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And barbarousworship, altars horrible

On massive stones upreared; sacred with blood



Of men was every tree. If faith be given

To ancient myth, no fowl has ever dared



To rest upon those branches, and no beast

Has made his lair beneath: no tempest falls,



Nor lightnings flash upon it from the cloud.

Stagnant the air, unmoving, yet the leaves



Filled with mysterious trembling; dripped the streams

From coal-black fountains; effigies of gods



Rude, scarcely fashioned from some fallen trunk

Held the mid space: and, pallid with decay,



Their rotting shapes struck terror. Thus do men

Dread most the god unknown. 'Twas said that caves



Rumbled with earthquakes, that the prostrate yew

Rose up again; that fiery tongues of flame



Gleamed in the forest depths, yet were the trees

Unkindled; and that snakes in frequent folds



Were coiled around the trunks. Men flee the spot

Nor dare to worship near: and e'en the priest



Or when bright Phoebus holds the height, or when

Dark night controls the heavens, in anxious dread



Draws near the grove and fears to find its lord.

Spared in the former war, still dense it rose



Where all the hills were bare, and Caesar now

Its fall commanded. But the brawny arms



Which swayed the axes trembled, and the men,

Awed by the sacred grove's dark majesty,



Held back the blow they thought would be returned.

This Caesar saw, and swift within his grasp



Uprose a ponderous axe, which downward fell

Cleaving a mighty oak that towered to heaven,



While thus he spake: "Henceforth let no man dread

To fell this forest: all the crime is mine.



This be your creed." He spake, and all obeyed,

For Caesar's ire weighed down the wrath of Heaven.



Yet ceased they not to fear. Then first the oak,

Dodona's ancient boast; the knotty holm;



The cypress, witness of patrician grief,

The buoyant alder, laid their foliage low



Admitting day; though scarcely through the stems

Their fall found passage. At the sight the Gauls



Grieved; but the garrison within the walls

Rejoiced: for thus shall men insult the gods



And find no punishment? Yet fortune oft

Protects the guilty; on the poor alone



The gods can vent their ire. Enough hewn down,

They seize the country wagons; and the hind,



His oxen gone which else had drawn the plough,

Mourns for his harvest.



But the eager chief

Impatient of the combat by the walls



Carries the warfare to the furthest west.

Meanwhile a giant mound, on star-shaped wheels



Concealed, they fashion, crowned with double towers

High as the battlements, by cause unseen



Slow creeping onwards; while amazed the foe,

Beheld, and thought some subterranean gust



Had burst the caverns of the earth and forced

The nodding pile aloft, and wondered sore



Their walls should stand unshaken. From its height

Hissed clown the weapons; but the Grecian bolts



With greater force were on the Romans hurled;

Nor by the arm unaided, for the lance



Urged by the catapult resistless rushed

Through arms and shield and flesh, and left a death



Behind, nor stayed its course: and massive stones

Cast by the beams of mighty engines fell;



As from the mountain top some time-worn rock

At length by winds dislodged, in all its track



Spreads ruin vast: nor crushed the life alone

Forth from the body, but dispersed the limbs



In fragments undistinguished and in blood.

But as protected by the armourshield



The might of Rome drew nigh beneath the wall




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