And drive them on to guilt, by thy command? these hairs grown white for When e'en relenting rage itself gives place,

By my auspicious name, and fortune, led,

Wide o'er the world your conquering arms were
spread,
[head?
But say, what had you done, with Pompey at your
Vast was the fame by Labienus won, [shone:
When, rank'd amidst my warlike friends, he
Now mark what follows on his faithful change,
And see him with his chief new-chosen range;
By land, and sea, where'er my arms he spies,
An ignominious runagate he flies.

Such sball you prove. Nor is it worth my care,
Whether to Pompey's aid your arms you bear:
Who quits his leader, wheresoe'er he go,
Flies like a traitor, and becomes my foe.
Yes, ye great gods! your kinder care I own,
You made the faith of these false legions known:
You warn me well to change these coward bands,
Nor trust my fate to such betraying hands.
And thou too, Fortune, point'st me out the way,
A mighty debt, thus, cheaply to repay;
Henceforth my care regards myself alone,
War's glorious gain shall now be all my own.
For you, ye vulgar herd, in peace return,
My ensigns shall by manly hands be borne.
Some few of you my sentence here shall wait,
And warn succeeding factions by your fate.
Down! groveling down to earth, ye traitors, bend,
And with your prostrate necks, my doom attend.
And you, ye younger striplings of the war,
You, whom I mean to make my future care;
Strike home! to blood, to death, inure your hands,
And learn to execute my dread commands."
He spoke; and, at the impious sound dismay'd,
The trembling unresisting crowd obey'd:
No more their late equality they boast,
But bend beneath his frown a suppliant host.
Singly secure, he stands confess'd their lord,
And rules, in spite of him, the soldier's sword.
Doubtful, at first, their patience he surveys,
And wonders why each haughty heart obeys;
Beyond his hopes he sees the stubborn bow,
And bare their breasts obedient to the blow;
Till e'en his cooler thoughts the deed disclaim,
And would not find their fiercer souls so tame.
A few, at length, selected from the rest,
Bled for example; and the tumult ceas'd;
While the consenting host the victims view'd,
And, in that blood, their broken faith renew'd.

Now to Brundusium's walls he bids them tend,
Where ten long days their weary marches end;
There he commands assembling barks to meet,
And furnish from the neighbouring shores his fleet,
Thither the crooked keels from Leuca glide,
From Taras old, and Hydrus' winding tide;
Thither with swelling sails their way they take,
From lowly Sipus, and Salapia's lake;
From where Apulia's fruitful mountains rise,
Where high along the coast Garganus lies,
And beating seas and fighting winds defies.

Meanwhile the chief to Rome directs his way,
Now fearful, aw'd, and fashion'd to his sway.
There, with mock prayers, the suppliant vulgar
wait,

And urge on him the great dictator's state.
Obedient he, since thus their wills ordain,
A gracious tyrant condescends to reign.
His mighty name the joyful Fasti wear,
Worthy to usher in the curst Pharsalian year.
Then was the time, when sycophants began
To heap all titles on one lordly man;

Then learn'd our sires that fawning lying strain,
Which we, their slavish sons, so well retain:
Then, first, were seen to join, an ill-match'd pair,
The axe of justice, with the sword of war;
Fasces, and eagles, mingling, march along,
And in proud Cæsar's train promiscuous throng.
And while all powers in him alone unite,
He mocks the people with the shows of right.
The Martian field th' assembling tribes receives,
And each his unregarded suffrage gives;
Still with the same solemnity of face,

The reverend augur seems to fill his place:
Though now he hears not when the thunders roll,
Nor sees the flight of the ill-boding owl.
Then sunk the state and dignity of Rome,
Thence monthly consuls nominally come :
Just as the sovereign bids, their names appear,
To head the calendar, and mark the year.
Then too, to finish out the pageant show,
With formal rites to Alban Jove they go;
By night the festival was huddled o'er,
Nor could the god, unworthy, ask for more;
He who look'd on, and saw such foul disgrace,
Such slavery befall his Trojan race.

Now Cæsar, like the flame that cuts the skies,
And swifter than the vengeful tigress, flies
Where waste and overgrown Apulia lies;
O'erpassing soon the rude abandon'd plains,
Brundusium's crooked shores, and Cretan walls
he gains.

Loud Boreas there his navy close confines,
While wary seamen dread the wintery signs.
But he, th' impatient chief, disdains to spare
Those hours that better may be spent in war:
He grieves to see his ready fleet withheld,
While others boldly plow the watery field.
Eager to rouse their sloth," Behold," he cries,
"The constant wind that rules the wintery skies,
With what a settled certainty it flies!

Unlike the wanton fickle gales, that bring
The cloudy changes of the faithless spring.
Nor need we now to shift, to tack, and veer:
Steady the friendly north commands to steer.
Oh! that the fury of the driving blast
May swell the sail, and bend the lofty mast!
So, shall our navy soon be wafted o'er,
Ere yon Phæacian galleys dip the oar,
And intercept the wish'd-for Grecian shore.
Cut every cable then, and haste away;
The waiting winds and seas upbraid our long delay"
Low in the west the setting Sun was laid,
Up rose the night in glittering stars array'd,
And silver Cynthia cast a lengthening shade;
When loosing from the shore the moving fleet,
All hands at once unfurl the spreading sheet;
The slacker tacklings let the canvass flow,
To gather all the breath the winds can blow.
Swift, for a while, they scud before the wind,
And leave Hesperia's lessening shores behind;
When, lo! the dying breeze begins to fail,
And flutters on the mast the flagging sail:
The duller waves with slower heavings creep,
And a dead calm benumbs the lazy deep.
As when the winter's potent breath constrains
The Scythian Euxine in her icy chains;
No more the Bosphori their streams maintain,
Nor rushing Ister heaves the languid main;
Each keel enclos'd, at once forgets its course,
While o'er the new-made champaign bounds the

horse:

Fold on the crystal plains the Thracians ride,
And print with sounding keels the stable tide.
So still a form th' Ionian waters take,
Dull as the muddy marsh and standing lake:
No breezes o'er the curling surface pass,
Nor sun-beams tremble in the liquid glass;
No usual turns revolving Tethys knows,
Nor with alternate rollings ebbs and flows:
But sluggish ocean sleeps in stupid peace,
And weary nature's motions seem to cease.
With differing eyes the hostile fleets beheld
The falling winds, and useless watery field.
There Pompey's daring powers attempt in vain
To plough their passage through th' unyielding
main;
[here
While, pinch'd by want, proud Cæsar's legions
The dire distress of meagre famine fear.
With vows unknown before they reach the skies,
That waves may dash, and mounting billows rise;
That storms may with returning fury reign,
And the rude ocean be itself again.
At length the still, the sluggish darkness fled,
And cloudy morning rear'd its low'ring head.
The rolling flood the gliding navy bore,
And hills appear'd to pass upon the shore.
Attending breezes waft them to the land,
And Cæsar's anchors bite Palæste's strand.

While Cæsar, and the senate, are forgot,
And in Epirus bound their barren lot."

In words like these, he calls him oft in vain,
And thus the hasty missives oft complain.
At length the lucky chief, who oft had found
What vast success his rasher darings crown'd;
Who saw how much the favouring gods had
done,

Nor would be wanting, when they urg'd him on;
Fierce, and impatient of the tedious stay,
Resolves by night to prove the doubtful way:
Bold, in a single skiff, he means to go,

And tempt those seas that navies dare not plough.
'Twas now the time when cares and labour cease,
And e'en the rage of arms was hush'd to peace:
Snatch'd from their guilt and toil, the wretched lay,
And slept the sounder for the painful day.
Through the still camp the night's third hour
resounds,

And warns the second watches to their rounds;
When through the horrours of the murky shade,
Secret the careful warrior's footsteps tread.
His train, unknowing, slept within his tent,
And Fortune only follow'd where he went,
With silent anger he perceiv'd, around,
The sleepy centinels bestrew the ground:
Yet, unreproving, now, he pass'd them o’er,

In neighbouring camps the hostile chiefs sit And sought with eager haste the winding shore.

down,

Where Genusus the swift, and Apsus run;
Among th' ignobler crowd of rivers, these
Soon lose their waters in the mingling seas:
No mighty streams nor distant springs they know,
But rise from muddy lakes, and melting snow.
Here meet the rivals who the world divide,
Once by the tenderest bands of kindred ty'd.
The world with joy their interview beheld,
Now only parted by a single field.

Fond of the hopes of peace, mankind believe,
Whene'er they come thus near, they must forgive,
Vain hopes! for soon they part to meet no more,
Till both shall reach the curst Ægyptian shore;
Till the proud father shall in arms succeed,
And see his vanquish'd son untimely bleed;
Till he beholds his ashes on the strand,
Views his pale head within a villain's hand;
Till Pompey's fate shall Cæsar's tears demand.
The latter yet his eager rage restrains,
While Antony the lingering troops detains.
Repining much, and griev'd at war's delay,
Impatient Cæsar often chides his stay,
Oft he is heard to threat, and humbly oft to pray.
"Still shall the world," he cries, "thus anxious
wait?

Still wilt thou stop the gods, and hinder fate?
What could be done before, was done by me:
Now ready fortune only stays for thee.

What holds thee then? Do rocks thy course with-
stand,

Or Libyan Syrts oppose their faithless strand?
Or dost thou fear new dangers to explore?
I call thee not, but where I pass'd before.
For all those hours thou losest, 1 complain,
And sue to Heaven for prosperous winds in vain.
My soldiers (often has their faith been try'd),
If not withheld, had hasten'd to my side.
What toil, what hazards will they not partake?
What seas and shipwrecks scorn, for Cæsar's sake?
Nor will I think the gods so partial are,
To give thee fair Ausonia for tby share;

There through the gloom his searching eyes ex

plor'd,

Where to the mouldering rock a bark was moor'd.
The mighty master of this little boat
Securely slept within a neighbouring cot:
No massy beams support his humble hall,
But reeds and marshy rushes wove the wall;
Old shatter'd planking for a roof was spread,
And cover'd in from rain the needy shed.
Thrice on the feeble door the warrior struck,
Beneath the blow the trembling dwelling shook.
"What wretch forlorn," the poor Amyclas cries,
"Driven by the raging seas, and stormy skies,
To my poor lowly roof for shelter flies?"
He spoke; and hasty left his homely bed,
With oozy flags and withering sea-weed spread.
Then from the hearth his smoking match he takes,
And in the tow the drowsy fire awakes;
Dry leaves, and chips, for fuel, he supplies,
Till kindling sparks and glittering flames arise.
O happy poverty! thou greatest good,
Bestow'd by Heaven, but seldom understood!
Here nor the cruel spoiler seeks his prey,
Nor ruthless armies take their dreadful way:
Security thy narrow limits keeps,

Safe are thy cottages, and sound thy sleeps.
Behold! ye dangerous dwellings of the great,
Where gods and godlike princes choose their seat;
Sce in what peace the poor Amyclas lies,
Nor starts, though Cæsar's call commands to rise.
What terrours had you felt, that call to hear!
How had your towers and ramparts shook with
fear,

And trembled as the mighty man drew near!
The door unbarr'd: "Expect," the leader said,
"Beyond thy hopes, or wishes, to be paid;
If in this instant hour thou waft me o'er,
With speedy haste, to yon Hesperian shore.
No more shall want thy weary hand constrain,
To work thy bark upon the boisterous main;
Henceforth good days and plenty shall betide
The gods and I will for thy age provide.

A glorious change attends thy low estate,
Sudden and mighty riches round thee wait;
Be wise, and use the lucky hour of fate." [dress'd,
Thus be; and though in humble vestments
Spite of himself, his words his power express'd,
And Cesar in his bounty stood confess'd.

To him the wary pilot thus replies:
"A thousand omens threaten from the skies;
A thousand boding signs my soul affright,
And warn me not to tempt the seas by night.
In clouds the setting Sun obscur'd his head,
Nor painted o'er the ruddy west with red:
Now north, now south, he shot his parted beams,
And tipp'd the sullen black with golden gleams:
Pale shone his middle orb with faintish rays,
And suffer'd mortal eyes at ease to gaze.
Nor rose the silver queen of night serene,
Supine and dull her blunted horns were seen,
With foggy stains and cloudy blots between.
Dreadful awhile she shone all fiery red,
Then sicken'd into pale, and hid her drooping head.
Nor less I fear from that hoarse hollow roar,
In leafy groves, and on the sounding shore.
In various turns the doubtful dolphins play,
And thwart, and run across, and mix their way.
The cormoran's the watery deep forsake,
And soaring herns avoid the plashy lake;
Waile, waddling on the margin of the main,
The crow bewets her, and prevents the rain.
Howe'er, if some great enterprize demand,
Behold, I proffer thee my willing hand:

My venturous bark the troubled deep shall try,
Tthy wish'd port her plunging prow shall ply,
Unless the seas resolve to beat us by."

He spoke; and spread his canvass to the wind,
Enmoor'd his boat, and left the shore behind.
Swift flew the nimble keel; and as they past,
Long trails of light the shooting meteors cast;
E'en the fix'd fires above in motion seem,
Shake through the blast, and dart a quivering
beam;

Black horrours on the gloomy ocean brood,

And in long ridges rolls the threatening flood;
While load and louder murmuring winds arise,
And growl from every quarter of the skies.
When thus the trembling master, pale with fear,
"Behold what wrath the dreadful gods prepare;
My art is at a loss; the various tide
Beats my unstable bark on every side:
From the north-west the setting current swells,
While southern storms the driving rack foretells.
Howe'er it be, our purpos'd way is lost,
Nor can one relic of our wreck be tost
By winds, like these, on fair Hesperia's coast.
Our only means of safety is to yield,
And measure back with haste the foamy field;
To give our unsuccessful labour o'er, [shore."
And reach, while yet we may, the neighbouring
But Cæsar, still superior to distress,
Fearless, and confident of sure success,
Teus to the pilot loud-" The seas despise,
And the vain threatening of the noisy skies.
Though gods deny thee yon Ausonian strand;
Yet, go, I charge thee, go at my command.
Thy ignorance alone can cause thy fears,
Thou know'st not what a freight thy vessel bears;
Thou know'st not I am he, to whom 't is given
Never to want the care of watchful Heaven.
Obedient Fortune waits my humble thrall,
And always ready comes before I call,

Let winds, and seas, loud wars at freedom wage,
And waste upon themselves their empty rage;
A stronger, mightier demon is thy friend,
Thou, and thy bark, on Cæsar's fate depend.
Thou stand'st amaz'd to view this dreadful scene;
And wonder'st what the gods and Fortune mean!
But artfully their bounties thus they raise,
And from my dangers arrogate new praise;
Amidst the fears of death they bid me live,
And still enhance what they are sure to give.
Then leave yon shore behind with all thy haste,
Nor shall this idle fury longer last.

Thy keel auspicious shall the storm appease,
Shall glide triumphant o'er the calmer seas,
And reach Brundusium's safer port with ease,
Nor can the gods ordain another now,

'T is what I want, and what they must bestow."
Thus while in vaunting words the leader spoke;
Full on his bark the thundering tempest struck;
Off rips the rending canvass from the mast,
And whirling flits before the driving blast;
In every joint the groaning alder sounds,
And gapes wide-opening with a thousand wounds.
Now, rising all at once, and unconfin'd,
From every quarter roars the rushing wind:
First from the wide Atlantic ocean's bed,
Tempestuous Corus rears his dreadful head;
Th' obedient deep his potent breath controls,
And, mountain-high, the foamy flood he rolls.
Him the north-east encountering fierce defy'd,
And back rebuffeted the yielding tide.
The curling surges loud conflicting meet,
Dash their proud heads, and bellow as they beat;
While piercing Boreas, from the Scythian strand,
Ploughs up the waves, and scoops the lowest sand.
Nor Eurus then, I ween, was left to dwell,
Nor showery Notus in th' Æolian cell;
But each from every side, his power to boast,
Rang'd his proud forces, to defend his coast.
Equal in might, alike they strive in vain,
While in the midst the seas unmov'd remain:
In lesser wars they yield to stormy Heaven,
And captive waves to other deeps are driven;
The Tyrrhene billows dash gean shores,
And Adria in the mix'd Ionian roars.
How then must Earth the swelling ocean dread,
When floods ran higher than each mountain's head!
Subject and low the trembling beldame lay,
And gave herself for lost, the conquering water's
prey.

What other worlds, what seas unknown before,
Then drove their billows on our beaten shore!
What distant deeps, their prodigies to boast,
Heav'd their huge monsters on th' Ausonian coast!
So when avenging Jove long time had hurl'd,
And tir'd his thunders on a harden'd world:
New wrath, the god, new punishment display'd
And call'd his watery brother to his aid:
Offending Earth to Neptune's lot he join'd,
And bade his floods no longer stand confin'd;
At once the surges o'er the nations rise,
And seas are only bounded by the skies.
Such now the spreading deluge had been seen,
Had not th' Almighty Ruler stood between;
Proud waves the cloud-compelling sire obey'd,
Confess'd his hand suppressing, and were stay'd.

Nor was that gloom the common shade of night,
The friendly darkness that relieves the light;
But fearful, black, and horrible to tell,
A murky vapour breath'd from yawning Hell:

So thick the mingling seas and clouds were hung,
Scarce could the struggling lightning gleam along.
Through Nature's frame the dire convulsion
struck,
shook:
Heaven groan'd, the labouring pole and axis
Uproar, and chaos old, prevail'd again,
And broke the sacred elemental chain:
Black fiends, unhallow'd, sought the blest abodes,
Profan'd the day, and mingled with the gods.
One only hope, when every other fail'd,
With Cæsar, and with nature's self, prevail'd;
The storm that sought their ruin, prov'd them
strong,

Nor could they fall, who stood that shock so
High as Leucadia's lessening cliffs arise,
On the tall billow's top the vessel flies;
While the pale master, from the surge's brow,
With giddy eyes surveys the depth below.
When straight the gaping main at once divides,
On naked sands the rushing bark subsides,
And the low liquid vale the topmast hides.
The trembling shipman, all distraught with fear,
Forgets his course, and knows not how to steer;
No more the useless rudder guides the prow,
To meet the rolling swell, or shun the blow.
But, lo! the storm itself assistance lends,
While one assaults, another wave defends:
This lays the sidelong alder on the main,
And that restores the leaning bark again.
Obedient to the mighty winds she plies,
Now seeks the depths, and now invades the skies;
There borne aloft, she apprehends no more,
Or shoaly Sason, or Thessalia's shore;
High hills she dreads, and promontories now,
And fears to touch Ceraunia's airy brow.

So shall my name with terrour still be heard,
And my return in every nation fear'd."

He spoke, and sudden, wond'rous to behold,
High on a tenth huge wave his bark was roil'd;
Nor sunk again, alternate, as before,
But rushing, lodg'd, and fix'd upon the shore.
Rome and his fortune were at once restor'd,
And Earth again receiv'd him for her lord.

Now, through the camp his late arrival told,
The warriors crowd, their leader to behold;
In tears, around, the murmuring legions stand,
And welcome him, with fond complaints, to land.
"What means too-daring Cæsar," thus they cry,
long."To tempt the ruthless seas, and stormy sky!
What a vile helpless herd had we been left,
Of every hope at once in thee bereft?
While on thy life so many thousands wait,
While nations live dependent on thy fate,
While the whole world on thee, their head, rely,
'Tis cruel in thee to consent to die.
And could'st thou not one faithful soldier find,
One equal to his mighty master's mind,
One that deserv'd not to be left behind?
While tumbling billows tost thee on the main,
We slept at ease, unknowing of thy pain.
Were we the cause, oh shame! unworthy we,
That urg'd thee on to brave the raging sea?
Is there a slave whose head thou hold'st so light
To give him up to this tempestuous night?
While Cæsar, whom the subject Earth obeys,
To seasons such as these, his sacred self betrays
Still wilt thou weary out indulgent Heaven,
And scatter all the lavish gods have given?
Dost thou the care of Providence employ,
Only to save thee when the seas run high?
Auspicious Jove thy wishes would promote;
Thou ask'st the safety of a leaky boat:
He proffers thee the world's supreme command;
Thy hopes aspire no farther than to land,
And cast thy shipwreck on th' Hesperian strand."
In kind reproaches thus they waste the night,
Till the gray east disclos'd the breaking light:
Serene the Sun his beamy face display'd,
While the tir'd storm and weary waves were laid
Speedy the Latian chiefs unfurl their sails,
And catch the gently-rising northern gales:
In fair appearance the tall vessels glide,
The pilots, and the wind, conspire to guide,
And waft them fitly o'er the smoother tide:
Decent they move, like some well-order'd band,
In rang'd battalions marching o'er the land.
Night fell at length, the winds the sails forsook,
And a dead calm the beauteous order broke.
So when, from Strymon's wintery banks, the

At length the universal wreck appear'd,
To Cæsar's self, e'en worthy to be fear'd.
"Why all these pains, this toil of fate," he cries,
"This labour of the seas, and earth, and skies?
All nature and the gods, at once alarm'd,
Against my little boat and me are arın'd.
If, O ye powers divine! your will decrees
The glory of my death to these rude seas;
If warm, and in the fighting field to die,
If that, my first of wishes, you deny;
My soul no longer at her lot repines,
But yields to what your providence assigns.
Though immature I end my glorious days,
Cut short my conquest, and prevent new praise;
My life, already, stands the noblest theme,
To fill long annals of recording fame.
Far northern nations own me for their lord,
And envious factions crouch beneath my sword;
Inferior Pompey yields to me at home,
And only fills a second place in Rome.
My country has my high behests obey'd,
And at my feet her laws obedient laid;
All sovereignty, all honours are my own,
Consul, dictator, I am all alone.

But thou, my only goddess, and my friend,
Thou, on whom all my secret prayers attend,
Conceal, O Fortune! this inglorious end.
Let none on Earth, let none beside thee, know
I sunk thus poorly to the shades below.
Dispose, ye gods! my carcass as you please,
Deep let it drown beneath these raging seas;
I ask no urn my ashes to infold,

Nor marble monuments, nor shrines of gold;
Let but the world, unknowing of my doom,
Expect me still, and think I am to come;

cranes,

In feather'd legions, cut th' ethereal plains;
To warmer Nile they bend their airy way,
Form'd in long lines, and rank'd in just array:
But if some rushing storm the journey cross,
The wingy leaders all are at a loss:

Now close, now loose, the breaking squadrons fly,
And scatter in confusion o'er the sky.
The day return'd, with Phoebus Auster rose,
And hard upon the straining canvass blows.
Scudding afore him swift the fleet he bore,
O'er-passing Lyssus, to Nymphæum's shore;
There safe from northern winds, within the port
they moor.

While thus united Cæsar's arms appear,
And fortune draws the great decision near;