The certain bounds which should their journey
The moving earth and dusty deluge hide: [guide,
So landmarks sink beneath the flowing tide.
As through mid-seas uncertainly they move,
Led only by Jove's sacred lights above:
Part e'en of them the Libyan clime denies,
Forbids their native northern stars to rise,
And shades the well-known lustre from their eyes.
Now near approaching to the burning zone,
To warmer, calmer skies they journey'd ou. [fess,
The slackening storms the neighbouring Sun con-
The heat strikes fiercer, and the winds grow less,
Whilst parching thirst and fainting sweats in-
As forward on the weary way they went, [crease.
Panting with drought, and all with labour spent,
Amidst the desert, desolate and dry,

One chanc'd a little trickling spring to spy:
Proud of the prize, he drain'd the scanty store,
And in his helmet to the chieftain bore.
Around, in crowds, the thirsty legions stood,
Their throats and clammy jaws with dust be-
strew'd,
[view'd.
And all with wishful eyes the liquid treasure
Around the leader cast his careful look,
Sternly the tempting envy'd gift he took,
Held it, and thus the giver fierce bespoke:
"And think'st thou then that I want virtue most!
Am I the meanest of this Roman host!
Am I the first, soft coward that complains!
That shrinks, unequal to these glorious pains!
Am I in ease and infamy the first!
Rather be thou, base as thou art, accurs'd,
Thou that dar'st drink, when all beside thee thirst."
He said; and wrathful stretching forth his hand,
Pour'd out the precious draught upon the saud. ·
Well did the water thus for all provide,
Envy'd by none, while thus to all deny'd,
A little thus the general want supply'd.

Now to the sacred temple they draw near,
Whose only altars Libyan lands revere;
There, but unlike the Jove by Rome ador'd,
A form uncouth, stands Heaven's almighty lord.
No regal ensigns grace his potent hand,
Nor shakes he there the lightning's daming brand:
But, ruder to behold, a horned ram
Belies the god, and Ammon is his name.
There though he reigns unrivall'd and alone,
O'er the rich neighbours of the torrid zone;
Though swarthy Æthiops are to him confin'd,
With Araby the blest, and wealthy Inde;
Yet no proud domes are rais'd, no gems are seen,
To blaze upon his shrines with costly sheen;
But plain and poor, and uuprophan'd he stood,
Such as, to whom our great forefathers bow'd:
A god of pious times, and days of old,
That keeps his temples safe from Roman gold.
Here and here only, through wide Libya's space,
Tail trees, the land, and verdant herbage grace;
Here the loose sauds by pienteous springs are
Knit to a mass, and moulded into ground: [bound,
Here smiling Nature wears a fertile dress,
And all things here the present god confess.
Yet here the Sun to neither pole declines,
But from his zenith vertically shines:
Hence, e'en the trees no friendly shelter yield,
Scarce their own trunks the leafy branches shield;
The rays descend direct, all round embrace,
And to a central point the shadow chase,
Here equally the middle line is found,
To cut the radiant Zodiac in its round:

Here unoblique the Bull and Scorpion rise,
Nor mount too swift, nor leave too soon the skies;
Nor Libra does too long the Ram attend,
Nor bids the Maid the fishy sign descend.
The Boys and Centaur justly time divide,
And equally their several seasons guide:
Alike the Crab and wintery Goat return,
Alike the Lion and the flowing Urn.
If any farther nations yet are known,
Beyond the Libyan fires, and scorching zone;
Northward from them the Sun's bright course is
made,

And to the southward strikes the leaning shade:"
There slow Bootes, with his lazy wain
Descending, seems to reach the watery main.
Of all the lights which high above they see,
No star whate'er from Neptune's waves is free,
The whirling axle drives them round, and plunges
in the sea.

Before the temple's entrance, at the gate,
Attending crowds of eastern pilgrims wait:
These from the horned god expect relief:
But all give way before the Latian chief.
His host, (as crowds are superstitious still)
Curious of fate, of future good and ill,
And fond to prove prophetic Ammon's skill,
Entreat their leader to the go: would go,
And from his oracle Rome's fortunes know:
But Labienus chief the thought approv'd,
And thus the common suit to Cato mov'd:

"Chance, and the fortune of the way," he said,
"Have brought Jove's sacred counsels to our aid:
This greatest of the gods, this mighty chief,
In each distress shall be a sure rehef;
Shall point the distant dangers from afar,
And teach the future fortunes of the war.
To thee, O Cato! pions! wise! and just!
Their dark decrees the cautious gods shall trust!
To thee their fore-determin'd will shall tell:
Their will has been thy law, and thou hast kept it
well.

Fate bids thee now the noble thought improye;
Fate brings thee here, to meet and talk with Jove,
Inquire betimes, what various chance shall come
To impious Cæsar, and thy native Rome;
Try to avert, at least, thy country's doom.
Ask if these arms our freedom shall restore:
Or else, if laws and right shall be no more.
Be thy great breast with sacred knowledge fraught,
To lead us in the wandering maze of thought:
Thou, that to virtue ever wert inclin'd,
Learn what it is, how certainly defin'd,
And leave some perfect rule to guide mankind.”
Full of the god that dwelt within his breast,
The hero thus his secret mind express'd,
And in-born truths reveal'd; truths which might
well

Become e'en oracles themselves to tell.

"Where would thy fond, thy vain inquiry go?
What mystic fate, what secret would'st thou know?
Is it a doubt if death should be my doom,
Rather than live till kings and bondage come,
Rather than see a tyrant crown'd in Rome?
Or would'st thou know if, what we value here,
Life, be a trifle hardly worth our care?
What by old age and length of days we gain,
More than to lengthen out the sense of pain?
Or if this world, with all its forces join'd,
The universal malice of mankind,

Can shake or hurt the brave and honest mind?

If stable virtue can her ground maintain,
Whilst fortune feebly threats and frowns in vain?
If truth and justice with uprightness dwell,
And honesty consist in meaning well?
If right be independent of success,

And conquest cannot make it more nor less?

Are these, my friend, the secrets thou would'st
know,

Those doubts for which to oracles we go?
'Tis known, 't is plain, 't is all already told,
And horned Ammon can no more unfold.
From God deriv'd, to God by nature join'd,
We act the dictates of his mighty mind:
And though our priests are mute, and temples still,
God never wants a voice to speak his will.
When first we from the teeming womb were
brought,

With in-born precepts then our souls were fraught,
And then the Maker his new creatures taught.
Then when he form'd, and gave us to be men,
He gave us all our useful knowledge then.
Canst thou believe, the vast Eternal Mind
Was e'er to Syrts and Libyan sands confin'd?
That he would choose this waste, this barren
To teach the thin inhabitants around, [ground,
And leave his truth in wilds and deserts drown'd?
Is there a place that God would choose to love
Beyond this earth, the seas, yon Heaven above,
And virtuous minds, the noblest throne for Jove?
Why seek we farther then? Behold around,
How all thou seest does with the God abound,
Jove is alike in all, and always to be found.
Let those weak minds, who live in doubt and fear,
To juggling priests for oracles repair;
One certain hour of death to each decreed,
My fix'd, my certain soul from doubt has freed.
The coward and the brave are doom'd to fall;
And when Jove told this truth, he told us all."
So spoke the hero; and, to keep his word,
Nor Ammon, nor his oracle explor'd;
But left the crowd at freedom to believe,
And take such answers as the priest should give.
Foremost on foot he treads the burning sand,
Bearing his arms in his own patient hand;
Scorning another's weary neck to press,
Or in a lazy chariot loll at ease;
The panting soldier at his toil succeeds,
Where no command, but great example leads.
Sparing of sleep, still for the rest he wakes,
And at the fountain, last, his thirst he slakes;
Whene'er by chance some living stream is found,
He stands, and sees the cooling draughts go round,
Stays till the last and meanest drudge be past,
And, till his slaves have drunk, disdains to taste.
If true good men deserve immortal fame,
If virtue, though distress'd, be still the same;
Whate'er our fathers greatly dar'd to do,
Whate'er they bravely bore, and wisely knew,
Their virtues all are his, and all their praise his due.
Whoe'er, with battles fortunately fought,
Whoe'er, with Roman blood, such honours bought?
This triumph, this, on Libya's utmost bound,
With death and desolation compass'd round,
To all thy glories, Pompey, I prefer,
Thy trophies, and thy third triumphal car, [war.
To Marius' mighty name, and great Jugurthine
His country's father here, O Rome, behold,
Worthy thy temples, priests, and shrines of gold!
If e'er thou break'st thy lordly master's chain,
Ifliberty be e'er restor'd again,

VOL. XX,

Him shalt thou place in thy divine abodes, [gods.
Swear by his holy name, and rank him with thy
Now to those sultry regions were they past,
Which Jove to stop inquiring mortals plac'd,
And as their utmost, southern, limits cast.
Thirsty, for springs they search the desert round,
And only one, amidst the sands, they found.
Well stor❜d it was, but all access was barr'd:
The stream ten thousand noxious serpents guard:
Dry aspics on the fatal margin stood,
And dipsas thirsted in the middle flood.
Back from the stream the frighted soldier flies,
Though parch'd, and languishing for drink, he dies:
The chief beheld, and said, "You fear in vain,
Vainly from safe and healthy draughts abstain,
My soldier, drink, and dread not death or pain.
When urg'd to rage, their teeth the serpents fix
And venom with our vital juices mix;
The pest infus'd through every vein runs round,
Infects the mass, and death is in the wound.
Harmless and safe, no poison here they shed:"
He said; and first the doubtful draught essay'd;
He, who through all their march, their toil, their
thirst,

Demanded, here alone, to ink the first.

Why plagues, like these, infect the Libyan air,
Why deaths unknown in various shapes appear;
Why, fruitful to destroy, the cursed land
Is temper'd thus, by Nature's secret hand;
Dark and obscure the hidden cause remains,
And still deludes the vain inquirer's pains;
Unless a tale for truth may be believ'd,
And the good-natur'd world be willingly deceiv'd.
Where western waves on farthest Libya beat,
Warm'd with the setting Sun's descending heat,
Dreadful Medusa fix'd her horrid seat.
No leafy shade, with kind protection, shields
The rough, the squalid, unfrequented fields:
No mark of shepherds, or the ploughman's toil,
To tend the flocks, or turn the mellow soil:
But, rude with rocks, the region all around
Its mistress, and her potent visage, own'd.
"T was from this monster, to afflict mankind,
That nature first produc'd the snaky kind:
On her, at first their forky tongues appear'd;
From her, their dreadful hissings first were heard,
Some wreath'd in folds upon her temples hung;
Some backwards to her waist depended long;
Some with their rising crests her forehead deck;
Some wanton play, and lash her swelling neck:
And while her hands the curling vipers comb,
Poisons distil around, and drops of livid foam.

None, who beheld the fury, could complain;
So swift their fate, preventing death and pain:
Ere they had time to fear, the change came on,
And motion, sense, and life, were lost in stone,
The soul itself, from sudden Blight debarr'd,
Congealing, in the body's fortune shar'd.
The dire Eumenides could rage inspire,
But could no more; the tuneful Thracian lyre
Infernal Cerberus did soon assuage,
Lull'd him to rest, and sooth'd his triple rage;
Hydra's seven heads the bold Alcides view'd,
Safely he saw, and what he saw, subdu'd;
Of these in various terrours each excell'd;
But all to this superior fury yield.
Phorcus and Ceto, next to Neptune be,
Immortal both, and rulers of the sea,
This monster's parents did their offspring dread;
And from her sight her sister Gorgons fled.

H

Old ocean's waters and the liquid air,
The universal world her power might fear:
All nature's beauteous works she could invade,
Through every part a lazy numbness shed,
And over all a stony surface spread. [grown,
Birds in their flight were stopt, and ponderous
Forgot their pinions, and fell senseless down.
Beasts to the rocks were fix'd, and all around
Were tribes of stone and marble nations found.
No living eyes so fell a sight could bear;
Her snakes themselves, all deadly tho' they were,
Shot backward from her face, and shrunk away
By her, a rock Titanian Atlas grew, [for fear.
And Heaven by her the giants did subdue:
Hard was the fight, and Jove was half dismay'd,
Till Pallas brought the Gorgon to his aid:
The heavenly nation laid aside their fear,
For soon she finish'd the prodigious war;
To mountains turn'd, the monster race remains,
The trophies of her power on the Phlegræan plains.
To seek this monster, and her fate to prove,
The son of Danaë and golden Jove
Attempts a flight through airy ways above.
The youth Cyllenian Hermes' aid implor'd;
The god assisted with his wings the sword,
His sword which late made watchful Argus bleed,
And lo from her cruel keeper freed.
Unwedded Pallas lent a sister's aid;
But ask'd, for recompense, Medusa's head.
Eastward she warns her brother bend his flight,
And from the Gorgon realms avert his sight;
Then arms his left with her refulgent shield,
And shows how there the foe might be beheld.
Deep slumbers had the drowsy fiend possest,
Such as drew on, and well might seem, her last:
And yet she slept not whole; one half her snakes
Watchful, to guard their horrid mistress, wakes;
The rest dishevell'd, loosely, round her head,
And o'er her drowsy lids and face were spread.
Backward the youth draws near, nor dares to look,
But blindly, at a venture, aims a stroke:
His faltering haud the virgin goddess guides,
And from the monster's neck her snaky head
divides.

But oh! what art, what numbers can express
The terrours of the dying Gorgon's face!
What clouds of poison from her lips arise,
What death, what vast destruction, threaten'd in
her eyes!

'T was somewhat that immortal gods might fear,
More than the warlike maid herself could bear.
The victor Perseus still had been subdu'd,
Though, wary still, with eyes averse he stood:
Had not his heavenly sister's timely care
Veil'd the dread visage with the hissing hair.
Seis'd of his prey, heavenwards, uplifted light,
On Hermes' nimble wings, he took his flight.
Now thoughtful of his course, he hung in air,
And meant through Europe's happy clime to steer;
Till pitying Pallas warn'd him not to blast
Her fruitful fields, nor lay her cities waste.
For who would not have upwards cast their sight,
Curious to gaze at such a wond'rous flight?
Therefore, by gales of gentle Zephyrs borne,
To Libya's coast the hero minds to turn.
Beneath the sultry line, expos'd it lies
To deadly planets, and malignant skies.
Still, with his fiery steeds, the god of day

No land more high erects its lofty head,
The silver Moon in dim eclipse to shade;
If through the summer signs direct she run,
Nor bends obliquely, north or south, to shun
The envious Earth, that hides her from the Sun,
Yet could this soil accurst, this barren field,
Increase of deaths, and poisonous harvests yield.
Where'er sublime in air the victor flew,
The monster's head distill'd a deadly dew;
The Earth receiv'd the seed, and pregnant grew.
Still as the putrid gore dropt on the sand,
'T was temper'd up by Nature's forming hand;
The glowing climate makes the work complete,
And broods upon the mass, and lends it genial

heat.

First of those plagues the drowsy asp appear'd,
Then first her crest and swelling neck she rear'd;
A larger drop of black congealing blood
Distinguish'd her amidst the deadly brood.
Of all the serpent race are none so fell, [swell;
None with so many deaths, such plenteous venom
Chill in themselves, our colder climes they shun,
And choose to bask in Afric's warmer sun;
But Nile no more confines them now: What bound
Can for insatiate avarice be found!
Freighted with Libyan deaths our merchants come,
And poisonous asps are things of price at Rome.
Her scaly folds th' hæmorrhoïs unbends,
And her vast length along the sand extends;
Where'er she wounds, from every part the blood
Gushes resistless in a crimson flood,

Amphibious some do in the Syrts abound,
And now on land, in waters now are found.
Slimy chelyders the parch'd earth distain,
And trace a reeking furrow on the plain.

The spotted cenchris, rich in various dyes,
Shoots in a line, and forth directly flies:
Not Theban marbles are so gaily dress'd,
Nor with such party-colour'd beauties grac❜d.

Safe in his earthly hue and dusky skin,
Th' ammodites lurks in the sands unseen:
The swimmer there the crystal stream pollutes;
And swift, through air, the flying javelin shoots.
The scytale, ere yet the spring returns,
There casts her coat; and there the dipsas burns;
The amphisbæna doubly arm'd appears,
At either end a threatening head she rears.
Rais'd on his active tail the pareas stands,
And, as he passes, furrows up the sands.
The prester by his foaming jaws is known;
The seps invades the flesh and firmer bone,
Dissolves the mass of man, and melts his fabric
down.

The basilisk, with dreadful hissings heard,
And from afar by every serpent fear'd,
To distance drives the vulgar, and remains
The lonely monarch of the desert plains.
And you, ye dragons of the scaly race,
Whom glittering gold and shining armours grace,
In other nations harmless are you found,
This, guardian genii and protectors own'd;
In Afric only are you fatal; there,
On wide-expanded wings, sublime you rear
Your dreadful forms, and drive the yielding air.
The lowing kine in droves you chase, and cull
Some master of the herd, some mighty bull:
Around his stubborn sides your tails you twist,
By force compress, and burst his brawny chest.

Drives through that Heaven, and makes his burn- Not elephants are by their larger size

ing way.

Secure, but, with the rest, become your prize.

Resistless in your might, you all invade,
And for destruction need not poison's aid. [spread,
Thus, though a thousand plagues around them
A weary march the hardy soldiers tread,
Thro' thirst, thro' toil and death, by Cato led.
Their chief, with pious grief and deep regret,
Each moment mourns his friends untimely fate;
Wond'ring, he sees some small, some trivial wound
Extend a valiant Roman on the ground.
Aulus, a noble youth of Tyrrhene blood,
Who bore the standard, on a dipsas trod;
Backward the wrathful serpent bent her head,
And, fell with rage, th' unheeded wrong repaid.
Scarce did some little mark of hurt remain,
And scarce he found some little sense of pain;
Nor could he yet the danger doubt, nor fear
That death, with all its terrours, threaten'd there.
When lo; unseen, the secret venom spreads,
And every nobler part at once invades;
Swift dames consume the marrow and the brain,
And the scorch'd entrails rage with burning pain;
Upon his heart the thirsty poisons prey,
And drain the sacred juice of life away.
No kindly floods of moisture bathe his tongue,
But cleaving to the parched roof it hung;
No trickling drops distil, no dewy sweat,
To ease his weary limbs, and cool the raging heat.
Nor could he weep; e'en grief could not supply
Streams for the mournful office of his eye,
The never-failing source of tears was dry.
Frantic he flies, and with a careless hand
Hurls the neglected eagle on the sand;
Nor hears, nor minds, his pitying chief's command.
For springs he seeks, hedigs, he probes the ground,
For springs, in vain, explores the desert round,
For cooling draughts, which might their aid impart,
And quench the burning venoin in his heart.
Plung'd in the Tanaïs, the Rhone, or Po,
Or Nile, whose wandering streams o'er Ægypt flow,
Still would he rage, still with the fever glow.
The scorching climate to his fate conspires,
And Libya's sun assists the dipsa's fires.
Now every where for drink in vain he pries,
Now to the Syrts and briny seas he flies;
The briny seas delight, but seem not to suffice.
Nor yet he knows what secret plague he nurs'd,
Nor found the poison, but believ'd it thirst.
Of thirst, and thirst alone, he still complains,
Raving for thirst, he tears his swelling veins;
From every vessel drains a crimson flood,
And quaffs in greedy draughts his vital blood.
This Cato saw, and straight, without delay,
Commands his legions on to urge their way;
Nor give th' inquiring soldier time to know
What deadly deeds a fatal thirst could do.

But soon a fate more sad, with new surprise,
From the first object turns their wond'ring eyes.
Wretched Sabellus by a seps was stung;
Fix'd to his leg, with deadly teeth, it hung:
Sadden the soldier shook it from the wound,
Transfix'd and nail'd it to the barren ground.
Of all the dire destructive serpent race,
None have so much of death, though none are less.
For straight, around the part, the skin withdrew,
The flesh and sinking sinews backward flew,
And left the naked bones expos'd to view.
The spreading poisons all the parts confound,
And the whole body sinks within the wound.
The brawny thighs no more their muscles boast,
Bat, melting, all in liquid filth are lost;

Small relics of the mouldering mass were left,
At once of substance, as of form bereft;
Dissolv'd, the whole in liquid poison ran,
And to a nauseous puddle shrunk the man.
Then burst the rigid nerves, the manly breast,
And all the texture of the heaving chest;
Resistless way the conquering venom made,
And secret nature was at once display'd;
Her sacred privacies all open lie

To each prophane, inquiring, vulgar eye.
Then the broad shoulders did the pest invade,
Then o'er the valiant arms and neck it spread;
Last sunk, the mind's imperial seat, the head.
So snows dissolv'd by southern breezes run,
So melts the wax before the noon-day Sun.
Nor ends the wonder here; though flames are known
To waste the flesh, yet still they spare the bone:
Here none were left, no least remains were seen;
No marks to show that once the man had been.
Of all the plagues which curse the Libyan land,
(If death and mischief may a crown demand)
Serpent, the palm is thine. Though others may
Boast of their power to force the soul away,
Yet soul and body both become thy prey.

A fate of different kind Nasidius found,
A burning prester gave the deadly wound;
And straight a sudden flame began to spread,
And paint his visage with a glowing red.
With swift expansion swells the bloated skin,
Nought but an undistinguish'd mass is seen,
While the fair human form lies lost within.
The puffy poison spreads, and heaves around,
Till all the man is in the monster drown'd.
No more the steely plate his breast can stay,
But yields, and gives the bursting poison way.
Not waters so, when fire the rage supplies,
Bubbling on heaps, in boiling cauldrons rise:
Nor swells the stretching canvass half so fast,
When the sails gather all the driving blast,
Strain the tough yards, and bow the lofty mast.
The various parts no longer now are known,
One headless formless heap remains alone;
The feather'd kind avoid the fatal feast,
And leave it deadly to some hungry beast;
With horrour seiz'd, his sad companions too,
In haste from the unbury'd carcass flew;
Look'd back, but fled again, for still the monster
But fertile Libya still new plagues supplies,
And to more horrid monsters turns their eyes.
Deeply the fierce hæmorrhois imprest
Her fatal teeth on Tullus' valiant breast:
The noble youth, with virtue's love inspir'd,
Her, in her Cato, follow'd and admir'd;
Mov'd by his great example, vow'd to share,
With him, each chance of that disastrous war.
And as when mighty Rome's spectators meet
In the full theatre's capacious seat,
At once, by secret pipes and channels fed,
Rich tinctures gush from every antique head;
At once ten thousand saffron currents flow,
And rain their odours on the crowd below:
So the warm blood at once from every part
Ran purple poison down, and drain'd the fainting
heart.

[grew.