Pleased took he power, pleased he laid it down:
Chaste was his home and simple, by his
wealthUntarnished. Mid the peoples great his name
And venerated: to his native Rome
He
wrought much good. True faith in liberty
Long since with Marius and Sulla fled:
Now when Pompeius has been reft away
Its
counterfeit has perished. Now unshamed
Shall seize the
despot on Imperial power,
Unshamed shall cringe the Senate. Happy he
Who with
disaster found his latest breath
And met the Pharian sword prepared to slay.
Life might have been his lot, in
despot rule,
Prone at his kinsman's
throne. Best gift of all
The knowledge how to die; next, death compelled.
If cruel Fortune doth reserve for me
An alien
conqueror" target="_blank" title="n.征服者,胜利者">
conqueror, may Juba be
As Ptolemaeus. So he take my head
My body grace his
triumph, if he will."
More than had Rome resounded with his praise
Words such as these gave honour to the shade
Of that most noble dead.
Meanwhile the crowd
Weary of
warfare, since Pompeius' fall,
Broke into
discord, as their ancient chief
Cilician called them to desert the camp.
But Cato hailed them from the furthest beach:
"Untamed Cilician, is thy course now set
For Ocean theft again; Pompeius gone,
Once more a pirate?" Thus he spake, and gazed
At all the
stirringthrong; but one whose mind
Was fixed on
flight, thus answered, "Pardon, chief,
'Twas love of Magnus, not of civil war,
That led us to the fight: his side was ours:
With him whom all the world preferred to peace,
Our cause is perished. Let us seek our homes
Long since
unseen, our children and our wives.
If nor the rout nor dread Pharsalia's field
Nor yet Pompeius' death shall close the war,
Whence comes the end? The
vigour of a life
For us is vanished: in our failing years
Give us at least some pious hand to speed
The
parting soul, and light the
funeral pyre.
Scarce even to its captains civil
strifeConcedes due burial. Nor in our defeat
Does Fortune
threaten us with the
savage yoke
Of distant nations. In the garb of Rome
And with her rights, I leave thee. Who had been
Second to Magnus living, he shall be
My first
hereafter: to that
sacred shade
Be the prime honour. Chance of war appoints
My lord but not my leader. Thee alone
I followed, Magnus; after thee the fates.
Nor hope we now for
victory, nor wish;
For all our Thracian army is fled
In Caesar's
victory, whose
potent star
Of fortune rules the world, and none but he
Has power to keep or save. That civil war
Which while Pompeius lived was loyalty
Is
impious now. If in the public right
Thou,
patriot Cato, find'st thy guide, we seek
The standards of the Consul." Thus he spake
And with him leaped into the ship a
throngOf eager comrades.
Then was Rome undone,
For all the shore was
stirring with a crowd
Athirst for
slavery. But burst these words
From Cato's
blameless breast: "Then with like vows
As Caesar's rival host ye too did seek
A lord and master! not for Rome the fight,
But for Pompeius! For that now no more
Ye fight for
tyranny, but for yourselves,
Not for some
despot chief, ye live and die;
Since now 'tis safe to
conquer and no lord