Nor do they dare a
combat hand to hand;
But as the winds may suffer, from afar
They draw their bows at
venture. Brave men love
The sword which, wielded by a stalwart arm,
Drives home the blow and makes the battle sure.
Not such their weapons; and the first assault
Shall force the flying Mede with
coward hand
And empty
quiver from the field. His faith
In poisoned blades is placed; but trustest thou
Those who without such aid refuse the war?
For such
alliance wilt thou risk a death,
With all the world between thee and thy home?
Shall some
barbarian earth or lowly grave
Enclose thee
perishing? E'en that were shame
While Crassus seeks a sepulchre in vain.
Thy lot is happy; death, unfeared by men,
Is thy worst doom, Pompeius; but no death
Awaits Cornelia -- such a fate for her
This king shall not reserve; for know not we
The
hateful secrets of
barbarian love,
Which, blind as that of beasts, the marriage bed
Pollutes with wives unnumbered? Nor the laws
By nature made respect they, nor of kin.
In ancient days the fable of the crime
By
tyrant Oedipus unwitting wrought,
Brought hate upon his city; but how oft
Sits on the
throne of Arsaces a prince
Of birth incestuous? This
gracious dame
Born of Metellus, noblest blood of Rome,
Shall share the couch of the
barbarian king
With thousand others: yet in
savage joy,
Proud of her former husbands, he may grant
Some larger share of favour; and the fates
May seem to smile on Parthia; for the spouse
Of Crassus,
captive, shall to him be brought
As spoil of former
conquest. If the wound
Dealt in that fell defeat in eastern lands
Still stirs thy heart, then double is the shame
First to have waged the war upon ourselves,
Then ask the foe for succour. For what blame
Can rest on thee or Caesar, worse than this
That in the clash of
conflict ye forgot
For Crassus' slaughtered troops the
vengeance due?
First should united Rome upon the Mede
Have poured her captains, and the troops who guard
The northern
frontier from the Dacian hordes;
And all her legions should have left the Rhine
Free to the Teuton, till the Parthian dead
Were piled in heaps upon the sands that hide
Our heroes slain; and
haughty Babylon
Lay at her
victor's feet. To this foul peace
We pray an end; and if Thessalia's day
Has closed our
warfare, let the
conqueror march
Straight on our Parthian foe. Then should this heart,
Then only, leap at Caesar's
triumph won.
Go thou and pass Araxes'
chillystreamOn this thine
errand; and the
fleeting ghost
Pierced by the Scythian shaft shall greet thee thus:
`Art thou not he to whom our wandering shades
Looked for their
vengeance in the guise of war?
And dost thou sue for peace?' There shalt thou meet
Memorials of the dead. Red is yon wall
Where passed their headless trunks: Euphrates here
Engulfed them slain, or Tigris' winding
streamCast on the shore to
perish. Gaze on this,
And thou canst supplicate at Caesar's feet
In mid Thessalia seated. Nay, thy glance
Turn on the Roman world, and if thou fear'st
King Juba
faithless and the southern realms,
Then seek we Pharos. Egypt on the west
Girt by the trackless Syrtes forces back
By sevenfold
stream the ocean; rich in glebe
And gold and
merchandise; and proud of Nile
Asks for no rain from heaven. Now holds this boy
Her sceptre, owed to thee; his
guardian thou:
And who shall fear this shadow of a name?
Hope not from monarchs old, whose shame is fled,
Or laws or troth or honour of the gods:
New kings bring mildest sway." (14)
His words prevailed
Upon his hearers. With what freedom speaks,
When states are trembling,
patriot despair!
Pompeius' voice was quelled.
They hoist their sails
For Cyprus shaped, whose altars more than all
The
goddess loves who from the Paphian wave
Sprang, mindful of her birth, if such be truth,
And gods have
origin. Past the craggy isle
Pompeius sailing, left at length astern
Its southern cape, and struck across the main
With winds transverse and tides; nor reached the mount
Grateful to sailors for its
nightly gleam:
But to the bounds of Egypt hardly won
With battling
canvas, where divided Nile
Pours through the
shallows his Pelusian
stream. (15)
Now was the season when the
heavenly scale
Most nearly balances the varying hours,
Once only equal; for the
wintry day
Repays to night her losses of the spring;
And Magnus
learning that th' Egyptian king
Lay by Mount Casius, ere the sun was set
Or flagged his
canvas,
thither steered his ship.
Already had a
horseman from the shore
In rapid
gallop to the trembling court
Brought news their guest was come. Short was the time
For
counsel given; but in haste were met
All who advised the base Pellaean king,
Monsters, inhuman; there Achoreus sat
Less harsh in failing years, in Memphis born
Of empty rites, and
guardian of the rise (16)
Of fertilising Nile. While he was priest
Not only once had Apis (17) lived the space
Marked by the
crescent on his
sacred brow.
First was his voice, for Magnus raised and troth
And for the pledges of the king deceased:
But,
skilled in
counsel meet for shameless minds
And
tyrant hearts, Pothinus, dared to claim
Judgment of death on Magnus. "Laws and right
Make many
guilty, Ptolemmus king.
And faith thus lauded (18) brings its punishment
When it supports the fallen. To the fates
Yield thee, and to the gods; the
wretched shun
But seek the happy. As the stars from earth
Differ, and fire from ocean, so from right
Expedience. (19) The
tyrant's shorn of strength
Who ponders justice; and regard for right
Bring's ruin on a
throne. For
lawless power
The best defence is crime, and cruel deeds
Find safety but in doing. He that aims
At piety must flee the regal hall;
Virtue's the bane of rule; he lives in dread
Who shrinks from
cruelty. Nor let this chief
Unpunished scorn thy youth, who thinks that thou
Not even the conquered from our shore can'st bar.
Nor to a stranger, if thou would'st not reign,
Resign thy sceptre, for the ties of blood
Speak for thy banished sister. Let her rule
O'er Nile and Pharos: we shall at the least
Preserve our Egypt from the Latian arms.
What Magnus owned not ere the war was done,
No more shall Caesar. Driven from all the world,
Trusting no more to Fortune, now he seeks
Some foreign nation which may share his fate.
Shades of the slaughtered in the civil war
Compel him: nor from Caesar's arms alone
But from the Senate also does he fly,
Whose blood outpoured has gorged Thessalian fowl;
Monarchs he fears whose all he hath destroyed,
And nations piled in one ensanguined heap,
By him deserted. Victim of the blow
Thessalia dealt, refused in every land,
He asks for help from ours not yet betrayed.
But none than Egypt with this chief from Rome
Has juster quarrel; who has sought with arms
To stain our Pharos, distant from the strife
And
peaceful ever, and to make our realm
Suspected by his
victor. Why alone
Should this our country please thee in thy fall?
Why bringst thou here the burden of thy fates,
Pharsalia's curse? In Caesar's eyes long since
We have offence which by the sword alone
Can find its condonation, in that we
By thy
persuasion from the Senate gained
This our
dominion. By our prayers we helped
If not by arms thy cause. This sword, which fate
Bids us make ready, not for thee I hold
Prepared, but for the vanquished; and on thee
(Would it had been on Caesar) falls the stroke;
For we are borne. as all things, to his side.
And dost thou doubt, since thou art in my power,
Thou art my
victim? By what trust in us
Cam'st thou,
unhappy? Scarce our people tills
The fields, though softened by the refluent Nile:
Know well our strength, and know we can no more.
Rome 'neath the ruin of Pompeius lies:
Shalt thou, king,
uphold him? Shalt thou dare
To stir Pharsalia's ashes and to call
War to thy kingdom? Ere the fight was fought
We joined not either army -- shall we now
Make Magnus friend whom all the world deserts?
And fling a
challenge to the conquering chief
And all his proud successes? Fair is help
Lent in
disaster, yet reserved for those
Whom fortune favours. Faith her friends selects
Not from the
wretched."
They
decree the crime:
Proud is the
boyishtyrant that so soon
His slaves permit him to so great a deed
To give his favouring voice; and for the work
They choose Achillas.
Where the
treacherous shore
Runs out in sand below the Casian mount
And where the
shallow waters of the sea
Attest the Syrtes near, in little boat
Achillas and his partners in the crime
With swords
embark. Ye gods! and shall the Nile
And
barbarous Memphis and th'
effeminate crew
That throngs Pelusian Canopus raise
Its thoughts to such an
enterprise? Do thus
Our fates press on the world? Is Rome thus fallen
That in our civil frays the Phaxian sword