Book I: The Crossing of the Rubicon

Wars worse than civil on Emathian (1) plains,And crime let loose we sing; how Rome's high racePlunged in her vitals her victorious sword;Armies akin embattled, with the forceOf all the shaken earth bent on the fray;And burst asunder, to the common guilt,A kingdom's compact; eagle with eagle met,Standard to standard, spear opposed to spear.

Whence, citizens, this rage, this boundless lustTo sate barbarians with the blood of Rome?Did not the shade of Crassus, wandering still,Cry for his vengeance? Could ye not have spoiled,To deck your trophies, haughty Babylon?Why wage campaigns that send no laurels home?What lands, what oceans might have been the prizeOf all the blood thus shed in civil strife!Where Titan rises, where night hides the stars,'Neath southern noons all quivering with heat,Or where keen frost that never yields to springIn icy fetters binds the Scythian main:Long since barbarians by the Eastern seaAnd far Araxes' stream, and those who know(If any such there be) the birth of NileHad felt our yoke. Then, Rome, upon thyselfWith all the world beneath thee, if thou must,Wage this nefarious war, but not till then.

Now view the houses with half-ruined wallsThroughout Italian cities; stone from stoneHas slipped and lies at length; within the homeNo guard is found, and in the ancient streets soScarce seen the passer by. The fields in vain,Rugged with brambles and unploughed for years,Ask for the hand of man; for man is not.Nor savage Pyrrhus nor the Punic hordeE'er caused such havoc: to no foe was givenTo strike thus deep; but civil strife aloneDealt the fell wound and left the death behind.Yet if the fates could find no other wayFor Nero coming, nor the gods with easeGain thrones in heaven; and if the ThundererPrevailed not till the giant's war was done,Complaint is silent. For this boon supremeWelcome, ye gods, be wickedness and crime;Thronged with our dead be dire Pharsalia's fields,Be Punic ghosts avenged by Roman blood;Add to these ills the toils of Mutina;Perusia's dearth; on Munda's final fieldThe shock of battle joined; let Leucas' CapeShatter the routed navies; servile handsUnsheath the sword on fiery Etna's slopes:Still Rome is gainer by the civil war.Thou, Caesar, art her prize. When thou shalt choose,Thy watch relieved, to seek divine abodes,All heaven rejoicing; and shalt hold a throne,Or else elect to govern Phoebus' carAnd light a subject world that shall not dreadTo owe her brightness to a different Sun;All shall concede thy right: do what thou wilt,Select thy Godhead, and the central climeWhence thou shalt rule the world with power divine.And yet the Northern or the Southern PoleWe pray thee, choose not; but in rays directVouchsafe thy radiance to thy city Rome.Press thou on either side, the universeShould lose its equipoise: take thou the midst,And weight the scales, and let that part of heavenWhere Caesar sits, be evermore sereneAnd smile upon us with unclouded blue.Then may all men lay down their arms, and peaceThrough all the nations reign, and shut the gatesThat close the temple of the God of War.Be thou my help, to me e'en now divine!Let Delphi's steep her own Apollo guard,And Nysa keep her Bacchus, uninvoked.Rome is my subject and my muse art thou!

First of such deeds I purpose to unfoldThe causes -- task immense -- what drove to armsA maddened nation, and from all the worldStruck peace away.

By envious fate's decreesAbide not long the mightiest lords of earth;Beneath too heavy a burden great the fall.Thus Rome o'ergrew her strength. So when that hour,The last in all the centuries, shall soundThe world's disruption, all things shall revertTo that primaeval chaos, stars on starsShall crash; and fiery meteors from the skyPlunge in the ocean. Earth shall then no moreFront with her bulwark the encroaching sea:The moon, indignant at her path oblique,Shall drive her chariot 'gainst her brother SunAnd claim the day for hers; and discord hugeShall rend the spheres asunder.On themselvesGreat powers are dashed: such bounds the gods have placedUpon the prosperous; nor doth Fortune lendTo any nations, so that they may strikeThe sovereign power that rules the earth and sea,The weapons of her envy. Triple reignAnd baleful compact for divided power --Ne'er without peril separate before --Made Rome their victim. Oh! Ambition blind,That stirred the leaders so to join their strengthIn peace that ended ill, their prize the world!For while the Sea on Earth and Earth on AirLean for support: while Titan runs his course,And night with day divides an equal sphere,No king shall brook his fellow, nor shall powerEndure a rival. Search no foreign lands:These walls are proof that in their infant daysA hamlet, not the world, was prize enoughTo cause the shedding of a brother's blood.

Concord, on discord based, brief time endured,Unwelcome to the rivals; and aloneCrassus delayed the advent of the war.Like to the slender neck that separatesThe seas of Graecia: should it be engulfedThen would th' Ionian and Aegean mainsBreak each on other: thus when Crassus fell,Who held apart the chiefs, in piteous death,And stained Assyria's plains with Latian blood,Defeat in Parthia loosed the war in Rome.More in that victory than ye thought was won,Ye sons of Arsaces; your conquered foesTook at your hands the rage of civil strife.The mighty realm that earth and sea contained,To which all peoples bowed, split by the sword,Could not find space for two (5). For Julia bore,Cut off by fate unpitying(6), the bondOf that ill-omened marriage, and the pledgeOf blood united, to the shades below.Had'st thou but longer stayed, it had been thineTo keep the husband and the sire apart,And, as the Sabine women did of old,Dash down the threatening swords and join the hands.With thee all trust was buried, and the chiefsCould give their courage vent, and rushed to war.

Lest newer glories triumphs past obscure,Late conquered Gaul the bays from pirates won,This, Magnus, was thy fear; thy roll of fame,Of glorious deeds accomplished for the stateAllows no equal; nor will Caesar's prideA prior rival in his triumphs brook;Which had the right 'twere impious to enquire;Each for his cause can vouch a judge supreme;The victor, heaven: the vanquished, Cato, thee.Nor were they like to like: the one in yearsNow verging towards decay, in times of peaceHad unlearned war; but thirsting for applauseHad given the people much, and proud of fameHis former glory cared not to renew,But joyed in plaudits of the theatre,His gift to Rome: his triumphs in the past,Himself the shadow of a mighty name.As when some oak, in fruitful field sublime,Adorned with venerable spoils, and giftsOf bygone leaders, by its weight to earthWith feeble roots still clings; its naked armsAnd hollow trunk, though leafless, give a shade;And though condemned beneath the tempest's shockTo speedy fall, amid the sturdier treesIn sacred grandeur rules the forest still.No such repute had Caesar won, nor fame;But energy was his that could not rest --The only shame he knew was not to win.Keen and unvanquished (9), where revenge or hopeMight call, resistless would he strike the blowWith sword unpitying: every victory wonReaped to the full; the favour of the godsPressed to the utmost; all that stayed his courseAimed at the summit of power, was thrust aside:Triumph his joy, though ruin marked his track.As parts the clouds a bolt by winds compelled,With crack of riven air and crash of worlds,And veils the light of day, and on mankind,Blasting their vision with its flames oblique,Sheds deadly fright; then turning to its home,Nought but the air opposing, through its pathSpreads havoc, and collects its scattered fires.

Such were the hidden motives of the chiefs;But in the public life the seeds of warTheir hold had taken, such as are the doomOf potent nations: and when fortune pouredThrough Roman gates the booty of a world,The curse of luxury, chief bane of states,Fell on her sons. Farewell the ancient ways!Behold the pomp profuse, the houses deckedWith ornament; their hunger loathed the foodOf former days; men wore attire for damesScarce fitly fashioned; poverty was scorned,Fruitful of warriors; and from all the worldCame that which ruins nations; while the fieldsFurrowed of yore by great Camillus' plough,Or by the mattock which a Curius held,Lost their once narrow bounds, and widening tractsBy hinds unknown were tilled. No nation thisTo sheathe the sword, with tranquil peace contentAnd with her liberties; but prone to ire;Crime holding light as though by want compelled:And great the glory in the minds of men,Ambition lawful even at point of sword,To rise above their country: might their law:Decrees are forced from Senate and from Plebs:Consul and Tribune break the laws alike:Bought are the fasces, and the people sellFor gain their favour: bribery's fatal curseCorrupts the annual contests of the Field.Then covetous usury rose, and interestWas greedier ever as the seasons came;Faith tottered; thousands saw their gain in war.

Caesar has crossed the Alps, his mighty soulGreat tumults pondering and the coming shock.Now on the marge of Rubicon, he saw,In face most sorrowful and ghostly guise,His trembling country's image; huge it seemedThrough mists of night obscure; and hoary hairStreamed from the lofty front with turrets crowned:Torn were her locks and naked were her arms.Then thus, with broken sighs the Vision spake:"What seek ye, men of Rome? and whither henceBear ye my standards? If by right ye come,My citizens, stay here; these are the bounds;No further dare." But Caesar's hair was stiffWith horror as he gazed, and ghastly dreadRestrained his footsteps on the further bank.Then spake he, "Thunderer, who from the rockTarpeian seest the wall of mighty Rome;Gods of my race who watched o'er Troy of old;Thou Jove of Alba's height, and Vestal fires,And rites of Romulus erst rapt to heaven,And God-like Rome; be friendly to my quest.Not with offence or hostile arms I come,Thy Caesar, conqueror by land and sea,Thy soldier here and wheresoe'er thou wilt:No other's; his, his only be the guiltWhose acts make me thy foe." He gives the wordAnd bids his standards cross the swollen stream.So in the wastes of Afric's burning climeThe lion crouches as his foes draw near,Feeding his wrath the while, his lashing tailProvokes his fury; stiff upon his neckBristles his mane: deep from his gaping jawsResounds a muttered growl, and should a lanceOr javelin reach him from the hunter's ring,Scorning the puny scratch he bounds afield.

From modest fountain blood-red RubiconIn summer's heat flows on; his pigmy tideCreeps through the valleys and with slender margeDivides the Italian peasant from the Gaul.Then winter gave him strength, and fraught with rainThe third day's crescent moon; while Eastern windsThawed from the Alpine slopes the yielding snow.The cavalry first form across the streamTo break the torrent's force; the rest with easeBeneath their shelter gain the further bank.When Caesar crossed and trod beneath his feetThe soil of Italy's forbidden fields,"Here," spake he, "peace, here broken laws be left;Farewell to treaties. Fortune, lead me on;War is our judge, and in the fates our trust."Then in the shades of night he leads the troopsSwifter than Balearic sling or shaftWinged by retreating Parthian, to the wallsOf threatened Rimini, while fled the stars,Save Lucifer, before the coming sun,Whose fires were veiled in clouds, by south wind driven,Or else at heaven's command: and thus drew onThe first dark morning of the civil war.

Now stand the troops within the captured town,Their standards planted; and the trumpet clangRings forth in harsh alarums, giving noteOf impious strife: roused from their sleep the menRush to the hall and snatch the ancient armsLong hanging through the years of peace; the shieldWith crumbling frame; dark with the tooth of rustTheir swords (10); and javelins with blunted point.But when the well-known signs and eagles shone,And Caesar towering o'er the throng was seen,They shook for terror, fear possessed their limbs,And thoughts unuttered stirred within their souls."O miserable those to whom their homeDenies the peace that all men else enjoy!Placed as we are beside the Northern boundsAnd scarce a footstep from the restless Gaul,We fall the first; would that our lot had beenBeneath the Eastern sky, or frozen North,To lead a wandering life, rather than keepThe gates of Latium. Brennus sacked the townAnd Hannibal, and all the Teuton hosts.For when the fate of Rome is in the scaleBy this path war advances." Thus they moanTheir fears but speak them not; no sound is heardGiving their anguish utterance: as whenIn depth of winter all the fields are still,The birds are voiceless and no sound is heardTo break the silence of the central sea.But when the day had broken through the shadesOf chilly darkness, lo! the torch of war!For by the hand of Fate is swift dispersedAll Caesar's shame of battle, and his mindScarce doubted more; and Fortune toiled to makeHis action just and give him cause for arms.For while Rome doubted and the tongues of menSpoke of the chiefs who won them rights of yore,The hostile Senate, in contempt of right,Drove out the Tribunes. They to Caesar's campWith Curio hasten, who of venal tongue,Bold, prompt, persuasive, had been wont to preachOf Freedom to the people, and to callUpon the chiefs to lay their weapons down (11).And when he saw how deeply Caesar mused,"While from the rostrum I had power," he said,To call the populace to aid thy cause,By this my voice against the Senate's willWas thy command prolonged. But silenced nowAre laws in war: we driven from our homes;Yet is our exile willing; for thine armsShall make us citizens of Rome again.Strike; for no strength as yet the foe hath gained.Occasion calls, delay shall mar it soon:Like risk, like labour, thou hast known before,But never such reward. Could Gallia holdThine armies ten long years ere victory came,That little nook of earth? One paltry fightOr twain, fought out by thy resistless hand,And Rome for thee shall have subdued the world:'Tis true no triumph now would bring thee home;No captive tribes would grace thy chariot wheelsWinding in pomp around the ancient hill.Spite gnaws the factions; for thy conquests wonScarce shalt thou be unpunished. Yet 'tis fateThou should'st subdue thy kinsman: share the worldWith him thou canst not; rule thou canst, alone."As when at Elis' festival a horseIn stable pent gnaws at his prison barsImpatient, and should clamour from withoutStrike on his ear, bounds furious at restraint,So then was Caesar, eager for the fight,Stirred by the words of Curio. To the ranksHe bids his soldiers; with majestic mienAnd hand commanding silence as they come."Comrades," he cried, "victorious returned,Who by my side for ten long years have faced,'Mid Alpine winters and on Arctic shores,The thousand dangers of the battle-field --Is this our country's welcome, this her prizeFor death and wounds and Roman blood outpoured?Rome arms her choicest sons; the sturdy oaksAre felled to make a fleet; -- what could she moreIf from the Alps fierce Hannibal were comeWith all his Punic host? 'By land and seaCaesar shall fly!' Fly? Though in adverse warOur best had fallen, and the savage GaulWere hard upon our track, we would not fly.And now, when fortune smiles and kindly godsBeckon us on to glory! -- Let him comeFresh from his years of peace, with all his crowdOf conscript burgesses, Marcellus' tongueAnd Cato's empty name! We will not fly.Shall Eastern hordes and greedy hirelings keepTheir loved Pompeius ever at the helm?Shall chariots of triumph be for himThough youth and law forbad them? Shall he seizeOn Rome's chief honours ne'er to be resigned?And what of harvests (13) blighted through the worldAnd ghastly famine made to serve his ends?Who hath forgotten how Pompeius' bandsSeized on the forum, and with glittering armsMade outraged justice tremble, while their swordsHemmed in the judgment-seat where Milo (14) stood?And now when worn and old and ripe for rest (15),Greedy of power, the impious sword againHe draws. As tigers in Hyrcanian woodsWandering, or in the caves that saw their birth,Once having lapped the blood of slaughtered kine,Shall never cease from rage; e'en so this whelpOf cruel Sulla, nursed in civil war,Outstrips his master; and the tongue which lickedThat reeking weapon ever thirsts for more.Stain once the lips with blood, no other mealThey shall enjoy. And shall there be no endOf these long years of power and of crime?Nay, this one lesson, e'er it be too late,Learn of thy gentle Sulla -- to retire!Of old his victory o'er Cilician thievesAnd Pontus' weary monarch gave him fame,By poison scarce attained. His latest prizeShall I be, Caesar, I, who would not quitMy conquering eagles at his proud command?Nay, if no triumph is reserved for me,Let these at least of long and toilsome war'Neath other leaders the rewards enjoy.Where shall the weary soldier find his rest?What cottage homes their joys, what fields their fruitShall to our veterans yield? Will Magnus sayThat pirates only till the fields alight?Unfurl your standards; victory gilds them yet,As through those glorious years. Deny our rights!He that denies them makes our quarrel just.Nay! use the strength that we have made our own.No booty seek we, nor imperial power.This would-be ruler of subservient RomeWe force to quit his grasp; and Heaven shall smileOn those who seek to drag the tyrant down."

Thus Caesar spake; but doubtful murmurs ranThroughout the listening crowd, this way and thatTheir wishes urging them; the thoughts of homeAnd household gods and kindred gave them pause:But fear of Caesar and the pride of warTheir doubts resolved. Then Laelius, who woreThe well-earned crown for Roman life preserved,The foremost Captain of the army, spake:"O greatest leader of the Roman name,If 'tis thy wish the very truth to hear'Tis mine to speak it; we complain of this,That gifted with such strength thou did'st refrainFrom using it. Had'st thou no trust in us?While the hot life-blood fills these glowing veins,While these strong arms avail to hurl the lance,Wilt thou make peace and bear the Senate's rule?Is civil conquest then so base and vile?Lead us through Scythian deserts, lead us whereThe inhospitable Syrtes line the shoreOf Afric's burning sands, or where thou wilt:This hand, to leave a conquered world behind,Held firm the oar that tamed the Northern SeaAnd Rhine's swift torrent foaming to the main.To follow thee fate gives me now the power:The will was mine before. No citizenI count the man 'gainst whom thy trumpets sound.By ten campaigns of victory, I swear,By all thy world-wide triumphs, though with handUnwilling, should'st thou now demand the lifeOf sire or brother or of faithful spouse,Caesar, the life were thine. To spoil the godsAnd sack great Juno's temple on the hill,To plant our arms o'er Tiber's yellow stream,To measure out the camp, against the wallTo drive the fatal ram, and raze the town,This arm shall not refuse, though Rome the prize."

His comrades swore consent with lifted handsAnd vowed to follow wheresoe'er he led.And such a clamour rent the sky as whenSome Thracian blast on Ossa's pine-clad rocksFalls headlong, and the loud re-echoing woods,Or bending, or rebounding from the stroke,In sounding chorus lift the roar on high.

When Caesar saw them welcome thus the warAnd Fortune leading on, and favouring fates,He seized the moment, called his troops from Gaul,And breaking up his camp set on for Rome.

The tents are vacant by Lake Leman's side;The camps upon the beetling crags of VosgesNo longer hold the warlike Lingon down,Fierce in his painted arms; Isère is left,Who past his shallows gliding, flows at lastInto the current of more famous Rhone,To reach the ocean in another name.The fair-haired people of Cevennes are free:Soft Aude rejoicing bears no Roman keel,Nor pleasant Var, since then Italia's bound;The harbour sacred to Alcides' nameWhere hollow crags encroach upon the sea,Is left in freedom: there nor Zephyr gainsNor Caurus access, but the Circian blastForbids the roadstead by Monaecus' hold.And others left the doubtful shore, which seaAnd land alternate claim, whene'er the tidePours in amain or when the wave rolls back --Be it the wind which thus compels the deepFrom furthest pole, and leaves it at the flood;Or else the moon that makes the tide to swell,Or else, in search of fuel (17) for his fires,The sun draws heavenward the ocean wave; --Whate'er the cause that may control the mainI leave to others; let the gods for meLock in their breasts the secrets of the world.

Those who kept watch beside the western shoreHave moved their standards home; the happy GaulRejoices in their absence; fair GaronneThrough peaceful meads glides onward to the sea.And where the river broadens, neath the capeHer quiet harbour sleeps. No outstretched armExcept in mimic war now hurls the lance.No skilful warrior of Seine directsThe scythed chariot 'gainst his country's foe.Now rest the Belgians, and the Arvernian raceThat boasts our kinship by descent from Troy;And those brave rebels whose undaunted handsWere dipped in Cotta's blood, and those who wearSarmatian garb. Batavia's warriors fierceNo longer listen for the bugle call,Nor those who dwell where Rhone's swift eddies sweepSaone to the ocean; nor the mountain tribesWho dwell about its source. Thou, too, oh Treves,Rejoicest that the war has left thy bounds.Ligurian tribes, now shorn, in ancient daysFirst of the long-haired nations, on whose necksOnce flowed the auburn locks in pride supreme;And those who pacify with blood accursedSavage Teutates, Hesus' horrid shrines,And Taranis' altars cruel as were thoseLoved by Diana (18), goddess of the north;All these now rest in peace. And you, ye Bards,Whose martial lays send down to distant timesThe fame of valorous deeds in battle done,Pour forth in safety more abundant song.While you, ye Druids (19), when the war was done,To mysteries strange and hateful rites returned:To you alone 'tis given the gods and starsTo know or not to know; secluded grovesYour dwelling-place, and forests far remote.If what ye sing be true, the shades of menSeek not the dismal homes of ErebusOr death's pale kingdoms; but the breath of lifeStill rules these bodies in another age --Life on this hand and that, and death between.Happy the peoples 'neath the Northern StarIn this their false belief; for them no fearOf that which frights all others: they with handsAnd hearts undaunted rush upon the foeAnd scorn to spare the life that shall return.Ye too depart who kept the banks of RhineSafe from the foe, and leave the Teuton tribesFree at their will to march upon the world.

Caesar, with strength increased and gathered troopsNew efforts daring, spreads his bands afarThrough Italy, and fills the neighbouring towns.Then empty rumour to well-grounded fearGave strength, and heralding the coming warIn hundred voices 'midst the people spread.One cries in terror, "Swift the squadrons comeWhere Nar with Tiber joins: and where, in meadsBy oxen loved, Mevania spreads her walls,Fierce Caesar hurries his barbarian horse.Eagles and standards wave above his head,And broad the march that sweeps across the land."Nor is he pictured truly; greater farMore fierce and pitiless -- from conquered foesAdvancing; in his rear the peoples march.Snatched from their homes between the Rhine and Alps,To pillage Rome while Roman chiefs look on.Thus each man's panic thought swells rumour's lie:They fear the phantoms they themselves create.Nor does the terror seize the crowd alone:But fled the Fathers, to the Consuls (20) firstIssuing their hated order, as for war;And doubting of their safety, doubting tooWhere lay the peril, through the choking gates,Each where he would, rushed all the people forth.Thou would'st believe that blazing to the torchWere men's abodes, or nodding to their fall.So streamed they onwards, frenzied with affright,As though in exile only could they findHope for their country. So, when southern blastsFrom Libyan whirlpools drive the boundless main,And mast and sail crash down upon a shipWith ponderous weight, but still the frame is sound,Her crew and captain leap into the sea,Each making shipwreck for himself. 'Twas thusThey passed the city gates and fled to war.No aged parent now could stay his son;Nor wife her spouse, nor did they pray the godsTo grant the safety of their fatherland.None linger on the threshold for a lookOf their loved city, though perchance the last.

Ye gods, who lavish priceless gifts on men,Nor care to guard them, see victorious RomeTeeming with life, chief city of the world,With ample walls that all mankind might hold,To coming Caesar left an easy prey.The Roman soldier, when in foreign landsPressed by the enemy, in narrow trenchAnd hurried mound finds guard enough to makeHis slumber safe; but thou, imperial Rome,Alone on rumour of advancing foesArt left a desert, and thy battlementsThey trust not for one night. Yet for their fearThis one excuse was left; Pompeius fled.Nor found they room for hope; for nature gaveUnerring portents of worse ills to come.The angry gods filled earth and air and seaWith frequent prodigies; in darkest nightsStrange constellations sparkled through the gloom:The pole was all afire, and torches flewAcross the depths of heaven; with horrid hairA blazing comet stretched from east to westAnd threatened change to kingdoms. From the bluePale lightning flashed, and in the murky airThe fire took divers shapes; a lance afarWould seem to quiver or a misty torch;A noiseless thunderbolt from cloudless skyRushed down, and drawing fire in northern partsPlunged on the summit of the Alban mount.The stars that run their courses in the nightShone in full daylight; and the orbed moon,Hid by the shade of earth, grew pale and wan.The sun himself, when poised in mid career,Shrouded his burning car in blackest gloomAnd plunged the world in darkness, so that menDespaired of day -- like as he veiled his lightFrom that fell banquet which Mycenae saw (21).The jaws of Etna were agape with flameThat rose not heavenwards, but headlong fellIn smoking stream upon the Italian flank.Then black Charybdis, from her boundless depth,Threw up a gory sea. In piteous tonesHowled the wild dogs; the Vestal fire was snatchedFrom off the altar; and the flame that crownedThe Latin festival was split in twain,As on the Theban pyre (22), in ancient days;Earth tottered on its base: the mighty AlpsFrom off their summits shook th' eternal snow (23).In huge upheaval Ocean raised his wavesO'er Calpe's rock and Atlas' hoary head.The native gods shed tears, and holy sweatDropped from the idols; gifts in temples fell:Foul birds defiled the day; beasts left the woodsAnd made their lair among the streets of Rome.All this we hear; nay more: dumb oxen spake;Monsters were brought to birth and mothers shriekedAt their own offspring; words of dire importFrom Cumae's prophetess were noised abroad.Bellona's priests with bleeding arms, and slavesOf Cybele's worship, with ensanguined hair,Howled chants of havoc and of woe to men.Arms clashed; and sounding in the pathless woodsWere heard strange voices; spirits walked the earth:And dead men's ashes muttered from the urn.Those who live near the walls desert their homes,For lo! with hissing serpents in her hair,Waving in downward whirl a blazing pine,A fiend patrols the town, like that which erstAt Thebes urged on Agavé (24), or which hurledLycurgus' bolts, or that which as he cameFrom Hades seen, at haughty Juno's word,Brought terror to the soul of Hercules.Trumpets like those that summon armies forthWere heard re-echoing in the silent night:And from the earth arising Sulla's (25) ghostSang gloomy oracles, and by Anio's waveAll fled the homesteads, frighted by the shadeOf Marius waking from his broken tomb.

In such dismay they summon, as of yore,The Tuscan sages to the nation's aid.Aruns, the eldest, leaving his abodeIn desolate Luca, came, well versed in allThe lore of omens; knowing what may meanThe flight of hovering bird, the pulse that beatsIn offered victims, and the levin bolt.All monsters first, by most unnatural birthBrought into being, in accursèd flamesHe bids consume (26). Then round the walls of RomeEach trembling citizen in turn proceeds.The priests, chief guardians of the public faith,With holy sprinkling purge the open spaceThat borders on the wall; in sacred garbFollows the lesser crowd: the Vestals comeBy priestess led with laurel crown bedecked,To whom alone is given the right to seeMinerva's effigy that came from Troy (27).Next come the keepers of the sacred booksAnd fate's predictions; who from Almo's brookBring back Cybebe laved; the augur tooTaught to observe sinister flight of birds;And those who serve the banquets to the gods;And Titian brethren; and the priest of Mars,Proud of the buckler that adorns his neck;By him the Flamen, on his noble headThe cap of office. While they tread the pathThat winds around the walls, the aged seerCollects the thunderbolts that fell from heaven,And lays them deep in earth, with muttered wordsNaming the spot accursed. Next a steer,Picked for his swelling neck and beauteous form,He leads to the altar, and with slanting knifeSpreads on his brow the meal, and pours the wine.The victim's struggles prove the gods averse;But when the servers press upon his horns

He bends the knee and yields him to the blow.No crimson torrent issued at the stroke,But from the wound a dark empoisoned streamEbbed slowly downward. Aruns at the sightAghast, upon the entrails of the beastEssayed to read the anger of the gods.Their very colour terrified the seer;Spotted they were and pale, with sable streaksOf lukewarm gore bespread; the liver dampWith foul disease, and on the hostile partThe angry veins defiant; of the lungsThe fibre hid, and through the vital partsThe membrane small; the heart had ceased to throb;Blood oozes through the ducts; the caul is split:And, fatal omen of impending ill,One lobe o'ergrows the other; of the twainThe one lies flat and sick, the other beatsAnd keeps the pulse in rapid strokes astir.

Disaster's near approach thus learned, he cries --"Whate'er may be the purpose of the gods,'Tis not for me to tell; this offered beastNot Jove possesses, but the gods below.We dare not speak our fears, yet fear doth makeThe future worse than fact. May all the godsProsper the tokens, and the sacrificeBe void of truth, and Tages (famous seer)Have vainly taught these mysteries." Such his wordsInvolved, mysterious. Figulus, to whomFor knowledge of the secret depths of spaceAnd laws harmonious that guide the stars,Memphis could find no peer, then spake at large:"Either," he said, "the world and countless orbsThroughout the ages wander at their will;Or, if the fates control them, ruin hugeHangs o'er this city and o'er all mankind.Shall Earth yawn open and engulph the towns?Shall scorching heat usurp the temperate airAnd fields refuse their timely fruit? The streamsFlow mixed with poison? In what plague, ye gods,In what destruction shall ye wreak your ire?Whate'er the truth, the days in which we liveShall find a doom for many. Had the starOf baleful Saturn, frigid in the height,Kindled his lurid fires, the sky had pouredIts torrents forth as in Deucalion's time,And whelmed the world in waters. Or if thou,Phoebus, beside the Nemean lion fierceWert driving now thy chariot, flames should seizeThe universe and set the air ablaze.These are at peace; but, Mars, why art thou bentOn kindling thus the Scorpion, his tailPortending evil and his claws aflame?Deep sunk is kindly Jupiter, and dullSweet Venus' star, and rapid MercuryStays on his course: Mars only holds the sky.Why does Orion's sword too brightly shine?Why planets leave their paths and through the voidThus journey on obscure? 'Tis war that comes,Fierce rabid war: the sword shall bear the ruleConfounding justice; hateful crime usurpThe name of virtue; and the havoc spreadThrough many a year. But why entreat the gods?The end Rome longs for and the final peaceComes with a despot. Draw thou out thy chainOf lengthening slaughter, and (for such thy fate)Make good thy liberty through civil war."

The frightened people heard, and as they heardHis words prophetic made them fear the more.But worse remained; for as on Pindus' slopesPossessed with fury from the Theban godSpeeds some Bacchante, thus in Roman streetsBehold a matron run, who, in her trance,Relieves her bosom of the god within.

"Where dost thou snatch me, Paean, to what shoreThrough airy regions borne? I see the snowsOf Thracian mountains; and Philippi's plainsLie broad beneath. But why these battle lines,No foe to vanquish -- Rome on either hand?Again I wander 'neath the rosy huesThat paint thine eastern skies, where regal NileMeets with his flowing wave the rising tide.Known to mine eyes that mutilated trunkThat lies upon the sand! Across the seasBy changing whirlpools to the burning climesOf Libya borne, again I see the hostsFrom Thracia brought by fate's command. And nowThou bear'st me o'er the cloud-compelling AlpsAnd Pyrenean summits; next to Rome.There in mid-Senate see the closing sceneOf this foul war in foulest murder done.Again the factions rise; through all the worldOnce more I pass; but give me some new land,Some other region, Phoebus, to behold!Washed by the Pontic billows! for these eyesAlready once have seen Philippi's plains!"