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And winds I call unceasing: hold not back

Thy willing troops, but let them dare the sea;
Here gladly shall they come to join my camp,

Though risking shipwreck. Not in equal shares
The world has fallen between us: thou alone

Dost hold Italia, but Epirus I
And all the lords of Rome." Twice called and thrice

Antonius lingered still: but Caesar thought
To reap in full the favour of the gods,

Not sit supine; and knowing danger yields
To whom heaven favours, he upon the waves

Feared by Antonius' fleets, in shallow boat
Embarked, and daring sought the further shore.

Now gentle night had brought repose from arms;
And sleep, blest guardian of the poor man's couch,

Restored the weary; and the camp was still.
The hour was come that called the second watch

When mighty Caesar, in the silence vast
With cautious tread advanced to such a deed (29)

As slaves should dare not. Fortune for his guide,
Alone he passes on, and o'er the guard

Stretched in repose he leaps, in secret wrath
At such a sleep. Pacing the winding beach,

Fast to a sea-worn rock he finds a boat
On ocean's marge afloat. Hard by on shore

Its master dwelt within his humble home.
No solid front it reared, for sterile rush

And marshy reed enwoven formed the walls,
Propped by a shallop with its bending sides

Turned upwards. Caesar's hand upon the door
Knocks twice and thrice until the fabric shook.

Amyclas from his couch of soft seaweed
Arising, calls: "What shipwrecked sailor seeks

My humble home? Who hopes for aid from me,
By fates adverse compelled?" He stirs the heap

Upon the hearth, until a tiny spark
Glows in the darkness, and throws wide the door.

Careless of war, he knew that civil strife
Stoops not to cottages. Oh! happy life

That poverty affords! great gift of heaven
Too little understood! what mansion wall,

What temple of the gods, would feel no fear
When Caesar called for entrance? Then the chief:

"Enlarge thine hopes and look for better things.
Do but my bidding, and on yonder shore

Place me, and thou shalt cease from one poor boat
To earn thy living; and in years to come

Look for a rich old age: and trust thy fates
To those high gods whose wont it is to bless

The poor with sudden plenty." So he spake
E'en at such time in accents of command,

For how could Caesar else? Amyclas said,
"'Twere dangerous to brave the deep to-night.

The sun descended not in ruddy clouds
Or peaceful rays to rest; part of his beams

Presaged a southern gale, the rest proclaimed
A northern tempest; and his middle orb,

Shorn of its strength, permitted human eyes
To gaze upon his grandeur; and the moon

Rose not with silver horns upon the night
Nor pure in middle space; her slender points

Not drawn aright, but blushing with the track
Of raging tempests, till her lurid light

Was sadly veiled within the clouds. Again
The forest sounds; the surf upon the shore;

The dolphin's mood, uncertain where to play;
The sea-mew on the land; the heron used

To wade among the shallows, borne aloft
And soaring on his wings -- all these alarm;

The raven, too, who plunged his head in spray,
As if to anticipate the coming rain,

And trod the margin with unsteady gait.
But if the cause demands, behold me thine.

Either we reach the bidden shore, or else
Storm and the deep forbid -- we can no more."

Thus said he loosed the boat and raised the sail.
No sooner done than stars were seen to fall

In flaming furrows from the sky: nay, more;
The pole star trembled in its place on high:

Black horror marked the surging of the sea;
The main was boiling in long tracts of foam,

Uncertain of the wind, yet seized with storm.
Then spake the captain of the trembling bark:

"See what remorseless ocean has in store!
Whether from east or west the storm may come

Is still uncertain, for as yet confused
The billows tumble. Judged by clouds and sky

A westerntempest: by the murmuring deep
A wild south-eastern gale shall sweep the sea.

Nor bark nor man shall reach Hesperia's shore
In this wild rage of waters. To return

Back on our course forbidden by the gods,
Is our one refuge, and with labouring boat

To reach the shore ere yet the nearest land
Way be too distant."

But great Caesar's trust
Was in himself, to make all dangers yield.

And thus he answered: "Scorn the threatening sea,
Spread out thy canvas to the raging wind;

If for thy pilot thou refusest heaven,
Me in its stead receive. Alone in thee

One cause of terror just -- thou dost not know
Thy comrade, ne'er deserted by the gods,

Whom fortune blesses e'en without a prayer.
Break through the middle storm and trust in me.

The burden of this fight fails not on us
But on the sky and ocean; and our bark

Shall swim the billows safe in him it bears.
Nor shall the wind rage long: the boat itself

Shall calm the waters. Flee the nearest shore,
Steer for the ocean with unswerving hand:

Then in the deep, when to our ship and us
No other port is given, believe thou hast

Calabria's harbours. And dost thou not know
The purpose of such havoc? Fortune seeks

In all this tumult of the sea and sky
A boon for Caesar." Then a hurricane

Swooped on the boat and tore away the sheet:
The fluttering sail fell on the fragile mast:

And groaned the joints. From all the universe
Commingled perils rush. In Atlas' seas

First Corus (30) lifts his head, and stirs the depths
To fury, and had forced upon the rocks

Whole seas and oceans; but the chilly north
Drove back the deep that doubted which was lord.

But Scythian Aquilo prevailed, whose blast
Tossed up the main and showed as shallow pools

Each deep abyss; and yet was not the sea
Heaped on the crags, for Corus' billows met

The waves of Boreas: such seas had clashed
Even were the winds withdrawn; Eurus enraged

Burst from the cave, and Notus black with rain,
And all the winds from every part of heaven

Strove for their own; and thus the ocean stayed
Within his boundaries. No petty seas

Rapt in the storm are whirled. The Tuscan deep
Invades th' Aegean; in Ionian gulfs

Sounds wandering Hadria. How long the crags
Which that day fell, the Ocean's blows had braved!

What lofty peaks did vanquished earth resign!
And yet on yonder coast such mighty waves

Took not their rise; from distant regions came
Those monsterbillows, driven on their course

By that great current which surrounds the world. (31)
Thus did the King of Heaven, when length of years

Wore out the forces of his thunder, call
His brother's trident to his help, what time

The earth and sea one second kingdom formed
And ocean knew no limit but the sky.

Now, too, the sea had risen to the stars
In mighty mass, had not Olympus' chief

Pressed down its waves with clouds: came not from heaven
That night, as others; but the murky air

Was dim with pallor of the realms below; (32)
The sky lay on the deep; within the clouds

The waves received the rain: the lightning flash
Clove through the parted air a path obscured

By mist and darkness: and the heavenly vaults
Re-echoed to the tumult, and the frame

That holds the sky was shaken. Nature feared
Chaos returned, as though the elements

Had burst their bonds, and night had come to mix
Th' infernal shades with heaven.

In such turmoil
Not to have perished was their only hope.

Far as from Leucas point the placid main
Spreads to the horizon, from the billow's crest

They viewed the dashing of th' infuriate sea;
Thence sinking to the middle trough, their mast

Scarce topped the wateryheight on either hand,
Their sails in clouds, their keel upon the ground.

For all the sea was piled into the waves,
And drawn from depths between laid bare the sand.

The master of the boat forgot his art,
For fear o'ercame; he knew not where to yield

Or where to meet the wave: but safety came
From ocean's self at war: one billow forced

The vessel under, but a huger wave
Repelled it upwards, and she rode the storm

Through every blast triumphant. Not the shore
Of humble Sason (33), nor Thessalia's coast

Indented, not Ambracia's scanty ports
Dismay the sailors, but the giddy tops

Of high Ceraunia's cliffs.
But Caesar now,

Thinking the peril worthy of his fates:
"Are such the labours of the gods?" exclaimed,

"Bent on my downfall have they sought me thus,
Here in this puny skiff in such a sea?

If to the deep the glory of my fall
Is due, and not to war, intrepid still

Whatever death they send shall strike me down.
Let fate cut short the deeds that I would do

And hasten on the end: the past is mine.
The northern nations fell beneath my sword;

My dreaded name compels the foe to flee.
Pompeius yields me place; the people's voice

Gave at my order what the wars denied.
And all the titles which denote the powers

Known to the Roman state my name shall bear.
Let none know this but thou who hear'st my prayers,



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