So by unholy death there stood revealed
His inmost nature. Head and stalwart arms,
And neck and shoulders, from their solid mass
Melt in
corruption. Not more
swiftly flows
Wax at the sun's command, nor snow compelled
By southern breezes. Yet not all is said:
For so to noxious humours fire consumes
Our fleshly frame; but on the
funeral pyre
What bones have
perished? These
dissolve no less
Than did the mouldered tissues, nor of death
Thus swift is left a trace. Of Afric pests
Thou bear'st the palm for hurtfulness: the life
They
snatch away, thou only with the life
The clay that held it.
Lo! a different fate,
Not this by melting! for a Prester's fang
Nasidius struck, who erst in Marsian fields
Guided the ploughshare. Burned upon his face
A redness as of flame:
swollen the skin,
His features
hidden,
swollen all his limbs
Till more than human: and his
definite frame
One tumour huge concealed. A
ghastly gore
Is puffed from inwards as the virulent juice
Courses through all his body; which, thus grown,
His corselet holds not. Not in caldron so
Boils up to
mountainousheight the steaming wave;
Nor in such bellying curves does
canvas bend
To Eastern tempests. Now the
ponderous bulk
Rejects the limbs, and as a
shapeless trunk
Burdens the earth: and there, to beasts and birds
A fatal feast, his comrades left the corse
Nor dared to place, yet swelling, in the tomb.
But for their eyes the Libyan pests prepared
More
dreadful sights. On Tullus great in heart,
And bound to Cato with admiring soul,
A
fierce Haemorrhois fixed. From every limb, (27)
(As from a
statue saffron spray is showered
In every part) there spouted forth for blood
A sable
poison: from the natural pores
Of
moisture, gore profuse; his mouth was filled
And gaping nostrils, and his tears were blood.
Brimmed full his veins; his very sweat was red;
All was one wound.
Then piteous Levus next
In sleep was
victim, for around his heart
Stood still the blood congealed: no pain he felt
Of
venomous tooth, but swift upon him fell
Death, and he sought the shades; more swift to kill
No
draught in
poisonous cups from ripened plants
Of direst growth Sabaean wizards brew.
Lo! Upon branchless trunk a
serpent, named
By Libyans Jaculus, rose in coils to dart
His venom from afar. Through Paullus' brain
It rushed, nor stayed; for in the wound itself
Was death. Then did they know how slowly flies,
Flung from a sling, the stone; how
gently speed
Through air the shafts of Scythia.
What availed,
Murrus, the lance by which thou didst transfix
A Basilisk? Swift through the
weapon ran
The
poison to his hand: he draws his sword
And severs arm and shoulder at a blow:
Then gazed secure upon his severed hand
Which
perished as he looked. So had'st thou died,
And such had been thy fate!
Whoe'er had thought
A scorpion had strength o'er death or fate?
Yet with his threatening coils and barb erect
He won the glory of Orion (28) slain;
So bear the stars their
witness. And who would fear
Thy haunts, Salpuga? (29) Yet the Stygian Maids
Have given thee power to snap the fatal threads.
Thus nor the day with
brightness, nor the night
With darkness gave them peace. The very earth
On which they lay they feared; nor leaves nor straw
They piled for couches, but upon the ground
Unshielded from the fates they laid their limbs,
Cherished beneath whose
warmth in chill of night
The
frozen pests found shelter; in whose jaws
Harmless the while, the lurking venom slept.
Nor did they know the
measure of their march
Accomplished, nor their path; the stars in heaven
Their only guide. "Return, ye gods," they cried,
In
frequent wail, "the arms from which we fled.
Give back Thessalia. Sworn to meet the sword
Why,
lingering, fall we thus? In Caesar's place
The thirsty Dipsas and the horned snake
Now wage the
warfare. Rather let us seek
That region by the horses of the sun
Scorched, and the zone most torrid: let us fall
Slain by some
heavenly cause, and from the sky
Descend our fate! Not, Africa, of thee
Complain we, nor of Nature. From mankind
Cut off, this quarter, teeming thus with pests
She gave to snakes, and to the
barren fields
Denied the husbandman, nor wished that men
Should
perish by their venom. To the realms
Of
serpents have we come. Hater of men,
Receive thy
vengeance, whoso of the gods
Severed this region upon either hand,
With death in middle space. Our march is set
Through thy sequestered kingdom, and the host
Which knows thy secret seeks the furthest world.
Perchance some greater wonders on our path
May still await us; in the waves be plunged
Heaven's constellations, and the lofty pole
Stoop from its
height. By further space removed
No land, than Juba's realm; by rumour's voice
Drear,
mournful. Haply for this
serpent land
There may we long, where yet some living thing
Gives
consolation. Not my native land
Nor European fields I hope for now
Lit by far other suns, nor Asia's plains.
But in what land, what region of the sky,
Where left we Africa? But now with frosts
Cyrene stiffened: have we changed the laws
Which rule the seasons, in this little space?
Cast from the world we know, 'neath other skies
And stars we tread; behind our backs the home
Of southern tempests: Rome herself perchance
Now lies beneath our feet. Yet for our fates
This
solace pray we, that on this our track
Pursuing Caesar with his host may come."
Thus was their
stubbornpatience of its plaints
Disburdened. But the
bravery of their chief
Forced them to bear their toils. Upon the sand,
All bare, he lies and dares at every hour
Fortune to strike: he only at the fate
Of each is present, flies to every call;
And greatest boon of all, greater than life,
Brought strength to die. To groan in death was shame
In such a presence. What power had all the ills
Possessed upon him? In another's breast
He conquers
misery, teaching by his mien
That pain is powerless.
Hardly aid at length
Did Fortune, wearied of their perils, grant.
Alone unharmed of all who till the earth,
By
deadlyserpents, dwells the Psyllian race.
Potent as herbs their song; safe is their blood,
Nor gives
admission to the
poison germ
E'en when the chant has ceased. Their home itself
Placed in such
venomous tract and
serpent-thronged
Gained them this
vantage, and a truce with death,
Else could they not have lived. Such is their trust
In
purity of blood, that newly born
Each babe they prove by test of
deadly asp
For foreign lineage. So the bird of Jove
Turns his new fledglings to the rising sun
And such as gaze upon the beams of day
With eves unwavering, for the use of heaven
He rears; but such as blink at Phoebus' rays
Casts from the nest. Thus of unmixed descent
The babe who, dreading not the
serpent touch,
Plays in his
cradle with the
deadly snake.
Nor with their own
immunity from harm
Contented do they rest, but watch for guests
Who need their help against the noisome plague.
Now to the Roman standards are they come,
And when the
chieftain bade the tents be fixed,
First all the sandy space within the lines
With song they
purify and magic words
From which all
serpents flee: next round the camp
In widest
circuit from a kindled fire
Rise
aromatic odours: danewort burns,
And juice distils from Syrian galbanum;
Then tamarisk and costum, Eastern herbs,
Strong panacea mixt with centaury
From Thrace, and leaves of fennel feed the flames,
And thapsus brought from Eryx: and they burn
Larch, southern-wood and antlers of a deer
Which lived afar. From these in densest fumes,
Deadly to snakes, a pungent smoke arose;
And thus in safety passed the night away.
But should some
victim feel the fatal fang
Upon the march, then of this magic race
Were seen the wonders, for a
mighty strife
Rose 'twixt the Psyllian and the
poison germ.
First with saliva they
anoint the limbs
That held the
venomous juice within the wound;
Nor suffer it to spread. From foaming mouth
Next with
continuouscadence would they pour
Unceasing chants -- nor breathing space nor pause --
Else spreads the
poison: nor does fate permit
A moment's silence. Oft from the black flesh
Flies forth the pest beneath the magic song:
But should it
linger nor obey the voice,
Repugmant to the summons, on the wound
Prostrate they lay their lips and from the depths
Now paling draw the venom. In their mouths,
Sucked from the freezing flesh, they hold the death,
Then spew it forth; and from the taste shall know
The snake they conquer.
Aided thus at length
Wanders the Roman host in better guise
Upon the
barren fields in lengthy march. (30)
Twice veiled the moon her light and twice renewed;
Yet still, with waning or with growing orb
Saw Cato's steps upon the sandy waste.
But more and more beneath their feet the dust
Began to
harden, till the Libyan tracts