted What Might Fall, 
 In Hope And Fear Alternate.  'Mid The     Throng 
 Sextus, Unworthy Son Of     Worthy Sire 
 Who Soon Upon The     Waves That Scylla Guards, (29) 
 Sicilian Pirate, Exile From His Home, 
 Stained By His Deeds Of     Shame The     Fights He Won, 
 Could Bear Delay No More; His Feeble Soul, 
 Sick Of     Uncertain Fate, By Fear Compelled, 
 Forecast The     Future: Yet Consulted Not 
 The Shrine Of     Delos Nor The     Pythian Caves; 
 Nor Was He Satisfied To Learn The     Sound 
 Of Jove's Brass Cauldron, 'Mid Dodona's Oaks, 
 By Her Primaeval Fruits The     Nurse Of     Men: 
 Nor Sought He Sages Who By Flight Of     Birds, 
 Or Watching With Assyrian Care The     Stars 
 And Fires Of     Heaven, Or By Victims Slain, 
 May Know The     Fates To Come; Nor Any Source 
 Lawful Though Secret.  For To Him Was Known 
 That Which Excites The     Hate Of     Gods Above; 
 Magicians' Lore, The     Savage Creed Of     Dis 
 And All The     Shades; And Sad With Gloomy Rites 
 Mysterious Altars.  For His Frenzied Soul 
 Heaven Knew Too Little.  And The     Spot Itself 
 Kindled His Madness, For Hard By There Dwelt 
 The Brood Of     Haemon (30) Whom No Storied Witch 
 Of Fiction E'er Transcended; All Their Art 
 In Things Most Strange And Most Incredible; 
 There Were Thessalian Rocks With Deadly Herbs 
 Thick Planted, Sensible To Magic Chants, 
 Funereal, Secret: And The     Land Was Full 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 120 
 
 Of Violence To The     Gods: The     Queenly Guest (31) 
 From Colchis Gathered Here The     Fatal Roots 
 That Were Not In Her Store: Hence Vain To Heaven 
 Rise Impious Incantations, All Unheard; 
 For Deaf The     Ears Divine: Save For One Voice 
 Which Penetrates The     Furthest Depths Of     Airs 
 Compelling E'en Th' Unwilling Deities 
 To Hearken To Its Accents.  Not The     Care 
 Of The     Revolving Sky Or Starry Pole 
 Can Call Them From It Ever.  Once The     Sound 
 Of Those Dread Tones Unspeakable Has Reached 
 The Constellations, Then Nor Babylon 
 Nor Secret Memphis, Though They Open Wide 
 The Shrines Of     Ancient Magic And Entreat 
 The Gods, Could Draw Them From The     Fires That Smoke 
 Upon The     Altars Of     Far Thessaly. 
 To Hearts Of     Flint Those Incantations Bring 
 Love, Strange, Unnatural; The     Old Man's Breast 
 Burns With Illicit Fire.  Nor Lies The     Power 
 In Harmful Cup Nor In The     Juicy Pledge 
 Of Love Maternal From The     Forehead Drawn; (32) 
 Charmed Forth By Spells Alone The     Mind Decays, 
 By Poisonous Drugs Unharmed.  With Woven Threads 
 Crossed In Mysterious Fashion Do They Bind 
 Those Whom No Passion Born Of     Beauteous Form 
 Or Loving Couch Unites.  All Things On Earth 
 Change At Their Bidding; Night Usurps The     Day; 
 The Heavens Disobey Their Wonted Laws; 
 At That Dread Hymn The     Universe Stands Still; 
 And Jove While Urging The     Revolving Wheels 
 Wonders They Move Not.  Torrents Are Outpoured 
 Beneath A Burning Sun; And Thunder Roars 
 Uncaused By Jupiter.  From Their Flowing Locks 
 Vapours Immense Shall Issue At Their Call; 
 When Falls The     Tempest Seas Shall Rise And Foam (33) 
 Moved By Their Spell; Though Powerless The     Breeze 
 To Raise The     Billows.  Ships Against The     Wind 
 With Bellying Sails Move Onward.  From The     Rock 
 Hangs Motionless The     Torrent: Rivers Run 
 Uphill; The     Summer Heat No Longer Swells 
 Nile In His Course; Maeander's Stream Is Straight; 
 Slow Rhone Is Quickened By The     Rush Of     Saone; 
 Hills Dip Their Heads And Topple To The     Plain; 
 Olympus Sees His Clouds Drift Overhead; 
 And Sunless Scythia's Sempiternal Snows 
 Melt In Mid-Winter; The     Inflowing Tides 
 Driven Onward By The     Moon, At That Dread Chant 
 Ebb From Their Course; Earth's Axes, Else Unmoved, 
 Have Trembled, And The     Force Centripetal 
 Has Tottered, And The     Earth's Compacted Frame 
 Struck By Their Voice Has Gaped, (34) Till Through The     Void 
 Men Saw The     Moving Sky.  All Beasts Most Fierce 
 And Savage Fear Them, Yet With Deadly Aid 
 Furnish The     Witches' Arts.  Tigers Athirst 
 
 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 121 
 For Blood, And Noble Lions On Them Fawn 
 With Bland Caresses: Serpents At Their Word 
 Uncoil Their Circles, And Extended Glide 
 Along The     Surface Of     The     Frosty Field; 
 The Viper's Severed Body Joins Anew; 
 And Dies The     Snake By Human Venom Slain. 
   
   
   
 Whence Comes This Labour On The     Gods, Compelled 
 To Hearken To The     Magic Chant And Spells, 
 Nor Daring To Despise Them?  Doth Some Bond 
 Control The     Deities?  Is Their Pleasure So, 
 Or Must They Listen?  And Have Silent Threats 
 Prevailed, Or Piety Unseen Received 
 So Great A Guerdon?  Against All The     Gods 
 Is This Their Influence, Or On One Alone 
 Who To His Will Constrains The     Universe, 
 Himself Constrained?  Stars Most In Yonder Clime 
 Shoot Headlong From The     Zenith; And The     Moon 
 Gliding Serene Upon Her Nightly Course 
 Is Shorn Of     Lustre By Their Poisonous Chant, 
 Dimmed By Dark Earthly Fires, As Though Our Orb 
 Shadowed Her Brother's Radiance And Barred 
 The Light Bestowed By Heaven; Nor Freshly Shines 
 Until Descending Nearer To The     Earth 
 She Sheds Her Baneful Drops Upon The     Mead. 
   
   
   
 These Sinful Rites And These Her Sister's Songs 
 Abhorred Erichtho, Fiercest Of     The     Race, 
 Spurned For Their Piety, And Yet Viler Art 
 Practised In Novel Form.  To Her No Home 
 Beneath A Sheltering Roof Her Direful Head 
 Thus To Lay Down Were Crime: Deserted Tombs 
 Her Dwelling-Place, From Which, Darling Of     Hell, 
 She Dragged The     Dead.  Nor Life Nor Gods Forbad 
 But That She Knew The     Secret Homes Of     Styx 
 And Learned To Hear The     Whispered Voice Of     Ghosts 
 At Dread Mysterious Meetings. (35)  Never Sun 
 Shed His Pure Light Upon That Haggard Cheek 
 Pale With The     Pallor Of     The     Shades, Nor Looked 
 Upon Those Locks Unkempt That Crowned Her Brow. 
 In Starless Nights Of     Tempest Crept The     Hag 
 Out From Her Tomb To Seize The     Levin Bolt; 
 Treading The     Harvest With Accursed Foot 
 She Burned The     Fruitful Growth, And With Her Breath 
 Poisoned The     Air Else Pure.  No Prayer She Breathed 
 Nor Supplication To The     Gods For Help 
 Nor Knew The     Pulse Of     Entrails As Do Men 
 Who Worship.  Funeral Pyres She Loves To Light 
 And Snatch The     Incense From The     Flaming Tomb. 
 The Gods At Her First Utterance Grant Her Prayer 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 122 
 For Things Unlawful, Lest They Hear Again 
 Its Fearful Accents: Men Whose Limbs Were Quick 
 With Vital Power She Thrust Within The     Grave 
 Despite The     Fates Who Owed Them Years To Come: 
 The Funeral Reversed Brought From The     Tomb 
 Those Who Were Dead No Longer; And The     Pyre 
 Yields To Her Shameless Clutch Still Smoking Dust 
 And Bones Enkindled, And The     Torch Which Held 
 Some Grieving Sire But Now, With Fragments Mixed 
 In Sable Smoke And Ceremental Cloths 
 Singed With The     Redolent Fire That Burned The     Dead. 
 But Those Who Lie Within A Stony Cell 
 Untouched By Fire, Whose Dried And Mummied Frames 
 No Longer Know Corruption, Limb By Limb 
 Venting Her Rage She Tears, The     Bloodless Eyes 
 Drags From Their Cavities, And Mauls The     Nail 
 Upon The     Withered Hand: She Gnaws The     Noose 
 By Which Some Wretch Has Died, And From The     Tree 
 Drags Down A Pendent Corpse, Its Members Torn 
 Asunder To The     Winds: Forth From The     Palms 
 Wrenches The     Iron, And From The     Unbending Bond 
 Hangs By Her Teeth, And With Her Hands Collects 
 The Slimy Gore Which Drips Upon The     Limbs. 
   
   
   
 Where Lay A Corpse Upon The     Naked Earth 
 On Ravening Birds And Beasts Of     Prey The     Hag 
 Kept Watch, Nor Marred By Knife Or Hand Her Spoil, 
 Till On His Victim Seized Some Nightly Wolf; (36) 
 Then Dragged The     Morsel From His Thirsty Fangs; 
 Nor Fears She Murder, If Her Rites Demand 
 Blood From The     Living, Or Some Banquet Fell 
 Requires The     Panting Entrail.  Pregnant Wombs 
 Yield To Her Knife The     Infant To Be Placed 
 On Flaming Altars: And Whene'er She Needs 
 Some Fierce Undaunted Ghost, He Fails Not Her 
 Who Has All Deaths In Use.  Her Hand Has Chased 
 From Smiling Cheeks The     Rosy Bloom Of     Life; 
 And With Sinister Hand From Dying Youth 
 Has Shorn The     Fatal Lock: And Holding Oft 
 In Foul Embraces Some Departed Friend 
 Severed The     Head, And Through The     Ghastly Lips, 
 Held By Her Own Apart, Some Impious Tale 
 Dark With Mysterious Horror Hath Conveyed 
 Down To The     Stygian Shades. 
   
   
   
                               When Rumour Brought 
 Her Name To Sextus, In The     Depth Of     Night, 
 While Titan's Chariot Beneath Our Earth 
 Wheeled On His Middle Course, He Took His Way 
 Through Fields Deserted; While A Faithful Band, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 123 
 His Wonted Ministers In Deeds Of     Guilt, 
 Seeking The     Hag 'Mid Broken Sepulchres, 
 Beheld Her Seated On The     Crags Afar 
 Where Haemus Falls Towards Pharsalia's Plain. (37) 
 There Was She Proving For Her Gods And Priests 
 Words Still Unknown, And Framing Numbered Chants 
 Of Dire And Novel Purpose: For She Feared 
 Lest Mars Might Stray Into Another World, 
 And Spare Thessalian Soil The     Blood Ere Long 
 To Flow In Torrents; And She Thus Forbade 
 Philippi's Field, Polluted With Her Song, 
 Thick With Her Poisonous Distilments Sown, 
 To Let The     War Pass By.  Such Deaths, She Hopes, 
 Soon Shall Be Hers!  The     Blood Of     All The     World 
 Shed For Her Use!  To Her It Shall Be Given 
 To Sever From Their Trunks The     Heads Of     Kings, 
 Plunder The     Ashes Of     The     Noble Dead, 
 Italia's Bravest, And In Triumph Add 
 The Mightiest Warriors To Her Host Of     Shades. 
 And Now What Spoils From Magnus' Tombless Corse 
 Her Hand May Snatch, On Which Of     Caesar's Limbs 
 She Soon May Pounce, She Makes Her Foul Forecast 
 And Eager Gloats. 
   
   
   
                     To Whom The     Coward Son 
 Of Magnus Thus: "Thou Greatest Ornament 
 Of Haemon's Daughters, In Whose Power It Lies 
 Or To Reveal The     Fates, Or From Its Course 
 To Turn The     Future, Be It Mine To Know 
 By Thy Sure Utterance To What Final End 
 Fortune Now Guides The     Issue.  Not The     Least 
 Of All The     Roman Host On Yonder Plain 
 Am I, But Magnus' Most Illustrious Son, 
 Lord Of     The     World Or Heir To Death And Doom. 
 The Unknown Affrights Me: I Can Firmly Face 
 The Certain Terror.  Bid My Destiny 
 Yield To Thy Power The     Dark And Hidden End, 
 And Let Me Fall Foreknowing.  From The     Gods 
 Extort The     Truth, Or, If Thou Spare The     Gods, 
 Force It From Hell Itself.  Fling Back The     Gates 
 That Bar Th' Elysian Fields; Let Death Confess 
 Whom From Our Ranks He Seeks.  No Humble Task 
 I Bring, But Worthy Of     Erichtho's Skill 
 Of Such A Struggle Fought For Such A Prize 
 To Search And Tell The     Issue." 
   
   
   
                                    Then The     Witch 
 Pleased That Her Impious Fame Was Noised Abroad 
 Thus Made Her Answer: "If Some Lesser Fates 
 Thy Wish Had Been To Change, Against Their Wish 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 124 
 It Had Been Easy To Compel The     Gods 
 To Its Accomplishment.  My Art Has Power 
 When Of     One Man The     Constellations Press 
 The Speedy Death, To Compass A Delay; 
 And Mine It Is, Though Every Star Decrees 
 A Ripe Old Age, By Mystic Herbs To Shear 
 The Life Midway.  But Should Some Purpose Set 
 From The     Beginning Of     The     Universe, 
 And All The     Labouring Fortunes Of     Mankind, 
 Be Brought In Question, Then Thessalian Art 
 Bows To The     Power Supreme.  But If Thou Be 
 Content To Know The     Issue Pre-Ordained, 
 That Shall Be Swiftly Thine; For Earth And Air 
 And Sea And Space And Rhodopaean Crags 
 Shall Speak The     Future.  Yet It Easiest Seems 
 Where Death In These Thessalian Fields Abounds 
 To Raise A Single Corpse.  From Dead Men's Lips 
 Scarce Cold, In Fuller Accents Falls The     Voice; 
 Not From Some Mummied Flame In Accents Shrill 
 Uncertain To The     Ear." 
   
   
   
                          Thus Spake The     Hag 
 And Through Redoubled Night, A Squalid Veil 
 Swathing Her Pallid Features, Stole Among 
 Unburied Carcases.  Fast Fled The     Wolves, 
 The Carrion Birds With Maw Unsatisfied 
 Relaxed Their Talons, As With Creeping Step 
 She Sought Her Prophet.  Firm Must Be The     Flesh 
 As Yet, Though Cold In Death, And Firm The     Lungs 
 Untouched By Wound.  Now In The     Balance Hung 
 The Fates Of     Slain Unnumbered; Had She Striven 
 Armies To Raise And Order Back To Life 
 Whole Ranks Of     Warriors, The     Laws Had Failed 
 Of Erebus; And, Summoned Up From Styx, 
 Its Ghostly Tenants Had Obeyed Her Call, 
 And Rising Fought Once More.  At Length The     Witch 
 Picks Out Her Victim With Pierced Throat Agape 
 Fit For Her Purpose.  Gripped By Pitiless Hook 
 O'er Rocks She Drags Him To The     Mountain Cave 
 Accursed By Her Fell Rites, That Shall Restore 
 The Dead Man's Life. 
   
   
   
                          Close To The     Hidden Brink 
 The Land That Girds The     Precipice Of     Hell 
 Sinks Towards The     Depths: With Ever Falling Leaves 
 A Wood O'ershadows, And A Spreading Yew 
 Casts Shade Impenetrable.  Foul Decay 
 Fills All The     Space, And In The     Deep Recess 
 Darkness Unbroken, Save By Chanted Spells, 
 Reigns Ever.  Not Where Gape The     Misty Jaws 
 
 
 
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 Of Caverned Taenarus, The     Gloomy Bound 
 Of Either World, Through Which The     Nether Kings 
 Permit The     Passage Of     The     Dead To Earth, 
 So Poisonous, Mephitic, Hangs The     Air. 
 Nay, Though The     Witch Had Power To Call The     Shades 
 Forth From The     Depths, 'Twas Doubtful If The     Cave 
 Were Not A Part Of     Hell.  Discordant Hues 
 Flamed On Her Garb As By A Fury Worn; 
 Bare Was Her Visage, And Upon Her Brow 
 Dread Vipers Hissed, Beneath Her Streaming Locks 
 In Sable Coils Entwined.  But When She Saw 
 The Youth's Companions Trembling, And Himself 
 With Eyes Cast Down, With Visage As Of     Death, 
 Thus Spake The     Witch: "Forbid Your Craven Souls 
 These Fears To Cherish: Soon Returning Life 
 This Frame Shall Quicken, And In Tones Which Reach 
 Even The     Timorous Ear Shall Speak The     Man. 
 If I Have Power The     Stygian Lakes To Show, 
 The Bank That Sounds With Fire, The     Fury Band, 
 And Giants Lettered, And The     Hound That Shakes 
 Bristling With Heads Of     Snakes His Triple Head, 
 What Fear Is This That Cringes At The     Sight 
 Of Timid Shivering Shades?" 
   
   
   
                               Then To Her Prayer. 
 First Through His Gaping Bosom Blood She Pours 
 Still Fervent, Washing From His Wounds The     Gore. 
 Then Copious Poisons From The     Moon Distils 
 Mixed With All Monstrous Things Which Nature's Pangs 
 Bring To Untimely Birth; The     Froth From Dogs 
 Stricken With Madness, Foaming At The     Stream; 
 A Lynx's Entrails: And The     Knot That Grows 
 Upon The     Fell Hyaena; Flesh Of     Stags 
 Fed Upon Serpents; And The     Sucking Fish 
 Which Holds The     Vessel Back (38) Though Eastern Winds 
 Make Bend The     Canvas; Dragon's Eyes; And Stones 
 That Sound Beneath The     Brooding Eagle's Wings. 
 Nor Araby's Viper, Nor The     Ocean Snake 
 Who In The     Red Sea Waters Guards The     Shell, 
 Are Wanting; Nor The     Slough On Libyan Sands 
 By Horned Reptile Cast; Nor Ashes Fail 
 Snatched From An Altar Where The     Phoenix Died. 
 And Viler Poisons Many, Which Herself 
 Has Made, She Adds, Whereto No Name Is Given: 
 Pestiferous Leaves Pregnant With Magic Chants 
 And Blades Of     Grass Which In Their Primal Growth 
 Her Cursed Mouth Had Slimed.  Last Came Her Voice 
 More Potent Than All Herbs To Charm The     Gods 
 Who Rule In Lethe.  Dissonant Murmurs First 
 And Sounds Discordant From The     Tongues Of     Men 
 She Utters, Scarce Articulate: The     Bay 
 Of Wolves, And Barking As Of     Dogs, Were Mixed 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 126 
 With That Fell Chant; The     Screech Of     Nightly Owl 
 Raising Her Hoarse Complaint; The     Howl Of     Beast 
 And Sibilant Hiss Of     Snake -- All These Were There; 
 And More -- The     Waft Of     Waters On The     Rock, 
 The Sound Of     Forests And The     Thunder Peal. 
 Such Was Her Voice; But Soon In Clearer Tones 
 Reaching To Tartarus, She Raised Her Song: 
 "Ye Awful Goddesses, Avenging Power 
 Of Hell Upon The     Damned, And Chaos Huge 
 Who Striv'st To Mix Innumerable Worlds, 
 And Pluto, King Of     Earth, Whose Weary Soul 
 Grieves At His Godhead; Styx; And Plains Of     Bliss 
 We May Not Enter: And Thou, Proserpine, 
 Hating Thy Mother And The     Skies Above, 
 My Patron Goddess, Last And Lowest Form (39) 
 Of Hecate Through Whom The     Shades And I 
 Hold Silent Converse; Warder Of     The     Gate 
 Who Castest Human Offal To The     Dog: 
 Ye Sisters Who Shall Spin The     Threads Again; (40) 
 And Thou, O Boatman Of     The     Burning Wave, 
 Now Wearied Of     The     Shades From Hell To Me 
 Returning, Hear Me If With Voice I Cry 
 Abhorred, Polluted; If The     Flesh Of     Man 
 Hath Ne'er Been Absent From My Proffered Song, 
 Flesh Washed With Brains Still Quivering; If The     Child 
 Whose Severed Head I Placed Upon The     Dish 
 But For This Hand Had Lived -- A Listening Ear 
 Lend To My Supplication!  From The     Caves 
 Hid In The     Innermost Recess Of     Hell 
 I Claim No Soul Long Banished From The     Light. 
 For One But Now Departed, Lingering Still 
 Upon The     Brink Of     Orcus, Is My Prayer. 
 Grant (For Ye May) That Listening To The     Spell 
 Once More He Seek His Dust; And Let The     Shade 
 Of This Our Soldier Perished (If The     War 
 Well At Your Hands Has Merited), Proclaim 
 The Destiny Of     Magnus To His Son." 
   
   
   
 Such Prayers She Uttered; Then, Her Foaming Lips 
 And Head Uplifting, Present Saw The     Ghost. 
 Hard By He Stood, Beside The     Hated Corpse 
 His Ancient Prison, And Loathed To Enter In. 
 There Was The     Yawning Chest Where Fell The     Blow 
 That Was His Death; And Yet The     Gift Supreme 
 Of Death, His Right, (Ah, Wretch!) Was Reft Away. 
 Angered At Death The     Witch, And At The     Pause 
 Conceded By The     Fates, With Living Snake 
 Scourges The     Moveless Corse; And On The     Dead 
 She Barks Through Fissures Gaping To Her Song, 
 Breaking The     Silence Of     Their Gloomy Home: 
 "Tisiphone, Megaera, Heed Ye Not? 
 Flies Not This Wretched Soul Before Your Whips 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 127 
 The Void Of     Erebus?  By Your Very Names, 
 She-Dogs Of     Hell, I'll Call You To The     Day, 
 Not To Return; Through Sepulchres And Death 
 Your Gaoler: From Funereal Urns And Tombs 
 I'll Chase You Forth.  And Thou, Too, Hecate, 
 Who To The     Gods In Comely Shape And Mien, 
 Not That Of     Erebus, Appearst, Henceforth 
 Wasted And Pallid As Thou Art In Hell 
   
   
   
 At My Command Shalt Come.  I'll Noise Abroad 
 The Banquet That Beneath The     Solid Earth 
 Holds Thee, Thou Maid Of     Enna; By What Bond 
 Thou Lov'st Night's King, By What Mysterious Stain 
 Infected, So That Ceres Fears From Hell 
 To Call Her Daughter.  And For Thee, Base King, 
 Titan Shall Pierce Thy Caverns With His Rays 
 And Sudden Day Shall Smite Thee.  Do Ye Hear? 
 Or Shall I Summon To Mine Aid That God 
 At Whose Dread Name Earth Trembles; Who Can Look 
 Unflinching On The     Gorgon's Head, And Drive 
 The Furies With His Scourge, Who Holds The     Depths 
 Ye Cannot Fathom, And Above Whose Haunts 
 Ye Dwell Supernal; Who By Waves Of     Styx 
 Forswears Himself Unpunished?" 
   
   
   
                                    Then The     Blood 
 Grew Warm And Liquid, And With Softening Touch 
 Cherished The     Stiffened Wounds And Filled The     Veins, 
 Till Throbbed Once More The     Slow Returning Pulse 
 And Every Fibre Trembled, As With Death 
 Life Was Commingled.  Then, Not Limb By Limb, 
 With Toil And Strain, But Rising At A Bound 
 Leaped From The     Earth Erect The     Living Man. 
 Fierce Glared His Eyes Uncovered, And The     Life 
 Was Dim, And Still Upon His Face Remained 
 The Pallid Hues Of     Hardly Parted Death. 
 Amazement Seized Upon Him, To The     Earth 
 Brought Back Again: But From His Lips Tight Drawn 
 No Murmur Issued; He Had Power Alone 
 When Questioned To Reply.  "Speak," Quoth The     Hag, 
 "As I Shall Bid Thee; Great Shall Be Thy Gain 
 If But Thou Answerest Truly, Freed For Aye 
 From All Haemonian Art.  Such Burial Place 
 Shall Now Be Thine, And On Thy Funeral Pyre 
 Such Fatal Woods Shall Burn, Such Chant Shall Sound, 
 That To Thy Ghost No More Or Magic Song 
 Or Spell Shall Reach, And Thy Lethaean Sleep 
 Shall Never More Be Broken In A Death 
 From Me Received Anew: For Such Reward 
 Think Not This Second Life Enforced In Vain. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 128 
 Obscure May Be The     Answers Of     The     Gods 
 By Priestess Spoken At The     Holy Shrine; 
 But Whose Braves The     Oracles Of     Death 
 In Search Of     Truth, Should Gain A Sure Response. 
 Then Speak, I Pray Thee.  Let The     Hidden Fates 
 Tell Through Thy Voice The     Mysteries To Come." 
   
   
   
 Thus Spake She, And Her Words By Mystic Force 
 Gave Him His Answer; But With Gloomy Mien, 
 And Tears Swift Flowing, Thus He Made Reply: 
 "Called From The     Margin Of     The     Silent Stream 
 I Saw No Fateful Sisters Spin The     Threads. 
 Yet Know I This, That 'Mid The     Roman Shades 
 Reigns Fiercest Discord; And This Impious War 
 Destroys The     Peace That Ruled The     Fields Of     Death. 
 Elysian Meads And Deeps Of     Tartarus 
 In Paths Diverse The     Roman Chieftains Leave 
 And Thus Disclose The     Fates.  The     Blissful Ghosts 
 Bear Visages Of     Sorrow.  Sire And Son 
 The Decii, Who Gave Themselves To Death 
 In Expiation Of     Their Country's Doom, 
 And Great Camillus, Wept; And Sulla's Shade 
 Complained Of     Fortune.  Scipio Bewailed 
 The Scion Of     His Race About To Fall 
 In Sands Of     Libya: Cato, Greatest Foe 
 To Carthage, Grieves For That Indignant Soul 
 Which Shall Disdain To Serve.  Brutus Alone 
 In All The     Happy Ranks I Smiling Saw, 
 First Consul When The     Kings Were Thrust From Rome. 
 The Chains Were Fallen From Boastful Catiline. 
 Him Too I Saw Rejoicing, And The     Pair 
 Of Marii, And Cethegus' Naked Arm. (41) 
 The Drusi, Heroes Of     The     People, Joyed, 
 In Laws Immoderate; And The     Famous Pair (42) 
 Of Greatly Daring Brothers: Guilty Bands 
 By Bars Eternal Shut Within The     Doors 
 That Close The     Prison Of     Hell, Applaud The     Fates, 
 Claiming The     Plains Elysian: And The     King 
 Throws Wide His Pallid Halls, Makes Hard The     Points 
 Of Craggy Rocks, And Forges Iron Chains, 
 The Victor's Punishment.  But Take With Thee 
 This Comfort, Youth, That There A Calm Abode, 
 And Peaceful, Waits Thy Father And His House. 
 Nor Let The     Glory Of     A Little Span 
 Disturb Thy Boding Heart: The     Hour Shall Come 
 When All The     Chiefs Shall Meet.  Shrink Not From Death, 
 But Glowing In The     Greatness Of     Your Souls, 
 E'en From Your Humble Sepulchres Descend, 
 And Tread Beneath Your Feet, In Pride Of     Place, 
 The Wandering Phantoms Of     The     Gods Of     Rome. (43) 
 Which Of     The     Chiefs By Tiber's Yellow Stream, 
 And Which By Nile Shall Rest (The Leaders' Fate) 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) Pg 129 
 This Fight Decides, No More.  Nor Seek To Know 
 From Me Thy Fortunes: For The     Fates In Time 
 Shall Give Thee All Thy Due; And Thy Great Sire, (44) 
 A Surer Prophet, In Sicilian Fields 
 Shall Speak Thy Future -- Doubting Even He 
 What Regions Of     The     World Thou Should'st Avoid 
 And What Should'st Seek.  O Miserable Race! 
 Europe And Asia And Libya's Plains, (45) 
 Which Saw Your Conquests, Now Shall Hold Alike 
 Your Burial-Place -- Nor Has The     Earth For You 
 A Happier Land Than This." 
   
   
   
                               His Task Performed, 
 He Stands In Mournful Guise, With Silent Look 
 Asking For Death Again; Yet Could Not Die 
 Till Mystic Herb And Magic Chant Prevailed. 
 For Nature's Law, Once Used, Had Power No More 
 To Slay The     Corpse And Set The     Spirit Free. 
 With Plenteous Wood She Builds The     Funeral Pyre 
 To Which The     Dead Man Comes: Then As The     Flames 
 Seized On His Form Outstretched, The     Youth And Witch 
 Together Sought The     Camp; And As The     Dawn 
 Now Streaked The     Heavens, By The     Hag's Command 
 The Day Was Stayed Till Sextus Reached His Tent, 
 And Mist And Darkness Veiled His Safe Return. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) (End notes) Pg 130 
 (1)  Dyrrhachium (Or Epidamnus) Was A Corcyraean Colony, But Its 
      Founder Was Of     Corinth, The     Metropolis Of     Corcyra.  It Stood 
      Some Sixty Miles North Of     The     Ceraunian Promontory (Book V., 
      747).  About The     Year 1100 It Was Stormed And Taken By 
      Robert The     Guiscard, After Furious Battles With The     Troops 
      Of     The     Emperor Alexius.  Its Modern Name Is Durazzo.  It May 
      Be Observed That, According To Caesar's Account, He 
      Succeeded In Getting Between Pompey And Dyrrhachium, B.C. 3, 
      41, 42. 
 (2)  C. Del Faro, The     N.E. Point Of     Sicily. 
 (3)  The     Shores Of     Kent. 
 (4)  Aricia Was Situated On The     Via Appia, About Sixteen Miles 
      From Rome.  There Was A Temple Of     Diana Close To It, Among 
      Some Woods On A Small Lake.  Aricia Was Horace's First 
      Halting Place On His Journey To Brundisium ("Satires", I. 
      5).  As To Diana, See Book I., Line 501. 
 (5)  An Island In The     Bay Of     Puteoli. 
 (6)  Typhon, The     Hundred-Headed Giant, Was Buried Under Mount 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) (End notes) Pg 131 
      Etna. 
 (7)  This Was Scaeva's Name. 
 (8)  The     Vinewood Staff Was The     Badge Of     The     Centurion's Office. 
 (9)  This Giant, Like Typhon, Was Buried Under Mount Etna. 
 (10) Juba And Petreius Killed Each Other After The     Battle Of 
      Thepsus To Avoid Falling Into Caesar's Hands.  See Book Iv., 
      Line 5. 
 (11) So Cicero: "Shall I, Who Have Been Called Saviour Of     The 
      City And Father Of     My Country, Bring Into It An Army Of 
      Getae Armenians And Colchians?" ("Ep. Ad Atticum," Ix., 10.) 
 (12) See Book Viii., Line 3. 
 (13) Protesilaus, From This Place, First Landed At Troy. 
 (14) Thamyris Challenged The     Muses To A Musical Contest, And 
      Being Vanquished, Was By Them Deprived Of     Sight. 
 (15) The     Arrows Given To Philoctetes By Hercules As A Reward For 
      Kindling His Funeral Pyre. 
 (16) This Is The     Pelasgic, Not The     Historical, Argos. 
 (17) Book I., Line 632; Book Vii., Line 904.  Agave Was A 
      Daughter Of     Cadmus, And Mother Of     Pentheus, King Of     The 
      Boeotian Thebes.  He Was Opposed To The     Mysterious Worship 
      Of     Dionysus, Which His Mother Celebrated, And Which He Had 
      Watched From A Tree.  She Tore Him To Pieces, Being Urged 
      Into A Frenzy And Mistaking Him For A Wild Beast.  She Then 
      Retired To Another Thebes, In Phthiotis, In Triumph, With 
      His Head And Shoulders.  By Another Legend She Did Not Leave 
      The     Boeotian Thebes. (See Grote, Vol. I., P. 220. Edit. 
      1862.) 
 (18) Aeas Was A River Flowing From The     Boundary Of     Thessaly 
      Through Epirus To The     Ionian Sea.  The     Sire Of     Isis, Or Io, 
      Was Inachus; But The     River Of     That Name Is Usually Placed In 
      The     Argive Territory. 
 (19) A River Rising In Mount Pindus And Flowing Into The     Ionian 
      Sea Nearly Opposite To Ithaca.  At Its Mouth The     Sea Has 
      Been Largely Silted Up. 
 (20) The     God Of     This River Fought With Hercules For The     Hand Of 
      Deianira.  After Hercules Had Been Married To Deianira, And 
      When They Were On A Journey, They Came To The     River Evenus. 
      Here Nessus, A Centaur, Acted As Ferryman, And Hercules Bade 
      Him Carry Deianira Across.  In Doing So He Insulted Her, And 
      Hercules Shot Him With An Arrow. 
 (21) Admetus Was King Of     Pherae In Thessaly, And Sued For 
      Alcestis, The     Daughter Of     Pelias, Who Promised Her To Him If 
      He Should Come In A Chariot Drawn By Lions And Boars.  With 
      The     Assistance Of     Apollo, Admetus Performed This.  Apollo, 
      For The     Slaughter Of     The     Cyclops, Was Condemned To Serve A 
      Mortal, And Accordingly He Tended The     Flocks Of     Admetus For 
      Nine Years.  The     River Amphrysos Is Marked As Flowing Into 
      The     Pagasaean Gulf At A Short Distance Below Pherae. 
 (22) Anaurus Was A Small River Passing Into The     Pagasaean Gulf 
      Past Iolcos.  In This River Jason Is Said To Have Lost One 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) (End notes) Pg 132 
      Of     His Slippers. 
 (23) The     River Peneus Flowed Into The     Sea Through The     Pass Of 
      Tempe, Cloven By Hercules Between Olympus And Ossa (See Line 
      406); And Carried With It Asopus, Phoenix, Melas, Enipeus, 
      Apidanus, And Titaresus (Or Eurotas).  The     Styx Is Generally 
      Placed In Arcadia, But Lucan Says That Eurotas Rises From 
      The     Stygian Pools, And That, Mindful Of     This Mysterious 
      Source, He Refuses To Mingle His Streams With That Of 
      Peneus, In Order That The     Gods May Still Fear To Break An 
      Oath Sworn Upon His Waters. 
 (24) See On Line 429. 
 (25) Chiron, The     Aged Centaur, Instructor Of     Peleus, Achilles, 
      And Others.  He Was Killed By One Of     The     Poisoned Arrows Of 
      Hercules, But Placed By Zeus Among The     Stars As The     Archer, 
      From Which Position He Appears To Be Aiming At The     Scorpion. 
      His Constellation Appears In Winter. 
 (26) The     Teeth Of     The     Dragon Slain By Cadmus; Though This Took 
      Place In Boeotia. 
 (27) Poseidon And Athena Disputed As To Which Of     Them Should Name 
      The     Capital Of     Attica.  The     Gods Gave The     Reward To That One 
      Of     Them Who Should Produce The     Thing Most Useful To Man; 
      Whereupon Athena Produced An Olive Tree, And Poseidon A 
      Horse.  Homer Also Places The     Scene Of     This Event In 
      Thessaly. ("Iliad", Xxiii., 247.) 
 (28) The     Argo.  Conf. Book Iii., 223. 
 (29) See Book Vii., 1022. 
 (30) Son Of     Pelasgus.  From Him Was Derived The     Ancient Name Of 
      Thessaly, Haemonia. 
 (31) Medea. 
 (32) It Was Supposed That There Was On The     Forehead Of     The     New- 
      Born Foal An Excrescence, Which Was Bitten Off And Eaten By 
      The     Mother.  If She Did Not Do This She Had No Affection For 
      The     Foal. (Virgil, "Aeneid", Iv., 515.) 
 (33)      "When The     Boisterous Sea, 
           Without A Breath Of     Wind, Hath Knocked The     Sky." 
                -- Ben Jonson, "Masque Of     Queens". 
 (34) The     Sky Was Supposed To Move Round, But To Be Restrained In 
      Its Course By The     Planets. (See Book X., Line 244.) 
 (35) "Coatus Audire Silentum."  To Be Present At The     Meetings Of 
      The     Dead And Hear Their Voices.  So, In The     Sixth Aeneid, 
      The     Dead Greek Warriors In Feeble Tones Endeavour To Express 
      Their Fright At The     Appearance Of     The     Trojan Hero (Lines 
      492, 493). 
 (36) "As If That Piece Were Sweeter Which The     Wolf Had Bitten." 
      Note To "The Masque Of     Queens", In Which The     First Hag Says: 
           "I Have Been All Day, Looking After 
           A Raven Feeding On A Quarter, 
           And Soon As She Turned Her Beak To The     South 
           I Snatched This Morsel Out Of     Her Mouth." 
                --Ben Jonson, "Masque Of     Queens". 
      But More Probably The     Meaning Is That The     Wolf's Bite Gave 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 ( The Fight Near Dyrrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits.  The Witch Of Thessalia) (End notes) Pg 133 
      The     Flesh Magical Efficacy. 
 (37) Confusing Pharsalia With Philippi. (See Line 684.) 
 (38) One Of     The     Miraculous Stories To Be Found In Pliny's 
      "Natural History".  See Lecky's "Augustus To Charlemagne", 
      Vol. I., P. 370. 
 (39) The     Mysterious Goddess Hecate Was Identified With Luna In 
      Heaven, Diana On Earth, And Proserpine In The     Lower Regions. 
      The     Text Is Doubtful. 
 (40) That Is, For The     Second Life Of     Her Victim. 
 (41) See Book Ii., 609. 
 (42) The     Gracchi, The     Younger Of     Whom Aimed At Being A Perpetual 
      Tribune, And Was In Some Sort A Forerunner Of     The     Emperors. 
 (43) That Is, The     Caesars, Who Will Be In Tartarus. 
 (44) Referring Probably To An Episode Intended To Be Introduced 
      In A Later Book, In Which The     Shade Of     Pompeius Was To 
      Foretell His Fate To Sextus. 
 (45) Cnaeus Was Killed In Spain After The     Battle Of     Munda; Sextus 
      At Miletus; Pompeius Himself, Of     Course, In Egypt. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) Pg 134 
   
 Ne'er To The     Summons Of     The     Eternal Laws 
 More Slowly Titan Rose, (1) Nor Drave His Steeds, 
 Forced By The     Sky Revolving, (2) Up The     Heaven, 
 With Gloomier Presage; Wishing To Endure 
 The Pangs Of     Ravished Light, And Dark Eclipse; 
 And Drew The     Mists Up, Not To Feed His Flames, (3) 
 But Lest His Light Upon Thessalian Earth 
 Might Fall Undimmed. 
   
   
   
                          Pompeius On That Morn, 
 To Him The     Latest Day Of     Happy Life, 
 In Troubled Sleep An Empty Dream Conceived. 
 For In The     Watches Of     The     Night He Heard 
 Innumerable Romans Shout His Name 
 Within His Theatre; The     Benches Vied 
 To Raise His Fame And Place Him With The     Gods; 
 As Once In Youth, When Victory Was Won 
 
 
 
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 O'er Conquered Tribes Where Swift Iberus Flows, (4) 
 And Where Sertorius' Armies Fought And Fled, 
 The West Subdued, With No Less Majesty 
 Than If The     Purple Toga Graced The     Car, 
 He Sat Triumphant In His Pure White Gown 
 A Roman Knight, And Heard The     Senate's Cheer. 
 Perhaps, As Ills Drew Near, His Anxious Soul, 
 Shunning The     Future Wooed The     Happy Past; 
 Or, As Is Wont, Prophetic Slumber Showed 
 That Which Was Not To Be, By Doubtful Forms 
 Misleading; Or As Envious Fate Forbade 
 Return To Italy, This Glimpse Of     Rome 
 Kind Fortune Gave.  Break Not His Latest Sleep, 
 Ye Sentinels; Let Not The     Trumpet Call 
 Strike On His Ear: For On The     Morrow's Night 
 Shapes Of     The     Battle Lost, Of     Death And War 
 Shall Crowd His Rest With Terrors.  Whence Shalt Thou 
 The Poor Man's Happiness Of     Sleep Regain? 
 Happy If Even In Dreams Thy Rome Could See 
 Once More Her Captain!  Would The     Gods Had Given 
 To Thee And To Thy Country One Day Yet 
 To Reap The     Latest Fruit Of     Such A Love: 
 Though Sure Of     Fate To Come!  Thou Marchest On 
 As Though By Heaven Ordained In Rome To Die; 
 She, Conscious Ever Of     Her Prayers For Thee 
 Heard By The     Gods, Deemed Not The     Fates Decreed 
 Such Evil Destiny, That She Should Lose 
 The Last Sad Solace Of     Her Magnus' Tomb. 
 Then Young And Old Had Blent Their Tears For Thee, 
 And Child Unbidden; Women Torn Their Hair 
 And Struck Their Bosoms As For Brutus Dead. 
 But Now No Public Woe Shall Greet Thy Death 
 As Erst Thy Praise Was Heard: But Men Shall Grieve 
 In Silent Sorrow, Though The     Victor's Voice 
 Amid The     Clash Of     Arms Proclaims Thy Fall; 
 Though Incense Smoke Before The     Thunderer's Shrine, 
 And Shouts Of     Welcome Bid Great Caesar Hail. 
   
   
   
 The Stars Had Fled Before The     Growing Morn, 
 When Eager Voices (As The     Fates Drew On 
 The World To Ruin) Round Pompeius' Tent 
 Demand The     Battle Signal.  What!  By Those 
 So Soon To Perish, Shall The     Sign Be Asked, 
 Their Own, Their Country's Doom?  Ah!  Fatal Rage 
 That Hastens On The     Hour; No Other Sun 
 Upon This Living Host Shall Rise Again. 
 "Pompeius Fears!" They Cry.  "He's Slow To Act; 
 Too 'Kind To Caesar; And He Fondly Rules 
 A World Of     Subject Peoples; But With Peace 
 Such Rule Were Ended."  Eastern Kings No Less, 
 And Peoples, Eager For Their Distant Homes, 
 Already Murmured At The     Lengthy War. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) Pg 136 
   
   
 Thus Hath It Pleased The     Gods, When Woe Impends 
 On Guilty Men, To Make Them Seem Its Cause. 
 We Court Disaster, Crave The     Fatal Sword. 
 Of Magnus' Camp Pharsalia Was The     Prayer; 
 For Tullius, Of     All The     Sons Of     Rome 
 Chief Orator, Beneath Whose Civil Rule 
 Fierce Catiline At The     Peace-Compelling Axe 
 Trembled And Fled, Arose, To Magnus' Ear 
 Bearing The     Voice Of     All.  To Him Was War 
 Grown Hateful, And He Longed Once More To Hear 
 The Senate's Plaudits; And With Eloquent Lips 
 He Lent Persuasion To The     Weaker Cause. 
 "Fortune, Pompeius, For Her Gifts To Thee 
 Asks This One Boon, That Thou Should'st Use Her Now. 
 Here At Thy Feet Thy Leading Captains Lie; 
 And Here Thy Monarchs, And A Suppliant World 
 Entreats Thee Prostrate For Thy Kinsman's Fall. 
 So Long Shall Caesar Plunge The     World In War? 
 Swift Was Thy Tread When These Proud Nations Fell; 
 How Deep Their Shame, And Justly, Should Delay 
 Now Mar Thy Conquests!  Where Thy Trust In Fate, 
 Thy Fervour Where?  Ingrate!  Dost Dread The     Gods, 
 Or Think They Favour Not The     Senate's Cause? 
 Thy Troops Unbidden Shall The     Standards Seize 
 And Conquer; Thou In Shame Be Forced To Win. 
 If At The     Senate's Orders And For Us 
 The War Is Waged, Then Give To Us The     Right 
 To Choose The     Battle-Field.  Why Dost Thou Keep 
 From Caesar's Throat The     Swords Of     All The     World? 
 The Weapon Quivers In The     Eager Hand: 
 Scarce One Awaits The     Signal.  Strike At Once, 
 Or Without Thee The     Trumpets Sound The     Fray. 
 Art Thou The     Senate's Comrade Or Her Lord? 
 We Wait Your Answer." 
   
   
   
                          But Pompeius Groaned; 
 His Mind Was Adverse, But He Felt The     Fates 
 Opposed His Wish, And Knew The     Hand Divine. 
 "Since All Desire It, And The     Fates Prevail, 
 So Let It Be; Your Leader Now No More, 
 I Share The     Labours Of     The     Battle-Field. 
 Let Fortune Roll The     Nations Of     The     Earth 
 In One Red Ruin; Myriads Of     Mankind 
 See Their Last Sun To-Day.  Yet, Rome, I Swear, 
 This Day Of     Blood Was Forced Upon Thy Son. 
 Without A Wound, The     Prizes Of     The     War 
 Might Have Been Thine, And He Who Broke The     Peace 
 In Peace Forgotten.  Whence This Lust For Crime? 
 Shall Bloodless Victories In Civil War 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) Pg 137 
 Be Shunned, Not Sought?  We've Ravished From Our Foe 
 All Boundless Seas, And Land; His Starving Troops 
 Have Snatched Earth's Crop Half-Grown, In Vain Attempt 
 Their Hunger To Appease; They Prayed For Death, 
 Sought For The     Sword-Thrust, And Within Our Ranks 
 Were Fain To Mix Their Life-Blood With Your Own. 
 Much Of     The     War Is Done: The     Conscript Youth 
 Whose Heart Beats High, Who Burns To Join The     Fray 
 (Though Men Fight Hard In Terror Of     Defeat), 
 The Shock Of     Onset Need No Longer Fear. 
 Bravest Is He Who Promptly Meets The     Ill 
 When Fate Commands It And The     Moment Comes, 
 Yet Brooks Delay, In Prudence; And Shall We, 
 Our Happy State Enjoying, Risk It All? 
 Trust To The     Sword The     Fortunes Of     The     World? 
 Not Victory, But Battle, Ye Demand. 
 Do Thou, O Fortune, Of     The     Roman State 
 Who Mad'st Pompeius Guardian, From His Hands 
 Take Back The     Charge Grown Weightier, And Thyself 
 Commit Its Safety To The     Chance Of     War. 
 Nor Blame Nor Glory Shall Be Mine To-Day. 
 Thy Prayers Unjustly, Caesar, Have Prevailed: 
 We Fight!  What Wickedness, What Woes On Men, 
 Destruction On What Realms This Dawn Shall Bring! 
 Crimson With Roman Blood Yon Stream Shall Run. 
 Would That (Without The     Ruin Of     Our Cause) 
 The First Fell Bolt Hurled On This Cursed Day 
 Might Strike Me Lifeless!  Else, This Battle Brings 
 A Name Of     Pity Or A Name Of     Hate. 
 The Loser Bears The     Burden Of     Defeat; 
 The Victor Wins, But Conquest Is A Crime." 
 Thus To The     Soldiers, Burning For The     Fray, 
 He Yields, Forbidding, And Throws Down The     Reins. 
 So May A Sailor Give The     Winds Control 
 Upon His Barque, Which, Driven By The     Seas, 
 Bears Him An Idle Burden.  Now The     Camp 
 Hums With Impatience, And The     Brave Man's Heart 
 With Beats Tumultuous Throbs Against His Breast; 
 And All The     Host Had Standing In Their Looks (5) 
 The Paleness Of     The     Death That Was To Come. 
 On That Day's Fight 'Twas Manifest That Rome 
 And All The     Future Destinies Of     Man 
 Hung Trembling; And By Weightier Dread Possessed, 
 They Knew Not Danger.  Who Would Fear For Self 
 Should Ocean Rise And Whelm The     Mountain Tops, 
 And Sun And Sky Descend Upon The     Earth 
 In Universal Chaos?  Every Mind 
 Is Bent Upon Pompeius, And On Rome. 
 They Trust No Sword Until Its Deadly Point 
 Glows On The     Sharpening Stone; No Lance Will Serve 
 Till Straightened For The     Fray; Each Bow Is Strung 
 Anew, And Arrows Chosen For Their Work 
 Fill All The     Quivers; Horsemen Try The     Curb 
 And Fit The     Bridle Rein And Whet The     Spur. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) Pg 138 
 If Toils Divine With Human May Compare, 
 'Twas Thus, When Phlegra Bore The     Giant Crew, (6) 
 In Etna's Furnace Glowed The     Sword Of     Mars, 
 Neptunus' Trident Felt The     Flame Once More; 
 And Great Apollo After Python Slain 
 Sharpened His Darts Afresh: On Pallas' Shield 
 Was Spread Anew The     Dread Medusa's Hair; 
 And Broad Sicilia Trembled At The     Blows 
 Of Vulcan Forging Thunderbolts For Jove. 
   
   
   
 Yet Fortune Failed Not, As They Sought The     Field, 
 In Various Presage Of     The     Ills To Come; 
 All Heaven Opposed Their March: Portentous Fire 
 In Columns Filled The     Plain, And Torches Blazed: 
 And Thirsty Whirlwinds Mixed With Meteor Bolts 
 Smote On Them As They Strode, Whose Sulphurous Flames 
 Perplexed The     Vision.  Crests Were Struck From Helms; 
 The Melted Sword-Blade Flowed Upon The     Hilt: 
 The Spear Ran Liquid, And The     Hurtful Steel 
 Smoked With A Sulphur That Had Come From Heaven. 
 Nay, More, The     Standards, Hid By Swarms Of     Bees 
 Innumerable, Weighed The     Bearer Down, 
 Scarce Lifted From The     Earth; Bedewed With Tears; 
 No More Of     Rome The     Standards, (7) Or Her State. 
 And From The     Altar Fled The     Frantic Bull 
 To Fields Afar; Nor Was A Victim Found 
 To Grace The     Sacrifice Of     Coming Doom. 
   
   
   
 But Thou, Caesar, To What Gods Of     Ill 
 Didst Thou Appeal?  What Furies Didst Thou Call, 
 What Powers Of     Madness And What Stygian Kings 
 Whelmed In Th' Abyss Of     Hell?  Didst Favour Gain 
 By Sacrifice In This Thine Impious War? 
 Strange Sights Were Seen; Or Caused By Hands Divine 
 Or Due To Fearful Fancy.  Haemus' Top 
 Plunged Headlong In The     Valley, Pindus Met 
 With High Olympus, While At Ossa's Feet 
 Red Ran Baebeis, (8) And Pharsalia's Field 
 Gave Warlike Voices Forth In Depth Of     Night. 
 Now Darkness Came Upon Their Wondering Gaze, 
 Now Daylight Pale And Wan, Their Helmets Wreathed 
 In Pallid Mist; The     Spirits Of     Their Sires 
 Hovered In Air, And Shades Of     Kindred Dead 
 Passed Flitting Through The     Gloom.  Yet To The     Host 
 Conscious Of     Guilty Prayers Which Sought To Shed 
 The Blood Of     Sires And Brothers, Earth And Air 
 Distraught, And Horrors Seething In Their Hearts 
 Gave Happy Omen Of     The     End To Come. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) Pg 139 
   
 Was't Strange That Peoples Whom Their Latest Day 
 Of Happy Life Awaited (If Their Minds 
 Foreknew The     Doom) Should Tremble With Affright? 
 Romans Who Dwelt By Far Araxes' Stream, 
 And Tyrian Gades, (9) In Whatever Clime, 
 'Neath Every Sky, Struck By Mysterious Dread 
 Were Plunged In Sorrow -- Yet Rebuked The     Tear, 
 For Yet They Knew Not Of     The     Fatal Day. 
 Thus On Euganean Hills (10) Where Sulphurous Fumes 
 Disclose The     Rise Of     Aponus (11) From Earth, 
 And Where Timavus Broadens In The     Meads, 
 An Augur Spake: "This Day The     Fight Is Fought, 
 The Arms Of     Caesar And Pompeius Meet 
 To End The     Impious Conflict."  Or He Saw 
 The Bolts Of     Jupiter, Predicting Ill; 
 Or Else The     Sky Discordant O'er The     Space 
 Of Heaven, From Pole To Pole; Or Else Perchance 
 The Sun Was Sad And Misty In The     Height 
 And Told The     Battle By His Wasted Beams. 
 By Nature's Fiat That Thessalian Day 
 Passed Not As Others; If The     Gifted Sense 
 Of Reading Portents Had Been Given To All, 
 All Men Had Known Pharsalia.  Gods Of     Heaven! 
 How Do Ye Mark The     Great Ones Of     The     Earth! 
 The World Gives Tokens Of     Their Weal Or Woe; 
 The Sky Records Their Fates: In Distant Climes 
 To Future Races Shall Their Tale Be Told, 
 Or By The     Fame Alone Of     Mighty Deeds 
 Had In Remembrance, Or By This My Care 
 Borne Through The     Centuries: And Men Shall Read 
 In Hope And Fear The     Story Of     The     War 
 And Breathless Pray, As Though It Were To Come, 
 For That Long Since Accomplished; And For Thee 
 Thus Far, Pompeius, Shall That Prayer Be Given. 
   
   
   
 Reflected From Their Arms, Th' Opposing Sun 
 Filled All The     Slope With Radiance As They Marched 
 In Ordered Ranks To That Ill-Fated Fight, 
 And Stood Arranged For Battle.  On The     Left 
 Thou, Lentulus, Had'st Charge; Two Legions There, 
 The Fourth, And Bravest Of     Them All, The     First: 
 While On The     Right, Domitius, Ever Stanch, 
 Though Fates Be Adverse, Stood: In Middle Line 
 The Hardy Soldiers From Cilician Lands, 
 In Scipio's Care; Their Chief In Libyan Days, 
 To-Day Their Comrade.  By Enipeus' Pools 
 And By The     Rivulets, The     Mountain Troops 
 Of Cappadocia, And Loose Of     Rein 
 Thy Squadrons, Pontus: On The     Firmer Ground 
 Galatia's Tetrarchs And The     Greater Kings; 
 And All The     Purple-Robed, The     Slaves Of     Rome. 
 
 
 
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 Numidian Hordes Were There From Afric Shores, 
 There Creta's Host And Ituraeans Found 
 Full Space To Wing Their Arrows; There The     Tribes 
 From Brave Iberia Clashed Their Shields, And There 
 Gaul Stood Arrayed Against Her Ancient Foe. 
 Let All The     Nations Be The     Victor's Prize, 
 None Grace In Future A Triumphal Car; 
 This Fight Demands The     Slaughter Of     A World. 
   
   
   
 Caesar That Day To Send His Troops For Spoil 
 Had Left His Tent, When On The     Further Hill 
 Behold!  His Foe Descending To The     Plain. 
 The Moment Asked For By A Thousand Prayers 
 Is Come, Which Puts His Fortune On The     Risk 
 Of Imminent War, To Win Or Lose It All. 
 For Burning With Desire Of     Kingly Power 
 His Eager Soul Ill Brooked The     Small Delay 
 This Civil War Compelled: Each Instant Lost 
 Robbed From His Due!  But When At Length He Knew 
 The Last Great Conflict Come, The     Fight Supreme, 
 Whose Prize The     Leadership Of     All The     World: 
 And Felt The     Ruin Nodding To Its Fall: 
 Swiftest To Strike, Yet For A Little Space 
 His Rage For Battle Failed; The     Spirit Bold 
 To Pledge Itself The     Issue, Wavered Now: 
 For Magnus' Fortunes Gave No Room For Hope, 
 Though Caesar's None For Fear.  Deep In His Soul 
 Such Doubt Was Hidden, As With Mien And Speech 
 That Augured Victory, Thus The     Chief Began: 
 "Ye Conquerors Of     A World, My Hope In All, 
 Prayed For So Oft, The     Dawn Of     Fight Is Come. 
 No More Entreat The     Gods: With Sword In Hand 
 Seize On Our Fates; And Caesar In Your Deeds 
 This Day Is Great Or Little.  This The     Day 
 For Which I Hold Since Rubicon Was Passed 
 Your Promise Given: For This We Flew To Arms: (12) 
 For This Deferred The     Triumphs We Had Won, 
 And Which The     Foe Refused: This Gives You Back 
 Your Homes And Kindred, And The     Peaceful Farm, 
 Your Prize For Years Of     Service In The     Field. 
 And By The     Fates' Command This Day Shall Prove 
 Whose Quarrel Juster: For Defeat Is Guilt 
 To Him On Whom It Falls.  If In My Cause 
 With Fire And Sword Ye Did Your Country Wrong, 
 Strike For Acquittal!  Should Another Judge 
 This War, Not Caesar, None Were Blameless Found. 
 Not For My Sake This Battle, But For You, 
 To Give You, Soldiers, Liberty And Law 
 'Gainst All The     World.  Wishful Myself For Life 
 Apart From Public Cares, And For The     Gown 
 That Robes The     Private Citizen, I Refuse 
 To Yield From Office Till The     Law Allows 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) Pg 141 
 Your Right In All Things.  On My Shoulders Rest 
 All Blame; All Power Be Yours.  Nor Deep The     Blood 
 Between Yourselves And Conquest.  Grecian Schools 
 Of Exercise And Wrestling (13) Send Us Here 
 Their Chosen Darlings To Await Your Swords; 
 And Scarcely Armed For War, A Dissonant Crowd 
 Barbaric, That Will Start To Hear Our Trump, 
 Nay, Their Own Clamour.  Not In Civil Strife 
 Your Blows Shall Fall -- The     Battle Of     To-Day 
 Sweeps From The     Earth The     Enemies Of     Rome. 
 Dash Through These Cowards And Their Vaunted Kings: 
 One Stroke Of     Sword And All The     World Is Yours. 
 Make Plain To All Men That The     Crowds Who Decked 
 Pompeius' Hundred Pageants Scarce Were Fit 
 For One Poor Triumph.  Shall Armenia Care 
 Who Leads Her Masters, Or Barbarians Shed 
 One Drop Of     Blood To Make Pompeius Chief 
 O'er Our Italia?  Rome, 'Tis Rome They Hate 
 And All Her Children; Yet They Hate The     Most 
 Those Whom They Know.  My Fate Is In The     Hands 
 Of You, Mine Own True Soldiers, Proved In All 
 The Wars We Fought In Gallia.  When The     Sword 
 Of Each Of     You Shall Strike, I Know The     Hand: 
 The Javelin's Flight To Me Betrays The     Arm 
 That Launched It Hurtling: And To-Day Once More 
 I See The     Faces Stern, The     Threatening Eyes, 
 Unfailing Proofs Of     Victory To Come. 
 E'en Now The     Battle Rushes On My Sight; 
 Kings Trodden Down And Scattered Senators 
 Fill All Th' Ensanguined Plain, And Peoples Float 
 Unnumbered On The     Crimson Tide Of     Death. 
 Enough Of     Words -- I But Delay The     Fates; 
 And You Who Burn To Dash Into The     Fray, 
 Forgive The     Pause.  I Tremble With The     Hopes (14) 
 Thus Finding Utterance.  I Ne'er Have Seen 
 The Mighty Gods So Near; This Little Field 
 Alone Dividing Us; Their Hands Are Full 
 Of My Predestined Honours: For 'Tis I 
 Who When This War Is Done Shall Have The     Power 
 O'er All That Peoples, All That Kings Enjoy 
 To Shower It Where I Will.  But Has The     Pole 
 Been Moved, Or In Its Nightly Course Some Star 
 Turned Backwards, That Such Mighty Deeds Should Pass 
 Here On Thessalian Earth?  To-Day We Reap 
 Of All Our Wars The     Harvest Or The     Doom. 
 Think Of     The     Cross That Threats Us, And The     Chain, 
 Limbs Hacked Asunder, Caesar's Head Displayed 
 Upon The     Rostra; And That Narrow Field 
 Piled Up With Slaughter: For This Hostile Chief 
 Is Savage Sulla's Pupil.  'Tis For You, 
 If Conquered, That I Grieve: My Lot Apart 
 Is Cast Long Since.  This Sword, Should One Of     You 
 Turn From The     Battle Ere The     Foe Be Fled, 
 Shall Rob The     Life Of     Caesar.  O Ye Gods, 
 
 
 
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 Drawn Down From Heaven By The     Throes Of     Rome, 
 May He Be Conqueror Who Shall Not Draw 
 Against The     Vanquished An Inhuman Sword, 
 Nor Count It As A Crime If Men Of     Rome 
 Preferred Another's Standard To His Own. 
 Pompeius' Sword Drank Deep Italian Blood 
 When Cabined In Yon Space The     Brave Man's Arm 
 No More Found Room To Strike.  But You, I Pray, 
 Touch Not The     Foe Who Turns Him From The     Fight, 
 A Fellow Citizen, A Foe No More. 
 But While The     Gleaming Weapons Threaten Still, 
 Let No Fond Memories Unnerve The     Arm, (15) 
 No Pious Thought Of     Father Or Of     Kin; 
 But Full In Face Of     Brother Or Of     Sire, 
 Drive Home The     Blade.  Unless The     Slain Be Known 
 Your Foes Account His Slaughter As A Crime; 
 Spare Not Our Camp, But Lay The     Rampart Low 
 And Fill The     Fosse With Ruin; Not A Man 
 But Holds His Post Within The     Ranks To-Day. 
 And Yonder Tents, Deserted By The     Foe, 
 Shall Give Us Shelter When The     Rout Is Done." 
   
   
   
 Scarce Had He Paused; They Snatch The     Hasty Meal, 
 And Seize Their Armour And With Swift Acclaim 
 Welcome The     Chief's Predictions Of     The     Day, 
 Tread Low Their Camp When Rushing To The     Fight; 
 And Take Their Post: Nor Word Nor Order Given, 
 In Fate They Put Their Trust.  Nor, Had'st Thou Placed 
 All Caesars There, All Striving For The     Throne 
 Of Rome Their City, Had Their Serried Ranks 
 With Speedier Tread Dashed Down Upon The     Foe. 
   
   
   
 But When Pompeius Saw The     Hostile Troops 
 Move Forth In Order And Demand The     Fight, 
 And Knew The     Gods' Approval Of     The     Day, 
 He Stood Astonied, While A Deadly Chill 
 Struck To His Heart -- Omen Itself Of     Woe, 
 That Such A Chief Should At The     Call To Arms, 
 Thus Dread The     Issue: But With Fear Repressed, 
 Borne On His Noble Steed Along The     Line 
 Of All His Forces, Thus He Spake: "The Day 
 Your Bravery Demands, That Final End 
 Of Civil War Ye Asked For, Is At Hand. 
 Put Forth Your Strength, Your All; The     Sword To-Day 
 Does Its Last Work.  One Crowded Hour Is Charged 
 With Nations' Destinies.  Whoe'er Of     You 
 Longs For His Land And Home, His Wife And Child, 
 Seek Them With Sword.  Here In Mid Battle-Field, 
 The Gods Place All At Stake.  Our Better Right 
 Bids Us Expect Their Favour; They Shall Dip 
 
 
 
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 Your Brands In Caesar's Blood, And Thus Shall Give 
 Another Sanction To The     Laws Of     Rome, 
 Our Cause Of     Battle.  If For Him Were Meant 
 An Empire O'er The     World, Had They Not Put 
 An End To Magnus' Life?  That I Am Chief 
 Of All These Mingled Peoples And Of     Rome 
 Disproves An Angry Heaven.  See Here Combined 
 All Means Of     Victory.  Noble Men Have Sought 
 Unasked The     Risks Of     War.  Our Soldiers Boast 
 Ancestral Statues.  If To Us Were Given 
 A Curius, If Camillus Were Returned, 
 Or Patriot Decius To Devote His Life, 
 Here Would They Take Their Stand.  From Furthest East 
 All Nations Gathered, Cities As The     Sand 
 Unnumbered, Give Their Aid: A World Complete 
 Serves 'Neath Our Standards.  North And South And All 
 Who Have Their Being 'Neath The     Starry Vault, 
 Here Meet In Arms Conjoined: And Shall We Not 
 Crush With Our Closing Wings This Paltry Foe? 
 Few Shall Find Room To Strike; The     Rest With Voice 
 Must Be Content To Aid: For Caesar's Ranks 
 Suffice Not For Us.  Think From Rome's High Walls 
 The Matrons Watch You With Their Hair Unbound; 
 Think That The     Senate Hoar, Too Old For Arms, 
 With Snowy Locks Outspread; And Rome Herself, 
 The World's High Mistress, Fearing Now, Alas! 
 A Despot -- All Exhort You To The     Fight. 
 Think That The     People That Is And That Shall Be 
 Joins In The     Prayer -- In Freedom To Be Born, 
 In Freedom Die, Their Wish.  If 'Mid These Vows 
 Be Still Found Place For Mine, With Wife And Child, 
 So Far As Imperator May, I Bend 
 Before You Suppliant -- Unless This Fight 
 Be Won, Behold Me Exile, Your Disgrace, 
 My Kinsman's Scorn.  From This, 'Tis Yours To Save. 
 Then Save!  Nor In The     Latest Stage Of     Life, 
 Let Magnus Be A Slave." 
   
   
   
                          Then Burned Their Souls 
 At These His Words, Indignant At The     Thought, 
 And Rome Rose Up Within Them, And To Die 
 Was Welcome. 
   
   
   
                Thus Alike With Hearts Aflame 
 Moved Either Host To Battle, One In Fear 
 And One In Hope Of     Empire.  These Hands Shall Do 
 Such Work As Not The     Rolling Centuries 
 Not All Mankind Though Free From Sword And War 
 Shall E'er Make Good.  Nations That Were To Live 
 This Fight Shall Crush, And Peoples Pre-Ordained 
 
 
 
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 To Make The     History Of     The     Coming World 
 Shall Come Not To The     Birth.  The     Latin Names 
 Shall Sound As Fables In The     Ears Of     Men, 
 And Ruins Loaded With The     Dust Of     Years 
 Shall Hardly Mark Her Cities.  Alba's Hill, 
 Home Of     Our Gods, No Human Foot Shall Tread, 
 Save Of     Some Senator At The     Ancient Feast 
 By Numa's Orders Founded -- He Compelled 
 Serves His High Office. (16)  Void And Desolate 
 Are Veii, Cora And Laurentum's Hold; 
 Yet Not The     Tooth Of     Envious Time Destroyed 
 These Storied Monuments -- 'Twas Civil War 
 That Rased Their Citadels.  Where Now Hath Fled 
 The Teeming Life That Once Italia Knew? 
 Not All The     Earth Can Furnish Her With Men: 
 Untenanted Her Dwellings And Her Fields: 
 Slaves Till Her Soil: One City Holds Us All: 
 Crumbling To Ruin, The     Ancestral Roof 
 Finds None On Whom To Fall; And Rome Herself, 
 Void Of     Her Citizens, Draws Within Her Gates 
 The Dregs Of     All The     World.  That None Might Wage 
 A Civil War Again, Thus Deeply Drank 
 Pharsalia's Fight The     Life-Blood Of     Her Sons. 
 Dark In The     Calendar Of     Rome For Aye, 
 The Days When Allia And Cannae Fell: 
 And Shall Pharsalus' Morn, Darkest Of     All, 
 Stand On The     Page Unmarked?  Alas, The     Fates! 
 Not Plague Nor Pestilence Nor Famine's Rage, 
 Not Cities Given To The     Flames, Nor Towns 
 Trembling At Shock Of     Earthquake Shall Weigh Down 
 Such Heroes Lost, When Fortune's Ruthless Hand 
 Lops At One Blow The     Gift Of     Centuries, 
 Leaders And Men Embattled.  How Great Art Thou, 
 Rome, In Thy Fall!  Stretched To The     Widest Bounds 
 War Upon War Laid Nations At Thy Feet 
 Till Flaming Titan Nigh To Either Pole 
 Beheld Thine Empire; And The     Furthest East 
 Was Almost Thine, Till Day And Night And Sky 
 For Thee Revolved, And All The     Stars Could See 
 Throughout Their Course Was Roman.  But The     Fates 
 In One Dread Day Of     Slaughter And Despair 
 Turned Back The     Centuries And Spoke Thy Doom. 
 And Now The     Indian Fears The     Axe No More 
 Once Emblem Of     Thy Power, Now No More 
 The Girded Consul Curbs The     Getan Horde, 
 Or In Sarmatian Furrows Guides The     Share: (17) 
 Still Parthia Boasts Her Triumphs Unavenged: 
 Foul Is The     Public Life; And Freedom, Fled 
 To Furthest Earth Beyond The     Tigris' Stream, 
 And Rhine's Broad River, Wandering At Her Will 
 'Mid Teuton Hordes And Scythian, Though By Sword 
 Sought, Yet Returns Not.  Would That From The     Day 
 When Romulus, Aided By The     Vulture's Flight, 
 Ill-Omened, Raised Within That Hateful Grove 
 
 
 
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 Rome's Earliest Walls, Down To The     Crimsoned Field 
 In Dire Thessalia Fought, She Ne'er Had Known 
 Italia's Peoples!  Did The     Bruti Strike 
 In Vain For Liberty?  Why Laws And Rights 
 Sanctioned By All The     Annals Designate 
 With Consular Titles?  Happier Far The     Medes 
 And Blest Arabia, And The     Eastern Lands 
 Held By A Kindlier Fate In Despot Rule! 
 That Nation Serves The     Worst Which Serves With Shame. 
 No Guardian Gods Watch Over Us From Heaven: 
 Jove (18) Is No King; Let Ages Whirl Along 
 In Blind Confusion: From His Throne Supreme 
 Shall He Behold Such Carnage And Restrain 
 His Thunderbolts?  On Mimas Shall He Hurl 
 His Fires, On Rhodope And Oeta's Woods 
 Unmeriting Such Chastisement, And Leave 
 This Life To Cassius' Hand?  On Argos Fell 
 At Grim Thyestes' Feast (19) Untimely Night 
 By Him Thus Hastened; Shall Thessalia's Land 
 Receive Full Daylight, Wielding Kindred Swords 
 In Fathers' Hands And Brothers'?  Careless Of     Men 
 Are All The     Gods.  Yet For This Day Of     Doom 
 Such Vengeance Have We Reaped As Deities 
 May Give To Mortals; For These Wars Shall Raise 
 Our Parted Caesars To The     Gods; And Rome 
 Shall Deck Their Effigies With Thunderbolts, 
 And Stars And Rays, And In The     Very Fanes 
 Swear By The     Shades Of     Men. 
   
   
   
                               With Swift Advance 
 They Seize The     Space That Yet Delays The     Fates 
 Till Short The     Span Dividing.  Then They Gaze 
 For One Short Moment Where May Fall The     Spear, 
 What Hand May Deal Their Death, What Monstrous Task 
 Soon Shall Be Theirs; And All In Arms They See, 
 In Reach Of     Stroke, Their Brothers And Their Sires 
 With Front Opposing; Yet To Yield Their Ground 
 It Pleased Them Not.  But All The     Host Was Dumb 
 With Horror; Cold Upon Each Loving Heart, 
 Awe-Struck, The     Life-Blood Pressed; And All Men Held 
 With Arms Outstretched Their Javelins For A Time, 
 Poised Yet Unthrown.  Now May Th' Avenging Gods 
 Allot Thee, Crastinus, (20) Not Such A Death 
 As All Men Else Do Suffer!  In The     Tomb 
 May'st Thou Have Feeling And Remembrance Still! 
 For Thine The     Hand That First Flung Forth The     Dart, 
 Which Stained With Roman Blood Thessalia's Earth. 
 Madman!  To Speed Thy Lance When Caesar's Self 
 Still Held His Hand!  Then From The     Clarions Broke 
 The Strident Summons, And The     Trumpets Blared 
 Responsive Signal.  Upward To The     Vault 
 The Sound Re-Echoes Where Nor Clouds May Reach 
 
 
 
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 Nor Thunder Penetrate; And Haemus' Slopes (21) 
 Reverberate To Pelion The     Din; 
 Pindus Re-Echoes; Oeta's Lofty Rocks 
 Groan, And Pangaean Cliffs, Till At Their Rage 
 Borne Back From All The     Earth They Shook For Fear. 
   
   
   
 Unnumbered Darts They Hurl, With Prayers Diverse; 
 Some Hope To Wound: Others, In Secret, Yearn 
 For Hands Still Innocent.  Chance Rules Supreme, 
 And Wayward Fortune Upon Whom She Wills 
 Makes Fall The     Guilt.  Yet For The     Hatred Bred 
 By Civil War Suffices Spear Nor Lance, 
 Urged On Their Flight Afar: The     Hand Must Grip 
 The Sword And Drive It To The     Foeman's Heart. 
 But While Pompeius' Ranks, Shield Wedged To Shield, 
 Were Ranged In Dense Array, And Scarce Had Space 
 To Draw The     Blade, Came Rushing At The     Charge 
 Full On The     Central Column Caesar's Host, 
 Mad For The     Battle.  Man Nor Arms Could Stay 
 The Crash Of     Onset, And The     Furious Sword 
 Clove Through The     Stubborn Panoply To The     Flesh, 
 There Only Stayed.  One Army Struck -- Their Foes 
 Struck Not In Answer; Magnus' Swords Were Cold, 
 But Caesar's Reeked With Slaughter And With Guilt. 
 Nor Fortune Lingered, But Decreed The     Doom 
 Which Swept The     Ruins Of     A World Away. 
   
   
   
 Soon As Withdrawn From All The     Spacious Plain, 
 Pompeius' Horse Was Ranged Upon The     Flanks; 
 Passed Through The     Outer Files, The     Lighter Armed 
 Of All The     Nations Joined The     Central Strife, 
 With Divers Weapons Armed, But All For Blood 
 Of Rome Athirst: Then Blazing Torches Flew, 
 Arrows And Stones. And Ponderous Balls Of     Lead 
 Molten By Speed Of     Passage Through The     Air. 
 There Ituraean Archers And The     Mede 
 Winged Forth Their Countless Shafts Till All The     Sky 
 Grew Dark With Missiles Hurled; And From The     Night 
 Brooding Above, Death Struck His Victims Down, 
 Guiltless Such Blow, While All The     Crime Was Heaped 
 Upon The     Roman Spear.  In Line Oblique 
 Behind The     Standards Caesar In Reserve 
 Had Placed Some Companies Of     Foot, In Fear 
 The Foremost Ranks Might Waver.  These At His Word, 
 No Trumpet Sounding, Break Upon The     Ranks 
 Of Magnus' Horsemen Where They Rode At Large 
 Flanking The     Battle.  They, Unshamed Of     Fear 
 And Careless Of     The     Fray, When First A Steed 
 Pierced Through By Javelin Spurned With Sounding Hoof 
 The Temples Of     His Rider, Turned The     Rein, 
 
 
 
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 And Through Their Comrades Spurring From The     Field 
 In Panic, Proved That Not With Warring Rome 
 Barbarians May Grapple.  Then Arose 
 Immeasurable Carnage: Here The     Sword, 
 There Stood The     Victim, And The     Victor's Arm 
 Wearied Of     Slaughter.  Oh, That To Thy Plains, 
 Pharsalia, Might Suffice The     Crimson Stream 
 From Hosts Barbarian, Nor Other Blood 
 Pollute Thy Fountains' Sources!  These Alone 
 Shall Clothe Thy Pastures With The     Bones Of     Men! 
 Or If Thy Fields Must Run With Roman Blood 
 Then Spare The     Nations Who In Times To Come 
 Must Be Her Peoples! 
   
   
   
                          Now The     Terror Spread 
 Through All The     Army, And The     Favouring Fates 
 Decreed For Caesar's Triumph: And The     War 
 Ceased In The     Wider Plain, Though Still Ablaze 
 Where Stood The     Chosen Of     Pompeius' Force, 
 Upholding Yet The     Fight.  Not Here Allies 
 Begged From Some Distant King To Wield The     Sword: 
 Here Were The     Roman Sons, The     Sires Of     Rome, 
 Here The     Last Frenzy And The     Last Despair: 
 Here, Caesar, Was Thy Crime: And Here Shall Stay 
 My Muse Repelled: No Poesy Of     Mine 
 Shall Tell The     Horrors Of     The     Final Strife, 
 Nor For The     Coming Ages Paint The     Deeds 
 Which Civil War Permits.  Be All Obscured 
 In Deepest Darkness!  Spare The     Useless Tear 
 And Vain Lament, And Let The     Deeds That Fell 
 In That Last Fight Of     Rome Remain Unsung. 
   
   
   
 But Caesar Adding Fury To The     Breasts 
 Already Flaming With The     Rage Of     War, 
 That Each Might Bear His Portion Of     The     Guilt 
 Which Stained The     Host, Unflinching Through The     Ranks 
 Passed At His Will.  He Looked Upon The     Brands, 
 These Reddened Only At The     Point, And Those 
 Streaming With Blood And Gory, To The     Hilt: 
 He Marks The     Hand Which Trembling Grasped The     Sword, 
 Or Held It Idle, And The     Cheek That Grew 
 Pale At The     Blow, And That Which At His Words 
 Glowed With The     Joy Of     Battle: Midst The     Dead 
 He Treads The     Plain And On Each Gaping Wound 
 Presses His Hand To Keep The     Life Within. 
 Thus Caesar Passed: And Where His Footsteps Fell 
 As When Bellona Shakes Her Crimson Lash, 
 Or Mavors Scourges On The     Thracian Mares (22) 
 When Shunning The     Dread Face On Pallas' Shield, 
 He Drives His Chariot, There Arose A Night 
 
 
 
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 Dark With Huge Slaughter And With Crime, And Groans 
 As Of     A Voice Immense, And Sound Of     Alms 
 As Fell The     Wearer, And Of     Sword On Sword 
 Crashed Into Fragments.  With A Ready Hand 
 Caesar Supplies The     Weapon And Bids Strike 
 Full At The     Visage; And With Lance Reversed 
 Urges The     Flagging Ranks And Stirs The     Fight. 
 Where Flows The     Nation's Blood, Where Beats The     Heart, 
 Knowing, He Bids Them Spare The     Common Herd, 
 But Seek The     Senators -- Thus Rome He Strikes, 
 Thus The     Last Hold Of     Freedom.  In The     Fray, 
 Then Fell The     Nobles With Their Mighty Names 
 Of Ancient Prowess; There Metellus' Sons, 
 Corvini, Lepidi, Torquati Too, 
 Not Once Nor Twice The     Conquerors Of     Kings, 
 First Of     All Men, Pompeius' Name Except, 
 Lay Dead Upon The     Field. 
   
   
   
                          But, Brutus, Where, 
 Where Was Thy Sword? (23)  "Veiled By A Common Helm 
 Unknown Thou Wanderest.  Thy Country's Pride, 
 Hope Of     The     Senate, Thou (For None Besides); 
 Thou Latest Scion Of     That Race Of     Pride, 
 Whose Fearless Deeds The     Centuries Record, 
 Tempt Not The     Battle, Nor Provoke The     Doom! 
 Awaits Thee On Philippi's Fated Field 
 Thy Thessaly.  Not Here Shalt Thou Prevail 
 'Gainst Caesar's Life.  Not Yet Hath He Surpassed 
 The Height Of     Power And Deserved A Death 
 Noble At Brutus' Hands -- Then Let Him Live, 
 Thy Fated Victim! 
   
   
   
                     There Upon The     Field 
 Lay All The     Honour Of     Rome; No Common Stream 
 Mixed With The     Purple Tide.  And Yet Of     All 
 Who Noble Fell, One Only Now I Sing, 
 Thee, Brave Domitius. (24)  Whene'er The     Day 
 Was Adverse To The     Fortunes Of     Thy Chief 
 Thine Was The     Arm Which Vainly Stayed The     Fight. 
 Vanquished So Oft By Caesar, Now 'Twas Thine 
 Yet Free To Perish.  By A Thousand Wounds 
 Came Welcome Death, Nor Had Thy Conqueror Power 
 Again To Pardon.  Caesar Stood And Saw 
 The Dark Blood Welling Forth And Death At Hand, 
 And Thus In Words Of     Scorn: "And Dost Thou Lie, 
 Domitius, There?  And Did Pompeius Name 
 Thee His Successor, Thee?  Why Leavest Thou Then 
 His Standards Helpless?"  But The     Parting Life 
 Still Faintly Throbbed Within Domitius' Breast, 
 Thus Finding Utterance: "Yet Thou Hast Not Won 
 
 
 
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 Thy Hateful Prize, For Doubtful Are The     Fates; 
 Nor Thou The     Master, Caesar; Free As Yet, 
 With Great Pompeius For My Leader Still, 
 Warring No More, I Seek The     Silent Shades, 
 Yet With This Hope In Death, That Thou Subdued 
 To Magnus And To Me In Grievous Guise 
 May'st Pay Atonement."  So He Spake: No More; 
 Then Closed His Eyes In Death. 
   
   
   
                               'Twere Shame To Shed, 
 When Thus A World Was Perishing, The     Tear 
 Meet For Each Fate, Or Sing The     Wound That Reft 
 Each Life Away.  Through Forehead And Through Throat 
 The Pitiless Weapon Clove Its Deadly Path, 
 Or Forced The     Entrails Forth: One Fell To Earth 
 Prone At The     Stroke; One Stood Though Shorn Of     Limb; 
 Glanced From This Breast Unharmed The     Quivering Spear; 
 That It Transfixed To Earth.  Here From The     Veins 
 Spouted The     Life-Blood, Till The     Foeman's Arms 
 Were Crimsoned.  One His Brother Slew, Nor Dared 
 To Spoil The     Corse, Till Severed From The     Neck 
 He Flung The     Head Afar.  Another Dashed 
 Full In His Father's Teeth The     Fatal Sword, 
 By Murderous Frenzy Striving To Disprove 
 His Kinship With The     Slain.  Yet For Each Death 
 We Find No Separate Dirge, Nor Weep For Men 
 When Peoples Fell.  Thus, Rome, Thy Doom Was Wrought 
 At Dread Pharsalus.  Not, As In Other Fields, 
 By Soldiers Slain, Or Captains; Here Were Swept 
 Whole Nations To The     Death; Assyria Here, 
 Achaia, Pontus; And The     Blood Of     Rome 
 Gushing In Torrents Forth, Forbade The     Rest 
 To Stagnate On The     Plain.  Nor Life Was Reft, 
 Nor Safety Only Then; But Reeled The     World 
 And All Her Manifold Peoples At The     Blow 
 In That Day's Battle Dealt; Nor Only Then 
 Felt, But In All The     Times That Were To Come. 
 Those Swords Gave Servitude To Every Age 
 That Shall Be Slavish; By Our Sires Was Shaped 
 For Us Our Destiny, The     Despot Yoke. 
 Yet Have We Trembled Not, Nor Feared To Bare 
 Our Throats To Slaughter, Nor To Face The     Foe: 
 We Bear The     Penalty For Others' Shame. 
 Such Be Our Doom; Yet, Fortune, Sharing Not 
 In That Last Battle, 'Twas Our Right To Strike 
 One Blow For Freedom Ere We Served Our Lord. 
   
   
   
 Now Saw Pompeius, Grieving, That The     Gods 
 Had Left His Side, And Knew The     Fates Of     Rome 
 Passed From His Governance; Yet All The     Blood 
 
 
 
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 That Filled The     Field Scarce Brought Him To Confess 
 His Fortunes Fled.  A Little Hill He Sought 
 Whence To Descry The     Battle Raging Still 
 Upon The     Plain, Which When He Nearer Stood 
 The Warring Ranks Concealed.  Thence Did The     Chief 
 Gaze On Unnumbered Swords That Flashed In Air 
 And Sought His Ruin; And The     Tide Of     Blood 
 In Which His Host Had Perished.  Yet Not As Those 
 Who, Prostrate Fallen, Would Drag Nations Down 
 To Share Their Evil Fate, Pompeius Did. 
 Still Were The     Gods Thought Worthy Of     His Prayers 
 To Give Him Solace, In That After Him 
 Might Live His Romans.  "Spare, Ye Gods," He Said, 
 "Nor Lay Whole Peoples Low; My Fall Attained, 
 The World And Rome May Stand. And If Ye Need 
 More Bloodshed, Here On Me, My Wife, And Sons 
 Wreak Out Your Vengeance -- Pledges To The     Fates 
 Such Have We Given.  Too Little For The     War 
 Is Our Destruction?  Doth The     Carnage Fail, 
 The World Escaping?  Magnus' Fortunes Lost, 
 Why Doom All Else Beside Him?"  Thus He Cried, 
 And Passed Amid His Standards, And Recalled 
 His Vanquished Host That Rushed On Fate Declared. 
 Not For His Sake Such Carnage Should Be Wrought. 
 So Thought Pompeius; Nor The     Foeman's Sword 
 He Feared, Nor Death; But Lest Upon His Fall 
 To Quit Their Chief His Soldiers Might Refuse, 
 And O'er His Prostrate Corpse A World In Arms 
 Might Find Its Ruin: Or Perchance He Wished 
 From Caesar's Eager Eyes To Veil His Death. 
 In Vain, Unhappy!  For The     Fates Decree 
 He Shall Behold, Shorn From The     Bleeding Trunk, 
 Again Thy Visage.  And Thou, Too, His Spouse, 
 Beloved Cornelia, Didst Cause His Flight; 
 Thy Longed-For Features; Yet He Shall Not Die 
 When Thou Art Present. (25) 
   
   
   
                          Then Upon His Steed, 
 Though Fearing Not The     Weapons At His Back, 
 Pompeius Fled, His Mighty Soul Prepared 
 To Meet His Destinies.  No Groan Nor Tear, 
 But Solemn Grief As For The     Fates Of     Rome, 
 Was In His Visage, And With Mien Unchanged 
 He Saw Pharsalia's Woes, Above The     Frowns 
 Or Smiles Of     Fortune; In Triumphant Days 
 And In His Fall, Her Master.  The     Burden Laid 
 Of Thine Impending Fate, Thou Partest Free 
 To Muse Upon The     Happy Days Of     Yore. 
 Hope Now Has Fled; But In The     Fleeting Past 
 How Wast Thou Great!  Seek Thou The     Wars No More, 
 And Call The     Gods To Witness That For Thee 
 Henceforth Dies No Man.  In The     Fights To Come 
 
 
 
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 On Afric's Mournful Shore, By Pharos' Stream 
 And Fateful Munda; In The     Final Scene 
 Of Dire Pharsalia's Battle, Not Thy Name 
 Doth Stir The     War And Urge The     Foeman's Arm, 
 But Those Great Rivals Biding With Us Yet, 
 Caesar And Liberty; And Not For Thee 
 But For Itself The     Dying Senate Fought, 
 When Thou Had'st Fled The     Combat. 
   
   
   
                                    Find'st Thou Not 
 Some Solace Thus In Parting From The     Fight 
 Nor Seeing All The     Horrors Of     Its Close? 
 Look Back Upon The     Dead That Load The     Plain, 
 The Rivers Turbid With A Crimson Stream; 
 Then Pity Thou Thy Victor.  How Shall He 
 Enter The     City, Who On Such A Field 
 Finds Happiness?  Trust Thou In Fortune Yet, 
 Her Favourite Ever; And Whate'er, Alone 
 In Lands Unknown, An Exile, Be Thy Lot, 
 Whate'er Thy Sufferings 'Neath The     Pharian King, 
 'Twere Worse To Conquer.  Then Forbid The     Tear, 
 Cease, Sounds Of     Woe, And Lamentation Cease, 
 And Let The     World Adore Thee In Defeat, 
 As In Thy Triumphs.  With Unfaltering Gaze, 
 Look On The     Suppliant Kings, Thy Subjects Still; 
 Search Out The     Realms And Cities Which They Hold, 
 Thy Gift, Pompeius; And A Fitting Place 
 Choose For Thy Death. 
   
   
   
                          First Witness Of     Thy Fall, 
 And Of     Thy Noble Bearing In Defeat, 
 Larissa.  Weeping, Yet With Gifts Of     Price 
 Fit For A Victor, From Her Teeming Gates 
 Poured Forth Her Citizens, Their Homes And Fanes 
 Flung Open; Wishing It Had Been Their Lot 
 With Thee To Share Disaster.  Of     Thy Name 
 Still Much Survives, Unto Thy Former Self 
 Alone Inferior, Still Could'st Thou To Arms 
 All Nations Call And Challenge Fate Again. 
 But Thus He Spake: "To Cities Nor To Men 
 Avails The     Conquered Aught; Then Pledge Your Faith 
 To Him Who Has The     Victory."  Caesar Trod 
 Pharsalia's Slaughter, While His Daughter's Spouse 
 Thus Gave Him Kingdoms; But Pompeius Fled 
 'Mid Sobs And Groans And Blaming Of     The     Gods 
 For This Their Fierce Commandment; And He Fled 
 Full Of     The     Fruits And Knowledge Of     The     Love 
 The Peoples Bore Him, Which He Knew Not His 
 In Times Of     Happiness. 
   
 
 
 
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                          When Italian Blood 
 Flowed Deep Enough Upon The     Fatal Field, 
 Caesar Bade Halt, And Gave Their Lives To Those 
 Whose Death Had Been No Gain.  But That Their Camp 
 Might Not Recall The     Foe, Nor Calm Of     Night 
 Banish Their Fears, He Bids His Cohorts Dash, 
 While Fortune Glowed And Terror Filled The     Plain, 
 Straight On The     Ramparts Of     The     Conquered Foe. 
 Light Was The     Task To Urge Them To The     Spoil; 
 "Soldiers," He Said, "The Victory Is Ours, 
 Full And Triumphant: There Doth Lie The     Prize 
 Which You Have Won, Not Caesar; At Your Feet 
 Behold The     Booty Of     The     Hostile Camp. 
 Snatched From Hesperian Nations Ruddy Gold, 
 And All The     Riches Of     The     Orient World, 
 Are Piled Within The     Tents.  The     Wealth Of     Kings 
 And Of     Pompeius Here Awaits Its Lords. 
 Haste, Soldiers, And Outstrip The     Flying Foe; 
 E'en Now The     Vanquished Of     Pharsalia's Field 
 Anticipate Your Spoils."  No More He Said, 
 But Drave Them, Blind With Frenzy For The     Gold, 
 To Spurn The     Bodies Of     Their Fallen Sires, 
 And Trample Chiefs In Dashing On Their Prey. 
 What Rampart Had Restrained Them As They Rushed 
 To Seize The     Prize For Wickedness And War 
 And Learn The     Price Of     Guilt?  And Though They Found 
 In Ponderous Masses Heaped For Need Of     War 
 The Trophies Of     A World, Yet Were Their Minds 
 Unsatisfied, That Asked For All.  Whate'er 
 Iberian Mines Or Tagus Bring To Day, 
 Or Arimaspians From Golden Sands 
 May Gather, Had They Seized; Still Had They Thought 
 Their Guilt Too Cheaply Sold.  When Pledged To Them 
 Was The     Tarpeian Rock, For Victory Won, 
 And All The     Spoils Of     Rome, By Caesar's Word, 
 Shall Camps Suffice Them? 
   
   
   
                               Then Plebeian Limbs 
 On Senators' Turf Took Rest, On Kingly Couch 
 The Meanest Soldier; And The     Murderer Lay 
 Where Yesternight His Brother Or His Sire. 
 In Raving Dreams Within Their Waking Brains 
 Yet Raged The     Battle, And The     Guilty Hand 
 Still Wrought Its Deeds Of     Blood, And Restless Sought 
 The Absent Sword-Hilt.  Thou Had'st Said That Groans 
 Issued From All The     Plain, That Parted Souls 
 Had Breathed A Life Into The     Guilty Soil, 
 That Earthly Darkness Teemed With Gibbering Ghosts 
 And Stygian Terrors.  Victory Foully Won 
 Thus Claimed Its Punishment.  The     Slumbering Sense 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) Pg 153 
 Already Heard The     Hiss Of     Vengeful Flames 
 As From The     Depths Of     Acheron.  One Saw 
 Deep In The     Trances Of     The     Night His Sire 
 And One His Brother Slain.  But All The     Dead 
 In Long Array Were Visioned To The     Eyes 
 Of Caesar Dreaming.  Not In Other Guise 
 Orestes Saw The     Furies Ere He Fled 
 To Purge His Sin Within The     Scythian Bounds; 
 Nor In More Fierce Convulsions Raged The     Soul 
 Of Pentheus Raving; Nor Agave's (26) Mind 
 When She Had Known Her Son.  Before His Gaze 
 Flashed All The     Javelins Which Pharsalia Saw, 
 Or That Avenging Day When Drew Their Blades 
 The Roman Senators; And On His Couch, 
 Infernal Monsters From The     Depths Of     Hell 
 Scourged Him In Slumber.  Thus His Guilty Mind 
 Brought Retribution.  Ere His Rival Died 
 The Terrors That Enfold The     Stygian Stream 
 And Black Avernus, And The     Ghostly Slain 
 Broke On His Sleep. 
   
   
   
                     Yet When The     Golden Sun 
 Unveiled The     Butchery Of     Pharsalia's Field (27) 
 He Shrank Not From Its Horror, Nor Withdrew 
 His Feasting Gaze.  There Rolled The     Streams In Flood 
 With Crimson Carnage; There A Seething Heap 
 Rose Shrouding All The     Plain, Now In Decay 
 Slow Settling Down; There Numbered He The     Host 
 Of Magnus Slain; And For The     Morn's Repast 
 That Spot He Chose Whence He Might Watch The     Dead, 
 And Feast His Eyes Upon Emathia's Field 
 Concealed By Corpses; Of     The     Bloody Sight 
 Insatiate, He Forbad The     Funeral Pyre, 
 And Cast Emathia In The     Face Of     Heaven. 
 Nor By The     Punic Victor Was He Taught, 
 Who At The     Close Of     Cannae's Fatal Fight 
 Laid In The     Earth The     Roman Consul Dead, 
 To Find Fit Burial For His Fallen Foes; 
 For These Were All His Countrymen, Nor Yet 
 His Ire By Blood Appeased.  Yet Ask We Not 
 For Separate Pyres Or Sepulchres Apart 
 Wherein To Lay The     Ashes Of     The     Fallen: 
 Burn In One Holocaust The     Nations Slain; 
 Or Should It Please Thy Soul To Torture More 
 Thy Kinsman, Pile On High From Oeta's Slopes 
 And Pindus' Top The     Woods: Thus Shall He See 
 While Fugitive On The     Deep The     Blaze That Marks 
 Thessalia.  Yet By This Idle Rage 
 Nought Dost Thou Profit; For These Corporal Frames 
 Bearing Innate From Birth The     Certain Germs 
 Of Dissolution, Whether By Decay 
 Or Fire Consumed, Shall Fall Into The     Lap 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) Pg 154 
 Of All-Embracing Nature.  Thus If Now 
 Thou Should'st Deny The     Pyre, Still In That Flame 
 When All Shall Crumble, (28) Earth And Rolling Seas 
 And Stars Commingled With The     Bones Of     Men, 
 These Too Shall Perish.  Where Thy Soul Shall Go 
 These Shall Companion Thee; No Higher Flight 
 In Airy Realms Is Thine, Nor Smoother Couch 
 Beneath The     Stygian Darkness; For The     Dead 
 No Fortune Favours, And Our Mother Earth 
 All That Is Born From Her Receives Again, 
 And He Whose Bones No Tomb Or Urn Protects 
 Yet Sleeps Beneath The     Canopy Of     Heaven. 
 And Thou, Proud Conqueror, Who Would'st Deny 
 The Rites Of     Burial To Thousands Slain, 
 Why Flee Thy Field Of     Triumph?  Why Desert 
 This Reeking Plain?  Drink, Caesar, Of     The     Streams, 
 Drink If Thou Can'st, And Should It Be Thy Wish 
 Breathe The     Thessalian Air; But From Thy Grasp 
 The Earth Is Ravished, And Th' Unburied Host, 
 Routing Their Victor, Hold Pharsalia's Field. 
   
   
   
 Then To The     Ghastly Harvest Of     The     War 
 Came All The     Beasts Of     Earth Whose Facile Sense 
 Of Odour Tracks The     Bodies Of     The     Slain. 
 Sped From His Northern Home The     Thracian Wolf; 
 Bears Left Their Dens And Lions From Afar 
 Scenting The     Carnage; Dogs Obscene And Foul 
 Their Homes Deserted: All The     Air Was Full 
 Of Gathering Fowl, Who In Their Flight Had Long 
 Pursued The     Armies.  Cranes (29) Who Yearly Change 
 The Frosts Of     Thracia For The     Banks Of     Nile, 
 This Year Delayed Their Voyage.  As Ne'er Before 
 The Air Grew Dark With Vultures' Hovering Wings, 
 Innumerable, For Every Grove And Wood 
 Sent Forth Its Denizens; On Every Tree 
 Dripped From Their Crimsoned Beaks A Gory Dew. 
 Oft On The     Conquerors And Their Impious Arms 
 Or Purple Rain Of     Blood, Or Mouldering Flesh 
 Fell From The     Lofty Heaven; Or Limbs Of     Men 
 From Weary Talons Dropped.  Yet Even So 
 The Peoples Passed Not All Into The     Maw 
 Of Ravening Beast Or Fowl; The     Inmost Flesh 
 Scarce Did They Touch, Nor Limbs -- Thus Lay The     Dead 
 Scorned By The     Spoiler; And The     Roman Host 
 By Sun And Length Of     Days, And Rain From Heaven, 
 At Length Was Mingled With Emathia's Plain. 
   
   
   
 Ill-Starred Thessalia!  By What Hateful Crime 
 Didst Thou Offend That Thus On Thee Alone 
 Was Laid Such Carnage?  By What Length Of     Years 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) Pg 155 
 Shalt Thou Be Cleansed From The     Curse Of     War? 
 When Shall The     Harvest Of     Thy Fields Arise 
 Free From Their Purple Stain?  And When The     Share 
 Cease To Upturn The     Slaughtered Hosts Of     Rome? 
 First Shall The     Battle Onset Sound Again, 
 Again Shall Flow Upon Thy Fated Earth 
 A Crimson Torrent.  Thus May Be O'erthrown 
 Our Sires' Memorials; Those Erected Last, 
 Or Those Which Pierced By Ancient Roots Have Spread 
 Through Broken Stones Their Sacred Urns Abroad. 
 Thus Shall The     Ploughman Of     Haemonia Gaze 
 On More Abundant Ashes, And The     Rake 
 Pass O'er More Frequent Bones.  Wert, Thracia, Thou. 
 Our Only Battlefield, No Sailor's Hand 
 Upon Thy Shore Should Make His Cable Fast; 
 No Spade Should Turn, The     Husbandman Should Flee 
 Thy Fields, The     Resting-Place Of     Roman Dead; 
 No Lowing Kine Should Graze, Nor Shepherd Dare 
 To Leave His Fleecy Charge To Browse At Will 
 On Fields Made Fertile By Our Mouldering Dust; 
 All Bare And Unexplored Thy Soil Should Lie, 
 As Past Man's Footsteps, Parched By Cruel Suns, 
 Or Palled By Snows Unmelting!  But, Ye Gods, 
 Give Us To Hate The     Lands Which Bear The     Guilt; 
 Let Not All Earth Be Cursed, Though Not All 
 Be Blameless Found. 
   
   
   
                     'Twas Thus That Munda's Fight 
 And Blood Of     Mutina, And Leucas' Cape, 
 And Sad Pachynus, (30) Made Philippi Pure. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) (Endnotes) Pg 156 
   
   
 (1)       "It Is, Methinks, A Morning Full Of     Fate! 
           It Riseth Slowly, As Her Sullen Car 
           Had All The     Weight Of     Sleep And Death Hung At It!" 
           ... 
           And Her Sick Head Is Bound About With Clouds 
           As If She Threatened Night Ere Noon Of     Day." 
                -- Ben Jonson, "Catiline", I., 1. 
 (2)  See Book Vi., 577. 
 (3)  As To The     Sun Finding Fuel In The     Clouds, See Book I., Line 
      471. 
 (4)  Pompeius Triumphed First In 81 B.C. For His Victories In 
      Sicily And Africa, At The     Age Of     Twenty-Four.  Sulla At 
      First Objected, But Finally Yielded And Said, "Let Him 
      Triumph Then In God's Name."  The     Triumph For The     Defeat Of 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) (Endnotes) Pg 157 
      Sertorius Was Not Till 71 B.C., In Which Year Pompeius Was 
      Elected Consul Along With Crassus. (Compare Book Ix., 709.) 
 (5)  These Two Lines Are Taken From Ben Jonson's "Catiline", Act 
      V., Scene 6. 
 (6)  The     Volcanic District Of     Campania, Scene Of     The     Fabled 
      Battle Of     The     Giants.  (See Book Iv., 666.) 
 (7)  Henceforth To Be The     Standards Of     The     Emperor. 
 (8)  A Lake At The     Foot Of     Mount Ossa.  Pindus, Ossa, Olympus, 
      And, Above All, Haemus (The Balkans) Were At A Long Distance 
      From Pharsalia.  Comp. Book Vi., 677. 
 (9)  Gades (Cadiz) Is Stated To Have Been Founded By The 
      Phoenicians About 1000 B.C. 
 (10) This Alludes To The     Story Told By Plutarch ("Caesar", 47) 
      That, At Patavium, Caius Cornelius, A Man Reputed For Skill 
      In Divination, And A Friend Of     Livy The     Historian, Was 
      Sitting To Watch The     Birds That Day.  "And First Of     All (As 
      Livius Says) He Discovered The     Time Of     The     Battle, And He 
      Said To Those Present That The     Affair Was Now Deciding And 
      The     Men Were Going Into Action.  Looking Again, And 
      Observing The     Signs, He Sprang Up With Enthusiasm And Called 
      Out, 'You Conquer, Caesar.'"  (Long's Translation.) 
 (11) The     Fontes Aponi Were Warm Springs Near Padua.  An Altar, 
      Inscribed To Apollo Aponus, Was Found At Ribchester, And Is 
      Now At St. John's College, Cambridge. (Wright, "Celt, Roman, 
      And Saxon", P. 320.) 
 (12) See Book I., 411, And Following Lines. 
 (13) For The     Contempt Here Expressed For The     Greek Gymnastic 
      Schools, See Also Tacitus, "Annals", 14, 21.  It Is Well 
      Known That Nero Instituted Games Called Neronia Which Were 
      Borrowed From The     Greeks; And That Many Of     The     Roman 
      Citizens Despised Them As Foreign And Profligate.  Merivale, 
      Chapter Liii., Cites This Passage. 
 (14) Thus Paraphrased By Dean Stanley: 
           "I Tremble Not With Terror, But With Hope, 
           As The     Great Day Reveals Its Coming Scope; 
           Never In Earlier Days, Our Hearts To Cheer, 
           Have Such Bright Gifts Of     Heaven Been Brought So Near, 
           Nor Ever Has Been Kept The     Aspiring Soul 
           By Space So Narrow From So Grand A Goal." 
      Inaugural Address At St. Andrews. 1873, On The     "Study Of 
      Greatness". 
 (15) That Such Were Caesar's Orders Is Also Attested By Appian. 
 (16) See Book V., 463. 
 (17) That Is, Marked Out The     New Colony With A Plough-Share. 
      This Was Regarded As A Religious Ceremony, And Therefore 
      Performed By The     Consul With His Toga Worn In Ancient 
      Fashion. 
 (18) "Hath Jove No Thunder?" -- Ben Jonson, "Catiline", Iii., 2. 
 (19) Compare Book I., Line 600. 
 (20) This Act Of     Crastinus Is Recorded By Plutarch ("Pompeius", 
      71), And By Caesar, "Civil War", Book Iii., 91.  Caesar 
      Called Him By Name And Said: "Well, Crastinus, Shall We Win 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 5 (  The Battle) (Endnotes) Pg 158 
      Today?"  "We Shall Win With Glory, Caesar," He Replied In A 
      Loud Voice, "And To-Day You Will Praise Me, Living Or Dead." 
      -- Durny, "History Of     Rome", Vol. Iii., 312.  He Was Placed 
      In A Special Tomb After The     Battle. 
 (21) See On Line 203. 
 (22) That Is, Lashes On His Team Terrified By The     Gorgon Shield 
      In The     Ranks Of     The     Enemy. 
 (23) Plutarch States That Brutus After The     Battle Escaped And 
      Made His Way To Larissa, Whence He Wrote To Caesar.  Caesar, 
      Pleased That He Was Alive, Asked Him To Come To Him; And It 
      Was On Brutus' Opinion That Caesar Determined To Hurry To 
      Egypt As The     Most Probable Refuge Of     Pompeius.  Caesar 
      Entrusted Brutus With The     Command Of     Cisalpine Gaul When He 
      Was In Africa. 
 (24) "He Perished, After A Career Of     Furious Partisanship, 
      Disgraced With Cruelty And Treachery, On The     Field Of 
      Pharsalia" (Merivale, "Hist. Romans Under The     Empire", 
      Chapter Lii.).  Unless This Man Had Been An Ancestor Of     Nero 
      It Is Impossible To Suppose That Lucan Would Have Thus 
      Singled Him Out.  But He Appears To Have Been The     Only 
      Leader Who Fell.  (Compare Book Ii, Lines 534-590, For His 
      Conduct At Corfinium.) 
 (25) This Appears To Be The     Only Possible Meaning Of     The     Text. 
      But In Truth, Although Cornelia Was Not By Her Husband's 
      Side At His Murder, She Was Present At The     Scene. 
 (26) See Book Vi., 420. 
 (27) The     Whole Of     This Passage Is Foreign To Caesar's Character, 
      And Unfounded In Fact.  Pompeians Perished On The     Field, And 
      Were Taken Prisoners.  When Caesar Passed Over The     Field He 
      Is Recorded To Have Said In Pity, "They Would Have It So; 
      After All My Exploits I Should Have Been Condemned To Death 
      Had I Not Thrown Myself Upon The     Protection Of     My Soldiers." 
      -- Plutarch, "Caesar"; Durny, "History Of     Rome", Vol. Iii., 
      P. 311. 
 (28) Alluding To The     General Conflagration In Which (By The     Stoic 
      Doctrines) All The     Universe Would One Day Perish. 
 (29) Wrongly Supposed By Lucan To Feed On Carrion. 
 (30) Alluding To The     Naval War Waged By Sextus Pompeius After 
      Caesar's Death.  He Took Possession Of     Sicily, And Had 
      Command Of     The     Seas, But Was Ultimately Defeated By The 
      Fleet Of     Octavius Under Agrippa In B.C. 36.  Pachynus Was 
      The     S.E. Promontory Of     The     Island, But Is Used In The     Sense 
      Of     Sicily, For This Battle Took Place On The     North Coast. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 159 
 Now Through Alcides'(1) Pass And Tempe's Groves 
 Pompeius, Aiming For Haemonian Glens 
 And Forests Lone, Urged On His Wearied Steed 
 Scarce Heeding Now The     Spur; By Devious Tracks 
 Seeking To Veil The     Footsteps Of     His Flight: 
 The Rustle Of     The     Foliage, And The     Noise 
 Of Following Comrades Filled His Anxious Soul 
 With Terrors, As He Fancied At His Side 
 Some Ambushed Enemy.  Fallen From The     Height 
 Of Former Fortunes, Still The     Chieftain Knew 
 His Life Not Worthless; Mindful Of     The     Fates: 
 And 'Gainst The     Price He Set On Caesar's Head, 
 He Measures Caesar's Value Of     His Own. 
   
   
   
 Yet, As He Rode, The     Features Of     The     Chief 
 Made Known His Ruin.  Many As They Sought 
 The Camp Pharsalian, Ere Yet Was Spread 
 News Of     The     Battle, Met The     Chief, Amazed, 
 And Wondered At The     Whirl Of     Human Things: 
 Nor Held Disaster Sure, Though Magnus' Self 
 Told Of     His Ruin.  Every Witness Seen 
 Brought Peril On His Flight: 'Twere Better Far 
 Safe In A Name Obscure, Through All The     World 
 To Wander; But His Ancient Fame Forbad. 
   
   
   
 Too Long Had Great Pompeius From The     Height 
 Of Human Greatness, Envied Of     Mankind, 
 Looked On All Others; Nor For Him Henceforth 
 Could Life Be Lowly.  The     Honours Of     His Youth 
 Too Early Thrust Upon Him, And The     Deeds 
 Which Brought Him Triumph In The     Sullan Days, 
 His Conquering Navy And The     Pontic War, 
 Made Heavier Now The     Burden Of     Defeat, 
 And Crushed His Pondering Soul.  So Length Of     Days 
 Drags Down The     Haughty Spirit, And Life Prolonged 
 When Power Has Perished.  Fortune's Latest Hour, 
 Be The     Last Hour Of     Life!  Nor Let The     Wretch 
 Live On Disgraced By Memories Of     Fame! 
 But For The     Boon Of     Death, Who'd Dare The     Sea 
 Of Prosperous Chance? 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 160 
                          Upon The     Ocean Marge 
 By Red Peneus Blushing From The     Fray, 
 Borne In A Sloop, To Lightest Wind And Wave 
 Scarce Equal, He, Whose Countless Oars Yet Smote 
 Upon Coreyra's Isle And Leucas Point, 
 Lord Of     Cilicia And Liburnian Lands, 
 Crept Trembling To The     Sea.  He Bids Them Steer 
 For The     Sequestered Shores Of     Lesbos Isle; 
 For There Wert Thou, Sharer Of     All His Griefs, 
 Cornelia!  Sadder Far Thy Life Apart 
 Than Wert Thou Present In Thessalia's Fields. 
 Racked Is Thy Heart With Presages Of     Ill; 
 Pharsalia Fills Thy Dreams; And When The     Shades 
 Give Place To Coming Dawn, With Hasty Step 
 Thou Tread'st Some Cliff Sea-Beaten, And With Eyes 
 Gazing Afar Art First To Mark The     Sail 
 Of Each Approaching Bark: Yet Dar'st Not Ask 
 Aught Of     Thy Husband's Fate. 
   
   
   
                               Behold The     Boat 
 Whose Bending Canvas Bears Her To The     Shore: 
 She Brings (Unknown As Yet) Thy Chiefest Dread, 
 Rumour Of     Evil, Herald Of     Defeat, 
 Magnus, Thy Conquered Spouse.  Fear Then No More, 
 But Give To Grief Thy Moments.  From The     Ship 
 He Leaps To Land; She Marks The     Cruel Doom 
 Wrought By The     Gods Upon Him: Pale And Wan 
 His Weary Features, By The     Hoary Locks 
 Shaded; The     Dust Of     Travel On His Garb. 
 Dark On Her Soul A Night Of     Anguish Fell; 
 Her Trembling Limbs No Longer Bore Her Frame: 
 Scarce Throbbed Her Heart, And Prone On Earth She Lay 
 Deceived In Hope Of     Death.  The     Boat Made Fast, 
 Pompeius Treading The     Lone Waste Of     Sand 
 Drew Near; Whom When Cornelia's Maidens Saw, 
 They Stayed Their Weeping, Yet With Sighs Subdued, 
 Reproached The     Fates; And Tried In Vain To Raise 
 Their Mistress' Form, Till Magnus To His Breast 
 Drew Her With Cherishing Arms; And At The     Touch 
 Of Soothing Hands The     Life-Blood To Her Veins 
 Returned Once More, And She Could Bear To Look 
 Upon His Features.  He Forbad Despair, 
 Chiding Her Grief.  "Not At The     Earliest Blow 
 By Fortune Dealt, Inheritress Of     Fame 
 Bequeathed By Noble Fathers, Should Thy Strength 
 Thus Fail And Yield: Renown Shall Yet Be Thine, 
 To Last Through Ages; Not Of     Laws Decreed 
 Nor Conquests Won; A Gentler Path To Thee 
 As To Thy Sex, Is Given; Thy Husband's Woe. 
 Let Thine Affection Struggle With The     Fates, 
 And In His Misery Love Thy Lord The     More. 
 I Bring Thee Greater Glory, For That Gone 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 161 
 Is All The     Pomp Of     Power And All The     Crowd 
 Of Faithful Senators And Suppliant Kings; 
 Now First Pompeius For Himself Alone 
 Tis Thine To Love.  Curb This Unbounded Grief, 
 While Yet I Breathe, Unseemly.  O'er My Tomb 
 Weep Out Thy Full, The     Final Pledge Of     Faith. 
 Thou Hast No Loss, Nor Has The     War Destroyed 
 Aught Save My Fortune.  If For That Thy Grief 
 That Was Thy Love." 
   
   
   
                          Roused By Her Husband's Words, 
 Yet Scarcely Could She Raise Her Trembling Limbs, 
 Thus Speaking Through Her Sobs: "Would I Had Sought 
 Detested Caesar's Couch, Ill-Omened Wife 
 Of Spouse Unhappy; At My Nuptials Twice 
 A Fury Has Been Bridesmaid, And The     Ghosts 
 Of Slaughtered Crassi, With Avenging Shades 
 Brought By My Wedlock To The     Doomed Camp 
 The Parthian Massacre.  Twice My Star Has Cursed 
 The World, And Peoples Have Been Hurled To Death 
 In One Red Moment; And The     Gods Through Me 
 Have Left The     Better Cause.  O, Hero Mine, 
 Mightiest Husband, Wedded To A Wife 
 Unworthy!  'Twas Through Her That Fortune Gained 
 The Right To Strike Thee.  Wherefore Did I Wed 
 To Bring Thee Misery?  Mine, Mine The     Guilt, 
 Mine Be The     Penalty.  And That The     Wave 
 May Bear Thee Gently Onwards, And The     Kings 
 May Keep Their Faith To Thee, And All The     Earth 
 Be Ready To Thy Rule, Me From Thy Side 
 Cast To The     Billows.  Rather Had I Died 
 To Bring Thee Victory; Thy Disasters Thus, 
 Thus Expiate.  And, Cruel Julia, Thee, 
 Who By This War Hast Vengeance On Our Vows, 
 From Thine Abode I Call: Atonement Find 
 In This Thy Rival's Death, And Spare At Least 
 Thy Magnus."  Then Upon His Breast She Fell, 
 While All The     Concourse Wept -- E'en Magnus' Self, 
 Who Saw Thessalia's Field Without A Tear. 
   
   
   
 But Now Upon The     Shore A Numerous Band 
 From Mitylene Thus Approached The     Chief: 
 "If 'Tis Our Greatest Glory To Have Kept 
 The Pledge With Us By Such A Husband Placed, 
 Do Thou One Night Within These Friendly Walls 
 We Pray Thee, Stay; Thus Honouring The     Homes 
 Long Since Devoted, Magnus, To Thy Cause. 
 This Spot In Days To Come The     Guest From Rome 
 For Thee Shall Honour.  Nowhere Shalt Thou Find 
 A Surer Refuge In Defeat.  All Else 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 162 
 May Court The     Victor's Favour; We Long Since 
 Have Earned His Chastisement.  And Though Our Isle 
 Rides On The     Deep, Girt By The     Ocean Wave, 
 No Ships Has Caesar: And To Us Shall Come, 
 Be Sure, Thy Captains, To Our Trusted Shore, 
 The War Renewing.  Take, For All Is Thine, 
 The Treasures Of     Our Temples And The     Gold, 
 Take All Our Youth By Land Or On The     Sea 
 To Do Thy Bidding: Lesbos Only Asks 
 This From The     Chief Who Sought Her In His Pride, 
 Not In His Fall To Leave Her."  Pleased In Soul 
 At Such A Love, And Joyed That In The     World 
 Some Faith Still Lingered, Thus Pompeius Said: 
 "Earth Has For Me No Dearer Land Than This. 
 Did I Not Trust It With So Sweet A Pledge 
 And Find It Faithful?  Here Was Rome For Me, 
 Country And Household Gods.  This Shore I Sought 
 Home Of     My Wife, This Lesbos, Which For Her 
 Had Merited Remorseless Caesar's Ire: 
 Nor Was Afraid To Trust You With The     Means 
 To Gain His Mercy.  But Enough -- Through Me 
 Your Guilt Was Caused -- I Part, Throughout The     World 
 To Prove My Fate.  Farewell Thou Happiest Land! 
 Famous For Ever, Whether Taught By Thee 
 Some Other Kings And Peoples May Be Pleased 
 To Give Me Shelter; Or Should'st Thou Alone 
 Be Faithful.  And Now Seek I In What Lands 
 Right May Be Found Or Wrong.  My Latest Prayer 
 Receive, O Deity, If Still With Me 
 Thou Bidest, Thus.  May It Be Mine Again, 
 Conquered, With Hostile Caesar On My Tracks 
 To Find A Lesbos Where To Enter In 
 And Whence To Part, Unhindered." 
   
   
   
                                    In The     Boat 
 He Placed His Spouse: While From The     Shore Arose 
 Such Lamentation, And Such Hands Were Raised 
 In Ire Against The     Gods, That Thou Had'st Deemed 
 All Left Their Kin For Exile, And Their Homes. 
 And Though For Magnus Grieving In His Fall 
 Yet For Cornelia Chiefly Did They Mourn 
 Long Since Their Gentle Guest.  For Her Had Wept 
 The Lesbian Matrons Had She Left To Join 
 A Victor Husband: For She Won Their Love, 
 By Kindly Modesty And Gracious Mien, 
 Ere Yet Her Lord Was Conquered, While As Yet 
 Their Fortunes Stood. 
   
   
   
                          Now Slowly To The     Deep 
 Sank Fiery Titan; But Not Yet To Those 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 163 
 He Sought (If Such There Be), Was Shown His Orb, 
 Though Veiled From Those He Quitted.  Magnus' Mind, 
 Anxious With Waking Cares, Sought Through The     Kings 
 His Subjects, And The     Cities Leagued With Rome 
 In Faith, And Through The     Pathless Tracts That Lie 
 Beyond The     Southern Bounds: Until The     Toil 
 Of Sorrowing Thought Upon The     Past, And Dread 
 Of That Which Might Be, Made Him Cast Afar 
 His Wavering Doubts, And From The     Captain Seek 
 Some Counsel On The     Heavens; How By The     Sky 
 He Marked His Track Upon The     Deep; What Star 
 Guided The     Path To Syria, And What Points 
 Found In The     Wain Would Pilot Him Aright 
 To Shores Of     Libya.  But Thus Replied 
 The Well-Skilled Watcher Of     The     Silent Skies: 
 "Not By The     Constellations Moving Ever 
 Across The     Heavens Do We Guide Our Barks; 
 For That Were Perilous; But By That Star (2) 
 Which Never Sinks Nor Dips Below The     Wave, 
 Girt By The     Glittering Groups Men Call The     Bears. 
 When Stands The     Pole-Star Clear Before The     Mast, 
 Then To The     Bosphorus Look We, And The     Main 
 Which Carves The     Coast Of     Scythia.  But The     More 
 Bootes Dips, And Nearer To The     Sea 
 Is Cynosura Seen, So Much The     Ship 
 Towards Syria Tends, Till Bright Canopus (3) Shines, 
 In Southern Skies Content To Hold His Course; 
 With Him Upon The     Left Past Pharos Borne 
 Straight For The     Syrtes Shalt Thou Plough The     Deep. 
 But Whither Now Dost Bid Me Shape The     Yards 
 And Set The     Canvas?" 
   
   
   
                          Magnus, Doubting Still; 
 "This Only Be Thy Care: From Thracia Steer 
 The Vessel Onward; Shun With All Thy Skill 
 Italia's Distant Shore: And For The     Rest 
 Trust To The     Winds For Guidance.  When I Sought, 
 Pledged With The     Lesbians, My Spouse Beloved, 
 My Course Was Sure: Now, Fortune, Where Thou Wilt 
 Give Me A Refuge."  These His Answering Words. 
   
   
   
 The Pilot, As They Hung From Level Yards 
 Shifted The     Sails; And Hauling To The     Stern 
 One Sheet, He Slacked The     Other, To The     Left 
 Steering, Where Samian Rocks And Chian Marred 
 The Stillness Of     The     Waters; While The     Sea 
 Sent Up In Answer To The     Changing Keel 
 A Different Murmur.  Not So Deftly Turns 
 Curbing His Steeds, His Wain The     Charioteer, 
 While Glows His Dexter Wheel, And With The     Left 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 164 
 He Almost Touches, Yet Avoids The     Goal. 
   
   
   
 Now Titan Veiled The     Stars And Showed The     Shore; 
 When, Following Magnus, Came A Scattered Band 
 Saved From The     Thracian Storm.  From Lesbos' Port 
 His Son; (4) Next, Captains Who Preserved Their Faith; 
 For At His Side, Though Vanquished In The     Field, 
 Cast Down By Fate, In Exile, Still There Stood, 
 Lords Of     The     Earth And All Her Orient Realms, 
 The Kings, His Ministers. 
   
   
   
                               To The     Furthest Lands 
 He Bids (5) Deiotarus: "O Faithful Friend, 
 Since In Emathia's Battle-Field Was Lost 
 The World, So Far As Roman, It Remains 
 To Test The     Faith Of     Peoples Of     The     East 
 Who Drink Of     Tigris And Euphrates' Stream, 
 Secure As Yet From Caesar.  Be It Thine 
 Far As The     Rising Of     The     Sun To Trace 
 The Fates That Favour Magnus: To The     Courts 
 Of Median Palaces, To Scythian Steppes; 
 And To The     Son Of     Haughty Arsaces, 
 To Bear My Message, 'Hold Ye To The     Faith, 
 Pledged By Your Priests And By The     Thunderer's Name 
 Of Latium Sworn?  Then Fill Your Quivers Full, 
 Draw To Its Fullest Span Th' Armenian Bow; 
 And, Getan Archers, Wing The     Fatal Shaft. 
 And You, Ye Parthians, If When I Sought 
 The Caspian Gates, And On Th' Alaunian Tribes (6) 
 Fierce, Ever-Warring, Pressed, I Suffered You 
 In Persian Tracts To Wander, Nor Compelled 
 To Seek For Shelter Babylonian Walls; 
 If Beyond Cyrus' Kingdom (7) And The     Bounds 
 Of Wide Chaldaea, Where From Nysa's Top 
 Pours Down Hydaspes, And The     Ganges Flood 
 Foams To The     Ocean, Nearer Far I Stood 
 Than Persia's Bounds To Phoebus' Rising Fires; 
 If By My Sufferance, Parthians, You Alone 
 Decked Not My Triumphs, But In Equal State 
 Sole Of     All Eastern Princes, Face To Face 
 Met Magnus In His Pride, Nor Only Once 
 Through Me Were Saved; (For After That Dread Day 
 Who But Pompeius Soothed The     Kindling Fires 
 Of Latium's Anger?) -- By My Service Paid 
 Come Forth To Victory: Burst The     Ancient Bounds 
 By Macedon's Hero Set: In Magnus' Cause 
 March, Parthians, To Rome's Conquest.  Rome Herself 
 Prays To Be Conquered.'" 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 165 
   
                               Hard The     Task Imposed; 
 Yet Doffed His Robe, And Swift Obeyed, The     King 
 Wrapped In A Servant's Mantle.  If A Prince 
 For Safety Play The     Boor, Then Happier, Sure, 
 The Peasant's Lot Than Lordship Of     The     World. 
   
   
   
 The King Thus Parted, Past Icaria's Rocks 
 Pompeius' Vessel Skirts The     Foamy Crags 
 Of Little Samos: Colophon's Tranquil Sea 
 And Ephesus Lay Behind Him, And The     Air 
 Breathed Freely On Him From The     Coan Shore. 
 Cuidos He Shunned, And, Famous For Its Sun, 
 Rhodos, And Steering For The     Middle Deep 
 Escaped The     Windings Of     Telmessus' Bay; 
 Till Rose Pamphylian Coasts Before The     Bark, 
 And First The     Fallen Chieftain Dared To Find 
 In Small Phaseils Shelter; For Therein 
 Scarce Was The     Husbandman, And Empty Homes 
 Forbad To Fear.  Next Taurus' Heights He Saw 
 And Dipsus Falling From His Lofty Sides: 
 So Sailed He Onward. 
   
   
   
                          Did Pompeius Hope, 
 Thus Severed By The     Billows From The     Foe, 
 To Make His Safety Sure?  His Little Boat 
 Flies Unmolested Past Cilician Shores; 
 But To Their Exiled Lord In Chiefest Part 
 The Senate Of     Rome Was Drawn.  Celendrae There 
 Received Their Fleet, Where Fair Selinus' Stream 
 In Spacious Bay Gives Refuge From The     Main; 
 And To The     Gathered Chiefs In Mournful Words 
 At Length Pompeius Thus Resolved His Thoughts: 
 "O Faithful Comrades Mine In War And Flight! 
 To Me, My Country!  Though This Barren Shore 
 Our Place Of     Meeting, And No Gathered Host 
 Surrounds Us, Yet Upon Our Changed Estate 
 I Seek Your Counsel.  Rouse Ye As Of     Yore 
 With Hearts Of     Courage!  Magnus On The     Field 
 Not All Is Perished, Nor Do Fates Forbid 
 But That I Rise Afresh With Living Hope 
 Of Future Victories, And Spurn Defeat. 
 From Libyan Ruins Did Not Marius Rise 
 Again Recorded Consul On The     Page 
 Full Of     His Honours?  Shall A Lighter Blow 
 Keep Magnus Down, Whose Thousand Chiefs And Ships 
 Still Plough The     Billows; By Defeat His Strength 
 Not Whelmed But Scattered?  And The     Fame Alone 
 Of Our Great Deeds Of     Glory In The     Past 
 Shall Now Protect Us, And The     World Unchanged 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 166 
 Still Love Its Hero. 
   
   
   
                          "Weigh Upon The     Scales 
 Ye Chiefs, Which Best May Help The     Needs Of     Rome, 
 In Faith And Armies; Or The     Parthian Realm 
 Egypt Or Libya.  For Myself, Ye Chiefs, 
 I Veil No Secret Thoughts, But Thus Advise. 
 Place No Reliance On The     Pharian King; 
 His Age Forbids: Nor On The     Cunning Moor, 
 Who Vain Of     Punic Ancestors, And Vain 
 Of Carthaginian Memories And Descent (8) 
 Supposed From Hannibal, And Swollen With Pride 
 At Varus' Supplication, Sees In Thought 
 Rome Lie Beneath Him.  Wherefore, Comrades, Seek 
 At Speed, The     Eastern World.  Those Mighty Realms 
 Disjoins From Us Euphrates, And The     Gates 
 Called Caspian; On Another Sky Than Ours 
 There Day And Night Revolve; Another Sea 
 Of Different Hue Is Severed From Our Own. (9) 
 Rule Is Their Wish, Nought Else: And In Their Plains 
 Taller The     War-Horse, Stronger Twangs The     Bow; 
 There Fails Nor Youth Nor Age To Wing The     Shaft 
 Fatal In Flight.  Their Archers First Subdued 
 The Lance Of     Macedon And Baetra's (10) Walls, 
 Home Of     The     Mede; And Haughty Babylon 
 With All Her Storied Towers: Nor Shall They Dread 
 The Roman Onset; Trusting To The     Shafts 
 By Which The     Host Of     Fated Crassus Fell. 
 Nor Trust They Only To The     Javelin Blade 
 Untipped With Poison: From The     Rancorous Edge 
 The Slightest Wound Deals Death. 
   
   
   
                                    "Would That My Lot 
 Forced Me Not Thus To Trust That Savage Race 
 Of Arsaces! (11)  Yet Now Their Emulous Fate 
 Contends With Roman Destinies: The     Gods 
 Smile Favouring On Their Nation.  Thence I'll Pour 
 On Caesar Peoples From Another Earth 
 And All The     Orient Ravished From Its Home. 
 But Should The     East And Barbarous Treaties Fail, 
 Fate, Bear Our Shipwrecked Fortunes Past The     Bounds 
 Of Earth, As Known To Men.  The     Kings I Made 
 I Supplicate Not, But In Death Shall Take 
 To Other Spheres This Solace: Chief Of     All; 
 His Hands, My Kinsman's, Never Shed My Blood 
 Nor Soothed Me Dying.  Yet As My Mind In Turn 
 The Varying Fortunes Of     My Life Recalls, 
 How Was I Glorious In That Eastern World! 
 How Great My Name By Far Maeotis Marsh 
 And Where Swift Tanais Flows!  No Other Land 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 167 
 Has So Resounded With My Conquests Won, 
 So Sent Me Home Triumphant.  Rome, Do Thou 
 Approve My Enterprise!  What Happier Chance 
 Could Favouring Gods Afford Thee?  Parthian Hosts 
 Shall Fight The     Civil Wars Of     Rome, And Share 
 Her Ills, And Fall Enfeebled.  When The     Arms 
 Of Caesar Meet With Parthian In The     Fray, 
 Then Must Kind Fortune Vindicate My Lot 
 Or Crassus Be Avenged." 
   
   
   
                          But Murmurs Rose, 
 And Magnus Speaking Knew His Words Condemned. 
 Then Lentulas (12) Answered, With Indignant Soul, 
 Foremost To Rouse Their Valour, Thus In Words 
 Worthy A Consul: "Have Thessalian Woes 
 Broken Thy Spirit So?  One Day's Defeat 
 Condemned The     World To Ruin?  Is The     Cause 
 Lost In One Battle And Beyond Recall? 
 Find We No Cure For Wounds?  Does Fortune Drive 
 Thee, Magnus, To The     Parthians' Feet Alone? 
 And Dost Thou, Fugitive, Spurn The     Lands And Skies 
 Known Heretofore, And Seek For Other Poles 
 And Constellations, And Chaldaean Gods, 
 And Rites Barbarian, Servant Of     The     Realm Of 
 Parthia?  But Why Then Took We Arms 
 For Love Of     Liberty?  If Thou Canst Slave 
 Thou Hast Deceived The     World!  Shall Parthia See 
 Thee At Whose Name, Ruler Of     Mighty Rome, 
 She Trembled, At Whose Feet She Captive Saw 
 Hyrcanian Kings And Indian Princes Kneel, 
 Now Humbly Suppliant, Victim Of     The     Fates; 
 And At Thy Prayer Her Puny Strength Extol 
 In Mad Contention With The     Western World? 
 Nor Think, Pompeius, Thou Shalt Plead Thy Cause 
 In That Proud Tongue Unknown To Parthian Ears 
 Of Which Thy Fame Is Worthy; Sobs And Tears 
 He Shall Demand Of     Thee.  And Has Our Shame 
 Brought Us To This, That Some Barbarian Foe 
 Shall Venge Hesperia's Wrongs Ere Rome Her Own? 
 Thou Wert Our Leader For The     Civil War: 
 Mid Scythia's Peoples Dost Thou Bruit Abroad 
 Wounds And Disasters Which Are Ours Alone? 
 Rome Until Now, Though Subject To The     Yoke 
 Of Civic Despots, Yet Within Her Walls 
 Has Brooked No Foreign Lord.  And Art Thou Pleased 
 From All The     World To Summon To Her Gates 
 These Savage Peoples, While The     Standards Lost 
 By Far Euphrates When The     Crassi Fell 
 Shall Lead Thy Columns?  Shall The     Only King 
 Who Failed Emathia, While The     Fates Yet Hid 
 Their Favouring Voices, Brave The     Victor's Power, 
 And Join With Thine His Fortune?  Nay, Not So 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 168 
 This Nation Trusts Itself.  Each Race That Claims 
 A Northern Birth, Unconquered In The     Fray 
 Claims But The     Warrior's Death; But As The     Sky 
 Slopes Towards The     Eastern Tracts And Gentler Climes 
 So Are The     Nations.  There In Flowing Robes 
 And Garments Delicate Are Men Arrayed. 
 True That The     Parthian In Sarmatia's Plains, 
 Where Tigris Spreads Across The     Level Meads, 
 Contends Invincible; For Flight Is His 
 Unbounded; But Should Uplands Bar His Path 
 He Scales Them Not; Nor Through The     Night Of     War 
 Shall His Weak Bow Uncertain In Its Aim 
 Repel The     Foeman; Nor His Strength Of     Arm 
 The Torrent Stem; Nor All A Summer's Day 
 In Dust And Blood Bear Up Against The     Foe. 
 They Fill No Hostile Trench, Nor In Their Hands 
 Shall Battering Engine Or Machine Of     War 
 Dash Down The     Rampart; And Whate'er Avails 
 To Stop Their Arrows, Battles Like A Wall. (13) 
 Wide Sweep Their Horsemen, Fleeting In Attack 
 And Light In Onset, And Their Troops Shall Yield 
 A Camp, Not Take It: Poisoned Are Their Shafts; 
 Nor Do They Dare A Combat Hand To Hand; 
 But As The     Winds May Suffer, From Afar 
 They Draw Their Bows At Venture.  Brave Men Love 
 The Sword Which, Wielded By A Stalwart Arm, 
 Drives Home The     Blow And Makes The     Battle Sure. 
 Not Such Their Weapons; And The     First Assault 
 Shall Force The     Flying Mede With Coward Hand 
 And Empty Quiver From The     Field.  His Faith 
 In Poisoned Blades Is Placed; But Trustest Thou 
 Those Who Without Such Aid Refuse The     War? 
 For Such Alliance Wilt Thou Risk A Death, 
 With All The     World Between Thee And Thy Home? 
 Shall Some Barbarian Earth Or Lowly Grave 
 Enclose Thee Perishing?  E'en That Were Shame 
 While Crassus Seeks A Sepulchre In Vain. 
 Thy Lot Is Happy; Death, Unfeared By Men, 
 Is Thy Worst Doom, Pompeius; But No Death 
 Awaits Cornelia -- Such A Fate For Her 
 This King Shall Not Reserve; For Know Not We 
 The Hateful Secrets Of     Barbarian Love, 
 Which, Blind As That Of     Beasts, The     Marriage Bed 
 Pollutes With Wives Unnumbered?  Nor The     Laws 
 By Nature Made Respect They, Nor Of     Kin. 
 In Ancient Days The     Fable Of     The     Crime 
 By Tyrant Oedipus Unwitting Wrought, 
 Brought Hate Upon His City; But How Oft 
 Sits On The     Throne Of     Arsaces A Prince 
 Of Birth Incestuous?  This Gracious Dame 
 Born Of     Metellus, Noblest Blood Of     Rome, 
 Shall Share The     Couch Of     The     Barbarian King 
 With Thousand Others: Yet In Savage Joy, 
 Proud Of     Her Former Husbands, He May Grant 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 169 
 Some Larger Share Of     Favour; And The     Fates 
 May Seem To Smile On Parthia; For The     Spouse 
 Of Crassus, Captive, Shall To Him Be Brought 
 As Spoil Of     Former Conquest.  If The     Wound 
 Dealt In That Fell Defeat In Eastern Lands 
 Still Stirs Thy Heart, Then Double Is The     Shame 
 First To Have Waged The     War Upon Ourselves, 
 Then Ask The     Foe For Succour.  For What Blame 
 Can Rest On Thee Or Caesar, Worse Than This 
 That In The     Clash Of     Conflict Ye Forgot 
 For Crassus' Slaughtered Troops The     Vengeance Due? 
 First Should United Rome Upon The     Mede 
 Have Poured Her Captains, And The     Troops Who Guard 
 The Northern Frontier From The     Dacian Hordes; 
 And All Her Legions Should Have Left The     Rhine 
 Free To The     Teuton, Till The     Parthian Dead 
 Were Piled In Heaps Upon The     Sands That Hide 
 Our Heroes Slain; And Haughty Babylon 
 Lay At Her Victor's Feet.  To This Foul Peace 
 We Pray An End; And If Thessalia's Day 
 Has Closed Our Warfare, Let The     Conqueror March 
 Straight On Our Parthian Foe.  Then Should This Heart, 
 Then Only, Leap At Caesar's Triumph Won. 
 Go Thou And Pass Araxes' Chilly Stream 
 On This Thine Errand; And The     Fleeting Ghost 
 Pierced By The     Scythian Shaft Shall Greet Thee Thus: 
 'Art Thou Not He To Whom Our Wandering Shades 
 Looked For Their Vengeance In The     Guise Of     War? 
 And Dost Thou Sue For Peace?'  There Shalt Thou Meet 
 Memorials Of     The     Dead.  Red Is Yon Wall 
 Where Passed Their Headless Trunks: Euphrates Here 
 Engulfed Them Slain, Or Tigris' Winding Stream 
 Cast On The     Shore To Perish.  Gaze On This, 
 And Thou Canst Supplicate At Caesar's Feet 
 In Mid Thessalia Seated.  Nay, Thy Glance 
 Turn On The     Roman World, And If Thou Fear'st 
 King Juba Faithless And The     Southern Realms, 
 Then Seek We Pharos.  Egypt On The     West 
 Girt By The     Trackless Syrtes Forces Back 
 By Sevenfold Stream The     Ocean; Rich In Glebe 
 And Gold And Merchandise; And Proud Of     Nile 
 Asks For No Rain From Heaven.  Now Holds This Boy 
 Her Sceptre, Owed To Thee; His Guardian Thou: 
 And Who Shall Fear This Shadow Of     A Name? 
 Hope Not From Monarchs Old, Whose Shame Is Fled, 
 Or Laws Or Troth Or Honour Of     The     Gods: 
 New Kings Bring Mildest Sway." (14) 
   
   
   
                                    His Words Prevailed 
 Upon His Hearers.  With What Freedom Speaks, 
 When States Are Trembling, Patriot Despair! 
 Pompeius' Voice Was Quelled. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 170 
                               They Hoist Their Sails 
 For Cyprus Shaped, Whose Altars More Than All 
 The Goddess Loves Who From The     Paphian Wave 
 Sprang, Mindful Of     Her Birth, If Such Be Truth, 
 And Gods Have Origin.  Past The     Craggy Isle 
 Pompeius Sailing, Left At Length Astern 
 Its Southern Cape, And Struck Across The     Main 
 With Winds Transverse And Tides; Nor Reached The     Mount 
 Grateful To Sailors For Its Nightly Gleam: 
 But To The     Bounds Of     Egypt Hardly Won 
 With Battling Canvas, Where Divided Nile 
 Pours Through The     Shallows His Pelusian Stream. (15) 
 Now Was The     Season When The     Heavenly Scale 
 Most Nearly Balances The     Varying Hours, 
 Once Only Equal; For The     Wintry Day 
 Repays To Night Her Losses Of     The     Spring; 
 And Magnus Learning That Th' Egyptian King 
 Lay By Mount Casius, Ere The     Sun Was Set 
 Or Flagged His Canvas, Thither Steered His Ship. 
   
   
   
 Already Had A Horseman From The     Shore 
 In Rapid Gallop To The     Trembling Court 
 Brought News Their Guest Was Come.  Short Was The     Time 
 For Counsel Given; But In Haste Were Met 
 All Who Advised The     Base Pellaean King, 
 Monsters, Inhuman; There Achoreus Sat 
 Less Harsh In Failing Years, In Memphis Born 
 Of Empty Rites, And Guardian Of     The     Rise (16) 
 Of Fertilising Nile.  While He Was Priest 
 Not Only Once Had Apis (17) Lived The     Space 
 Marked By The     Crescent On His Sacred Brow. 
 First Was His Voice, For Magnus Raised And Troth 
 And For The     Pledges Of     The     King Deceased: 
 But, Skilled In Counsel Meet For Shameless Minds 
 And Tyrant Hearts, Pothinus, Dared To Claim 
 Judgment Of     Death On Magnus.  "Laws And Right 
 Make Many Guilty, Ptolemmus King. 
 And Faith Thus Lauded (18) Brings Its Punishment 
 When It Supports The     Fallen.  To The     Fates 
 Yield Thee, And To The     Gods; The     Wretched Shun 
 But Seek The     Happy.  As The     Stars From Earth 
 Differ, And Fire From Ocean, So From Right 
 Expedience. (19)  The     Tyrant's Shorn Of     Strength 
 Who Ponders Justice; And Regard For Right 
 Bring's Ruin On A Throne.  For Lawless Power 
 The Best Defence Is Crime, And Cruel Deeds 
 Find Safety But In Doing.  He That Aims 
 At Piety Must Flee The     Regal Hall; 
 Virtue's The     Bane Of     Rule; He Lives In Dread 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 171 
 Who Shrinks From Cruelty.  Nor Let This Chief 
 Unpunished Scorn Thy Youth, Who Thinks That Thou 
 Not Even The     Conquered From Our Shore Can'st Bar. 
 Nor To A Stranger, If Thou Would'st Not Reign, 
 Resign Thy Sceptre, For The     Ties Of     Blood 
 Speak For Thy Banished Sister.  Let Her Rule 
 O'er Nile And Pharos: We Shall At The     Least 
 Preserve Our Egypt From The     Latian Arms. 
 What Magnus Owned Not Ere The     War Was Done, 
 No More Shall Caesar.  Driven From All The     World, 
 Trusting No More To Fortune, Now He Seeks 
 Some Foreign Nation Which May Share His Fate. 
 Shades Of     The     Slaughtered In The     Civil War 
 Compel Him: Nor From Caesar's Arms Alone 
 But From The     Senate Also Does He Fly, 
 Whose Blood Outpoured Has Gorged Thessalian Fowl; 
 Monarchs He Fears Whose All He Hath Destroyed, 
 And Nations Piled In One Ensanguined Heap, 
 By Him Deserted.  Victim Of     The     Blow 
 Thessalia Dealt, Refused In Every Land, 
 He Asks For Help From Ours Not Yet Betrayed. 
 But None Than Egypt With This Chief From Rome 
 Has Juster Quarrel; Who Has Sought With Arms 
 To Stain Our Pharos, Distant From The     Strife 
 And Peaceful Ever, And To Make Our Realm 
 Suspected By His Victor.  Why Alone 
 Should This Our Country Please Thee In Thy Fall? 
 Why Bringst Thou Here The     Burden Of     Thy Fates, 
 Pharsalia's Curse?  In Caesar's Eyes Long Since 
 We Have Offence Which By The     Sword Alone 
 Can Find Its Condonation, In That We 
 By Thy Persuasion From The     Senate Gained 
 This Our Dominion.  By Our Prayers We Helped 
 If Not By Arms Thy Cause.  This Sword, Which Fate 
 Bids Us Make Ready, Not For Thee I Hold 
 Prepared, But For The     Vanquished; And On Thee 
 (Would It Had Been On Caesar) Falls The     Stroke; 
 For We Are Borne. As All Things, To His Side. 
 And Dost Thou Doubt, Since Thou Art In My Power, 
 Thou Art My Victim?  By What Trust In Us 
 Cam'st Thou, Unhappy?  Scarce Our People Tills 
 The Fields, Though Softened By The     Refluent Nile: 
 Know Well Our Strength, And Know We Can No More. 
 Rome 'Neath The     Ruin Of     Pompeius Lies: 
 Shalt Thou, King, Uphold Him?  Shalt Thou Dare 
 To Stir Pharsalia's Ashes And To Call 
 War To Thy Kingdom?  Ere The     Fight Was Fought 
 We Joined Not Either Army -- Shall We Now 
 Make Magnus Friend Whom All The     World Deserts? 
 And Fling A Challenge To The     Conquering Chief 
 And All His Proud Successes?  Fair Is Help 
 Lent In Disaster, Yet Reserved For Those 
 Whom Fortune Favours.  Faith Her Friends Selects 
 Not From The     Wretched." 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 172 
   
   
   
                          They Decree The     Crime: 
 Proud Is The     Boyish Tyrant That So Soon 
 His Slaves Permit Him To So Great A Deed 
 To Give His Favouring Voice; And For The     Work 
 They Choose Achillas. 
   
   
   
                          Where The     Treacherous Shore 
 Runs Out In Sand Below The     Casian Mount 
 And Where The     Shallow Waters Of     The     Sea 
 Attest The     Syrtes Near, In Little Boat 
 Achillas And His Partners In The     Crime 
 With Swords Embark.  Ye Gods!  And Shall The     Nile 
 And Barbarous Memphis And Th' Effeminate Crew 
 That Throngs Pelusian Canopus Raise 
 Its Thoughts To Such An Enterprise?  Do Thus 
 Our Fates Press On The     World?  Is Rome Thus Fallen 
 That In Our Civil Frays The     Phaxian Sword 
 Finds Place, Or Egypt?  O, May Civil War 
 Be Thus Far Faithful That The     Hand Which Strikes 
 Be Of     Our Kindred; And The     Foreign Fiend 
 Held Worlds Apart!  Pompeius, Great In Soul, 
 Noble In Spirit, Had Deserved A Death 
 From Caesar's Self.  And, King, Hast Thou No Fear 
 At Such A Ruin Of     So Great A Name? 
 And Dost Thou Dare When Heaven's High Thunder Rolls, 
 Thou, Puny Boy, To Mingle With Its Tones 
 Thine Impure Utterance?  Had He Not Won 
 A World By Arms, And Thrice In Triumph Scaled 
 The Sacred Capitol, And Vanquished Kings, 
 And Championed The     Roman Senate's Cause; 
 He, Kinsman Of     The     Victor?  'Twas Enough 
 To Cause Forbearance In A Pharian King, 
 That He Was Roman.  Wherefore With Thy Sword 
 Dost Stab Our Breasts?  Thou Know'st Not, Impious Boy, 
 How Stand Thy Fortunes; Now No More By Right 
 Hast Thou The     Sceptre Of     The     Land Of     Nile; 
 For Prostrate, Vanquished In The     Civil Wars 
 Is He Who Gave It. 
   
   
   
                     Furling Now His Sails, 
 Magnus With Oars Approached Th' Accursed Land, 
 When In Their Little Boat The     Murderous Crew 
 Drew Nigh, And Feigning From Th' Egyptian Court 
 A Ready Welcome, Blamed The     Double Tides 
 Broken By Shallows, And Their Scanty Beach 
 Unfit For Fleets; And Bade Him To Their Craft 
 Leaving His Loftier Ship.  Had Not The     Fates' 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 173 
 Eternal And Unalterable Laws 
 Called For Their Victim And Decreed His End 
 Now Near At Hand, His Comrades' Warning Voice 
 Yet Might Have Stayed His Course: For If The     Court 
 To Magnus, Who Bestowed The     Pharian Crown, 
 In Truth Were Open, Should Not King And Fleet 
 In Pomp Have Come To Greet Him?  But He Yields: 
 The Fates Compel.  Welcome To Him Was Death 
 Rather Than Fear.  But, Rushing To The     Side, 
 His Spouse Would Follow, For She Dared Not Stay, 
 Fearing The     Guile.  Then He, "Abide, My Wife, 
 And Son, I Pray You; From The     Shore Afar 
 Await My Fortunes; Mine Shall Be The     Life 
 To Test Their Honour."  But Cornelia Still 
 Withstood His Bidding, And With Arms Outspread 
 Frenzied She Cried: "And Whither Without Me, 
 Cruel, Departest?  Thou Forbad'st Me Share 
 Thy Risks Thessalian; Dost Again Command 
 That I Should Part From Thee?  No Happy Star 
 Breaks On Our Sorrow.  If From Every Land 
 Thou Dost Debar Me, Why Didst Turn Aside 
 In Flight To Lesbos?  On The     Waves Alone 
 Am I Thy Fit Companion?"  Thus In Vain, 
 Leaning Upon The     Bulwark, Dazed With Dread; 
 Nor Could She Turn Her Straining Gaze Aside, 
 Nor See Her Parting Husband.  All The     Fleet 
 Stood Silent, Anxious, Waiting For The     End: 
 Not That They Feared The     Murder Which Befell, 
 But Lest Their Leader Might With Humble Prayer 
 Kneel To The     King He Made. 
   
   
   
                               As Magnus Passed, 
 A Roman Soldier From The     Pharian Boat, 
 Septimius, Salutes Him.  Gods Of     Heaven! 
 There Stood He, Minion To A Barbarous King, 
 Nor Bearing Still The     Javelin Of     Rome; 
 But Vile In All His Arms; Giant In Form 
 Fierce, Brutal, Thirsting As A Beast May Thirst 
 For Carnage.  Didst Thou, Fortune, For The     Sake 
 Of Nations, Spare To Dread Pharsalus Field 
 This Savage Monster's Blows?  Or Dost Thou Place 
 Throughout The     World, For Thy Mysterious Ends, 
 Some Ministering Swords For Civil War? 
 Thus, To The     Shame Of     Victors And Of     Gods, 
 This Story Shall Be Told In Days To Come: 
 A Roman Swordsman, Once Within Thy Ranks, 
 Slave To The     Orders Of     A Puny Prince, 
 Severed Pompeius' Neck.  And What Shall Be 
 Septimius' Fame Hereafter?  By What Name 
 This Deed Be Called, If Brutus Wrought A Crime? 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 174 
   
 Now Came The     End, The     Latest Hour Of     All: 
 Rapt To The     Boat Was Magnus, Of     Himself 
 No Longer Master, And The     Miscreant Crew 
 Unsheathed Their Swords; Which When The     Chieftain Saw 
 He Swathed His Visage, For He Scorned Unveiled 
 To Yield His Life To Fortune; Closed His Eyes 
 And Held His Breath Within Him, Lest Some Word, 
 Or Sob Escaped, Might Mar The     Deathless Fame 
 His Deeds Had Won.  And When Within His Side 
 Achillas Plunged His Blade, Nor Sound Nor Cry 
 He Gave, But Calm Consented To The     Blow 
 And Proved Himself In Dying; In His Breast 
 These Thoughts Revolving: "In The     Years To Come 
 Men Shall Make Mention Of     Our Roman Toils, 
 Gaze On This Boat, Ponder The     Pharian Faith; 
 And Think Upon Thy Fame And All The     Years 
 While Fortune Smiled: But For The     Ills Of     Life 
 How Thou Could'st Bear Them, This Men Shall Not Know 
 Save By Thy Death.  Then Weigh Thou Not The     Shame 
 That Waits On Thine Undoing.  Whose Strikes, 
 The Blow Is Caesar's.  Men May Tear This Frame 
 And Cast It Mangled To The     Winds Of     Heaven; 
 Yet Have I Prospered, Nor Can All The     Gods 
 Call Back My Triumphs.  Life May Bring Defeat, 
 But Death No Misery.  If My Spouse And Son 
 Behold Me Murdered, Silently The     More 
 I Suffer: Admiration At My Death 
 Shall Prove Their Love."  Thus Did Pompeius Die, 
 Guarding His Thoughts. 
   
   
   
                          But Now Cornelia Filled 
 The Air With Lamentations At The     Sight; 
 "O, Husband, Whom My Wicked Self Hath Slain! 
 That Lonely Isle Apart Thy Bane Hath Been 
 And Stayed Thy Coming.  Caesar To The     Nile 
 Has Won Before Us; For What Other Hand 
 May Do Such Work?  But Whosoe'er Thou Art 
 Sent From The     Gods With Power, For Caesar's Ire, 
 Or Thine Own Sake, To Slay, Thou Dost Not Know 
 Where Lies The     Heart Of     Magnus.  Haste And Do! 
 Such Were His Prayer -- No Other Punishment 
 Befits The     Conquered.  Yet Let Him Ere His End 
 See Mine, Cornelia's.  On Me The     Blame 
 Of All These Wars, Who Sole Of     Roman Wives 
 Followed My Spouse Afield Nor Feared The     Fates; 
 And In Disaster, When The     Kings Refused, 
 Received And Cherished Him.  Did I Deserve 
 Thus To Be Left Of     Thee, And Didst Thou Seek 
 To Spare Me?  And When Rushing On Thine End 
 Was I To Live?  Without The     Monarch's Help 
 Death Shall Be Mine, Either By Headlong Leap 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 175 
 Beneath The     Waters; Or Some Sailor's Hand 
 Shall Bind Around This Neck The     Fatal Cord; 
 Or Else Some Comrade, Worthy Of     His Chief, 
 Drive To My Heart His Blade For Magnus' Sake, 
 And Claim The     Service Done To Ceasar's Arms. 
 What!  Does Your Cruelty Withhold My Fate? 
 Ah!  Still He Lives, Nor Is It Mine As Yet 
 To Win This Freedom; They Forbid Me Death, 
 Kept For The     Victor's Triumph."  Thus She Spake, 
 While Friendly Hands Upheld Her Fainting Form; 
 And Sped The     Trembling Vessel From The     Shore. 
   
   
   
 Men Say That Magnus, When The     Deadly Blows 
 Fell Thick Upon Him, Lost Nor Form Divine, 
 Nor Venerated Mien; And As They Gazed 
 Upon His Lacerated Head They Marked 
 Still On His Features Anger With The     Gods. 
 Nor Death Could Change His Visage -- For In Act 
 Of Striking, Fierce Septimius' Murderous Hand 
 (Thus Making Worse His Crime) Severed The     Folds 
 That Swathed The     Face, And Seized The     Noble Head 
 And Drooping Neck Ere Yet Was Fled The     Life: 
 Then Placed Upon The     Bench; And With His Blade 
 Slow At Its Hideous Task, And Blows Unskilled 
 Hacked Through The     Flesh And Brake The     Knotted Bone: 
 For Yet Man Had Not Learned By Swoop Of     Sword 
 Deftly To Lop The     Neck.  Achillas Claimed 
 The Gory Head Dissevered.  What!  Shalt Thou 
 A Roman Soldier, While Thy Blade Yet Reeks 
 From Magnus' Slaughter, Play The     Second Part 
 To This Base Varlet Of     The     Pharian King? 
 Nor Bear Thyself The     Bleeding Trophy Home? 
 Then, That The     Impious Boy (Ah!  Shameful Fate) 
 Might Know The     Features Of     The     Hero Slain, 
 Seized By The     Locks, The     Dread Of     Kings, Which Waved 
 Upon His Stately Front, On Pharian Pike 
 The Head Was Lifted; While Almost The     Life 
 Gave To The     Tongue Its Accents, And The     Eyes 
 Were Yet Scarce Glazed: That Head At Whose Command 
 Was Peace Or War, That Tongue Whose Eloquent Tones 
 Would Move Assemblies, And That Noble Brow 
 On Which Were Showered The     Rewards Of     Rome. 
 Nor To The     Tyrant Did The     Sight Suffice 
 To Prove The     Murder Done.  The     Perishing Flesh, 
 The Tissues, And The     Brain He Bids Remove 
 By Art Nefarious: The     Shrivelled Skin 
 Draws Tight Upon The     Bone; And Poisonous Juice 
 Gives To The     Face Its Lineaments In Death. 
   
   
   
 Last Of     Thy Race, Thou Base Degenerate Boy, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 176 
 About To Perish (20) Soon, And Yield The     Throne 
 To Thine Incestuous Sister; While The     Prince 
 From Macedon Here In Consecrated Vault 
 Now Rests, And Ashes Of     The     Kings Are Closed 
 In Mighty Pyramids, And Lofty Tombs 
 Of Thine Unworthy Fathers Mark The     Graves; 
 Shall Magnus' Body Hither And Thither Borne 
 Be Battered, Headless, By The     Ocean Wave? 
 Too Much It Troubled Thee To Guard The     Corse 
 Unmutilated, For His Kinsman's Eye 
 To Witness!  Such The     Faith Which Fortune Kept 
 With Prosperous Pompeius To The     End. 
 'Twas Not For Him In Evil Days Some Ray 
 Of Light To Hope For.  Shattered From The     Height 
 Of Power In One Short Moment To His Death! 
 Years Of     Unbroken Victories Balanced Down 
 By One Day's Carnage!  In His Happy Time 
 Heaven Did Not Harass Him, Nor Did She Spare 
 In Misery.  Long Fortune Held The     Hand 
 That Dashed Him Down.  Now Beaten By The     Sands, 
 Torn Upon Rocks, The     Sport Of     Ocean's Waves 
 Poured Through Its Wounds, His Headless Carcase Lies, 
 Save By The     Lacerated Trunk Unknown. 
   
   
   
 Yet Ere The     Victor Touched The     Pharian Sands 
 Some Scanty Rites To Magnus Fortune Gave, 
 Lest He Should Want All Burial.  Pale With Fear 
 Came Cordus, Hasting From His Hiding Place; 
 Quaestor, He Joined Pompeius On Thy Shore, 
 Idalian Cyprus, Bringing In His Train 
 A Cloud Of     Evils.  Through The     Darkening Shades 
 Love For The     Dead Compelled His Trembling Steps, 
 Hard By The     Marin Of     The     Deep To Search 
 And Drag To Land His Master.  Through The     Clouds 
 The Moon Shone Sadly, And Her Rays Were Dim; 
 But By Its Hue Upon The     Hoary Main 
 He Knew The     Body.  In A Fast Embrace 
 He Holds It, Wrestling With The     Greedy Sea, 
 And Deftly Watching For A Refluent Wave 
 Gains Help To Bring His Burden To The     Land. 
 Then Clinging To The     Loved Remains, The     Wounds 
 Washed With His Tears, Thus To The     Gods He Speaks, 
 And Misty Stars Obscure: "Here, Fortune, Lies 
 Pompeius, Thine: No Costly Incense Rare 
 Or Pomp Of     Funeral He Dares To Ask; 
 Nor That The     Smoke Rise Heavenward From His Pyre 
 With Eastern Odours Rich; Nor That The     Necks 
 Of Pious Romans Bear Him To The     Tomb, 
 Their Parent; While The     Forums Shall Resound 
 With Dirges; Nor That Triumphs Won Of     Yore 
 Be Borne Before Him; Nor For Sorrowing Hosts 
 To Cast Their Weapons Forth.  Some Little Shell 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 177 
 He Begs As For The     Meanest, Laid In Which 
 His Mutilated Corse May Reach The     Flame. 
 Grudge Not His Misery The     Pile Of     Wood 
 Lit By This Menial Hand.  Is't Not Enough 
 That His Cornelia With Dishevelled Hair 
 Weeps Not Beside Him At His Obsequies, 
 Nor With A Last Embrace Shall Place The     Torch 
 Beneath Her Husband Dead, But On The     Deep 
 Hard By Still Wanders?" 
   
   
   
                          Burning From Afar 
 He Sees The     Pyre Of     Some Ignoble Youth 
 Deserted Of     His Own, With None To Guard: 
 And Quickly Drawing From Beneath The     Limbs 
 Some Glowing Logs, "Whoe'er Thou Art," He Said 
 "Neglected Shade, Uncared For, Dear To None, 
 Yet Happier Than Pompeius In Thy Death, 
 Pardon I Ask That This My Stranger Hand 
 Should Violate Thy Tomb.  Yet If To Shades 
 Be Sense Or Memory, Gladly Shalt Thou Yield 
 This From Thy Pyre To Magnus.  'Twere Thy Shame, 
 Blessed With Due Burial, If His Remains 
 Were Homeless."  Speaking Thus, The     Wood Aflame 
 Back To The     Headless Trunk At Speed He Bore, 
 Which Hanging On The     Margin Of     The     Deep, 
 Almost The     Sea Had Won.  In Sandy Trench 
 The Gathered Fragments Of     A Broken Boat, 
 Trembling, He Placed Around The     Noble Limbs. 
 No Pile Above The     Corpse Nor Under Lay, 
 Nor Was The     Fire Beneath.  Then As He Crouched 
 Beside The     Blaze, "O, Greatest Chief," He Cried, 
 Majestic Champion Of     Hesperia's Name, 
 If To Be Tossed Unburied On The     Deep 
 Rather Than These Poor Rites Thy Shade Prefer, 
 From These Mine Offices Thy Mighty Soul 
 Withdraw, Pompeius.  Injuries Dealt By Fate 
 Command This Duty, Lest Some Bird Or Beast 
 Or Ocean Monster, Or Fierce Caesar's Wrath 
 Should Venture Aught Upon Thee.  Take The     Fire; 
 All That Thou Canst; By Roman Hand At Least 
 Enkindled.  And Should Fortune Grant Return 
 To Loved Hesperia's Land, Not Here Shall Rest 
 Thy Sacred Ashes; But Within An Urn 
 Cornelia, From This Humble Hand Received, 
 Shall Place Them.  Here Upon A Meagre Stone 
 We Draw The     Characters To Mark Thy Tomb. 
 These Letters Reading May Some Kindly Friend 
 Bring Back Thine Head, Dissevered, And May Grant 
 Full Funeral Honours To Thine Earthly Frame." 
   
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 178 
 Then Did He Cherish The     Enfeebled Fire 
 Till Magnus' Body Mingled With Its Flames. 
 But Now The     Harbinger Of     Coming Dawn 
 Had Paled The     Constellations: He In Fear 
 Seeks For His Hiding Place.  Whom Dost Thou Dread, 
 Madman, What Punishment For Such A Crime, 
 For Which Thy Fame By Rumour Trumpet-Tongued 
 Has Been Sent Down To Ages?  Praise Is Thine 
 For This Thy Work, At Impious Caesar's Hands; 
 Sure Of     A Pardon, Go; Confess Thy Task, 
 And Beg The     Head Dissevered.  But His Work 
 Was Still Unfinished, And With Pious Hand 
 (Fearing Some Foe) He Seizes On The     Bones 
 Now Half Consumed, And Sinews; And The     Wave 
 Pours In Upon Them, And In Shallow Trench 
 Commits Them To The     Earth; And Lest Some Breeze 
 Might Bear Away The     Ashes, Or By Chance 
 Some Sailor's Anchor Might Disturb The     Tomb, 
 A Stone He Places, And With Stick Half Burned 
 Traces The     Sacred Name: Here Magnus Lies. 
   
   
   
 And Art Thou, Fortune, Pleased That Such A Spot 
 Should Be His Tomb Which Even Caesar's Self 
 Had Chosen, Rather Than Permit His Corse 
 To Rest Unburied?  Why, With Thoughtless Hand 
 Confine His Shade Within The     Narrow Bounds 
 Of This Poor Sepulchre?  Where The     Furthest Sand 
 Hangs On The     Margin Of     The     Baffled Deep 
 Cabined He Lies; Yet Where The     Roman Name 
 Is Known, And Empire, Such In Truth Shall Be 
 The Boundless Measure Of     His Resting-Place. 
 Blot Out This Stone, This Proof Against The     Gods! 
 Oeta Finds Room For Hercules Alone, 
 And Nysa's Mountain For The     Bromian God; (21) 
 Not All The     Lands Of     Egypt Should Suffice 
 For Magnus Dead: And Shall One Pharian Stone 
 Mark His Remains?  Yet Should No Turf Disclose 
 His Title, Peoples Of     The     Earth Would Fear 
 To Spurn His Ashes, And The     Sands Of     Nile 
 No Foot Would Tread.  But If The     Stone Deserves 
 So Great A Name, Then Add His Mighty Deeds: 
 Write Lepidus Conquered And The     Alpine War, 
 And Fierce Sertorius By His Aiding Arm 
 O'erthrown; The     Chariots Which As Knight He Drove; (22) 
 Cilician Pirates Driven From The     Main, 
 And Commerce Safe To Nations; Eastern Kings 
 Defeated And The     Barbarous Northern Tribes; 
 Write That From Arms He Ever Sought The     Robe; 
 Write That Content Upon The     Capitol 
 Thrice Only Triumphed He, Nor Asked His Due. 
 What Mausoleum Were For Such A Chief 
 A Fitting Monument?  This Paltry Stone 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 179 
 Records No Syllable Of     The     Lengthy Tale 
 Of Honours: And The     Name Which Men Have Read 
 Upon The     Sacred Temples Of     The     Gods, 
 And Lofty Arches Built Of     Hostile Spoils, 
 On Desolate Sands Here Marks His Lowly Grave 
 With Characters Uncouth, Such As The     Glance 
 Of Passing Traveller Or Roman Guest 
 Might Pass Unnoticed. 
   
   
   
                          Thou Egyptian Land 
 By Destiny Foredoomed To Bear A Part 
 In Civil Warfare, Not Unreasoning Sang 
 High Cumae's Prophetess, When She Forbad (23) 
 The Stream Pelusian To The     Roman Arms, 
 And All The     Banks Which In The     Summer-Tide 
 Are Covered By His Flood.  What Grievous Fate 
 Shall I Call Down Upon Thee?  May The     Nile 
 Turn Back His Water To His Source, Thy Fields 
 Want For The     Winter Rain, And All The     Land 
 Crumble To Desert Wastes!  We In Our Fanes 
 Have Known Thine Isis And Thy Hideous Gods, 
 Half Hounds, Half Human, And The     Drum That Bids 
 To Sorrow, And Osiris, Whom Thy Dirge (24) 
 Proclaims For Man.  Thou, Egypt, In Thy Sand 
 Our Dead Containest.  Nor, Though Her Temples Now 
 Serve A Proud Master, Yet Has Rome Required 
 Pompeius' Ashes: In A Foreign Land 
 Still Lies Her Chief.  But Though Men Feared At First 
 The Victor's Vengeance, Now At Length Receive 
 Thy Magnus' Bones, If Still The     Restless Wave 
 Hath Not Prevailed Upon That Hated Shore. 
 Shall Men Have Fear Of     Tombs And Dread To Move 
 The Dust Of     Those Who Should Be With The     Gods? 
 O, May My Country Place The     Crime On Me, 
 If Crime It Be, To Violate Such A Tomb 
 Of Such A Hero, And To Bear His Dust 
 Home To Ausonia.  Happy, Happy He 
 Who Bears Such Holy Office In His Trust! (25) 
 Haply When Famine Rages In The     Land 
 Or Burning Southern Winds, Or Fires Abound 
 And Earthquake Shocks, And Rome Shall Pray An End 
 From Angry Heaven -- By The     Gods' Command, 
 In Council Given, Shalt Thou Be Transferred 
 To Thine Own City, And The     Priest Shall Bear 
 Thy Sacred Ashes To Their Last Abode. 
   
   
   
 Who Now May Seek Beneath The     Raging Crab 
 Or Hot Syene's Waste, Or Thebes Athirst 
 Under The     Rainy Pleiades, To Gaze 
 On Nile's Broad Stream; Or Whose May Exchange 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) Pg 180 
 On The     Red Sea Or In Arabian Ports 
 Some Eastern Merchandise, Shall Turn In Awe 
 To View The     Venerable Stone That Marks 
 Thy Grave, Pompeius; And Shall Worship More 
 Thy Dust Commingled With The     Arid Sand, 
 Thy Shade Though Exiled, Than The     Fane Upreared (26) 
 On Casius' Mount To Jove!  In Temples Shrined 
 And Gold, Thy Memory Were Viler Deemed: 
 Fortune Lies With Thee In Thy Lowly Tomb 
 And Makes Thee Rival Of     Olympus' King. 
 More Awful Is That Stone By Libyan Seas 
 Lashed, Than Are Conquerors' Altars.  There In Earth 
 A Deity Rests To Whom All Men Shall Bow 
 More Than To Gods Tarpeian: And His Name 
 Shall Shine The     Brighter In The     Days To Come 
 For That No Marble Tomb About Him Stands 
 Nor Lofty Monument.  That Little Dust 
 Time Shall Soon Scatter And The     Tomb Shall Fall 
 And All The     Proofs Shall Perish Of     His Death. 
 And Happier Days Shall Come When Men Shall Gaze 
 Upon The     Stone, Nor Yet Believe The     Tale: 
 And Egypt's Fable, That She Holds The     Grave 
 Of Great Pompeius, Be Believed No More 
 Than Crete's Which Boasts The     Sepulchre Of     Jove. (27) 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) (Endnotes ) Pg 181 
   
 (1)  Comp. Book Vi., Line 407. 
 (2)  Comp. Book Iii., Line 256. 
 (3)  Canopus Is A Star In Argo, Invisible In Italy. (Haskins.) 
 (4)  Sextus. 
 (5)  Tetrarch Of     Galatia.  He Was Always Friendly To Rome, And In 
      The     Civil War Sided With Pompeius.  He Was At Pharsalia. 
 (6)  A Scythian People. 
 (7)  Pompeius Seems To Have Induced The     Roman Public To Believe 
      That He Had Led His Armies To Such Extreme Distances, But He 
      Never In Fact Did So. -- Mommsen, Vol. Iv. P. 147. 
 (8)  Juba Was Of     Supposed Collateral Descent From Hannibal. 
      (Haskins, Quoting "The Scholiast.") 
 (9)  Confusing The     Red Sea With The     Persian Gulf. 
 (10) Balkh Of     Modern Times.  Bactria Was One Of     The     Kingdoms 
      Established By The     Successors Of     Alexander The     Great.  It 
      Was, However, Subdued By The     Parthians About The     Middle Of 
      The     Third Century B.C. 
 (11) Dion Could Not Believe It Possible That Pompeius Ever 
      Contemplated Taking Refuge In Parthia, But Plutarch States 
      It As A Fact; And Says That It Was Theophanes Of     Lesbos Who 
      Dissuaded Him From Doing So. ("Pompeius", 76).  Mommsen 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) (Endnotes ) Pg 182 
      (Vol. Iv., Pp. 421-423) Discusses The     Subject, And Says That 
      From Parthia Only Could Pompeius Have Attempted To Seek 
      Support, And That Such An Attempt, Putting The     Objections To 
      It Aside, Would Probably Have Failed.  Lucan's Sympathies 
      Were Probably With Lentulus. 
 (12) Probably Lucius Lentulus Crus, Who Had Been Consul, For B.C. 
      49, Along With Caius Marcellus. (See Book V., 9.)  He Was 
      Murdered In Egypt By Ptolemy's Ministers. 
 (13) That Is, Be As Easily Defended. 
 (14) Thus Rendered By Sir Thomas May, Of     The     Long Parliament: 
           "Men Used To Sceptres Are Ashamed Of     Nought: 
           The     Mildest Governement A Kingdome Finds 
           Under New Kings." 
 (15) That Is, He Reached The     Most Eastern Mouth Of     The     Nile 
      Instead Of     The     Western. 
 (16) At Memphis Was The     Well In Which The     Rise And Fall Of     The 
      Water Acted As A Nilometer (Mr. Haskins's Note). 
 (17) Comp. Herodotus, Book Iii. 27.  Apis Was A God Who Appeared 
      At Intervals In The     Shape Of     A Calf With A White Mark On His 
      Brow.  His Appearance Was The     Occasion Of     General Rejoicing. 
      Cambyses Slew The     Apis Which Came In His Time, And For This 
      Cause Became Mad, As The     Egyptians Said. 
 (18) That Is, By Achoreus, Who Had Just Spoken. 
 (19) Compare Ben Jonson's "Sejanus", Act Ii., Scene 2: -- 
           The     Prince Who Shames A Tyrant's Name To Bear 
           Shall Never Dare Do Anything, But Fear; 
           All The     Command Of     Sceptres Quite Doth Perish 
           If It Begin Religious Thoughts To Cherish; 
           Whole Empires Fall, Swayed By These Nice Respects, 
           It Is The     Licence Of     Dark Deeds Protects 
           E'en States Most Hated, When No Laws Resist 
           The     Sword, But That It Acteth What It List." 
 (20) He Was Drowned In Attempting To Escape In The     Battle On The 
      Nile In The     Following Autumn. 
 (21) Dionysus.  But This God, Though Brought Up By The     Nymphs Of 
      Mount Nysa, Was Not Supposed To Have Been Buried There. 
 (22) See Book Vii., Line 20. 
 (23) This Warning Of     The     Sibyl Is Also Alluded To By Cicero In A 
      Letter To P. Lentulus, Proconsul Of     Cilicia. (Mr. Haskins' 
      Note.  See Also Mommsen, Vol. Iv., P. 305.)  It Seems To 
      Have Been Discovered In The     Sibylline Books At The     Time When 
      It Was Desired To Prevent Pompeius From Interfering In The 
      Affairs Of     Egypt, In B.C. 57. 
 (24) That Is, By Their Weeping For Iris Departure They Treated 
      Him As A Mortal And Not As A God.  Osiris Was The     Soul Of 
      Apis (See On Line 537), And When That Animal Grew Old And 
      Unfit For The     Residence Of     Osiris The     Latter Was Thought To 
      Quit It.  Then Began The     Weeping. Which Continued Until A 
      New Apis Appeared, Selected, Of     Course, By Osiris For His 
      Dwelling-Place.  Then They Called Out "We Have Found Him, 
      Let Us Rejoice."  For A Discussion On The     Egyptian 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 8 ( Death Of Pompeius) (Endnotes ) Pg 183 
      Conception Of     Osiris, And Iris Place In The     Theogony Of     That 
      Nation, See Hegel's "Lectures On The     Philosophy Of     History": 
      Chapter On Egypt. 
 (25) It May Be Noted That The     Emperor Hadrian Raised A Monument 
      On The     Spot To The     Memory Of     Pompeius Some Sixty Years After 
      This Was Written (Durny's 'History Of     Rome,' Iii., 319). 
      Plutarch States That Cornelia Had The     Remains Taken To Rome 
      And Interred In A Mausoleum.  Lucan, It May Be Supposed, 
      Knew Nothing Of     This. 
 (26) There Was A Temple To Jupiter On "Mount Casius Old". 
 (27) The     Legend That Jove Was Buried In Crete Is Also Mentioned 
      By Cicero: "De Natura Deorum", Iii., 21. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 184 
 Yet In Those Ashes On The     Pharian Shore, 
 In That Small Heap Of     Dust, Was Not Confined 
 So Great A Shade; But From The     Limbs Half Burnt 
 And Narrow Cell Sprang Forth (1) And Sought The     Sky 
 Where Dwells The     Thunderer.  Black The     Space Of     Air 
 Upreaching To The     Poles That Bear On High 
 The Constellations In Their Nightly Round; 
 There 'Twixt The     Orbit Of     The     Moon And Earth 
 Abide Those Lofty Spirits, Half Divine, 
 Who By Their Blameless Lives And Fire Of     Soul 
 Are Fit To Tolerate The     Pure Expanse 
 That Bounds The     Lower Ether: There Shall Dwell, 
 Where Nor The     Monument Encased In Gold, 
 Nor Richest Incense, Shall Suffice To Bring 
 The Buried Dead, In Union With The     Spheres, 
 Pompeius' Spirit.  When With Heavenly Light 
 His Soul Was Filled, First On The     Wandering Stars 
 And Fixed Orbs He Bent His Wondering Gaze; 
 Then Saw What Darkness Veils Our Earthly Day 
 And Scorned The     Insults Heaped Upon His Corse. 
 Next O'er Emathian Plains He Winged His Flight, 
 And Ruthless Caesar's Standards, And The     Fleet 
 Tossed On The     Deep: In Brutus' Blameless Breast 
 Tarried Awhile, And Roused His Angered Soul 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 185 
 To Reap The     Vengeance; Last Possessed The     Mind 
 Of Haughty Cato. 
   
   
   
                     He While Yet The     Scales 
 Were Poised And Balanced, Nor The     War Had Given 
 The World Its Master, Hating Both The     Chiefs, 
 Had Followed Magnus For The     Senate's Cause 
 And For His Country: Since Pharsalia's Field 
 Ran Red With Carnage, Now Was All His Heart 
 Bound To Pompeius.  Rome In Him Received 
 Her Guardian; A People's Trembling Limbs 
 He Cherished With New Hope And Weapons Gave 
 Back To The     Craven Hands That Cast Them Forth. 
 Nor Yet For Empire Did He Wage The     War 
 Nor Fearing Slavery: Nor In Arms Achieved 
 Aught For Himself: Freedom, Since Magnus Fell, 
 The Aim Of     All His Host.  And Lest The     Foe 
 In Rapid Course Triumphant Should Collect 
 His Scattered Bands, He Sought Corcyra's Gulfs 
 Concealed, And Thence In Ships Unnumbered Bore 
 The Fragments Of     The     Ruin Wrought In Thrace. 
 Who In Such Mighty Armament Had Thought 
 A Routed Army Sailed Upon The     Main 
 Thronging The     Sea With Keels?  Round Malea's Cape 
 And Taenarus Open To The     Shades Below 
 And Fair Cythera's Isle, Th' Advancing Fleet 
 Sweeps O'er The     Yielding Wave, By Northern Breeze 
 Borne Past The     Cretan Shores.  But Phycus Dared 
 Refuse Her Harbour, And Th' Avenging Hand 
 Left Her In Ruins.  Thus With Gentle Airs 
 They Glide Along The     Main And Reach The     Shore 
 From Palinurus (2) Named; For Not Alone 
 On Seas Italian, Pilot Of     The     Deep, 
 Hast Thou Thy Monument; And Libya Too 
 Claims That Her Waters Pleased Thy Soul Of     Yore. 
 Then In The     Distance On The     Main Arose 
 The Shining Canvas Of     A Stranger Fleet, 
 Or Friend Or Foe They Knew Not.  Yet They Dread 
 In Every Keel The     Presence Of     That Chief 
 Their Fear-Compelling Conqueror.  But In Truth 
 That Navy Tears And Sorrow Bore, And Woes 
 To Make E'en Cato Weep. 
   
   
   
                          For When In Vain 
 Cornelia Prayed Her Stepson And The     Crew 
 To Stay Their Flight, Lest Haply From The     Shore 
 Back To The     Sea Might Float The     Headless Corse; 
 And When The     Flame Arising Marked The     Place 
 Of That Unhallowed Rite, "Fortune, Didst Thou 
 Judge Me Unfit," She Cried, "To Light The     Pyre 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 186 
 To Cast Myself Upon The     Hero Dead, 
 The Lock To Sever, And Compose The     Limbs 
 Tossed By The     Cruel Billows Of     The     Deep, 
 To Shed A Flood Of     Tears Upon His Wounds, 
 And From The     Flickering Flame To Bear Away 
 And Place Within The     Temples Of     The     Gods 
 All That I Could, His Dust?  That Pyre Bestows 
 No Honour, Haply By Some Pharian Hand 
 Piled Up In Insult To His Mighty Shade. 
 Happy The     Crassi Lying On The     Waste 
 Unburied.  To The     Greater Shame Of     Heaven 
 Pompeius Has Such Funeral.  And Shall This 
 For Ever Be My Lot?  Her Husbands Slain 
 Cornelia Ne'er Enclose Within The     Tomb, 
 Nor Shed The     Tear Beside The     Urn That Holds 
 The Ashes Of     The     Loved?  Yet For My Grief 
 What Boots Or Monument Or Ordered Pomp? 
 Dost Thou Not, Impious, Upon Thy Heart 
 Pompeius' Image, And Upon Thy Soul 
 Bear Ineffaceable?  Dust Closed In Urns 
 Is For The     Wife Who Would Survive Her Lord 
 Not Such As Thee, Cornelia!  And Yet 
 Yon Scanty Light That Glimmers From Afar 
 Upon The     Pharian Shore, Somewhat Of     Thee 
 Recalls, Pompeius!  Now The     Flame Sinks Down 
 And Smoke Drifts Up Across The     Eastern Sky 
 Bearing Thine Ashes, And The     Rising Wind 
 Sighs Hateful In The     Sail.  To Me No More 
 Dearer Than This Whatever Land May Yield 
 Pompeius' Victory, Nor The     Frequent Car 
 That Carried Him In Triumph To The     Hill; 
 Gone Is That Happy Husband From My Thoughts; 
 Here Did I Lose The     Hero Whom I Knew; 
 Here Let Me Stay; His Presence Shall Endear 
 The Sands Of     Nile Where Fell The     Fatal Blow. 
 Thou, Sextus, Brave The     Chances Of     The     War 
 And Bear Pompeius' Standard Through The     World. 
 For Thus Thy Father Spake Within Mine Ear: 
 'When Sounds My Fatal Hour Let Both My Sons 
 Urge On The     War; Nor Let Some Caesar Find 
 Room For An Empire, While Shall Live On Earth 
 Still One In Whom Pompeius' Blood Shall Run. 
 This Your Appointed Task; All Cities Strong 
 In Freedom Of     Their Own, All Kingdoms Urge 
 To Join The     Combat; For Pompeius Calls. 
 Nor Shall A Chieftain Of     That Famous Name 
 Ride On The     Seas And Fail To Find A Fleet. 
 Urged By His Sire's Unconquerable Will 
 And Mindful Of     His Rights, Mine Heir Shall Rouse 
 All Nations To The     Conflict.  One Alone, 
 (Should He Contend For Freedom) May Ye Serve; 
 Cato, None Else!'  Thus Have I Kept The     Faith; 
 Thy Plot (3) Prevailed Upon Me, And I Lived 
 Thy Mandate To Discharge.  Now Through The     Void 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 187 
 Of Space, And Shades Of     Hell, If Such There Be, 
 I Follow; Yet How Distant Be My Doom 
 I Know Not: First My Spirit Must Endure 
 The Punishment Of     Life, Which Saw Thine End 
 And Could Survive It; Sighs Shall Break My Heart, 
 Tears Shall Dissolve It: Sword Nor Noose I Need 
 Nor Headlong Plunge. 'Twere Shameful Since Thy Death, 
 Were Aught But Grief Required To Cause My Own." 
   
   
   
 She Seeks The     Cabin, Veiled, In Funeral Garb, 
 In Tears To Find Her Solace, And To Love 
 Grief In Her Husband's Room; No Prayers Were Hers 
 For Life, As Were The     Sailors'; Nor Their Shout 
 Roused By The     Height Of     Peril, Moved Her Soul, 
 Nor Angered Waves: But Sorrowing There She Lay, 
 Resigned To Death And Welcoming The     Storm. 
   
   
   
 First Reached They Cyprus On The     Foamy Brine; 
 Then As The     Eastern Breeze More Gently Held 
 The Favouring Deep, They Touched The     Libyan Shore 
 Where Stood The     Camp Of     Cato.  Sad As One 
 Who Deep In Fear Presages Ills To Come, 
 Cnaeus Beheld His Brother And His Band 
 Of Patriot Comrades.  Swift Into The     Wave 
 He Leaps And Cries,  "Where, Brother, Is Our Sire? 
 Still Stands Our Country Mistress Of     The     World, 
 Or Are We Fallen, Rome With Magnus' Death 
 Rapt To The     Shades?"  Thus He: But Sextus Said 
   
   
   
 "Oh Happy Thou Who By Report Alone 
 Hear'st Of     The     Deed That Chanced On Yonder Shore! 
 These Eyes That Saw, My Brother, Share The     Guilt. 
 Not Caesar Wrought The     Murder Of     Our Sire, 
 Nor Any Captain Worthy In The     Fray. 
 He Fell Beneath The     Orders Of     A King 
 Shameful And Base, While Trusting To The     Gods 
 Who Shield The     Guest; A King Who In That Land 
 By His Concession Ruled: (This The     Reward 
 For Favours Erst Bestowed). Within My Sight 
 Pierced Through With Wounds Our Noble Father Fell: 
 Yet Deeming Not The     Petty Prince Of     Nile 
 So Fell A Deed Would Dare, To Egypt's Strand 
 I Thought Great Caesar Come.  But Worse Than All, 
 Worse Than The     Wounds Which Gaped Upon His Frame 
 Struck Me With Horror To The     Inmost Heart, 
 Our Murdered Father's Head, Shorn From The     Trunk 
 And Borne Aloft On Javelin; This Sight, 
 As Rumour Said, The     Cruel Victor Asked 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 188 
 To Feast His Eyes, And Prove The     Bloody Deed. 
 For Whether Ravenous Birds And Pharian Dogs 
 Have Torn His Corse Asunder, Or A Fire 
 Consumed It, Which With Stealthy Flame Arose 
 Upon The     Shore, I Know Not.  For The     Parts 
 Devoured By Destiny I Only Blame 
 The Gods: I Weep The     Part Preserved By Men." 
   
   
   
 Thus Sextus Spake: And Cnaeus At The     Words 
 Flamed Into Fury For His Father's Shame. 
 "Sailors, Launch Forth Our Navies, By Your Oars 
 Forced Through The     Deep Though Wind And Sea Oppose: 
 Captains, Lead On: For Civil Strife Ne'er Gave 
 So Great A Prize; To Lay In Earth The     Limbs 
 Of Magnus, And Avenge Him With The     Blood 
 Of That Unmanly Tyrant.  Shall I Spare 
 Great Alexander's Fort, Nor Sack The     Shrine 
 And Plunge His Body In The     Tideless Marsh? 
 Nor Drag Amasis From The     Pyramids, 
 And All Their Ancient Kings, To Swim The     Nile? 
 Torn From His Tomb, That God Of     All Mankind 
 Isis, Unburied, Shall Avenge Thy Shade; 
 And Veiled Osiris Shall I Hurl Abroad 
 In Mutilated Fragments; And The     Form 
 Of Sacred Apis; (4) And With These Their Gods 
 Shall Light A Furnace, That Shall Burn The     Head 
 They Held In Insult.  Thus Their Land Shall Pay 
 The Fullest Penalty For The     Shameful Deed. 
 No Husbandman Shall Live To Till The     Fields 
 Nor Reap The     Benefit Of     Brimming Nile. 
 Thou Only, Father, Gods And Men Alike 
 Fallen And Perished, Shalt Possess The     Land." 
   
   
   
 Such Were The     Words He Spake; And Soon The     Fleet 
 Had Dared The     Angry Deep: But Cato's Voice 
 While Praising, Calmed The     Youthful Chieftain's Rage. 
   
   
   
 Meanwhile, When Magnus' Fate Was Known, The     Air 
 Sounded With Lamentations Which The     Shore 
 Re-Echoed; Never Through The     Ages Past, 
 By History Recorded, Was It Known 
 That Thus A People Mourned Their Ruler's Death. 
 Yet More When Worn With Tears, Her Pallid Cheek 
 Veiled By Her Loosened Tresses, From The     Ship 
 Cornelia Came, They Wept And Beat The     Breast. 
 The Friendly Land Once Gained, Her Husband's Garb, 
 His Arms And Spoils, Embroidered Deep In Gold, 
 Thrice Worn Of     Old Upon The     Sacred Hill (5) 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 189 
 She Placed Upon The     Flame.  Such Were For Her 
 The Ashes Of     Her Spouse: And Such The     Love 
 Which Glowed In Every Heart, That Soon The     Shore 
 Blazed With His Obsequies.  Thus At Winter-Tide 
 By Frequent Fires Th' Apulian Herdsman Seeks 
 To Render To The     Fields Their Verdant Growth; 
 Till Blaze Garganus' Uplands And The     Meads 
 Of Vultur, And The     Pasture Of     The     Herds 
 By Warm Matinum. 
   
   
   
                     Yet Pompeius' Shade 
 Nought Else So Gratified, Not All The     Blame 
 The People Dared To Heap Upon The     Gods, 
 For Him Their Hero Slain, As These Few Words 
 From Cato's Noble Breast Instinct With Truth: 
 "Gone Is A Citizen Who Though No Peer (6) 
 Of Those Who Disciplined The     State Of     Yore 
 In Due Submission To The     Bounds Of     Right, 
 Yet In This Age Irreverent Of     Law 
 Has Played A Noble Part.  Great Was His Power, 
 But Freedom Safe: When All The     Plebs Was Prone 
 To Be His Slaves, He Chose The     Private Gown; 
 So That The     Senate Ruled The     Roman State, 
 The Senate's Ruler: Nought By Right Of     Arms 
 He E'er Demanded: Willing Took He Gifts 
 Yet From A Willing Giver: Wealth Was His 
 Vast, Yet The     Coffers Of     The     State He Filled 
 Beyond His Own.  He Seized Upon The     Sword, 
 Knew When To Sheath It; War Did He Prefer 
 To Arts Of     Peace, Yet Armed Loved Peace The     More. 
 Pleased Took He Power, Pleased He Laid It Down: 
 Chaste Was His Home And Simple, By His Wealth 
 Untarnished.  Mid The     Peoples Great His Name 
 And Venerated: To His Native Rome 
 He Wrought Much Good.  True Faith In Liberty 
 Long Since With Marius And Sulla Fled: 
 Now When Pompeius Has Been Reft Away 
 Its Counterfeit Has Perished.  Now Unshamed 
 Shall Seize The     Despot On Imperial Power, 
 Unshamed Shall Cringe The     Senate.  Happy He 
 Who With Disaster Found His Latest Breath 
 And Met The     Pharian Sword Prepared To Slay. 
 Life Might Have Been His Lot, In Despot Rule, 
 Prone At His Kinsman's Throne.  Best Gift Of     All 
 The Knowledge How To Die; Next, Death Compelled. 
 If Cruel Fortune Doth Reserve For Me 
 An Alien Conqueror, May Juba Be 
 As Ptolemaeus.  So He Take My Head 
 My Body Grace His Triumph, If He Will." 
 More Than Had Rome Resounded With His Praise 
 Words Such As These Gave Honour To The     Shade 
 Of That Most Noble Dead. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 190 
                          Meanwhile The     Crowd 
 Weary Of     Warfare, Since Pompeius' Fall, 
 Broke Into Discord, As Their Ancient Chief 
 Cilician Called Them To Desert The     Camp. 
 But Cato Hailed Them From The     Furthest Beach: 
 "Untamed Cilician, Is Thy Course Now Set 
 For Ocean Theft Again; Pompeius Gone, 
 Once More A Pirate?"  Thus He Spake, And Gazed 
 At All The     Stirring Throng; But One Whose Mind 
 Was Fixed On Flight, Thus Answered,  "Pardon, Chief, 
 'Twas Love Of     Magnus, Not Of     Civil War, 
 That Led Us To The     Fight: His Side Was Ours: 
 With Him Whom All The     World Preferred To Peace, 
 Our Cause Is Perished.  Let Us Seek Our Homes 
 Long Since Unseen, Our Children And Our Wives. 
 If Nor The     Rout Nor Dread Pharsalia's Field 
 Nor Yet Pompeius' Death Shall Close The     War, 
 Whence Comes The     End?  The     Vigour Of     A Life 
 For Us Is Vanished: In Our Failing Years 
 Give Us At Least Some Pious Hand To Speed 
 The Parting Soul, And Light The     Funeral Pyre. 
 Scarce Even To Its Captains Civil Strife 
 Concedes Due Burial.  Nor In Our Defeat 
 Does Fortune Threaten Us With The     Savage Yoke 
 Of Distant Nations.  In The     Garb Of     Rome 
 And With Her Rights, I Leave Thee.  Who Had Been 
 Second To Magnus Living, He Shall Be 
 My First Hereafter: To That Sacred Shade 
 Be The     Prime Honour.  Chance Of     War Appoints 
 My Lord But Not My Leader.  Thee Alone 
 I Followed, Magnus; After Thee The     Fates. 
 Nor Hope We Now For Victory, Nor Wish; 
 For All Our Thracian Army Is Fled 
 In Caesar's Victory, Whose Potent Star 
 Of Fortune Rules The     World, And None But He 
 Has Power To Keep Or Save.  That Civil War 
 Which While Pompeius Lived Was Loyalty 
 Is Impious Now.  If In The     Public Right 
 Thou, Patriot Cato, Find'st Thy Guide, We Seek 
 The Standards Of     The     Consul."  Thus He Spake 
 And With Him Leaped Into The     Ship A Throng 
 Of Eager Comrades. 
   
   
   
                     Then Was Rome Undone, 
 For All The     Shore Was Stirring With A Crowd 
 Athirst For Slavery.  But Burst These Words 
 From Cato's Blameless Breast: "Then With Like Vows 
 As Caesar's Rival Host Ye Too Did Seek 
 A Lord And Master!  Not For Rome The     Fight, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 191 
 But For Pompeius!  For That Now No More 
 Ye Fight For Tyranny, But For Yourselves, 
 Not For Some Despot Chief, Ye Live And Die; 
 Since Now 'Tis Safe To Conquer And No Lord 
 Shall Rob You, Victors, Of     A World Subdued -- 
 Ye Flee The     War, And On Your Abject Necks 
 Feel For The     Absent Yoke; Nor Can Endure 
 Without A Despot!  Yet To Men The     Prize 
 Were Worth The     Danger.  Magnus Might Have Used 
 To Evil Ends Your Blood; Refuse Ye Now, 
 With Liberty So Near, Your Country's Call? 
 Now Lives One Tyrant Only Of     The     Three; 
 Thus Far In Favour Of     The     Laws Have Wrought 
 The Pharian Weapons And The     Parthian Bow; 
 Not You, Degenerate!  Begone, And Spurn 
 This Gift Of     Ptolemaeus. (8)  Who Would Think 
 Your Hands Were Stained With Blood?  The     Foe Will Deem 
 That You Upon That Dread Thessalian Day 
 First Turned Your Backs.  Then Flee In Safety, Flee! 
 By Neither Battle Nor Blockade Subdued 
 Caesar Shall Give You Life!  O Slaves Most Base, 
 Your Former Master Slain, Ye Seek His Heir! 
 Why Doth It Please You Not Yet More To Earn 
 Than Life And Pardon?  Bear Across The     Sea 
 Metellus' Daughter, Magnus' Weeping Spouse, 
 And Both His Sons; Outstrip The     Pharian Gift, 
 Nor Spare This Head, Which, Laid Before The     Feet 
 Of That Detested Tyrant, Shall Deserve 
 A Full Reward.  Thus, Cowards, Shall Ye Learn 
 In That Ye Followed Me How Great Your Gain. 
 Quick To Your Task And Purchase Thus With Blood 
 Your Claim On Caesar.  Dastardly Is Flight 
 Which Crime Commends Not." 
   
   
   
                               Cato Thus Recalled 
 The Parting Vessels.  So When Bees In Swarm 
 Desert Their Waxen Cells, Forget The     Hive 
 Ceasing To Cling Together, And With Wings 
 Untrammelled Seek The     Air, Nor Slothful Light 
 On Thyme To Taste Its Bitterness -- Then Rings 
 The Phrygian Gong -- At Once They Pause Aloft 
 Astonied; And With Love Of     Toil Resumed 
 Through All The     Flowers For Their Honey Store 
 In Ceaseless Wanderings Search; The     Shepherd Joys, 
 Sure That Th' Hyblaean Mead For Him Has Kept 
 His Cottage Store, The     Riches Of     His Home. 
   
   
   
 Now In The     Active Conduct Of     The     War 
 Were Brought To Discipline Their Minds, Untaught 
 To Bear Repose; First On The     Sandy Shore 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 192 
 Toiling They Learned Fatigue: Then Stormed Thy Walls, 
 Cyrene; Prizeless, For To Cato's Mind 
 'Twas Prize Enough To Conquer.  Juba Next 
 He Bids Attack, Though Nature On The     Path 
 Had Placed The     Syrtes; Which His Sturdy Heart 
 Aspired To Conquer.  Either At The     First 
 When Nature Gave The     Universe Its Form 
 She Left This Region Neither Land Nor Sea; 
 Not Wholly Shrunk, So That It Should Receive 
 The Ocean Flood; Nor Firm Enough To Stand 
 Against Its Buffets -- All The     Pathless Coast 
 Lies In Uncertain Shape; The     Land By Earth 
 Is Parted From The     Deep; On Sandy Banks 
 The Seas Are Broken, And From Shoal To Shoal 
 The Waves Advance To Sound Upon The     Shore. 
 Nature, In Spite, Thus Left Her Work Undone, 
 Unfashioned To Men's Use -- Or Else Of     Old 
 A Foaming Ocean Filled The     Wide Expanse, 
 But Titan Feeding From The     Briny Depths 
 His Burning Fires (Near To The     Zone Of     Heat) 
 Reduced The     Waters; And The     Sea Still Fights 
 With Phoebus' Beams, Which In The     Length Of     Time 
 Drank Deeper Of     Its Fountains. 
   
   
   
                                    When The     Main 
 Struck By The     Oars Gave Passage To The     Fleet, 
 Black From The     Sky Rushed Down A Southern Gale 
 Upon His Realm, And From The     Watery Plain 
 Drave Back Th' Invading Ships, And From The     Shoals 
 Compelled The     Billows, And In Middle Sea 
 Raised Up A Bank.  Forth Flew The     Bellying Sails 
 Beyond The     Prows, Despite The     Ropes That Dared 
 Resist The     Tempest's Fury; And For Those 
 Who Prescient Housed Their Canvas To The     Storm, 
 Bare-Masted They Were Driven From Their Course. 
 Best Was Their Lot Who Gained The     Open Waves 
 Of Ocean; Others Lightened Of     Their Masts 
 Shook Off The     Tempest; But A Sweeping Tide 
 Hurried Them Southwards, Victor Of     The     Gale. 
 Some Freed Of     Shallows On A Bank Were Forced 
 Which Broke The     Deep: Their Ship In Part Was Fast, 
 Part Hanging On The     Sea; Their Fates In Doubt. 
 Fierce Rage The     Waves Till Hems (9) Them In The     Land; 
 Nor Auster's Force In Frequent Buffets Spent 
 Prevails Upon The     Shore.  High From The     Main 
 By Seas Inviolate One Bank Of     Sand, 
 Far From The     Coast Arose; There Watched In Vain 
 The Storm-Tossed Mariners, Their Keel Aground, 
 No Shore Descrying.  Thus In Sea Were Lost 
 Some Portion, But The     Major Part By Helm 
 And Rudder Guided, And By Pilots' Hands 
 Who Knew The     Devious Channels, Safe At Length 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 193 
 Floated The     Marsh Of     Triton Loved (As Saith 
 The Fable) By That God, Whose Sounding Shell (10) 
 All Seas And Shores Re-Echo; And By Her, 
 Pallas, Who Springing From Her Father's Head 
 First Lit On Libya, Nearest Land To Heaven, 
 (As By Its Heat Is Proved); Here On The     Brink 
 She Stood, Reflected In The     Placid Wave 
 And Called Herself Tritonis.  Lethe's Flood 
 Flows Silent Near, In Fable From A Source 
 Infernal Sprung, Oblivion In His Stream; 
 Here, Too, That Garden Of     The     Hesperids 
 Where Once The     Sleepless Dragon Held His Watch, 
 Shorn Of     Its Leafy Wealth.  Shame Be On Him 
 Who Calls Upon The     Poet For The     Proof 
 Of That Which In The     Ancient Days Befell; 
 But Here Were Golden Groves By Yellow Growth 
 Weighed Down In Richness, Here A Maiden Band 
 Were Guardians; And A Serpent, On Whose Eyes 
 Sleep Never Fell, Was Coiled Around The     Trees, 
 Whose Branches Bowed Beneath Their Ruddy Load. 
 But Great Alcides Stripped The     Bending Boughs, 
 And Bore Their Shining Apples (Thus His Task 
 Accomplished) To The     Court Of     Argos' King. 
   
   
   
 Driven On The     Libyan Realms, More Fruitful Here, 
 Pompeius (11) Stayed The     Fleet, Nor Further Dared 
 In Garamantian Waves.  But Cato's Soul 
 Leaped In His Breast, Impatient Of     Delay, 
 To Pass The     Syrtes By A Landward March, 
 And Trusting To Their Swords, 'Gainst Tribes Unknown 
 To Lead His Legions.  And The     Storm Which Closed 
 The Main To Navies Gave Them Hope Of     Rain; 
 Nor Biting Frosts They Feared, In Libyan Clime; 
 Nor Suns Too Scorching In The     Falling Year. 
   
   
   
 Thus Ere They Trod The     Deserts, Cato Spake: 
 "Ye Men Of     Rome, Who Through Mine Arms Alone 
 Can Find The     Death Ye Covet, And Shall Fall 
 With Pride Unbroken Should The     Fates Command, 
 Meet This Your Weighty Task, Your High Emprise 
 With Hearts Resolved To Conquer.  For We March 
 On Sterile Wastes, Burnt Regions Of     The     World; 
 Scarce Are The     Wells, And Titan From The     Height 
 Burns Pitiless, Unclouded; And The     Slime 
 Of Poisonous Serpents Fouls The     Dusty Earth. 
 Yet Shall Men Venture For The     Love Of     Laws 
 And Country Perishing, Upon The     Sands 
 Of Trackless Libya; Men Who Brave In Soul 
 Rely Not On The     End, And In Attempt 
 Will Risk Their All.  'Tis Not In Cato's Thoughts 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 194 
 On This Our Enterprise To Lead A Band 
 Blind To The     Truth, Unwitting Of     The     Risk. 
 Nay, Give Me Comrades For The     Danger's Sake, 
 Whom I Shall See For Honour And For Rome 
 Bear Up Against The     Worst.  But Whose Needs 
 A Pledge Of     Safety, To Whom Life Is Sweet, 
 Let Him By Fairer Journey Seek His Lord. 
 First Be My Foot Upon The     Sand; On Me 
 First Strike The     Burning Sun; Across My Path 
 The Serpent Void His Venom; By My Fate 
 Know Ye Your Perils.  Let Him Only Thirst 
 Who Sees Me At The     Spring: Who Sees Me Seek 
 The Shade, Alone Sink Fainting In The     Heat; 
 Or Whoso Sees Me Ride Before The     Ranks 
 Plodding Their Weary March: Such Be The     Lot 
 Of Each, Who, Toiling, Finds In Me A Chief 
 And Not A Comrade.  Snakes, Thirst, Burning Sand 
 The Brave Man Welcomes, And The     Patient Breast 
 Finds Happiness In Labour.  By Its Cost 
 Courage Is Sweeter; And This Libyan Land 
 Such Cloud Of     Ills Can Furnish As Might Make 
 Men Flee Unshamed."  'Twas Thus That Cato Spake, 
 Kindling The     Torch Of     Valour And The     Love 
 Of Toil: Then Reckless Of     His Fate He Strode 
 The Desert Path From Which Was No Return: 
 And Libya Ruled His Destinies, To Shut 
 His Sacred Name Within A Narrow Tomb. 
   
   
   
 One-Third Of     All The     World, (12) If Fame We Trust, 
 Is Libya; Yet By Winds And Sky She Yields 
 Some Part To Europe; For The     Shores Of     Nile 
 No More Than Scythian Tanais Are Remote 
 From Furthest Gades, Where With Bending Coast, 
 Yielding A Place To Ocean, Europe Parts 
 From Afric Shores.  Yet Falls The     Larger World 
 To Asia Only.  From The     Former Two 
 Issues The     Western Wind; But Asia's Right 
 Touches The     Southern Limits And Her Left 
 The Northern Tempest's Home; And Of     The     East 
 She's Mistress To The     Rising Of     The     Sun. 
 All That Is Fertile Of     The     Afric Lands 
 Lies To The     West, But Even Here Abound 
 No Wells Of     Water: Though The     Northern Wind, 
 Infrequent, Leaving Us With Skies Serene, 
 Falls There In Showers.  Not Gold Nor Wealth Of     Brass 
 It Yields The     Seeker: Pure And Unalloyed 
 Down To Its Lowest Depths Is Libyan Soil. 
 Yet Citron Forests To Maurusian Tribes 
 Were Riches, Had They Known; But They, Content, 
 Lived 'Neath The     Shady Foliage, Till Gleamed 
 The Axe Of     Rome Amid The     Virgin Grove, 
 To Bring From Furthest Limits Of     The     World 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 195 
 Our Banquet Tables And The     Fruit They Bear. (13) 
 But Suns Excessive And A Scorching Air 
 Burn All The     Glebe Beside The     Shifting Sands: 
 There Die The     Harvests On The     Crumbling Mould; 
 No Root Finds Sustenance, Nor Kindly Jove 
 Makes Rich The     Furrow Nor Matures The     Vine. 
 Sleep Binds All Nature And The     Tract Of     Sand 
 Lies Ever Fruitless, Save That By The     Shore 
 The Hardy Nasamon Plucks A Scanty Grass. 
 Unclothed Their Race, And Living On The     Woes 
 Worked By The     Cruel Syrtes On Mankind; 
 For Spoilers Are They Of     The     Luckless Ships 
 Cast On The     Shoals: And With The     World By Wrecks 
 Their Only Commerce. 
   
   
   
                          Here At Cato's Word 
 His Soldiers Passed, In Fancy From The     Winds 
 That Sweep The     Sea Secure: Here On Them Fell 
 Smiting With Greater Strength Upon The     Shore, 
 Than On The     Ocean, Auster's Tempest Force, 
 And Yet More Fraught With Mischief: For No Crags 
 Repelled His Strength, Nor Lofty Mountains Tamed 
 His Furious Onset, Nor In Sturdy Woods 
 He Found A Bar; But Free From Reining Hand, 
 Raged At His Will O'er The     Defenceless Earth. 
 Nor Did He Mingle Dust And Clouds Of     Rain 
 In Whirling Circles, But The     Earth Was Swept 
 And Hung In Air Suspended, Till Amazed 
 The Nasamon Saw His Scanty Field And Home 
 Reft By The     Tempest, And The     Native Huts 
 From Roof To Base Were Hurried On The     Blast. 
 Not Higher, When Some All-Devouring Flame 
 Has Seized Upon Its Prey, In Volumes Dense 
 Rolls Up The     Smoke, And Darkens All The     Air. 
 Then With Fresh Might He Fell Upon The     Host 
 Of Marching Romans, Snatching From Their Feet 
 The Sand They Trod.  Had Auster Been Enclosed 
 In Some Vast Cavernous Vault With Solid Walls 
 And Mighty Barriers, He Had Moved The     World 
 Upon Its Ancient Base And Made The     Lands 
 To Tremble: But The     Facile Libyan Soil 
 By Not Resisting Stood, And Blasts That Whirled 
 The Surface Upwards Left The     Depths Unmoved. 
 Helmet And Shield And Spear Were Torn Away 
 By His Most Violent Breath, And Borne Aloft 
 Through All The     Regions Of     The     Boundless Sky; 
 Perchance A Wonder In Some Distant Land, 
 Where Men May Fear The     Weapons From The     Heaven 
 There Falling, As The     Armour Of     The     Gods, 
 Nor Deem Them Ravished From A Soldier's Arm. 
 'Twas Thus On Numa By The     Sacred Fire 
 Those Shields Descended Which Our Chosen Priests (14) 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 196 
 Bear On Their Shoulders; From Some Warlike Race 
 By Tempest Rapt, To Be The     Prize Of     Rome. 
   
   
   
 Fearing The     Storm Prone Fell The     Host To Earth 
 Winding Their Garments Tight, And With Clenched Hands 
 Gripping The     Earth: For Not Their Weight Alone 
 Withstood The     Tempest Which Upon Their Frames 
 Piled Mighty Heaps, And Their Recumbent Limbs 
 Buried In Sand.  At Length They Struggling Rose 
 Back To Their Feet, When Lo!  Around Them Stood, 
 Forced By The     Storm, A Growing Bank Of     Earth 
 Which Held Them Motionless.  And From Afar 
 Where Walls Lay Prostrate, Mighty Stones Were Hurled, 
 Thus Piling Ills On Ills In Wondrous Form: 
 No Dwellings Had They Seen, Yet At Their Feet 
 Beheld The     Ruins.  All The     Earth Was Hid 
 In Vast Envelopment, Nor Found They Guide 
 Save From The     Stars, Which As In Middle Deep 
 Flamed O'er Them Wandering: Yet Some Were Hid 
 Beneath The     Circle Of     The     Libyan Earth 
 Which Tending Downwards Hid The     Northern Sky. 
   
   
   
 When Warmth Dispersed The     Tempest-Driven Air, 
 And Rose Upon The     Earth The     Flaming Day, 
 Bathed Were Their Limbs In Sweat, But Parched And Dry 
 Their Gaping Lips; When To A Scanty Spring 
 Far Off Beheld They Came, Whose Meagre Drops 
 All Gathered In The     Hollow Of     A Helm 
 They Offered To Their Chief.  Caked Were Their Throats 
 With Dust, And Panting; And One Little Drop 
 Had Made Him Envied.  "Wretch, And Dost Thou Deem 
 Me Wanting In A Brave Man's Heart?" He Cried, 
 "Me Only In This Throng?  And Have I Seemed 
 Tender, Unfit To Bear The     Morning Heat? 
 He Who Would Quench His Thirst 'Mid Such A Host, 
 Doth Most Deserve Its Pangs."  Then In His Wrath 
 Dashed Down The     Helmet, And The     Scanty Spring, 
 Thus By Their Leader Spurned, Sufficed For All. 
   
   
   
 Now Had They Reached That Temple Which Possess 
 Sole In All Libya, Th' Untutored Tribes 
 Of Garamantians.  Here Holds His Seat 
 (So Saith The     Story) A Prophetic Jove, 
 Wielding No Thunderbolts, Nor Like To Ours, 
 The Libyan Hammen Of     The     Curved Horn. 
 No Wealth Adorns His Fane By Afric Tribes 
 Bestowed, Nor Glittering Hoard Of     Eastern Gems. 
 Though Rich Arabians, Ind And Ethiop 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 197 
 Know Him Alone As Jove, Still Is He Poor 
 Holding His Shrine By Riches Undefiled 
 Through Time, And God As Of     The     Olden Days 
 Spurns All The     Wealth Of     Rome.  That Here Some God 
 Dwells, Witnesses The     Only Grove 
 That Buds In Libya -- For That Which Grows 
 Upon The     Arid Dust Which Leptis Parts 
 From Berenice, Knows No Leaves; Alone 
 Hammon Uprears A Wood; A Fount The     Cause 
 Which With Its Waters Binds The     Crumbling Soil. 
 Yet Shall The     Sun When Poised Upon The     Height 
 Strike Through The     Foliage: Hardly Can The     Tree 
 Protect Its Trunk, And To A Little Space 
 His Rays Draw In The     Circle Of     The     Shade. 
 Here Have Men Found The     Spot Where That High Band 
 Solstitial Divides In Middle Sky (15) 
 The Zodiac Stars: Not Here Oblique Their Course, 
 Nor Scorpion Rises Straighter Than The     Bull, 
 Nor To The     Scales Does Ram Give Back His Hours, 
 Nor Does Astraea Bid The     Fishes Sink 
 More Slowly Down: But Watery Capricorn 
 Is Equal With The     Crab, And With The     Twins 
 The Archer; Neither Does The     Lion Rise 
 Above Aquarius.  But The     Race That Dwells 
 Beyond The     Fervour Of     The     Libyan Fires 
 Sees To The     South That Shadow Which With Us 
 Falls To The     North: Slow Cynosure Sinks (16) 
 For Them Below The     Deep; And, Dry With Us, 
 The Wagon Plunges; Far From Either Pole, 
 No Star They Know That Does Not Seek The     Main, 
 But All The     Constellations In Their Course 
 Whirl To Their Vision Through The     Middle Sky. 
   
   
   
 Before The     Doors The     Eastern Peoples Stood 
 Seeking From Horned Jove To Know Their Fates: 
 Yet To The     Roman Chief They Yielded Place, 
 Whose Comrades Prayed Him To Entreat The     Gods 
 Famed Through The     Libyan World, And Judge The     Voice 
 Renowned From Distant Ages.  First Of     These 
 Was Labienus: (17) "Chance," He Said, "To Us 
 The Voice And Counsel Of     This Mighty God 
 Has Offered As We March; From Such A Guide 
 To Know The     Issues Of     The     War, And Learn 
 To Track The     Syrtes.  For To Whom On Earth 
 If Not To Blameless Cato, Shall The     Gods 
 Entrust Their Secrets?  Faithful Thou At Least, 
 Their Follower Through All Thy Life Hast Been; 
 Now Hast Thou Liberty To Speak With Jove. 
 Ask Impious Caesar's Fates, And Learn The     Laws 
 That Wait Our Country In The     Future Days: 
 Whether The     People Shall Be Free To Use 
 Their Rights And Customs, Or The     Civil War 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 198 
 For Us Is Wasted.  To Thy Sacred Breast, 
 Lover Of     Virtue, Take The     Voice Divine; 
 Demand What Virtue Is And Guide Thy Steps 
 By Heaven's High Counsellor." 
   
   
   
                                    But Cato, Full 
 Of Godlike Thoughts Borne In His Quiet Breast, 
 This Answer Uttered, Worthy Of     The     Shrines: 
 "What, Labienus, Dost Thou Bid Me Ask? 
 Whether In Arms And Freedom I Should Wish 
 To Perish, Rather Than Endure A King? 
 Is Longest Life Worth Aught?  And Doth Its Term 
 Make Difference?  Can Violence To The     Good 
 Do Injury?  Do Fortune's Threats Avail 
 Outweighed By Virtue?  Doth It Not Suffice 
 To Aim At Deeds Of     Bravery?  Can Fame 
 Grow By Achievement?  Nay!  No Hammen's Voice 
 Shall Teach Us This More Surely Than We Know. 
 Bound Are We To The     Gods; No Voice We Need; 
 They Live In All Our Acts, Although The     Shrine 
 Be Silent: At Our Birth And Once For All 
 What May Be Known The     Author Of     Our Being 
 Revealed; Nor Chose These Thirsty Sands To Chaunt 
 To Few His Truth, Whelmed In The     Dusty Waste. 
 God Has His Dwelling In All Things That Be, 
 In Earth And Air And Sea And Starry Vault, 
 In Virtuous Deeds; In All That Thou Can'st See, 
 In All Thy Thoughts Contained.  Why Further, Then, 
 Seek We Our Deities?  Let Those Who Doubt 
 And Halting, Tremble For Their Coming Fates, 
 Go Ask The     Oracles.  No Mystic Words, 
 Make Sure My Heart, But Surely-Coming Death. 
 Coward Alike And Brave, We All Must Die. 
 Thus Hath Jove Spoken: Seek To Know No More." 
   
   
   
 Thus Cato Spake, And Faithful To His Creed 
 He Parted From The     Temple Of     The     God 
 And Left The     Oracle Of     Hammon Dumb. 
   
   
   
 Bearing His Javelin, As One Of     Them 
 Before The     Troops He Marched: No Panting Slave 
 With Bending Neck, No Litter Bore His Form. 
 He Bade Them Not, But Showed Them How To Toil. 
 Spare In His Sleep, The     Last To Sip The     Spring 
 When At Some Rivulet To Quench Their Thirst 
 The Eager Ranks Pressed Onward, He Alone 
 Until The     Humblest Follower Might Drink 
 Stood Motionless.  If For The     Truly Good 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 199 
 Is Fame, And Virtue By The     Deed Itself, 
 Not By Sucoessful Issue, Should Be Judged, 
 Yield, Famous Ancestors!  Fortune, Not Worth 
 Gained You Your Glory.  But Such Name As His 
 Who Ever Merited By Successful War 
 Or Slaughtered Peoples?  Rather Would I Lead 
 With Him His Triumph Through The     Pathless Sands 
 And Libya's Bounds, Than In Pompeius' Car 
 Three Times Ascend The     Capitol, (18) Or Break 
 The Proud Jugurtha. (19)  Rome!  In Him Behold 
 His Country's Father, Worthiest Of     Thy Vows; 
 A Name By Which Men Shall Not Blush To Swear, 
 Whom, Should'st Thou Break The     Fetters From Thy Neck, 
 Thou May'st In Distant Days Decree Divine. 
   
   
   
 Now Was The     Heat More Dense, And Through That Clime 
 Than Which No Further On The     Southern Side 
 The Gods Permit, They Trod; And Scarcer Still 
 The Water, Till In Middle Sands They Found 
 One Bounteous Spring Which Clustered Serpents Held 
 Though Scaroe The     Space Sufficed.  By Thirsting Snakes 
 The Fount Was Thronged And Asps Pressed On The     Marge. 
 But When The     Chieftain Saw That Speedy Fate 
 Was On The     Host, If They Should Leave The     Well 
 Untasted, "Vain," He Cried, "Your Fear Of     Death. 
 Drink, Nor Delay: 'Tis From The     Threatening Tooth 
 Men Draw Their Deaths, And Fatal From The     Fang 
 Issues The     Juice If Mingled With The     Blood; 
 The Cup Is Harmless."  Then He Sipped The     Fount, 
 Still Doubting, And In All The     Libyan Waste 
 There Only Was He First To Touch The     Stream. 
   
   
   
 Why Fertile Thus In Death The     Pestilent Air 
 Of Libya, What Poison In Her Soil 
 Her Several Nature Mixed, My Care To Know 
 Has Not Availed: But From The     Days Of     Old 
 A Fabled Story Has Deceived The     World. 
   
   
   
 Far On Her Limits, Where The     Burning Shore 
 Admits The     Ocean Fervid From The     Sun 
 Plunged In Its Waters, Lay Medusa's Fields 
 Untilled; Nor Forests Shaded, Nor The     Plough 
 Furrowed The     Soil, Which By Its Mistress' Gaze 
 Was Hardened Into Stone: Phorcus, Her Sire. 
 Malevolent Nature From Her Body First 
 Drew Forth These Noisome Pests; First From Her Jaws 
 Issued The     Sibilant Rattle Of     Serpent Tongues; 
 Clustered Around Her Head The     Poisonous Brood 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 200 
 Like To A Woman's Hair, Wreathed On Her Neck 
 Which Gloried In Their Touch; Their Glittering Heads 
 Advanced Towards Her; And Her Tresses Kempt 
 Dripped Down With Viper's Venom.  This Alone 
 Thou Hast, Accursed One, Which Men Can See 
 Unharmed; For Who Upon That Gaping Mouth 
 Looked And Could Dread?  To Whom Who Met Her Glance, 
 Was Death Permitted?  Fate Delayed No More. 
 But Ere The     Victim Feared Had Struck Him Down: 
 Perished The     Limbs While Living, And The     Soul 
 Grew Stiff And Stark Ere Yet It Fled The     Frame. 
 Men Have Been Frenzied By The     Furies' Locks, 
 Not Killed; And Cerberus At Orpheus' Song 
 Ceased From His Hissing, And Alcides Saw 
 The Hydra Ere He Slew.  This Monster Born 
 Brought Horror With Her Birth Upon Her Sire 
 Phorcus, In Second Order God Of     Waves, 
 And Upon Ceto And The     Gorgon Brood, (20) 
 Her Sisters.  She Could Threat The     Sea And Sky 
 With Deadly Calm Unknown, And From The     World 
 Bid Cease The     Soil.  Borne Down By Instant Weight 
 Fowls Fell From Air, And Beasts Were Fixed In Stone. 
 Whole Ethiop Tribes Who Tilled The     Neighbouring Lands 
 Rigid In Marble Stood.  The     Gorgon Sight 
 No Creature Bore And Even Her Serpents Turned 
 Back From Her Visage.  Atlas In His Place 
 Beside The     Western Columns, By Her Look 
 Was Turned To Rocks; And When On Snakes Of     Old 
 Phlegraean Giants Stood And Frighted Heaven, 
 She Made Them Mountains, And The     Gorgon Head 
 Borne On Athena's Bosom Closed The     War. 
 Here Born Of     Danae And The     Golden Shower, 
 Floating On Wings Parrhasian, By The     God 
 Arcadian Given, Author Of     The     Lyre 
 And Wrestling Art, Came Perseus, Down From Heaven 
 Swooping.  Cyllenian Harp (21) Did He Bear 
 Still Crimson From Another Monster Slain, 
 The Guardian Of     The     Heifer Loved By Jove. 
 This To Her Winged Brother Pallas Lent 
 Price Of     The     Monster's Head: By Her Command 
 Upon The     Limits Of     The     Libyan Land 
 He Sought The     Rising Sun, With Flight Averse, 
 Poised O'er Medusa's Realm; A Burnished Shield 
 Of Yellow Brass Upon His Other Arm, 
 Her Gift, He Bore: In Which She Bade Him See 
 The Fatal Face Unscathed.  Nor Yet In Sleep 
 Lay All The     Monster, For Such Total Rest 
 To Her Were Death -- So Fated: Serpent Locks 
 In Vigilant Watch, Some Reaching Forth Defend 
 Her Head, While Others Lay Upon Her Face 
 And Slumbering Eyes.  Then Hero Perseus Shook 
 Though Turned Averse; Trembled His Dexter Hand: 
 But Pallas Held, And The     Descending Blade 
 Shore The     Broad Neck Whence Sprang The     Viper Brood. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 201 
 What Visage Bore The     Gorgon As The     Steel 
 Thus Reft Her Life!  What Poison From Her Throat 
 Breathed!  From Her Eyes What Venom Of     Death Distilled! 
 The Goddess Dared Not Look, And Perseus' Face 
 Had Frozen, Averse, Had Not Athena Veiled 
 With Coils Of     Writhing Snakes The     Features Dead. 
 Then With The     Gorgon Head The     Hero Flew 
 Uplifted On His Wings And Sought The     Sky. 
 Shorter Had Been His Voyage Through The     Midst 
 Of Europe's Cities; But Athena Bade 
 To Spare Her Peoples And Their Fruitful Lands; 
 For Who When Such An Airy Courser Passed 
 Had Not Looked Up To Heaven?  Western Winds 
 Now Sped His Pinions, And He Took His Course 
 O'er Libya's Regions, From The     Stars And Suns 
 Veiled By No Culture.  Phoebus' Nearer Track 
 There Burns The     Soil, And Loftiest On The     Sky (22) 
 There Fails The     Night, To Shade The     Wandering Moon, 
 If O'er Forgetful Of     Her Course Oblique, 
 Straight Through The     Stars, Nor Bending To The     North 
 Nor To The     South, She Hastens.  Yet That Earth, 
 In Nothing Fertile, Void Of     Fruitful Yield, 
 Drank In The     Poison Of     Medusa's Blood, 
 Dripping In Dreadful Dews Upon The     Soil, 
 And In The     Crumbling Sands By Heat Matured. 
   
   
   
 First From The     Dust Was Raised A Gory Clot (23) 
 In Guise Of     Asp, Sleep-Bringing, Swollen Of     Neck: 
 Full Was The     Blood And Thick The     Poison Drop 
 That Were Its Making; In No Other Snake 
 More Copious Held.  Greedy Of     Warmth It Seeks 
 No Frozen World Itself, Nor Haunts The     Sands 
 Beyond The     Nile; Yet Has Our Thirst Of     Gain 
 No Shame Nor Limit, And This Libyan Death, 
 This Fatal Pest We Purchase For Our Own. 
 Haemorrhois Huge Spreads Out His Scaly Coils, 
 Who Suffers Not His Hapless Victims' Blood 
 To Stay Within Their Veins.  Chersydros Sprang 
 To Life, To Dwell Within The     Doubtful Marsh 
 Where Land Nor Sea Prevails.  A Cloud Of     Spray 
 Marked Fell Chelyder's Track: And Cenchris Rose 
 Straight Gliding To His Prey, His Belly Tinged 
 With Various Spots Unnumbered, More Than Those 
 Which Paint The     Theban (24) Marble; Horned Snakes 
 With Spines Contorted: Like To Torrid Sand 
 Ammodytes, Of     Hue Invisible: 
 Sole Of     All Serpents Scytale To Shed 
 In Vernal Frosts His Slough; And Thirsty Dipsas; 
 Dread Amphisbaena With His Double Head 
 Tapering; And Natrix Who In Bubbling Fount 
 Fuses His Venom.  Greedy Prester Swells 
 His Foaming Jaws; Pareas, Head Erect 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 202 
 Furrows With Tail Alone His Sandy Path; 
 Swift Jaculus There, And Seps (25) Whose Poisonous Juice 
 Makes Putrid Flesh And Frame: And There Upreared 
 His Regal Head, And Frighted From His Track 
 With Sibilant Terror All The     Subject Swam, 
 Baneful Ere Darts His Poison, Basilisk (26) 
 In Sands Deserted King.  Ye Serpents Too 
 Who In All Other Regions Harmless Glide 
 Adored As Gods, And Bright With Golden Scales, 
 In Those Hot Wastes Are Deadly; Poised In Air 
 Whole Herds Of     Kine Ye Follow, And With Coils 
 Encircling Close, Crush In The     Mighty Bull. 
 Nor Does The     Elephant In His Giant Bulk, 
 Nor Aught, Find Safety; And Ye Need No Fang 
 Nor Poison, To Compel The     Fatal End. 
   
   
   
 Amid These Pests Undaunted Cato Urged 
 His Desert Journey On.  His Hardy Troops 
 Beneath His Eyes, Pricked By A Scanty Wound, 
 In Strangest Forms Of     Death Unnumbered Fall. 
 Tyrrhenian Aulus, Bearer Of     A Flag, 
 Trod On A Dipsas; Quick With Head Reversed 
 The Serpent Struck; No Mark Betrayed The     Tooth: 
 The Aspect Of     The     Wound Nor Threatened Death, 
 Nor Any Evil; But The     Poison Germ 
 In Silence Working As Consuming Fire 
 Absorbed The     Moisture Of     His Inward Frame, 
 Draining The     Natural Juices That Were Spread 
 Around His Vitals; In His Arid Jaws 
 Set Flame Upon His Tongue: His Wearied Limbs 
 No Sweat Bedewed; Dried Up, The     Fount Of     Tears 
 Fled From His Eyelids.  Tortured By The     Fire 
 Nor Cato's Sternness, Nor Of     His Sacred Charge 
 The Honour Could Withhold Him; But He Dared 
 To Dash His Standard Down, And Through The     Plains 
 Raging, To Seek For Water That Might Slake 
 The Fatal Venom Thirsting At His Heart. 
 Plunge Him In Tanais, In Rhone And Po, 
 Pour On His Burning Tongue The     Flood Of     Nile, 
 Yet Were The     Fire Unquenched.  So Fell The     Fang 
 Of Dipsas In The     Torrid Libyan Lands; 
 In Other Climes Less Fatal.  Next He Seeks 
 Amid The     Sands, All Barren To The     Depths, 
 For Moisture: Then Returning To The     Shoals 
 Laps Them With Greed -- In Vain -- The     Briny Draught 
 Scarce Quenched The     Thirst It Made.  Nor Knowing Yet 
 The Poison In His Frame, He Steels Himself 
 To Rip His Swollen Veins And Drink The     Gore. 
 Cato Bids Lift The     Standard, Lest His Troops 
 May Find In Thirst A Pardon For The     Deed. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 203 
   
 But On Sabellus' Yet More Piteous Death 
 Their Eyes Were Fastened.  Clinging To His Skin 
 A Seps With Curving Tooth, Of     Little Size, 
 He Seized And Tore Away, And To The     Sands 
 Pierced With His Javelin.  Small The     Serpent's Bulk; 
 None Deals A Death More Horrible In Form. 
 For Swift The     Flesh Dissolving Round The     Wound 
 Bared The     Pale Bone; Swam All His Limbs In Blood; 
 Wasted The     Tissue Of     His Calves And Knees: 
 And All The     Muscles Of     His Thighs Were Thawed 
 In Black Distilment, And File Membrane Sheath 
 Parted, That Bound His Vitals, Which Abroad 
 Flowed Upon Earth: Yet Seemed It Not That All 
 His Frame Was Loosed, For By The     Venomous Drop 
 Were All The     Bands That Held His Muscles Drawn 
 Down To A Juice; The     Framework Of     His Chest 
 Was Bare, Its Cavity, And All The     Parts 
 Hid By The     Organs Of     Life, That Make The     Man. 
 So By Unholy Death There Stood Revealed 
 His Inmost Nature.  Head And Stalwart Arms, 
 And Neck And Shoulders, From Their Solid Mass 
 Melt In Corruption.  Not More Swiftly Flows 
 Wax At The     Sun's Command, Nor Snow Compelled 
 By Southern Breezes.  Yet Not All Is Said: 
 For So To Noxious Humours Fire Consumes 
 Our Fleshly Frame; But On The     Funeral Pyre 
 What Bones Have Perished?  These Dissolve No Less 
 Than Did The     Mouldered Tissues, Nor Of     Death 
 Thus Swift Is Left A Trace.  Of     Afric Pests 
 Thou Bear'st The     Palm For Hurtfulness: The     Life 
 They Snatch Away, Thou Only With The     Life 
 The Clay That Held It. 
   
   
   
                          Lo!  A Different Fate, 
 Not This By Melting!  For A Prester's Fang 
 Nasidius Struck, Who Erst In Marsian Fields 
 Guided The     Ploughshare.  Burned Upon His Face 
 A Redness As Of     Flame: Swollen The     Skin, 
 His Features Hidden, Swollen All His Limbs 
 Till More Than Human: And His Definite Frame 
 One Tumour Huge Concealed.  A Ghastly Gore 
 Is Puffed From Inwards As The     Virulent Juice 
 Courses Through All His Body; Which, Thus Grown, 
 His Corselet Holds Not.  Not In Caldron So 
 Boils Up To Mountainous Height The     Steaming Wave; 
 Nor In Such Bellying Curves Does Canvas Bend 
 To Eastern Tempests.  Now The     Ponderous Bulk 
 Rejects The     Limbs, And As A Shapeless Trunk 
 Burdens The     Earth: And There, To Beasts And Birds 
 A Fatal Feast, His Comrades Left The     Corse 
 Nor Dared To Place, Yet Swelling, In The     Tomb. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 204 
   
 But For Their Eyes The     Libyan Pests Prepared 
 More Dreadful Sights.  On Tullus Great In Heart, 
 And Bound To Cato With Admiring Soul, 
 A Fierce Haemorrhois Fixed.  From Every Limb, (27) 
 (As From A Statue Saffron Spray Is Showered 
 In Every Part) There Spouted Forth For Blood 
 A Sable Poison: From The     Natural Pores 
 Of Moisture, Gore Profuse; His Mouth Was Filled 
 And Gaping Nostrils, And His Tears Were Blood. 
 Brimmed Full His Veins; His Very Sweat Was Red; 
 All Was One Wound. 
   
   
   
                     Then Piteous Levus Next 
 In Sleep Was Victim, For Around His Heart 
 Stood Still The     Blood Congealed: No Pain He Felt 
 Of Venomous Tooth, But Swift Upon Him Fell 
 Death, And He Sought The     Shades; More Swift To Kill 
 No Draught In Poisonous Cups From Ripened Plants 
 Of Direst Growth Sabaean Wizards Brew. 
   
   
   
 Lo! Upon Branchless Trunk A Serpent, Named 
 By Libyans Jaculus, Rose In Coils To Dart 
 His Venom From Afar.  Through Paullus' Brain 
 It Rushed, Nor Stayed; For In The     Wound Itself 
 Was Death.  Then Did They Know How Slowly Flies, 
 Flung From A Sling, The     Stone; How Gently Speed 
 Through Air The     Shafts Of     Scythia. 
   
   
   
                                         What Availed, 
 Murrus, The     Lance By Which Thou Didst Transfix 
 A Basilisk?  Swift Through The     Weapon Ran 
 The Poison To His Hand: He Draws His Sword 
 And Severs Arm And Shoulder At A Blow: 
 Then Gazed Secure Upon His Severed Hand 
 Which Perished As He Looked.  So Had'st Thou Died, 
 And Such Had Been Thy Fate! 
   
   
   
                               Whoe'er Had Thought 
 A Scorpion Had Strength O'er Death Or Fate? 
 Yet With His Threatening Coils And Barb Erect 
 He Won The     Glory Of     Orion (28) Slain; 
 So Bear The     Stars Their Witness.  And Who Would Fear 
 Thy Haunts, Salpuga? (29)  Yet The     Stygian Maids 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 205 
 Have Given Thee Power To Snap The     Fatal Threads. 
   
   
   
 Thus Nor The     Day With Brightness, Nor The     Night 
 With Darkness Gave Them Peace.  The     Very Earth 
 On Which They Lay They Feared; Nor Leaves Nor Straw 
 They Piled For Couches, But Upon The     Ground 
 Unshielded From The     Fates They Laid Their Limbs, 
 Cherished Beneath Whose Warmth In Chill Of     Night 
 The Frozen Pests Found Shelter; In Whose Jaws 
 Harmless The     While, The     Lurking Venom Slept. 
 Nor Did They Know The     Measure Of     Their March 
 Accomplished, Nor Their Path; The     Stars In Heaven 
 Their Only Guide.  "Return, Ye Gods," They Cried, 
 In Frequent Wail, "The Arms From Which We Fled. 
 Give Back Thessalia.  Sworn To Meet The     Sword 
 Why, Lingering, Fall We Thus?  In Caesar's Place 
 The Thirsty Dipsas And The     Horned Snake 
 Now Wage The     Warfare.  Rather Let Us Seek 
 That Region By The     Horses Of     The     Sun 
 Scorched, And The     Zone Most Torrid: Let Us Fall 
 Slain By Some Heavenly Cause, And From The     Sky 
 Descend Our Fate!  Not, Africa, Of     Thee 
 Complain We, Nor Of     Nature.  From Mankind 
 Cut Off, This Quarter, Teeming Thus With Pests 
 She Gave To Snakes, And To The     Barren Fields 
 Denied The     Husbandman, Nor Wished That Men 
 Should Perish By Their Venom.  To The     Realms 
 Of Serpents Have We Come.  Hater Of     Men, 
 Receive Thy Vengeance, Whoso Of     The     Gods 
 Severed This Region Upon Either Hand, 
 With Death In Middle Space.  Our March Is Set 
 Through Thy Sequestered Kingdom, And The     Host 
 Which Knows Thy Secret Seeks The     Furthest World. 
 Perchance Some Greater Wonders On Our Path 
 May Still Await Us; In The     Waves Be Plunged 
 Heaven's Constellations, And The     Lofty Pole 
 Stoop From Its Height.  By Further Space Removed 
 No Land, Than Juba's Realm; By Rumour's Voice 
 Drear, Mournful.  Haply For This Serpent Land 
 There May We Long, Where Yet Some Living Thing 
 Gives Consolation.  Not My Native Land 
 Nor European Fields I Hope For Now 
 Lit By Far Other Suns, Nor Asia's Plains. 
 But In What Land, What Region Of     The     Sky, 
 Where Left We Africa?  But Now With Frosts 
 Cyrene Stiffened: Have We Changed The     Laws 
 Which Rule The     Seasons, In This Little Space? 
 Cast From The     World We Know, 'Neath Other Skies 
 And Stars We Tread; Behind Our Backs The     Home 
 Of Southern Tempests: Rome Herself Perchance 
 Now Lies Beneath Our Feet.  Yet For Our Fates 
 This Solace Pray We, That On This Our Track 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 206 
 Pursuing Caesar With His Host May Come." 
   
   
   
 Thus Was Their Stubborn Patience Of     Its Plaints 
 Disburdened.  But The     Bravery Of     Their Chief 
 Forced Them To Bear Their Toils.  Upon The     Sand, 
 All Bare, He Lies And Dares At Every Hour 
 Fortune To Strike: He Only At The     Fate 
 Of Each Is Present, Flies To Every Call; 
 And Greatest Boon Of     All, Greater Than Life, 
 Brought Strength To Die.  To Groan In Death Was Shame 
 In Such A Presence.  What Power Had All The     Ills 
 Possessed Upon Him?  In Another's Breast 
 He Conquers Misery, Teaching By His Mien 
 That Pain Is Powerless. 
   
   
   
                          Hardly Aid At Length 
 Did Fortune, Wearied Of     Their Perils, Grant. 
 Alone Unharmed Of     All Who Till The     Earth, 
 By Deadly Serpents, Dwells The     Psyllian Race. 
 Potent As Herbs Their Song; Safe Is Their Blood, 
 Nor Gives Admission To The     Poison Germ 
 E'en When The     Chant Has Ceased.  Their Home Itself 
 Placed In Such Venomous Tract And Serpent-Thronged 
 Gained Them This Vantage, And A Truce With Death, 
 Else Could They Not Have Lived.  Such Is Their Trust 
 In Purity Of     Blood, That Newly Born 
 Each Babe They Prove By Test Of     Deadly Asp 
 For Foreign Lineage.  So The     Bird Of     Jove 
 Turns His New Fledglings To The     Rising Sun 
 And Such As Gaze Upon The     Beams Of     Day 
 With Eves Unwavering, For The     Use Of     Heaven 
 He Rears; But Such As Blink At Phoebus' Rays 
 Casts From The     Nest.  Thus Of     Unmixed Descent 
 The Babe Who, Dreading Not The     Serpent Touch, 
 Plays In His Cradle With The     Deadly Snake. 
 Nor With Their Own Immunity From Harm 
 Contented Do They Rest, But Watch For Guests 
 Who Need Their Help Against The     Noisome Plague. 
   
   
   
 Now To The     Roman Standards Are They Come, 
 And When The     Chieftain Bade The     Tents Be Fixed, 
 First All The     Sandy Space Within The     Lines 
 With Song They Purify And Magic Words 
 From Which All Serpents Flee: Next Round The     Camp 
 In Widest Circuit From A Kindled Fire 
 Rise Aromatic Odours: Danewort Burns, 
 And Juice Distils From Syrian Galbanum; 
 Then Tamarisk And Costum, Eastern Herbs, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 207 
 Strong Panacea Mixt With Centaury 
 From Thrace, And Leaves Of     Fennel Feed The     Flames, 
 And Thapsus Brought From Eryx: And They Burn 
 Larch, Southern-Wood And Antlers Of     A Deer 
 Which Lived Afar.  From These In Densest Fumes, 
 Deadly To Snakes, A Pungent Smoke Arose; 
 And Thus In Safety Passed The     Night Away. 
 But Should Some Victim Feel The     Fatal Fang 
 Upon The     March, Then Of     This Magic Race 
 Were Seen The     Wonders, For A Mighty Strife 
 Rose 'Twixt The     Psyllian And The     Poison Germ. 
 First With Saliva They Anoint The     Limbs 
 That Held The     Venomous Juice Within The     Wound; 
 Nor Suffer It To Spread.  From Foaming Mouth 
 Next With Continuous Cadence Would They Pour 
 Unceasing Chants -- Nor Breathing Space Nor Pause -- 
 Else Spreads The     Poison: Nor Does Fate Permit 
 A Moment's Silence.  Oft From The     Black Flesh 
 Flies Forth The     Pest Beneath The     Magic Song: 
 But Should It Linger Nor Obey The     Voice, 
 Repugmant To The     Summons, On The     Wound 
 Prostrate They Lay Their Lips And From The     Depths 
 Now Paling Draw The     Venom.  In Their Mouths, 
 Sucked From The     Freezing Flesh, They Hold The     Death, 
 Then Spew It Forth; And From The     Taste Shall Know 
 The Snake They Conquer. 
   
   
   
                          Aided Thus At Length 
 Wanders The     Roman Host In Better Guise 
 Upon The     Barren Fields In Lengthy March. (30) 
 Twice Veiled The     Moon Her Light And Twice Renewed; 
 Yet Still, With Waning Or With Growing Orb 
 Saw Cato's Steps Upon The     Sandy Waste. 
 But More And More Beneath Their Feet The     Dust 
 Began To Harden, Till The     Libyan Tracts 
 Once More Were Earth, And In The     Distance Rose 
 Some Groves Of     Scanty Foliage, And Huts 
 Of Plastered Straw Unfashioned: And Their Hearts 
 Leaped At The     Prospect Of     A Better Land. 
 How Fled Their Sorrow!  How With Growing Joy 
 They Met The     Savage Lion In The     Path! 
 In Tranquil Leptis First They Found Retreat: 
 And Passed A Winter Free From Heat And Rain. (31) 
   
   
   
 When Caesar Sated With Emathia's Slain 
 Forsook The     Battlefield, All Other Cares 
 Neglected, He Pursued His Kinsman Fled, 
 On Him Alone Intent: By Land His Steps 
 He Traced In Vain; Then, Rumour For His Guide, 
 He Crossed The     Sea And Reached The     Thracian Strait 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 208 
 For Love Renowned; Where On The     Mournful Shore 
 Rose Hero's Tower, And Helle Born Of     Cloud (32) 
 Took From The     Rolling Waves Their Former Name. 
 Nowhere With Shorter Space The     Sea Divides 
 Europe From Asia; Though Pontus Parts 
 By Scant Division From Byzantium's Hold 
 Chalcedon Oyster-Rich: And Small The     Strait 
 Through Which Propontis Pours The     Euxine Wave. 
 Then Marvelling At Their Ancient Fame, He Seeks 
 Sigeum's Sandy Beach And Simois' Stream, 
 Rhoeteum Noble For Its Grecian Tomb, 
 And All The     Hero's Shades, The     Theme Of     Song. 
 Next By The     Town Of     Troy Burnt Down Of     Old 
 Now But A Memorable Name, He Turns 
 His Steps, And Searches For The     Mighty Stones 
 Relics Of     Phoebus' Wall.  But Bare With Age 
 Forests Of     Trees And Hollow Mouldering Trunks 
 Pressed Down Assaracus' Palace, And With Roots 
 Wearied, Possessed The     Temples Of     The     Gods. 
 All Pergamus With Densest Brake Was Veiled 
 And Even Her Stones Were Perished.  He Beheld 
 Thy Rock, Hesione; The     Hidden Grove, 
 Anchises' Nuptial Chamber; And The     Cave 
 Where Sat The     Arbiter; The     Spot From Which 
 Was Snatched The     Beauteous Youth; The     Mountain Lawn 
 Where Played Oenone.  Not A Stone But Told 
 The Story Of     The     Past.  A Little Stream 
 Scarce Trickling Through The     Arid Plain He Passed, 
 Nor Knew 'Twas Xanthus: Deep In Grass He Placed, 
 Careless, His Footstep; But The     Herdsman Cried 
 "Thou Tread'st The     Dust Of     Hector."  Stones Confused 
 Lay At His Feet In Sacred Shape No More: 
 "Look On The     Altar Of     Jove," Thus Spake The     Guide, 
 "God Of     The     Household, Guardian Of     The     Home." 
   
   
   
 O Sacred Task Of     Poets, Toil Supreme, 
 Which Rescuing All Things From Allotted Fate 
 Dost Give Eternity To Mortal Men! 
 Grudge Not The     Glory, Caesar, Of     Such Fame. 
 For If The     Latian Muse May Promise Aught, 
 Long As The     Heroes Of     The     Trojan Time 
 Shall Live Upon The     Page Of     Smyrna's Bard, 
 So Long Shall Future Races Read Of     Thee 
 In This My Poem; And Pharsalia's Song 
 Live Unforgotten In The     Age To Come. 
   
   
   
 When By The     Ancient Grandeur Of     The     Place 
 The Chieftain's Sight Was Filled, Of     Gathered Turf 
 Altars He Raised: And As The     Sacred Flame 
 Cast Forth Its Odours, These Not Idle Vows 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 209 
 Gave To The     Gods, "Ye Deities Of     The     Dead, 
 Who Watch O'er Phrygian Ruins: Ye Who Now 
 Lavinia's Homes Inhabit, And Alba's Height: 
 Gods Of     My Sire Aeneas, In Whose Fanes 
 The Trojan Fire Still Burns: Pledge Of     The     Past 
 Mysterious Pallas, (24) Of     The     Inmost Shrine, 
 Unseen Of     Men!  Here In Your Ancient Seat, 
 Most Famous Offspring Of     Iulus' Race, 
 I Call Upon You And With Pious Hand 
 Burn Frequent Offerings.  To My Emprise 
 Give Prosperous Ending!  Here Shall I Replace 
 The Phrygian Peoples, Here With Glad Return 
 Italia's Sons Shall Build Another Troy, 
 Here Rise A Roman Pergamus." 
   
   
   
                               This Said, 
 He Seeks His Fleet, And Eager To Regain 
 Time Spent At Ilium, To The     Favouring Breeze 
 Spreads All His Canvas.  Past Rich Asia Borne, 
 Rhodes Soon He Left While Foamed The     Sparkling Main 
 Beneath His Keels; Nor Ceased The     Wind To Stretch 
 His Bending Sails, Till On The     Seventh Night 
 The Pharian Beam Proclaimed Egyptian Shores. 
 But Day Arose, And Veiled The     Nightly Lamp 
 Ere Rode His Barks On Waters Safe From Storm. 
 Then Caesar Saw That Tumult Held The     Shore, 
 And Mingled Voices Of     Uncertain Sound 
 Struck On His Ear: And Trusting Not Himself 
 To Doubtful Kingdoms, Of     Uncertain Troth, 
 He Kept His Ships From Land. 
                               But From The     King 
 Came His Vile Minion Forth Upon The     Wave, 
 Bearing His Dreadful Gift, Pompeius' Head, 
 Wrapped In A Covering Of     Pharian Wool. 
 First Took He Speech And Thus In Shameless Words 
 Commends The     Murder: "Conqueror Of     The     World, 
 First Of     The     Roman Race, And, What As Yet 
 Thou Dost Not Know, Safe By Thy Kinsman Slain; 
 This Gift Receive From The     Pellaean King, 
 Sole Trophy Absent From The     Thracian Field, 
 To Crown Thy Toils On Lands And On The     Deep. 
 Here In Thine Absence Have We Placed For Thee 
 An End Upon The     War.  Here Magnus Came 
 To Mend His Fallen Fortunes; On Our Swords 
 Here Met His Death.  With Such A Pledge Of     Faith 
 Here Have We Bought Thee, Caesar; With His Blood 
 Seal We This Treaty.  Take The     Pharian Realm 
 Sought By No Bloodshed, Take The     Rule Of     Nile, 
 Take All That Thou Would'st Give For Magnus' Life: 
 And Hold Him Vassal Worthy Of     Thy Camp 
 To Whom The     Fates Against Thy Son-In-Law 
 Such Power Entrusted; Nor Hold Thou The     Deed 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 210 
 Lightly Accomplished By The     Swordsman's Stroke, 
 And So The     Merit.  Guest Ancestral He 
 Who Was Its Victim; Who, His Sire Expelled, 
 Gave Back To Him The     Sceptre.  For A Deed 
 So Great, Thou'lt Find A Name -- Or Ask The     World. 
 If 'Twas A Crime, Thou Must Confess The     Debt 
 To Us The     Greater, For That From Thy Hand 
 We Took The     Doing." 
   
   
   
                          Then He Held And Showed 
 Unveiled The     Head.  Now Had The     Hand Of     Death 
 Passed With Its Changing Touch Upon The     Face: 
 Nor At First Sight Did Caesar On The     Gift 
 Pass Condemnation; Nor Avert His Gaze, 
 But Dwelt Upon The     Features Till He Knew 
 The Crime Accomplished.  Then When Truth Was Sure 
 The Loving Father Rose, And Tears He Shed 
 Which Flowed At His Command, And Glad In Heart 
 Forced From His Breast A Groan: Thus By The     Flow 
 Of Feigned Tears And Grief He Hoped To Hide 
 His Joy Else Manifest: And The     Ghastly Boon 
 Sent By The     King Disparaging, Professed 
 Rather To Mourn His Son's Dissevered Head, 
 Than Count It For A Debt.  For Thee Alone, 
 Magnus, He Durst Not Fail To Find A Tear: 
 He, Caesar, Who With Mien Unaltered Spurned 
 The Roman Senate, And With Eyes Undimmed 
 Looked On Pharsalia's Field.  O Fate Most Hard! 
 Didst Thou With Impious War Pursue The     Man 
 Whom 'Twas Thy Lot To Mourn?  No Kindred Ties 
 No Memory Of     Thy Daughter And Her Son 
 Touch On Thy Heart.  Didst Think Perchance That Grief 
 Might Help Thy Cause 'Mid Lovers Of     His Name? 
 Or Haply, Moved By Envy Of     The     King, 
 Griev'st That To Other Hands Than Thine Was Given 
 To Shed The     Captive's Life-Blood?  And Complain'st 
 Thy Vengeance Perished And The     Conquered Chief 
 Snatched From Thy Haughty Hand?  Whate'er The     Cause 
 That Urged Thy Grief, 'Twas Far Removed From Love. 
 Was This Forsooth The     Object Of     Thy Toil 
 O'er Lands And Oceans, That Without Thy Ken 
 He Should Not Perish?  Nay! But Well Was Reft 
 From Thine Arbitrament His Fate.  What Crime 
 Did Cruel Fortune Spare, What Depth Of     Shame 
 To Roman Honour!  Since She Suffered Not, 
 Perfidious Traitor, While Yet Magnus Lived, 
 That Thou Should'st Pity Him! 
   
   
   
                                    Thus By Words He Dared, 
 To Gain Their Credence In His Sembled Grief: 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 211 
 "Hence From My Sight With Thy Detested Gift, 
 Thou Minion, To Thy King.  Worse Does Your Crime 
 Deserve From Caesar Than From Magnus' Hands. 
 The Only Prize That Civil War Affords 
 Thus Have We Lost -- To Bid The     Conquered Live. 
 If But The     Sister Of     This Pharian King 
 Were Not By Him Detested, By The     Head 
 Of Cleopatra Had I Paid This Gift. 
 Such Were The     Fit Return.  Why Did He Draw 
 His Separate Sword, And In The     Toil That's Ours 
 Mingle His Weapons?  In Thessalia's Field 
 Gave We Such Right To The     Pellaean Blade? 
 Magnus As Partner In The     Rule Of     Rome 
 I Had Not Brooked; And Shall I Tolerate 
 Thee, Ptolemaeus?  In Vain With Civil Wars 
 Thus Have We Roused The     Nations, If There Be 
 Now Any Might But Caesar's.  If One Land 
 Yet Owned Two Masters, I Had Turned From Yours 
 The Prows Of     Latium; But Fame Forbids, 
 Lest Men Should Whisper That I Did Not Damn 
 This Deed Of     Blood, But Feared The     Pharian Land. 
 Nor Think Ye To Deceive; Victorious Here 
 I Stand: Else Had My Welcome At Your Hands 
 Been That Of     Magnus; And That Neck Were Mine 
 But For Pharsalia's Chance.  At Greater Risk 
 So Seems It, Than We Dreamed Of, Took We Arms; 
 Exile, And Magnus' Threats, And Rome I Knew, 
 Not Ptolemaeus.  But We Spare The     Boy: 
 Pass By The     Murder.  Let The     Princeling Know 
 We Give No More Than Pardon For His Crime. 
 And Now In Honour Of     The     Mighty Dead, 
 Not Merely That The     Earth May Hide Your Guilt, 
 Lay Ye The     Chieftain's Head Within The     Tomb; 
 With Proper Sepulture Appease His Shade 
 And Place His Scattered Ashes In An Urn. 
 Thus May He Know My Coming, And May Hear 
 Affection's Accents, And My Fond Complaints. 
 Me Sought He Not, But Rather, For His Life, 
 This Pharian Vassal; Snatching From Mankind 
 The Happy Morning Which Had Shown The     World 
 A Peace Between Us.  But My Prayers To Heaven 
 No Favouring Answer Found; That Arms Laid Down 
 In Happy Victory, Magnus, Once Again 
 I Might Embrace Thee, Begging Thee To Grant 
 Thine Ancient Love To Caesar, And Thy Life. 
 Thus For My Labours With A Worthy Prize 
 Content, Thine Equal, Bound In Faithful Peace, 
 I Might Have Brought Thee To Forgive The     Gods 
 For Thy Disaster; Thou Had'st Gained For Me 
 From Rome Forgiveness." 
   
   
   
                          Thus He Spake, But Found 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) Pg 212 
 No Comrade In His Tears; Nor Did The     Host 
 Give Credit To His Grief.  Deep In Their Breasts 
 They Hide Their Groans, And Gaze With Joyful Front 
 (O Famous Freedom!) On The     Deed Of     Blood: 
 And Dare To Laugh When Mighty Caesar Wept. 
   
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) (Endnotes) Pg 213 
 (1)  This Was The     Stoic Theory.  The     Perfect Of     Men Passed After 
      Death Into A Region Between Our Atmosphere And The     Heavens, 
      Where They Remained Until The     Day Of     General Conflagration, 
      (See Book Vii. Line 949), With Their Senses Amplified And 
      Rendered Akin To Divine. 
 (2)  A Promontory In Africa Was So Called, As Well As That In 
      Italy. 
 (3)  Meaning That Her Husband Gave Her This Commission In Order 
      To Prevent Her From Committing Suicide. 
 (4)  See Book Viii., Line 547. 
 (5)  See Line 709. 
 (6)  This Passage Is Described By Lord Macaulay As "A Pure Gem Of 
      Rhetoric Without One Flaw, And, In My Opinion, Not Very Far 
      From Historical Truth" (Trevelyan's "Life And Letters", Vol. 
      I., Page 462.) 
 (7)       "... Clarum Et Venembile Nomen 
           Gentibus, Et Multum Nostrae Quod Profuit Urbi," 
      Quoted By Mr. Burke, And Applied To Lord Chatham, In His 
      Speech On American Taxation. 
 (8)  That Is, Liberty, Which By The     Murder Of     Pompeius They Had 
      Obtained. 
 (9)  Reading "Saepit", Hosius.  The     Passage Seems To Be Corrupt. 
 (10) "Scaly Triton's Winding Shell", (Comus, 878).  He Was 
      Neptune's Son And Trumpeter.  That Pallas Sprang Armed From 
      The     Head Of     Jupiter Is Well Known. 
 (11) Cnaeus. 
 (12) Compare Herodotus, Ii., 16: "For They All Say That The     Earth 
      Is Divided Into Three Parts, Europe, Asia And Libya." (And 
      See Bunbury's "Ancient Geography", I., 145, 146, For A 
      Discussion Of     This Subject.) 
 (13) Citron Tables Were In Much Request At Rome. (Comp. "Paradise 
      Regained", Book Iv., 115; And See Book X., Line 177.) 
 (14) Alluding To The     Shield Of     Mars Which Fell From Heaven On 
      Numa At Sacrifice.  Eleven Others Were Made To Match It 
      ("Dict. Antiq.")  While Horace Speaks Of     Them As Chief 
      Objects Of     A Patriot Roman's Affection ("Odes" Iii., 5, 9), 
      Lucan Discovers For Them A Ridiculous Origin.  They Were In 
      The     Custody Of     The     Priests Of     Mars. (See Book I., 666.) 
 (15) I.E. Where The     Equinoctial Circle Cuts The     Zodiac In Its 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) (Endnotes) Pg 214 
      Centre. -- Haskins. 
 (16) Compare Book Iii., 288. 
 (17) See Book V., 400. 
 (18) 1st.  For His Victories In Sicily And Africa, B.C. 81; 2nd. 
      For The     Conquest Of     Sertorius, B.C. 71; 3rd. For His Eastern 
      Triumphs, B.C. 61.  (Compare Book Ii., 684, &C.) 
 (19) Over Whom Marius Triumphed. 
 (20) Phoreus And Ceto Were The     Parents Of     The     Gorgons -- Stheno, 
      Euryale. And Medusa, Of     Whom The     Latter Alone Was Mortal, 
      (Hesiod. "Theogony", 276.)  Phorcus Was A Son Of     Pontus And 
      Gaia (Sea And Land), Ibid, 287. 
 (21) The     Scimitar Lent By Hermes (Or Mercury) To Perseus For The 
      Purpose; With Which Had Been Slain Argus The     Guardian Of     Io 
      (Conf. "Prometheus Vinctus", 579.)  Hermes Was Born In A 
      Cave In Mount Cyllene In Arcadia. 
 (22) The     Idea Seems To Be That The     Earth, Bulging At The     Equator, 
      Casts Its Shadow Highest On The     Sky: And That The     Moon 
      Becomes Eclipsed By It Whenever She Follows A Straight Path 
      Instead Of     An Oblique One, Which May Happen From Her 
      Forgetfulness (Mr. Haskins' Note). 
 (23) This Catalogue Of     Snakes Is Alluded To In Dante's "Inferno", 
      24. 
           "I Saw A Crowd Within 
           Of     Serpents Terrible, So Strange Of     Shape 
           And Hideous That Remembrance In My Veins 
           Yet Shrinks The     Vital Current.  Of     Her Sands 
           Let Libya Vaunt No More: If Jaculus, 
           Pareas, And Chelyder Be Her Brood, 
           Cenchris And Amphisbaena, Plagues So Dire 
           Or In Such Numbers Swarming Ne'er She Showed." 
                -- Carey. 
           (See Also Milton's "Paradise Lost", Book X., 520-530.) 
 (24) The     Egyptian Thebes. 
 (25)                "... All My Being 
           Like Him Whom The     Numidian Seps Did Thaw 
           Into A Dew With Poison, Is Dissolved, 
           Sinking Through Its Foundations." 
                --Shelley, "Prometheus Unbound", Act Iii, Scene 1. 
 (26) The     Glance Of     The     Eye Of     The     Basilisk Or Cockatrice, Was 
      Supposed To Be Deadly. (See "King Richard Iii", Act I., 
      Scene 2: -- 
           Gloucester:    Thine Eyes, Sweet Lady, Have Infected 
                          Mine. 
           Anne:          Would They Were Basilisks, To Strike 
                          Thee Dead!) 
      The     Word Is Also Used For A Big Cannon. ("1 King Henry Iv", 
      Act Ii., Scene 3.) 
 (27) See Book Iii., 706. 
 (28) According To One Story Orion, For His Assault On Diana, Was 
      Killed By The     Scorpion, Who Received His Reward By Being 
      Made Into A Constellation. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 9 (Cato ) (Endnotes) Pg 215 
      Made Into A Constellation. 
 (29) A Sort Of     Venomous Ant. 
 (30) No Other Author Gives Any Details Of     This March; And Those 
      Given By Lucan Are Unreliable.  The     Temple Of     Hammon Is Far 
      From Any Possible Line Of     Route Taken From The     Lesser Syrtes 
      To Leptis.  Dean Merivale States That The     Inhospitable Sands 
      Extended For Seven Days' Journey, And Ranks The     March As One 
      Of     The     Greatest Exploits In Roman Military History. 
      Described By The     Names Known To Modern Geography, It Was 
      From The     Gulf Of     Cabes To Cape Africa.  Pope, In A Letter To 
      Henry Cromwell, Dated November 11, 1710, Makes Some Caustic 
      Remarks On The     Geography Of     This Book. (See "Pope's Works", 
      Vol. Vi., 109; By Elwin & Courthope.) 
 (31) See Line 444. 
 (32) See Book Iv., 65. 
 (33) The     "Palladium" Or Image Of     Pallas, Preserved In The     Temple 
      Of     Vesta. (See Book I., 659.) 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10 ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 216 
 When Caesar, Following Those Who Bore The     Head, 
 First Trod The     Shore Accursed, With Egypt's Fates 
 His Fortunes Battled, Whether Rome Should Pass 
 In Crimson Conquest O'er The     Guilty Land, 
 Or Memphis' Arms Should Ravish From The     World 
 Victor And Vanquished: And The     Warning Shade 
 Of Magnus Saved His Kinsman From The     Sword. 
   
   
   
 First, By The     Crime Assured, His Standards Borne 
 Before, He Marched Upon The     Pharian Town; 
 But When The     People, Jealous Of     Their Laws, 
 Murmured Against The     Fasces, Caesar Knew 
 Their Minds Were Adverse, And That Not For Him 
 Was Magnus' Murder Wrought.  And Yet With Brow 
 Dissembling Fear, Intrepid, Through The     Shrines 
 Of Egypt's Gods He Strode, And Round The     Fane 
 Of Ancient Isis; Bearing Witness All 
 To Macedon's Vigour In The     Days Of     Old. 
 Yet Did Nor Gold Nor Ornament Restrain 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 217 
 His Hasting Steps, Nor Worship Of     The     Gods, 
 Nor City Ramparts: But In Greed Of     Gain 
 He Sought The     Cave Dug Out Amid The     Tombs. (1) 
 The Madman Offspring There Of     Philip Lies 
 The Famed Pellaean Robber, Fortune's Friend, 
 Snatched Off By Fate, Avenging So The     World. 
 In Sacred Sepulchre The     Hero's Limbs, 
 Which Should Be Scattered O'er The     Earth, Repose, 
 Still Spared By Fortune To These Tyrant Days: 
 For In A World To Freedom Once Recalled, 
 All Men Had Mocked The     Dust Of     Him Who Set 
 The Baneful Lesson That So Many Lands 
 Can Serve One Master.  Macedon He Left 
 His Home Obscure; Athena He Despised 
 The Conquest Of     His Sire, And Spurred By Fate 
 Through Asia Rushed With Havoc Of     Mankind, 
 Plunging His Sword Through Peoples; Streams Unknown 
 Ran Red With Persian And With Indian Blood. 
 Curse Of     All Earth And Thunderbolt Of     Ill 
 To Every Nation!  On The     Outer Sea (2) 
 He Launched His Fleet To Sail The     Ocean Wave: 
 Nor Flame Nor Flood Nor Sterile Libyan Sands 
 Stayed Back His Course, Nor Hammon's Pathless Shoals; 
 Far To The     West, Where Downward Slopes The     World 
 He Would Have Led His Armies, And The     Poles 
 Had Compassed, And Had Drunk The     Fount Of     Nile: 
 But Came His Latest Day; Such End Alone 
 Could Nature Place Upon The     Madman King, 
 Who Jealous In Death As When He Won The     World 
 His Empire With Him Took, Nor Left An Heir. 
 Thus Every City To The     Spoiler's Hand 
 Was Victim Made: Yet In His Fall Was His 
 Babylon; And Parthia Feared Him.  Shame On Us 
 That Eastern Nations Dreaded More The     Lance 
 Of Macedon Than Now The     Roman Spear. 
 True That We Rule Beyond Where Takes Its Rise 
 The Burning Southern Breeze, Beyond The     Homes 
 Of Western Winds, And To The     Northern Star; 
 But Towards The     Rising Of     The     Sun, We Yield 
 To Him Who Kept The     Arsacids In Awe; 
 And Puny Pella Held As Province Sure 
 The Parthia Fatal To Our Roman Arms. 
   
   
   
 Now From The     Stream Pelusian Of     The     Nile, 
 Was Come The     Boyish King, Taming The     Rage 
 Of His Effeminate People: Pledge Of     Peace; 
 And Caesar Safely Trod Pellaean Halls; 
 When Cleopatra Bribed Her Guard To Break 
 The Harbour Chains, And Borne In Little Boat 
 Within The     Macedonian Palace Gates, 
 Caesar Unknowing, Entered: Egypt's Shame; 
 Fury Of     Latium; To The     Bane Of     Rome 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 218 
 Unchaste.  For As The     Spartan Queen Of     Yore 
 By Fatal Beauty Argos Urged To Strife 
 And Ilium's Homes, So Cleopatra Roused 
 Italia's Frenzy.  By Her Drum (3) She Called 
 Down On The     Capitol Terror (If To Speak 
 Such Word Be Lawful); Mixed With Roman Arms 
 Coward Canopus, Hoping She Might Lead 
 A Pharian Triumph, Caesar In Her Train; 
 And 'Twas In Doubt Upon Leucadian (4) Waves 
 Whether A Woman, Not Of     Roman Blood, 
 Should Hold The     World In Awe.  Such Lofty Thoughts 
 Seized On Her Soul Upon That Night In Which 
 The Wanton Daughter Of     Pellaean Kings 
 First Shared Our Leaders' Couches.  Who Shall Blame 
 Antonius For The     Madness Of     His Love, 
 When Caesar's Haughty Breast Drew In The     Flame? 
 Who Red With Carnage, 'Mid The     Clash Of     Arms, 
 In Palace Haunted By Pompeius' Shade, 
 Gave Place To Love; And In Adulterous Bed, 
 Magnus Forgotten, From The     Queen Impure, 
 To Julia Gave A Brother: On The     Bounds, 
 Of Furthest Libya Permitting Thus 
 His Foe To Gather: He In Dalliance Base 
 Waited Upon His Mistress, And To Her 
 Pharos Would Give, For Her Would Conquer All. 
   
   
   
 Then Cleopatra, Trusting To Her Charms, 
 Tearless Approached Him, Though In Form Of     Grief; 
 Her Tresses Loose As Though In Sorrow Torn, 
 So Best Becoming Her; And Thus Began: 
 "If, Mighty Caesar, Aught To Noble Birth 
 Be Due, Give Ear.  Of     Lagian Race Am I 
 Offspring Illustrious; From My Father's Throne 
 Cast Forth To Banishment; Unless Thy Hand 
 Restore To Me The     Sceptre: Then A Queen 
 Falls At Thy Feet Embracing.  To Our Race 
 Bright Star Of     Justice Thou!  Nor First Shall I 
 As Woman Rule The     Cities Of     The     Nile; 
 For, Neither Sex Preferring, Pharos Bows 
 To Queenly Governance.  Of     My Parted Sire 
 Read The     Last Words, By Which 'Tis Mine To Share 
 With Equal Rights The     Kingdom And The     Bed. 
 And Loves The     Boy His Sister, Were He Free; 
 But His Affections And His Sword Alike 
 Pothinus Orders.  Nor Wish I Myself 
 To Wield My Father's Power; But This My Prayer: 
 Save From This Foul Disgrace Our Royal House, 
 Bid That The     King Shall Reign, And From The     Court 
 Remove This Hateful Varlet, And His Arms. 
 How Swells His Bosom For That His The     Hand 
 That Shore Pompeius' Head!  And Now He Threats 
 Thee, Caesar, Also; Which The     Fates Avert! 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 219 
 'Twas Shame Enough Upon The     Earth And Thee 
 That Of     Pothinus Magnus Should Have Been 
 The Guilt Or Merit." 
   
   
   
                          Caesar's Ears In Vain 
 Had She Implored, But Aided By Her Charms 
 The Wanton's Prayers Prevailed, And By A Night 
 Of Shame Ineffable, Passed With Her Judge, 
 She Won His Favour. 
   
   
   
                          When Between The     Pair (5) 
 Caesar Had Made A Peace, By Costliest Gifts 
 Purchased, A Banquet Of     Such Glad Event 
 Made Fit Memorial; And With Pomp The     Queen 
 Displayed Her Luxuries, As Yet Unknown 
 To Roman Fashions.  First Uprose The     Hall 
 Like To A Fane Which This Corrupted Age 
 Could Scarcely Rear: The     Lofty Ceiling Shone 
 With Richest Tracery, The     Beams Were Bound 
 In Golden Coverings; No Scant Veneer 
 Lay On Its Walls, But Built In Solid Blocks 
 Of Marble, Gleamed The     Palace.  Agate Stood 
 In Sturdy Columns, Bearing Up The     Roof; 
 Onyx And Porphyry On The     Spacious Floor 
 Were Trodden 'Neath The     Foot; The     Mighty Gates 
 Of Maroe's Throughout Were Formed, 
 He Mere Adornment; Ivory Clothed The     Hall, 
 And Fixed Upon The     Doors With Labour Rare 
 Shells Of     The     Tortoise Gleamed, From Indian Seas, 
 With Frequent Emeralds Studded.  Gems Of     Price 
 And Yellow Jasper On The     Couches Shone. 
 Lustrous The     Coverlets; The     Major Part 
 Dipped More Than Once Within The     Vats Of     Tyre 
 Had Drunk Their Juice: Part Feathered As With Gold; 
 Part Crimson Dyed, In Manner As Are Passed 
 Through Pharian Leash The     Threads.  There Waited Slaves 
 In Number As A People, Some In Ranks 
 By Different Blood Distinguished, Some By Age; 
 This Band With Libyan, That With Auburn Hair 
 Red So That Caesar On The     Banks Of     Rhine 
 None Such Had Witnessed; Some With Features Scorched 
 By Torrid Suns, Their Locks In Twisted Coils 
 Drawn From Their Foreheads.  Eunuchs Too Were There, 
 Unhappy Race; And On The     Other Side 
 Men Of     Full Age Whose Cheeks With Growth Of     Hair 
 Were Hardly Darkened. 
   
   
   
                          Upon Either Hand 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 220 
 Lay Kings, And Caesar In The     Midst Supreme. 
 There In Her Fatal Beauty Lay The     Queen 
 Thick Daubed With Unguents, Nor With Throne Content 
 Nor With Her Brother Spouse; Laden She Lay 
 On Neck And Hair With All The     Red Sea Spoils, 
 And Faint Beneath The     Weight Of     Gems And Gold. 
 Her Snowy Breast Shone Through Sidonian Lawn 
 Which Woven Close By Shuttles Of     The     East 
 The Art Of     Nile Had Loosened.  Ivory Feet 
 Bore Citron Tables Brought From Woods That Wave (6) 
 On Atlas, Such As Caesar Never Saw 
 When Juba Was His Captive.  Blind In Soul 
 By Madness Of     Ambition, Thus To Fire 
 By Such Profusion Of     Her Wealth, The     Mind 
 Of Caesar Armed, Her Guest In Civil War! 
 Not Though He Aimed With Pitiless Hand To Grasp 
 The Riches Of     A World; Not Though Were Here 
 Those Ancient Leaders Of     The     Simple Age, 
 Fabricius Or Curius Stern Of     Soul, 
 Or He Who, Consul, Left In Sordid Garb 
 His Tuscan Plough, Could All Their Several Hopes 
 Have Risen To Such Spoil.  On Plates Of     Gold 
 They Piled The     Banquet Sought In Earth And Air 
 And From The     Deepest Seas And Nilus' Waves, 
 Through All The     World; In Craving For Display, 
 No Hunger Urging.  Frequent Birds And Beasts, 
 Egypt's High Gods, They Placed Upon The     Board: 
 In Crystal Goblets Water Of     The     Nile 
 They Handed, And In Massive Cups Of     Price 
 Was Poured The     Wine; No Juice Of     Mareot Grape (7) 
 But Noble Vintage Of     Falernian Growth 
 Which In Few Years In Meroe's Vats Had Foamed, 
 (For Such The     Clime) To Ripeness.  On Their Brows 
 Chaplets Were Placed Of     Roses Ever Young 
 With Glistening Nard Entwined; And In Their Locks 
 Was Cinnamon Infused, Not Yet In Air 
 Its Fragrance Perished, Nor In Foreign Climes; 
 And Rich Amomum From The     Neighbouring Fields. 
 Thus Caesar Learned The     Booty Of     A World 
 To Lavish, And His Breast Was Shamed Of     War 
 Waged With His Son-In-Law For Meagre Spoil, 
 And With The     Pharian Realm He Longed To Find 
 A Cause Of     Battle. 
   
   
   
                     When Of     Wine And Feast 
 They Wearied And Their Pleasure Found An End, 
 Caesar Drew Out In Colloquy The     Night 
 Thus With Achoreus, On The     Highest Couch 
 With Linen Ephod As A Priest Begirt: 
 "O Thou Devoted To All Sacred Rites, 
 Loved By The     Gods, As Proves Thy Length Of     Days, 
 Tell, If Thou Wilt, Whence Sprang The     Pharian Race; 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 221 
 How Lie Their Lands, The     Manners Of     Their Tribes, 
 The Form And Worship Of     Their Deities. 
 Expound The     Sculptures On Your Ancient Fanes: 
 Reveal Your Gods If Willing To Be Known: 
 If To Th' Athenian Sage Your Fathers Taught 
 Their Mysteries, Who Worthier Than I 
 To Bear In Trust The     Secrets Of     The     World? 
 True, By The     Rumour Of     My Kinsman's Flight 
 Here Was I Drawn; Yet Also By Your Fame: 
 And Even In The     Midst Of     War's Alarms 
 The Stars And Heavenly Spaces Have I Conned; 
 Nor Shall Eudoxus' Year (8) Excel Mine Own. 
 But Though Such Ardour Burns Within My Breast, 
 Such Zeal To Know The     Truth, Yet My Chief Wish 
 To Learn The     Source Of     Your Mysterious Flood 
 Through Ages Hidden: Give Me Certain Hope 
 To See The     Fount Of     Nile -- And Civil War 
 Then Shall I Leave." 
   
   
   
                          He Spake, And Then The     Priest: 
 "The Secrets, Caesar, Of     Our Mighty Sires (9) 
 Kept From The     Common People Until Now 
 I Hold It Right To Utter.  Some May Deem 
 That Silence On These Wonders Of     The     Earth 
 Were Greater Piety.  But To The     Gods 
 I Hold It Grateful That Their Handiwork 
 And Sacred Edicts Should Be Known To Men. 
   
   
   
 "A Different Power By The     Primal Law, 
 Each Star Possesses: (10) These Alone Control 
 The Movement Of     The     Sky, With Adverse Force 
 Opposing: While The     Sun Divides The     Year, 
 And Day From Night, And By His Potent Rays 
 Forbids The     Stars To Pass Their Stated Course. 
 The Moon By Her Alternate Phases Sets 
 The Varying Limits Of     The     Sea And Shore. 
 'Neath Saturn's Sway The     Zone Of     Ice And Snow 
 Has Passed; While Mars In Lightning's Fitful Flames 
 And Winds Abounds' Beneath High Jupiter 
 Unvexed By Storms Abides A Temperate Air; 
 And Fruitful Venus' Star Contains The     Seeds 
 Of All Things.  Ruler Of     The     Boundless Deep 
 The God (11) Cyllenian: Whene'er He Holds 
 That Part Of     Heaven Where The     Lion Dwells 
 With Neighbouring Cancer Joined, And Sirius Star 
 Flames In Its Fury; Where The     Circular Path 
 (Which Marks The     Changes Of     The     Varying Year) 
 Gives To Hot Cancer And To Capricorn 
 Their Several Stations, Under Which Doth Lie 
 The Fount Of     Nile, He, Master Of     The     Waves, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 222 
 Strikes With His Beam The     Waters.  Forth The     Stream 
 Brims From His Fount, As Ocean When The     Moon 
 Commands An Increase; Nor Shall Curb His Flow 
 Till Night Wins Back Her Losses From The     Sun. (12) 
   
   
   
 "Vain Is The     Ancient Faith That Ethiop Snows (13) 
 Send Nile Abundant Forth Upon The     Lands. 
 Those Mountains Know Nor Northern Wind Nor Star. 
 Of This Are Proof The     Breezes Of     The     South, 
 Fraught With Warm Vapours, And The     People's Hue 
 Burned Dark By Suns: And 'Tis In Time Of     Spring, 
 When First Are Thawed The     Snows, That Ice-Fed Streams 
 In Swollen Torrents Tumble; But The     Nile 
 Nor Lifts His Wave Before The     Dog Star Burns; 
 Nor Seeks Again His Banks, Until The     Sun 
 In Equal Balance Measures Night And Day. 
 Nor Are The     Laws That Govern Other Streams 
 Obeyed By Nile.  For In The     Wintry Year 
 Were He In Flood, When Distant Far The     Sun, 
 His Waters Lacked Their Office; But He Leaves 
 His Channel When The     Summer Is At Height, 
 Tempering The     Torrid Heat Of     Egypt's Clime. 
 Such Is The     Task Of     Nile; Thus In The     World 
 He Finds His Purpose, Lest Exceeding Heat 
 Consume The     Lands: And Rising Thus To Meet 
 Enkindled Lion, To Syene's Prayers 
 By Cancer Burnt Gives Ear; Nor Curbs His Wave 
 Till The     Slant Sun And Meroe's Lengthening Shades 
 Proclaim The     Autumn.  Who Shall Give The     Cause? 
 'Twas Parent Nature's Self Which Gave Command 
 Thus For The     Needs Of     Earth Should Flow The     Nile. 
   
   
   
 "Vain Too The     Fable That The     Western Winds (14) 
 Control His Current, In Continuous Course 
 At Stated Seasons Governing The     Air; 
 Or Hurrying From Occident To South 
 Clouds Without Number Which In Misty Folds 
 Press On The     Waters; Or By Constant Blast, 
 Forcing His Current Back Whose Several Mouths 
 Burst On The     Sea; -- So, Forced By Seas And Wind, 
 Men Say, His Billows Pour Upon The     Land. 
 Some Speak Of     Hollow Caverns, Breathing Holes 
 Deep In The     Earth, Within Whose Mighty Jaws 
 Waters In Noiseless Current Underneath 
 From Northern Cold To Southern Climes Are Drawn: 
 And When Hot Meroe Pants Beneath The     Sun, 
 Then, Say They, Ganges Through The     Silent Depths 
 And Padus Pass: And From A Single Fount 
 The Nile Arising Not In Single Streams 
 Pours All The     Rivers Forth.  And Rumour Says 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 223 
 That When The     Sea Which Girdles In The     World (15) 
 O'erflows, Thence Rushes Nile, By Lengthy Course, 
 Softening His Saltness.  More, If It Be True 
 That Ocean Feeds The     Sun And Heavenly Fires, 
 Then Phoebus Journeying By The     Burning Crab 
 Sucks From Its Waters More Than Air Can Hold 
 Upon His Passage -- This The     Cool Of     Night 
 Pours On The     Nile. 
   
   
   
                     "If, Caesar, 'Tis My Part 
 To Judge Such Difference, 'Twould Seem That Since 
 Creation's Age Has Passed, Earth's Veins By Chance 
 Some Waters Hold, And Shaken Cast Them Forth: 
 But Others Took When First The     Globe Was Formed 
 A Sure Abode; By Him Who Framed The     World 
 Fixed With The     Universe. 
   
   
   
                               "And, Roman, Thou, 
 In Thirsting Thus To Know The     Source Of     Nile 
 Dost As The     Pharian And Persian Kings 
 And Those Of     Macedon; Nor Any Age 
 Refused The     Secret, But The     Place Prevailed 
 Remote By Nature.  Greatest Of     The     Kings 
 By Memphis Worshipped, Alexander Grudged (16) 
 To Nile Its Mystery, And To Furthest Earth 
 Sent Chosen Ethiops Whom The     Crimson Zone 
 Stayed In Their Further March, While Flowed His Stream 
 Warm At Their Feet.  Sesostris (17) Westward Far 
 Reached, To The     Ends Of     Earth; And Necks Of     Kings 
 Bent 'Neath His Chariot Yoke: But Of     The     Springs 
 Which Fill Your Rivers, Rhone And Po, He Drank. 
 Not Of     The     Fount Of     Nile.  Cambyses King 
 In Madman Quest Led Forth His Host To Where 
 The Long-Lived Races Dwell: Then Famine Struck, 
 Ate Of     His Dead (17) And, Nile Unknown, Returned. 
 No Lying Rumour Of     Thy Hidden Source 
 Has E'er Made Mention; Wheresoe'er Thou Art 
 Yet Art Thou Sought, Nor Yet Has Nation Claimed 
 In Pride Of     Place Thy River As Its Own. 
 Yet Shall I Tell, So Far As Has The     God, 
 Who Veils Thy Fountain, Given Me To Know. 
 Thy Progress.  Daring To Upraise Thy Banks 
 'Gainst Fiery Cancer's Heat, Thou Tak'st Thy Rise 
 Beneath The     Zenith: Straight Towards The     North 
 And Mid Bootes Flowing; To The     Couch 
 Bending, Or To The     Risings, Of     The     Sun 
 In Sinuous Bends Alternate; Just Alike 
 To Araby's Peoples And To Libyan Sands. 
 By Seres (18) First Beheld, Yet Know They Not 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 224 
   
   
 Whence Art Thou Come; And With No Native Stream 
 Strik'st Thou The     Ethiop Fields.  Nor Knows The     World 
 To Whom It Owes Thee.  Nature Ne'er Revealed 
 Thy Secret Origin, Removed Afar. 
 Nor Did She Wish Thee To Be Seen Of     Men 
 While Still A Tiny Rivulet, But Preferred 
 Their Wonder To Their Knowledge.  Where The     Sun 
 Stays At His Limit, Dost Thou Rise In Flood 
 Untimely; Such Try Right: To Other Lands 
 Bearing Try Winter: And By Both The     Poles 
 Thou Only Wanderest.  Here Men Ask Thy Rise 
 And There Thine Ending.  Meroe Rich In Soil 
 And Tilled By Swarthy Husbandmen Divides 
 Thy Broad Expanse, Rejoicing In The     Leaves 
 Of Groves Of     Ebony, Which Though Spreading Far 
 Their Branching Foliage, By No Breadth Of     Shade 
 Soften The     Summer Sun -- Whose Rays Direct 
 Pass From The     Lion To The     Fervid Earth. (20) 
 Next Dost Thou Journey Onwards Past The     Realm 
 Of Burning Phoebus, And The     Sterile Sands, 
 With Equal Volume; Now With All Thy Strength 
 Gathered In One, And Now In Devious Streams 
 Parting The     Bank That Crumbles At Thy Touch. 
 Then By Our Kingdom's Gates, Where Philae Parts 
 Arabian Peoples From Egyptian Fields 
 The Sluggish Bosom Of     Thy Flood Recalls 
 Try Wandering Currents, Which Through Desert Wastes 
 Flow Gently On To Where The     Merchant Track 
 Divides The     Red Sea Waters From Our Own. 
 Who, Gazing, Nile, Upon Thy Tranquil Flow, 
 Could Picture How In Wild Array Of     Foam 
 (Where Shelves The     Earth) Thy Billows Shall Be Plunged 
 Down The     Steep Cataracts, In Fuming Wrath 
 That Rocks Should Bar The     Passage Of     Thy Stream 
 Free From Its Source?  For Whirled On High The     Spray 
 Aims At The     Stars, And Trembles All The     Air 
 With Rush Of     Waters; And With Sounding Roar 
 The Foaming Mass Down From The     Summit Pours 
 In Hoary Waves Victorious.  Next An Isle 
 In All Our Ancient Lore "Untrodden" Named 
 Stems Firm Thy Torrent; And The     Rocks We Call 
 Springs Of     The     River, For That Here Are Marked 
 The Earliest Tokens Of     The     Coming Flood. 
 With Mountain Shores Now Nature Hems Thee In 
 And Shuts Thy Waves From Libya; In The     Midst 
 Hence Do Thy Waters Run, Till Memphis First 
 Forbids The     Barrier Placed Upon Thy Stream 
 And Gives Thee Access To The     Open Fields." 
   
   
   
 Thus Did They Pass, As Though In Peace Profound, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 225 
 The Nightly Watches.  But Pothinus' Mind, 
 Once With Accursed Butchery Imbued, 
 Was Frenzied Still; Since Great Pompeius Fell 
 No Deed To Him Was Crime; His Rabid Soul 
 Th' Avenging Goddesses And Magnus' Shade 
 Stirred To Fresh Horrors; And A Pharian Hand 
 No Less Was Worthy, As He Deemed, To Shed 
 That Blood Which Fortune Purposed Should Bedew 
 The Conquered Fathers: And The     Fell Revenge 
 Due To The     Senate For The     Civil War 
 This Hireling Almost Snatched.  Avert, Ye Fates, 
 Far Hence The     Shame That Not By Brutus' Hand 
 This Blow Be Struck!  Shall Thus The     Tyrant's Fall 
 Just At Our Hands, Become A Pharian Crime, 
 Reft Of     Example?  To Prepare A Plan 
 (Fated To Fail) He Dares; Nor Veils In Fraud 
 A Plot For Murder, But With Open War 
 Attacks Th' Unconquered Chieftain: From His Crimes 
 He Gained Such Courage As To Send Command 
 To Lop The     Head Of     Caesar, And To Join 
 In Death The     Kinsmen Chiefs. 
   
   
   
                               These Words By Night 
 His Faithful Servants To Achillas Bear, 
 His Foul Associate, Whom The     Boy Had Made 
 Chief Of     His Armies, And Who Ruled Alone 
 O'er Egypt's Land And O'er Himself Her King: 
 "Now Lay Thy Limbs Upon The     Sumptuous Couch 
 And Sleep In Luxury, For The     Queen Hath Seized 
 The Palace; Nor Alone By Her Betrayed, 
 But Caesar's Gift, Is Pharos.  Dost Delay 
 Nor Hasten To The     Chamber Of     Thy Queen? 
 Thou Only?  Married To The     Latian Chief, 
 The Impious Sister Now Her Brother Weds 
 And Hurrying From Rival Spouse To Spouse 
 Hath Egypt Won, And Plays The     Bawd For Rome. 
 By Amorous Potions She Has Won The     Man: 
 Then Trust The     Boy!  Yet Give Him But A Night 
 In Her Enfondling Arms, And Drunk With Love 
 Thy Life And Mine He'll Barter For A Kiss. 
 We For His Sister's Charms By Cross And Flame 
 Shall Pay The     Penalty: Nor Hope Of     Aid; 
 Here Stands Adulterous Caesar, Here The     King 
 Her Spouse: How Hope We From So Stern A Judge 
 To Gain Acquittal?  Shall She Not Condemn 
 Those Who Ne'er Sought Her Favours?  By The     Deed 
 We Dared Together And Lost, By Magnus' Blood 
 Which Wrought The     Bond Between Us, Be Thou Swift 
 With Hasty Tumult To Arouse The     War: 
 Dash In With Nightly Band, And Mar With Death 
 Their Shameless Nuptials: On The     Very Bed 
 With Either Lover Smite The     Ruthless Queen. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 226 
 Nor Let The     Fortunes Of     The     Western Chief 
 Make Pause Our Enterprise.  We Share With Him 
 The Glory Of     His Empire O'er The     World. 
 Pompeius Fallen Makes Us Too Sublime. 
 There Lies The     Shore That Bids Us Hope Success: 
 Ask Of     Our Power From The     Polluted Wave, 
 And Gaze Upon The     Scanty Tomb Which Holds 
 Not All Pompeius' Ashes.  Peer To Him 
 Was He Whom Now Thou Fearest.  Noble Blood 
 True, Is Not Ours: What Boots It?  Nor Are Realms 
 Nor Wealth Of     Peoples Given To Our Command. 
 Yet Have We Risen To A Height Of     Power 
 For Deeds Of     Blood, And Fortune To Our Hands 
 Attracts Her Victims.  Lo!  A Nobler Now 
 Lies In Our Compass, And A Second Death 
 Hesperia Shall Appease; For Caesar's Blood, 
 Shed By These Hands, Shall Give Us This, That Rome 
 Shall Love Us, Guilty Of     Pompeius' Fall. 
 Why Fear These Titles, Why This Chieftain's Strength? 
 For Shorn Of     These, Before Your Swords He Lies 
 A Common Soldier.  To The     Civil War 
 This Night Shall Bring Completion, And Shall Give 
 To Peoples Slain Fit Offerings, And Send 
 That Life The     World Demands Beneath The     Shades. 
 Rise Then In All Your Hardihood And Smite 
 This Caesar Down, And Let The     Roman Youths 
 Strike For Themselves, And Lagos For Its King. 
 Nor Do Thou Tarry: Full Of     Wine And Feast 
 Thou'lt Fall Upon Him In The     Lists Of     Love; 
 Then Dare The     Venture, And The     Heavenly Gods 
 Shall Grant Of     Cato's And Of     Brutus' Prayers 
 To Thee Fulfilment." 
   
   
   
                          Nor Was Achillas Slow 
 To Hear The     Voice That Counselled Him To Crime. 
 No Sounding Clarion Summoned, As Is Wont, 
 His Troops To Arms; Nor Trumpet Blare Betrayed 
 Their Nightly March: But Rapidly He Seized 
 All Needed Instruments Of     Blood And War. 
 Of Latian Race The     Most Part Of     His Train, 
 Yet To Barbarian Customs Were Their Minds 
 By Long Forgetfulness Of     Rome Debased: 
 Else Had It Shamed To Serve The     Pharian King; 
 But Now His Vassal And His Minion's Word 
 Compel Obedience.  Those Who Serve In Camps 
 Lose Faith And Love Of     Kin: Their Pittance Earned (21) 
 Makes Just The     Deed: And For Their Sordid Pay, 
 Not For Themselves, They Threaten Caesar's Life. 
 Where Finds The     Piteous Destiny Of     The     Realm 
 Rome With Herself At Peace?  The     Host Withdrawn 
 From Dread Thessalia Raves On Nilus' Banks 
 As All The     Race Of     Rome.  What More Had Dared, 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10 ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 227 
 With Magnus Welcomed, The     Lagean House? 
 Each Hand Must Render To The     Gods Their Due, 
 Nor Son Of     Rome May Cease From Civil War; 
 By Heaven's Command Our State Was Rent In Twain; 
 Nor Love For Husband Nor Regard For Sire 
 Parted Our Peoples.  'Twas A Slave Who Stirred 
 Afresh The     Conflict, And Achillas Grasped 
 In Turn The     Sword Of     Rome: Nay More, Had Won, 
 Had Not The     Fates Adverse Restrained His Hand 
 From Caesar's Slaughter. 
   
   
   
                               For The     Murderous Pair 
 Ripe For Their Plot Were Met; The     Spacious Hall 
 Still Busied With The     Feast.  So Might Have Flowed 
 Into The     Kingly Cups A Stream Of     Gore, 
 And In Mid Banquet Fallen Caesar's Head. 
 Yet Did They Fear Lest In The     Nightly Strife 
 (The Fates Permitting) Some Incautious Hand -- 
 So Did They Trust The     Sword -- Might Slay The     King. 
 Thus Stayed The     Deed, For In The     Minds Of     Slaves 
 The Chance Of     Doing Caesar To The     Death 
 Might Bear Postponement: When The     Day Arose 
 Then Should He Suffer; And A Night Of     Life 
 Thus By Pothinus Was To Caesar Given. 
   
   
   
 Now From The     Casian Rock Looked Forth The     Sun 
 Flooding The     Land Of     Egypt With A Day 
 Warm From Its Earliest Dawn, When From The     Walls 
 Not Wandering In Disorder Are They Seen, 
 But Drown In Close Array, As Though To Meet 
 A Foe Opposing; Ready To Receive 
 Or Give The     Battle.  Caesar, In The     Town 
 Placing No Trust, Within The     Palace Courts 
 Lay In Ignoble Hiding Place, The     Gates 
 Close Barred: Nor All The     Kingly Rooms Possessed, 
 But In The     Narrowest Portion Of     The     Space 
 He Drew His Band Together.  There In Arms 
 They Stood, With Dread And Fury In Their Souls. 
 He Feared Attack, Indignant At His Fear. 
 Thus Will A Noble Beast In Little Cage 
 Imprisoned, Fume, And Break Upon The     Bars 
 His Teeth In Frenzied Wrath; Nor More Would Rage 
 The Flames Of     Vulcan In Sicilian Depths 
 Should Etna's Top Be Closed.  He Who But Now 
 By Haemus' Mount Against Pompeius Chief, 
 Italia's Leaders And The     Senate Line, 
 His Cause Forbidding Hope, Looked At The     Fates 
 He Knew Were Hostile, With Unfaltering Gaze, 
 Now Fears Before The     Crime Of     Hireling Slaves, 
 And In Mid Palace Trembles At The     Blow: 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 228 
 He Whom Nor Scythian Nor Alaun (22) Had Dared 
 To Violate, Nor The     Moor Who Aims The     Dart 
 Upon His Victim Slain, To Prove His Skill. 
 The Roman World But Now Did Not Suffice 
 To Hold Him, Nor The     Realms From Furthest Ind 
 To Tyrian Gades.  Now, As Puny Boy, 
 Or Woman, Trembling When A Town Is Sacked, 
 Within The     Narrow Corners Of     A House 
 He Seeks For Safety; On The     Portals Closed 
 His Hope Of     Life; And With Uncertain Gait 
 He Treads The     Hails; Yet Not Without The     King; 
 In Purpose, Ptolemaeus, That Thy Life 
 For His Shall Give Atonement; And To Hurl 
 Thy Severed Head Among The     Servant Throng 
 Should Darts And Torches Fail.  So Story Tells 
 The Colchian Princess (23) With Sword In Hand, 
 And With Her Brother's Neck Bared To The     Blow, 
 Waited Her Sire, Avenger Of     His Realm 
 Despoiled, And Of     Her Flight.  In The     Imminent Risk 
 Caesar, In Hopes Of     Peace, An Envoy Sent 
 To The     Fierce Vassals, From Their Absent Lord 
 Bearing A Message, Thus: "At Whose Command 
 Wage Ye The     War?"  But Not The     Laws Which Bind 
 All Nations Upon Earth, Nor Sacred Rights, 
 Availed To Save Or Messenger Of     Peace, 
 Or King's Ambassador; Or Thee From Crime 
 Such As Befitted Thee, Thou Land Of     Nile 
 Fruitful In Monstrous Deeds: Not Juba's Realm 
 Vast Though It Be, Nor Pontus, Nor The     Land 
 Thessalian, Nor The     Arms Of     Pharnaces, 
 Nor Yet The     Tracts Which Chill Iberus Girds, 
 Nor Libyan Coasts Such Wickedness Have Dared, 
 As Thou, With All Thy Luxuries.  Closer Now 
 War Hemmed Them In, And Weapons In The     Courts, 
 Shaking The     Innermost Recesses, Fell. 
 Yet Did No Ram, Fatal With Single Stroke, 
 Assail The     Portal, Nor Machine Of     War; 
 Nor Flame They Called In Aid; But Blind Of     Plan 
 They Wander Purposeless, In Separate Bands 
 Around The     Circuit, Nor At Any Spot 
 With Strength Combined Attempt To Breach The     Wall. 
 The Fates Forbad, And Fortune From Their Hands 
 Held Fast The     Palace As A Battlement. 
 Nor Failed They To Attack From Ships Of     War 
 The Regal Dwelling, Where Its Frontage Bold 
 Made Stand Apart The     Waters Of     The     Deep: 
 There, Too, Was Caesar's All-Protecting Arm; 
 For These At Point Of     Sword, And Those With Fire (24) 
 He Forces Back, And Though Besieged He Dares 
 To Storm Th' Assailants: And As Lay The     Ships 
 Joined Rank To Rank, Bids Drop Upon Their Sides 
 Lamps Drenched With Reeking Tar.  Nor Slow The     Fire 
 To Seize The     Hempen Cables And The     Decks 
 Oozing With Melting Pitch; The     Oarsman's Bench 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10 ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 229 
 All In One Moment, And The     Topmost Yards 
 Burst Into Flame: Half Merged The     Vessels Lay 
 While Swam The     Foemen, All In Arms, The     Wave; 
 Nor Fell The     Blaze Upon The     Ships Alone, 
 But Seized With Writhing Tongues The     Neighbouring Homes, 
 And Fanned To Fury By The     Southern Breeze 
 Tempestuous, It Leaped From Roof To Roof; 
 Not Otherwise Than On Its Heavenly Track, 
 Unfed By Matter, Glides The     Ball Of     Light, 
 By Air Alone Aflame. 
   
   
   
                          This Pest Recalled 
 Some Of     The     Forces To The     City's Aid 
 From The     Besieged Halls.  Nor Caesar Gave 
 To Sleep Its Season; Swifter Than All Else 
 To Seize The     Crucial Moment Of     The     War. 
 Quick In The     Darkest Watches Of     The     Night 
 He Leaped Upon His Ships, And Pharos (25) Seized, 
 Gate Of     The     Main; An Island In The     Days 
 Of Proteus Seer, Now Bordering The     Walls 
 Of Alexander's City.  Thus He Gained 
 A Double Vantage, For His Foes Were Pent 
 Within The     Narrow Entrance, Which For Him 
 And For His Aids Gave Access To The     Sea. 
   
   
   
 Nor Longer Was Pothinus' Doom Delayed, 
 Yet Not With Cross Or Flame, Nor With The     Wrath 
 His Crime Demanded; Nor By Savage Beasts 
 Torn, Did He Suffer; But By Magnus' Death, 
 Alas The     Shame!  He Fell; His Head By Sword 
 Hacked From His Shoulders.  Next By Frauds Prepared 
 By Ganymede Her Base Attendant, Fled 
 Arsinoe (26) From The     Court To Caesar's Foes; 
 There In The     Absence Of     The     King She Ruled 
 As Of     Lagean Blood: There At Her Hands, 
 The Savage Minion Of     The     Tyrant Boy, 
 Achillas, Fell By Just Avenging Sword. 
 Thus Did Another Victim To Thy Shade 
 Atone, Pompeius; But The     Gods Forbid 
 That This Be All Thy Vengeance!  Not The     King 
 Nor All The     Stock Of     Lagos For Thy Death 
 Would Make Fit Sacrifice!  So Fortune Deemed; 
 And Not Till Patriot Swords Shall Drink The     Blood 
 Of Caesar, Magnus, Shalt Thou Be Appeased. 
 Still, Though Was Slain The     Author Of     The     Strife, 
 Sank Not Their Rage: With Ganymede For Chief 
 Again They Rush To Arms; In Deeds Of     Fight 
 Again They Conquer.  So Might That One Day 
 Have Witnessed Caesar's Fate; So Might Its Fame 
 Have Lived Through Ages. 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) Pg 230 
   
                               As The     Roman Chief, 
 Crushed On The     Narrow Surface Of     The     Mole, 
 Prepared To Throw His Troops Upon The     Ships, 
 Sudden Upon Him The     Surrounding Foes 
 With All Their Terrors Came.  In Dense Array 
 Their Navy Lined The     Shores, While On The     Rear 
 The Footmen Ceaseless Charged.  No Hope Was Left, 
 For Flight Was Not, Nor Could The     Brave Man's Arm 
 Achieve Or Safety Or A Glorious Death. 
 Not Now Were Needed For Great Caesar's Fall, 
 Caught In The     Toils Of     Nature, Routed Host 
 Or Mighty Heaps Of     Slain: His Only Doubt 
 To Fear Or Hope For Death: While On His Brain 
 Brave Scaeva's Image Flashed, Now Vainly Sought, 
 Who On The     Wall By Epidamnus' Fields 
 Earned Fame Immortal, And With Single Arm 
 Drove Back Pompeius As He Trod The     Breach.... 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) (Endnotes) Pg 231 
 (1)  The     Body Of     Alexander Was Embalmed, And The     Mummy Placed In 
      A Glass Case.  The     Sarcophagus Which Enclosed Them Is Stated 
      To Be Now In The     British Museum. 
 (2)  See Book Iii., 268. 
 (3)  The     Kettledrum Used In The     Worship Of     Isis.  (See Book Viii, 
      Line 974.) 
 (4)  At The     Battle Of     Actium.  The     Island Of     Leucas, Close To The 
      Promontory Of     Actium, Is Always Named By Lucan When He 
      Refers To This Battle. (See Also Virgil, "Aeneid", Viii., 
      677.) 
 (5)  Between Cleopatra And Her Brother. 
 (6)  See Book Ix., 507. 
 (7)  Yet The     Mareot Grape Was Greatly Celebrated. (See Professor 
      Rawlinson's Note To Herodotus. Ii., 18.) 
 (8)  The     Calendar Introduced By Caesar, In B.C. 45, Was Founded 
      On The     Egyptian Or Solar Year.  (See Herodotus, Ii., 4.) 
      Eudoxus Seems To Have Dealt With This Year And To Have 
      Corrected It.  He Is Probably Alluded To By Virgil, 
      "Eclogue" Iii., 41. 
 (9)  Herodotus Was Less Fortunate.  For He Says "Concerning The 
      Nature Of     The     River I Was Not Able To Gain Any Information 
      Either From The     Priests Or Others." (Ii., 19.) 
 (10) It Was Supposed That The     Sun And Moon And The     Planets 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) (Endnotes) Pg 232 
      (Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, And Venus) Were Points 
      Which Restrained The     Motion Of     The     Sky In Its Revolution. 
      (See Book Vi., 576.) 
 (11) Mercury. (See Book Ix., 777.) 
 (12) That Is, At The     Autumnal Equinox.  The     Priest States That 
      The     Planet Mercury Causes The     Rise Of     The     Nile.  The     Passage 
      Is Difficult To Follow; But The     Idea Would Seem To Be That 
      This God, Who Controlled The     Rise And Fall Of     The     Waves Of 
      The     Sea, Also When He Was Placed Directly Over The     Nile 
      Caused The     Rise Of     That River. 
 (13) So Also Herodotus, Book Ii., 22.  Yet Modern Discoveries 
      Have Proved The     Snows. 
 (14) So, Too, Herodotus, Book Ii., 20, Who Attributes The     Theory 
      To Greeks Who Wish To Get A Reputation For Cleverness. 
 (15) See On Book V., 709.  Herodotus Mentions This Theory Also, 
      To Dismiss It. 
 (16) The     Historians State That Alexander Made An Expedition To 
      The     Temple Of     Jupiter Hammon And Consulted The     Oracle. 
      Jupiter Assisted His March, And An Army Of     Crows Pointed Out 
      The     Path (Plutarch).  It Is, However Stated, In A Note In 
      Langhorne's Edition, That Maximus Tyrius Informs Us That The 
      Object Of     The     Journey Was The     Discovery Of     The     Sources Of 
      The     Nile. 
 (17) Sesostris, The     Great King, Does Not Appear To Have Pushed 
      His Conquests To The     West Of     Europe. 
 (18) See Herodotus, Iii., 17.  These Ethiopian Races Were 
      Supposed To Live To The     Age Of     120 Years, Drinking Milk, And 
      Eating Boiled Flesh.  On Cambyses's March His Starving 
      Troops Cast Lots By Tens For The     One Man Who Was To Be 
      Eaten. 
 (19) The     Seres Are, Of     Course, The     Chinese.  The     Ancients Seem To 
      Have Thought That The     Nile Came From The     East.  But It Is 
      Possible That There Was Another Tribe Of     This Name Dwelling 
      In Africa. 
 (20) A Passage Of     Difficulty.  I Understand It To Mean That At 
      This Spot The     Summer Sun (In Leo) Strikes The     Earth With 
      Direct Rays. 
 (21) Reading "Ibi Fas Ubi Proxima Merees", With Hosius. 
 (22) See Book Viii., 253. 
 (23) Medea, Who Fled From Colchis With Her Brother, Absyrtus. 
      Pursued By Her Father Aeetes, She Killed Her Brother And 
      Strewed The     Parts Of     His Body Into The     Sea.  The     King Paused 
      To Collect Them. 
 (24) It Was In This Conflagration That A Large Part Of     The 
      Library Of     The     Ptolemies Was Destroyed.  400,000 Volumes Are 
      Stated To Have Perished. 
 (25) The     Island Of     Pharos, Which Lay Over Against The     Port Of 
      Alexandria, Had Been Connected With The     Mainland In The 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10 Book 10  ( Caesar In Egypt) (Endnotes) Pg 233 
      Middle By A Narrow Causeway.  On It Stood The     Lighthouse. 
      (See Book Ix, 1191.)  Proteus, The     Old Man Of     The     Sea, Kept 
      Here His Flock Of     Seals, According To The     Homeric Story. 
      ("Odyssey", Book Iv, 400.) 
 (26) Younger Sister Of     Cleopatra. 
   
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10  Preparer's Notes Pg 234 
 Lucan's "Pharsalia" (Or, "Civil War", As Many Scholars Now Prefer 
 To Call It) Was Written Approximately A Century After The     Events 
 It Chronicles Took Place. 
   
   
   
 Lucan Was Born Into A Prominent Roman Family (Seneca The     Elder 
 Was His Grandfather, And Seneca The     Younger His Uncle), And Seems 
 To Have Befriended The     Young Emperor Nero At An Early Age.  He 
 Was For Several Years A Poet Of     Some Prominence In The     Emperor's 
 Court, And It Is During This Period That The     "Civil 
 War"/"Pharsalia" Was Probably Begun.  However, Nero And Lucan's 
 Friendship Evidently Soured, And In A.D. 65 Lucan Joined 
 Calpurnius Piso's Conspiracy To Overthrow Nero.  When The 
 Conspiracy Was Discovered, Lucan Was Given The     Option Of     Suicide 
 Or Death; He Chose Suicide, And Recited Several Lines Of     His 
 Poetry While He Died (Possibly Book Iii, L. 700-712). 
   
   
   
 Lucan's "Pharsalia" Was Left (Probably) Unfinished Upon His 
 Death, Coincidentally Breaking Off At Almost The     Exact Same Point 
 Where Julius Caesar Broke Off In His Commentary "On The     Civil 
 War".  Ten Books Are Extant; No One Knows How Many More Lucan 
 Planned, But Two To Six More Books (Possibly Taking The     Story As 
 Far As Caesar's Assassination In B.C. 46) Seem A Reasonable 
 Estimate. 
   
   
   
 It Should Be Noted That, As History, Lucan's Work Is Far From 
 Being Scrupulously Accurate, Frequently Ignoring Historical Fact 
 For The     Benefit Of     Drama And Rhetoric.  For This Reason, It 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10  Preparer's Notes Pg 235 
 Should Not Be Read As A Reliable Account Of     The     Roman Civil War. 
 However, As A Work Of     Poetic Literature, It Has Few Rivals; Its 
 Powerful Depiction Of     Civil War And Its Consequences Have Haunted 
 Readers For Centuries, And Prompted Many Medieval And Renaissance 
 Poets To Regard Lucan Among The     Ranks Of     Homer, Virgil, And Ovid. 
   
   
   
 ---Dbk 
   
   
   
   
 Selected Bibliography: 
   
   
   
 Original Text -- 
   
   
   
 Duff, J.D.: "Lucan: The     Civil War" (Loeb Classics Library, 
 London, 1928).  Latin Text With English Translation. 
   
   
   
   
 Other Translations -- 
   
   
   
 Braund, Susan H.: "Lucan: Civil War" (Oxford University Press, 
 Oxford, 1992).  Note: Highly Recommended Translation! 
   
   
   
   
 Recommended Reading -- 
   
   
   
 Fuller, J.F.C.: "Julius Caesar -- Man, Soldier, And Tyrant" 
 (Dacapo Press, New York, 1965) 
   
   
   
 Gardner, Jane F. (Trans.): "Caesar: The     Civil War" (Penguin 
 Classics, London, 1967).  Also Contains "The Alexandrian War", 
 "The African War", And "The Spanish War", All Anonymous. 
   
   
   
 Getzer, Matthias: "Caesar, Politician And Statesman" (Harvard 
 University Press, Cambridge Ma, 1968). 
 
 
 
 Book Name (Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes Of The Civil Wars ) Part 10  Preparer's Notes Pg 236 
 Holmes, T. Rice: "The Roman Republic" (Oxford University Press, 
 Oxford, 1923).  3 Volumes. 
 
 
 Publication Date: June 14th 2014 https://www.bookrix.com/-whdbd538e463635