Foes in Italia; no bloodless steps
Nor
vacant homes had pleased him (19); so his march
Were wasted: now the coming war was joined
Unbroken to the past; to force the gates
Not find them open, fire and sword to bring
Upon the harvests, not through fields unharmed
To pass his legions -- this was Caesar's joy;
In
peaceful guise to march, this was his shame.
Italia's cities,
doubtful in their choice,
Though to the earliest onset of the war
About to yield, strengthened their walls with mounds
And deepest
trench encircling:
massive stones
And bolts of war to hurl upon the foe
They place upon the turrets. Magnus most
The people's favour held, yet faith with fear
Fought in their breasts. As when, with strident blast,
A southern
tempest has possessed the main
And all the billows follow in its track:
Then, by the Storm-king
smitten, should the earth
Set Eurus free upon the
swollen deep,
It shall not yield to him, though cloud and sky
Confess his strength; but in the former wind
Still find its master. But their fears prevailed,
And Caesar's fortune, o'er their wavering faith.
For Libo fled Etruria; Umbria lost
Her freedom, driving Thermus (20) from her bounds;
Great Sulla's son,
unworthy of his sire,
Feared at the name of Caesar: Varus sought
The caves and woods, when smote the
hostile horse
The gates of Auximon; and Spinther
drivenFrom Asculum, the
victor on his track,
Fled with his standards, soldierless; and thou,
Scipio, did'st leave Nuceria's citadel
Deserted, though by bravest legions held
Sent home by Caesar for the Parthian war (21);
Whom Magnus earlier, to his kinsman gave
A loan of Roman blood, to fight the Gaul.
But brave Domitius held firm his post (22)
Behind Corfinium's ramparts; his the troops
Who newly levied kept the judgment hall
At Milo's trial (23). When from far the plain
Rolled up a dusty cloud, beneath whose veil
The sheen of
armour glistening in the sun,
Revealed a marching host. "Dash down," he cried,
Swift; as ye can, the
bridge that spans the
stream;
And thou, O river, from thy mountain source
With all thy
torrents rushing, planks and beams
Ruined and broken on thy foaming breast
Bear
onward to the sea. The war shall stop
Here, to our
triumph; for this
headlong chief
Here first at our firm bidding shall be stayed."
He bade his squadrons, speeding from the walls,
Charge on the
bridge: in vain: for Caesar saw
They sought to free the river from his chains (24)
And bar his march; and roused to ire, he cried:
"Were not the walls sufficient to protect
Your
coward souls? Seek ye by barricades
And
streams to keep me back? What though the flood
Of
swollen Ganges were across my path?
Now Rubicon is passed, no
stream on earth
Shall
hinder Caesar! Forward, horse and foot,
And ere it totters rush upon the
bridge."
Urged in their swiftest
gallop to the front
Dashed the light horse across the sounding plain;
And suddenly, as storm in summer, flew
A cloud of javelins forth, by sinewy arms
Hurled at the foe; the guard is put to flight,
And
conquering Caesar, seizing on the
bridge,
Compels the enemy to keep the walls.
Now do the
mighty engines, soon to hurl
Gigantic stones, press forward, and the ram
Creeps 'neath the ramparts; when the gates fly back,
And lo! the
traitor troops, foul crime in war,
Yield up their leader. Him they place before
His proud compatriot; yet with
upright form,
And
scornful features and with noble mien,
He asks his death. But Caesar knew his wish
Was
punishment, and
pardon was his fear:
"Live though thou would'st not," so the
chieftain spake,
"And by my gift,
unwilling, see the day:
Be to my
conquered foes the cause of hope,
Proof of my clemency -- or if thou wilt
Take arms again -- and should'st thou
conquer, count
This
pardon nothing." Thus he spake, and bade
Let loose the bands and set the
captive free.
Ah! better had he died, and fortune spared
The Roman's last dishonour, whose worse doom
It is, that he who joined his country's camp
And fought with Magnus for the Senate's cause
Should gain for this -- a
pardon! Yet he curbed
His anger, thinking, "Wilt thou then to Rome
And
peaceful scenes,
degenerate? Rather war,
The
furious battle and the certain end!
Break with life's ties: be Caesar's gift in vain."
Pompeius,
ignorant that his captain thus
Was taken, armed his levies newly raised
To give his legions strength; and as he thought
To sound his trumpets with the coming dawn,
To test his soldiers ere he moved his camp
Thus in
majestic tones their ranks addressed:
"Soldiers of Rome! Avengers of her laws!
To whom the Senate gives no private arms,
Ask by your voices for the battle sign.
Fierce falls the pillage on Hesperian fields,
And Gallia's fury o'er the snowy Alps (25)
Is poured upon us. Caesar's swords at last
Are red with Roman blood. But with the wound
We gain the better cause; the crime is theirs.
No war is this, but for offended Rome
We wreak the
vengeance; as when Catiline
Lifted against her roofs the
flaming brand
And,
partner in his fury, Lentulus,
And mad Cethegus (26) with his naked arm.
Is such thy
madness, Caesar? when the Fates
With great Camillus' and Metellus' names
Might place thine own, dost thou prefer to rank
With Marius and Cinna? Swift shall be
Thy fall: as Lepidus before the sword
Of Catulus; or who my axes felt,
Carbo (27), now buried in Sicanian tomb;
Or who, in exile, roused Iberia's hordes,
Sertorius -- yet,
witness Heaven, with these
I hate to rank thee; hate the task that Rome
Has laid upon me, to oppose thy rage.
Would that in safety from the Parthian war
And Scythian steppes had
conquering Crassus come!
Then haply had'st thou fallen by the hand
That smote vile Spartacus the
robber foe.
But if among my
triumphs fate has said
Thy
conquest shall be written, know this heart
Still sends the life blood coursing: and this arm (28)
Still
vigorously flings the dart afield.
He deems me slothful. Caesar, thou shalt learn
We brook not peace because we lag in war.
Old, does he call me? Fear not ye mine age.
Let me be elder, if his soldiers are.
The highest point a citizen can reach
And leave his people free, is mine: a throne
Alone were higher; whoso would surpass
Pompeius, aims at that. Both Consuls stand
Here; here for battle stand your
lawful chiefs:
And shall this Caesar drag the Senate down?
Not with such
blindness, not so lost to shame
Does Fortune rule. Does he take heart from Gaul:
For years on years
rebellious, and a life
Spent there in labour? or because he fled
Rhine's icy
torrent and the shifting pools
He calls an ocean? or unchallenged sought
Britannia's cliffs; then turned his back in flight?
Or does he boast because his citizens
Were
driven in arms to leave their hearths and homes?
Ah, vain delusion! not from thee they fled:
My steps they follow -- mine, whose
conquering signs
Swept all the ocean (29), and who, ere the moon
Twice filled her orb and waned, compelled to flight
The
pirate, shrinking from the open sea,
And
humbly begging for a narrow home
In some poor nook on shore. 'Twas I again
Who, happier far than Sulla, drave to death (30)
That king who, exiled to the deep recess
Of Scythian Pontus, held the fates of Rome
Still in the balances. Where is the land
That hath not seen my trophies? Icy waves
Of northern Phasis, hot Egyptian shores,
And where Syene 'neath its
noontide sun
Knows shade on neither hand (31): all these have learned
To fear Pompeius: and far Baetis' (32)
stream,
Last of all floods to join the refluent sea.
Arabia and the
warlike hordes that dwell
Beside the Euxine wave: the famous land
That lost the golden
fleece; Cilician wastes,
And Cappadocian, and the Jews who pray
Before an unknown God; Sophene soft --
All felt my yoke. What
conquests now remain,
What wars not civil can my kinsman wage?"
No loud
acclaim received his words, nor shout
Asked for the promised battle: and the chief
Drew back the standards, for the soldier's fears
Were in his soul alike; nor dared he trust
An army, vanquished by the fame alone
Of Caesar's powers, to fight for such a prize.
And as some bull, his early
combat lost,
Forth
driven from the herd, in exile roams
Through
lonely plains or secret forest depths,
Whets on opposing trunks his growing horn,
And proves himself for battle, till his neck
Is
ribbed afresh with
muscle: then returns,
Defiant of the hind, and
victor now
Leads wheresoe'er he will his lowing bands:
Thus Magnus, yielding to a stronger foe,
Gave up Italia, and sought in flight
Brundusium's sheltering battlements.
Here of old
Fled Cretan settlers when the dusky sail (33)
Spread the false message of the hero dead;
Here, where Hesperia, curving as a bow,
Draws back her coast, a little tongue of land
Shuts in with bending horns the sounding main.
Yet insecure the spot, unsafe in storm,
Were it not sheltered by an isle on which
The Adriatic billows dash and fall,