M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia
Sir Edward Ridley, Ed.

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 fulfilment. There on Magnus' side
Afranius and Petreius¹ 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, Ilerda³ 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
Attacked, through shame of strife; one bloodless day
They gave their country and her broken laws.
But Caesar, when from heaven fell the night,
Drew round a hasty trench; his foremost rank
With close array concealing those who wrought.
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 land,⁴ there nearer to the sky
That whelms the stars, was hard and arid grown
By suns of winter. But when Titan neared
The Ram, who, backward gazing on the stars,
Bore perished Helle,⁵ and the hours were held
In balance, and the days again prevailed,
The earliest faded moon which in the vault
Hung with uncertain horn, from eastern wind
Received a fiery radiance; whose blast
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 Caurus⁶ 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 belt⁷ 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
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 the snows which Titan never yet
Could melt were thawed: the Pyrenaean rocks
Are wet with flowing ice; accustomed springs
Find not discharge; and from the very banks
Each stream receives 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; rivers in one vast sea
Of whirlpools overwhelmed; beasts borne away
And sucked beneath the stream; their rocky dens
Sweep onwards; and the torrent's raging force
Bears back the inflowing ocean. Nor does night
Acknowledge Phoebus' rise, for all the sky
Feels her dominion and obscures its face,
And darkness joins 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 ⁸ the stars which in the middle zone
Kindle their flames. Thus, Father of the world,
And thou, O 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
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, bears the weight of man
And swims the torrent. Thus on sluggish Po
Venetians float; and on th' encircling sea ⁹
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 place 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, seeing that all things gave way
To Caesar's destiny, leaves Ilerda's steep,
His trust no longer in the Roman world;
And seeks for strength amid those distant tribes,
Who, loving death, rush in upon the foe,¹⁰
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 cries:
' No bridge nor ford; but stem with brawny arms
' The foaming river.' Rushing to the fray
They dare the torrent they had feared in flight.
Their arms regained, they race until the blood
Throbs in their veins anew, and their wet limbs
Are warm again. At length the shadows fall
Short on the sward, and day is at the height.
Then dash the horsemen on, and hold the foe
'Twixt flight and battle. In the plain arose
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 cries, ' and meet their flight in front;
'Fierce be your frown and battle in your glance:
' No coward's death be theirs; but as they flee
'Plunge in their breasts the sword.' They seize the 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.¹¹
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 leap
The hostile rampart; every hand outstretched
Embraces hand of foeman, palm in palm;
One calls by name his neighbour, 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 Love
Who sway'st the universe, whose firm embrace
Binds the compacted fabric of the world;
Come, gentle Concord! these our times ¹² 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
They place the meal, and pour the mingled cup;
Bright glows the turf upon the friendly fire;
On mutual couch with stories of their fights,
They while the sleepless hours in talk away;
'Where stood the ranks arrayed, from whose right hand
The quivering lance was sped:' and while they boast,
Or challenge, deeds of prowess in the war,
Faith is renewed and trust. Thus envious fate
Made worse their doom, 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 stirred his guard to work
An impious slaughter: the defenceless foe
Flung headlong forth: and parted 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?¹³
'Nay! never shall our safety be the price
'Of base betrayal! Not for boon of life
'We wage a civil war. This name of peace
'Drags us to slavery. Ne'er from depths of earth,
'Fain to withdraw her wealth, should toiling men
'Draw store of iron; ne'er entrench a town;
'Ne'er should the war-horse dash into the fray
'Nor fleet with turret bulwarks breast the main,
If freedom ever could for peace be sold,
And fame unsoiled: 'tis true our foes are sworn
To cursed crime; should you whose cause is just,
And who may hope for pardon in defeat,
Hold cheap your honour? Shame upon your peace!
Thou callest, Magnus, ignorant of fate,
From all the world thy powers, and dost 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;
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 in blindness of affray
Might seem the crimes of chance, or of the gods
Wreaking their hate, such 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: in dreadful joy
Through the wild camp they smote 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,
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 plain
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;
No 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.
Wherever on foulest mud some stagnant slime
Or moisture lies, each dying soldier strives
With dying comrade first to lap the draught,
Loathsome had life been his. Like beasts they drain
The swollen udder, and where milk was not,
They suck the life-blood forth. From herbs and boughs
Dripping with dew, from tender shoots they press,
Nay, 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; hadst 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
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, is scarcely drawn,
And scarce again returned; and yet agape,
Their panting mouths suck in the nightly dew;
They watch for showers from heaven, and in 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 is his bearing, and despite of ills,
His mien majestic, of his triumphs past
Still mindful in disaster thus he stands,
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.'
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 armour 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;¹⁴ but 'gainst his arms
Dared somewhat, where Salona's lengthy waste
Is laved by Hadria, and Iadar warm
Meets with his waves the breezes of the west.
There brave Curectae dwell, whose island home
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; and his troops
Gnawed the dry herbage of the scanty turf
Within their rampart lines. But when they knew
That Basilus 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 comrades twin: and rises over each
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
Might 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 cord 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,
They blocked the outlet in the waves beneath.
The leading rafts passed safely, but the third,
Caught by the rope, was drawn beneath the rocks.
These, hollowed by the sea, in ponderous mass
O'erhanging, seemed upon the point to fall;
And trees made dark the wave. Here oft the main
Within the deep recess sweeps broken wrecks
And bodies of the drowned, till ebbing tides
Return the spoil. Then from the cavernous arch
Is belched the ocean forth in such turmoil
Of swirling billows, as excels the rage
Of 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 chains that held them; without hope he fights,
Uncertain where to avoid or front the foe.
Caught in the strait they strove as brave men 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
'Thou, Fortune, dost prepare. What glorious deeds
' Of warlike heroism, of noble faith,
'Time's annals show! All these shall we surpass.
'True, Caesar, that to fall upon our swords
'For thee is little; yet beleaguered thus,
'With neither sons nor parents at our sides,
'Shorn of the glory that we might have earned,
'We give thee here the only pledge we may.
'Yet let these hostile thousands fear the souls
'That rage for battle and that welcome death,
'And know us for invincible, and joy
'That no more rafts were stayed. They'll offer terms,
'And tempt us with a base unhonoured life.
'Would that, to give that death which shall be ours
'The greater glory, they may bid us hope
'For pardon and for life! lest when our swords
'Are reeking with our hearts'-blood, they may say
'This was despair of living. Great must be
'The prowess of our end, if in the hosts
'That fight his battles, Caesar is to mourn
'This little handful lost. For me, should fate
'Grant us retreat-myself would scorn to shun
'The coming onset. Life I cast away,
'The frenzy of the death that comes apace
'Controls my being. Those whose end is near
'Alone may know the happiness of death;
'Which pitying heaven from all else conceals
'That men may bear to live.'¹⁵ His stirring words
Warmed his brave comrades' hearts-they 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 ¹⁶
Were shortened by the Archer.
When day broke,
Lo! on the rocks the Istrians;¹⁷ 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, life all forsworn,
And careless of the fight: no jarring note
Opposed their high resolve. In numbers few
'Gainst foemen numberless by land and sea,
They wage the desperate war; then satiate
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! wouldst 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 Lilybaean¹⁸ 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
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 ¹⁹ 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 vigour 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 rubbed 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 Antaeus' 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,
'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 muscles 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.
'They fought as peers, the giant with the powers
'Which earth bestowed, the hero with his own:
' Nor did the hatred of his step-dame²⁰ find
'In all his conflicts greater room for hope.
' She sees bedewed in sweat the neck and limbs
'Which once had borne the burden of the heavens
' 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 soil: but she no more
'Could give her offspring vigour. 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,²¹ this region called
'Antaeus' kingdom. But a greater name
' Yon hills from Scipio gained, when he recalled
'From Roman citadels the Punic chief.
'Here was his camp; here canst thou see the trace
' Of that most famous rampart ²² 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
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 belt²³
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
Rival 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 gods²⁴
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) ²⁵ 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.²⁶ Soon as the thirst
'Of bloodshed fills the mind, and eager hands
' 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 led
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.
'Tis thus the sly ichneumon ²⁷ with his tail
Waving, allures 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
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 distended: and on every curb
Dry foam of blood; 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
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,
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 ²⁸ 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 copious wealth swept o'er his wavering mind
In stream transverse; and, bribed by spoils of Gaul
And golden gifts of Caesar, 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.²⁹