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M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley) 4 0 Browse Search
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M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 10, line 332 (search)
r 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. No 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,
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 10, line 434 (search)
the shame! he fell; his head by sword Hacked from his shoulders. Next by frauds prepared By Ganymede her base attendant, fled ArsinoeYounger sister of Cleopatra. 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. As the Roman Chief, Crushed on the narrow surface of the mole, Prepared to throw his troops