Your search returned 4 results in 4 document
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 2, line 526 (search)
refer to rank
' With Marius and Cinna? Swift shall be
' Thy fall: as Lepidus before the sword
' Of Catulus; or who my axes felt,
' Carbo,In B.C. 77, after the death of Sulla. Carbo had been defeated by Pompeius in 81 B.C., on 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. 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 hadst 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
' Still vigorously flings the
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 5, line 237 (search)
n, he knows that swords unsheathed
Are wielded by the soldier, not the chief.
No timorous voice was there; no silent wrath
Concealed; nor doubting mind, as though alone
Indignant at the wrong, and in distrust
Of those in turn distrusting. Fear in each
Had fled before the boldness of the host:
The crime is free where thousands bear the guilt.
They hurled their menace: 'Caesar, give us leave
'To quit thy crimes; thou seek'st by land and sea
'The sword to slay us; let the fields of 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?
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 6, line 263 (search)
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, O Rome, hadst 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 Juba and Petreius killed each other after the battle of Thapsus, to avoid falling into Caesar's hands. See Book IV., line 5. lain unburied on the sands,
Nor Scipio with his blood outpoured appeased
The ghosts of Carthage; this had been thy last
Disaster, Rome; nor had the blameless life
Of Cato ended: and Pharsalia's name
Had so been blot
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 7, line 214 (search)
d: 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.
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 p