 Book 1, Part 1 of Farsalia, Dramatic Episodes of the Civil Wars. This is LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by David Gillespie, Ashland, Kentucky. Farsalia by Lucan. Translated by JD Duff. Book 1, The Crossing of the Rubicon, Part 1. Wars worse than civil on the mathian plains and crime let loose we sing. How Rome's high race plunged in her vitals her victorious sword. Armies akin embattled with the force of all the shaken earth bent on the fray and burst asunder to the common guilt of kingdom's compact. Eagle with eagle met, standard to standard. Spear opposed to spear. Went citizens this rage, this boundless lust to sate barbarians with a blood of Rome? Did not the shade of Crassus, wondering still, cry for his vengeance? Could you not have spoiled to Deck your trophies, haughty Babylon? Why wage campaigns that send no laurels home? What lands, what oceans, might have been the prize of all the blood thus shed in civil strife? Where titan rises, where night hides the stars, leave southern noons all quivering with heat? Or where keen frost that never yields to spring in icy fetters binds the Scythian main? Long since barbarians by the eastern sea and far Araxi stream, and those who know with any such there be the birth of Nile had felt our yoke. Then Rome, upon thyself, with all the world beneath thee, if thou must wage this nefarious war, but not till then. Now view the houses with half ruined walls throughout Italian cities. Stone from stone has slipped and lies at length. Within the home no guard is found, and in the ancient streets so scarce seen the passerby. The fields in vain, rugged with brambles and unplowed for years, ask for the hand of man, for man is not. Nor savage Pyrrhus, nor the Punic Horde air-caused such havoc. To no foe was given to strike thus deep, but civil strife alone dealt the fell wound and left the death behind. Yet if the fates could find no other way for Nero coming, nor the gods with ease gain thrones in heaven, and if the thunderer prevailed not till the giants war was done, complaint is silent. For this boon supreme be wickedness and crime, thronged with our dead be dire far salius fields, be Punic ghosts avenged by Roman blood. Add to these ills the toils of Mutena, Pyrrhus' dearth on Mundus' final field. The shock of battle joined, let Lucas' cape shatter the routed navies. Servile hands unsheath the sword on fiery entness slopes. Still Rome is gainer by the civil war. Thou, Caesar, art her prize. When thou shalt choose thy watch relieved, to seek divine abodes, all heaven rejoicing, and shalt hold a throne, or else elect to govern Phoebus' car, and light a subject world that shall not dread to owe her brightness to a different son. All shall concede thy right, do what thou wilt, select thy guide-head, and the central climb, whence thou shalt rule the world with power divine. And yet the northern or the southern pole, we pray thee, choose not. But in raise direct, thou safe thy radiance to thy city-room. Pressed thou on either side, the universe should lose its equipoise. Take thou the midst, and weight the scales, and let that part of heaven where Caesar sits be evermore serene and smile upon us with unclouded blue. Then may all men lay down their arms, and peace through all the nations reign, and shut the gates that close the temple of the God of war. Be thou my help, to me even now divine. Let Delphi's steep her own Apollo guard, and Nysa keep her back us, uninvoked. Rome is my subject, and my muse art thou. First of such deeds I propose to unfold the causes, task immense, what drove to arms a maddened nation, and from all the world struck peace away. By envious fates decrease, abide not long the mightiest lords of earth. Beneath too heavy a burden great the fall. Thus Rome or grew her strength. So when that hour, the last in all the centuries, shall sound the world's disruption, all things shall revert to that primeval chaos. Stars on stars shall crash, and fiery meteors from the sky plunge in the ocean. Earth shall then know more fronts with her bulwark, the encroaching sea. The moon, indignant at her path oblique, shall drive her chariot against her brother-son, and claim the day for hers, and discord huge, shall rend the spheres asunder. On themselves great powers are dashed. Such bounds the gods have placed upon the prosperous. Nor doth fortune lend to any nations, so that they may strike the sovereign power that rules the earth and sea, the weapons of her envy. Triple rain and baleful compact for divided power, near without peril, separate before, made Rome their victim. O ambition blind, that stirred the leaders so to join their strength in peace that ended ill, their prize the world. For while the sea on earth and earth on air lean for support, while Titan runs his course, and night with day divides an equal sphere, no king shall brook his fellow, nor shall power endure a rival. Search no foreign lands. These walls are proof that in their infant days a hamlet, not the world, was prize enough to cause the shedding of a brother's blood. Concord on discord-based, brief time endured. Unwelcome to the rivals, and alone Crassus delayed the advent of the war. Like to the slender neck that separates the seas of Grisha, should it be engulfed, then would the Ionian and Aegean mains break each on other. Thus when Crassus fell, who held apart the chiefs in piteous death, and stained the serious plains with Latin blood, defeat in Parthia loosed the war in Rome. More in that victory than you thought was won, ye sons of Arsaches, your conquered foes took at your hands the rage of civil strife, the mighty realm that earth and sea contained, to which all peoples bowed, split by the sword, could not find space for two. For Julia bore, cut off by fate unpitying, the bond of that ill omen to marriage, and the pledge of blood united to the shades below. That thou but longer stayed, it had been thine to keep the husband and the sire apart. And as the Sabine women did of old, dash down the threatening swords and join the hands. With thee all trust was buried, and the chiefs could give their courage vent and rushed to war. Lest newer glories triumphs past obscure, late conquered Gaul the bays from pirates won, this Magnus was thy fear, thy role of fame, of glorious deeds accomplished for the state allows no equal. Nor will Caesar's pride a prior rival in his triumphs brook, which had the right to her impious to inquire. Each for his cause can vouch a judge supreme, the victor heaven, the vanquished Cato thee. Nor were they like to like, the one in years now verging towards decay, in times of peace had unlearned war, but thirsting for applause had given the people much, and proud of fame his former glory cared not to renew. But joyed in plaudits of the theater, his gift to Rome, his triumphs in the past, himself the shadow of a mighty name. As when some oak in fruitful fields sublime, adorned with venerable spoils and gifts of bygone leaders, by its weight to earth with feeble roots still clings, its naked arms and hollow trunk though leafless give a shade, and though condemned beneath the tempest's shock to speedy fall, amid the sturdier trees and sacred grandeur rules the forest still. No such repute had Caesar won nor fame, but energy was his that could not rest. The only shame he knew was not to win, keen and unvanquished where revenge or hope might call, resistless would he strike the blow with sword unpitting, every victory won reaped to the full, the favor of the gods pressed to the utmost. All that stayed his course aimed at the summit of power was thrust aside. Triumph is joy though ruin marked his track. As parts the clouds abalts by winds compelled, with crack of ribbon-air and crash of worlds, unveils the light of day and on mankind, blasting their vision with its flames oblique, shed deadly fright. Then turning to its home, not but the air opposing, through its path spreads havoc and collects its scattered fires. Such were the hidden motives of the chiefs, but in the public life the seeds of war their hold had taken, such as are the doom of potent nations, and when fortune poured through Roman gates, the booty of a world, the curse of luxury, chief bane of states, fell on her sons. Farewell the ancient ways, behold the pomp profuse, the houses decked with ornament, their hunger loathed the food of former days, men wore attire for dames, scarce, fitly fashioned, poverty was scorned, fruitful of warriors, and from all the world came that which ruins nations. While the fields furrowed of yore by great Camillus Plow, or by the mattock which a courious held, lost their once narrow bounds, and widening tracks by hinds unknown were tilled. No nation this to sheed the sword with tranquil peace, content and wither liberties, but prone to ire, crime holding light as though by once compelled, and great the glory in the minds of men, ambition lawful even at point of sword, to rise above their country, might their law. Decrees are forced from senate and from plebs, consul and tribune break the laws alike, bots are the facies and the people sell for gain their favor, bribery's fatal curse corrupts the annual contests of the field, then covetous usury rose, an interest was greedy or ever as the seasons came, faith tottered, thousands saw their gain in war. Caesar has crossed the Alps, his mighty soul great tumult pondering in the coming shock. Now on the march of Rubicon, he saw in face most sorrowful and ghostly guise his trembling country's image. Huge it seemed through the midst of night obscure, and hoary hair streamed from the lofty front with turrets crowned. Torn were her locks and naked were her arms. Then thus with broken size the vision spake. What seek ye, men of Rome, and wither hence bear ye my standards. If my right ye come, my citizens, stay here. These are the bounds no further dare. But Caesar's hair was stiff with horror as he gazed and ghastly dread restrained his footsteps on the further bank. Then spake he, thunder, who from the rock tarpaion seeest the wall of mighty Rome, gods of my race who watched or Troy of old, thou jove of Alba's height and vestal fires, and rites of Romulus, erst wrapped to heaven, and godlike Rome, be friendly to my quest. Not with offence or hostile arms I come, thy Caesar, cocker by land and sea, thy soldier here and wheresoever thou wilt, no others. His, his only be the guilt whose acts make me thy foe. He gives the word and bids his standards cross the swollen stream. So in the wastes of Africa's burning climb, the lion crouches as his foes draw near, feeding his wrath the while, his lashing tail provokes his fury, stiff upon his neck bristles his mane, deep from his gaping jaws resounds a muttered growl, and should a lance or javelin reach him from the hunter's ring, scorning the peony scratch he bounds afield, from modest fountain blood-red Rubicon, in summer's heat flows on, his pygmy tide creeps through the valleys and with slender marge divides the Italian peasant from the gall. Then winter gave him strength and fraughts with rain the third day's crescent moon, while eastern winds thawed from the alpine slopes the yielding snow. The cavalry first form across the stream to break the torrent's force. The rest with ease beneath their shelter gain the further bank. When Caesar crossed and trod beneath his feet the soil of Italy's forbidden fields. Here, spakey, peace hear broken laws be left, farewell to treaties, fortune lead me on, war is our judge, and in the fates our trust. Then in the shades of night he leads the troops, thrifter than Balearic sling or shaft winged by retreating Parthian to the walls of threatened remedy, while fled the stars save Lucifer before the coming sun, whose fires were veiled in clouds by south wind driven, or else at heaven's command and thus drew on the first dark morning of the civil war. End of book one, part one. Book one, part two of Farsalia, dramatic episodes of the civil wars. This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Farsalia by Lucan, translated by J. D. Duff. Book one, the crossing of the Rubicon, part two. Now stand the troops within the captured town. Their standards planted and the trumpet clang rings forth in harsh alarms, giving note of impious strife. Roused from their sleep, the men rush to the hall and snatch the ancient arms long-hanging through the years of peace. The shield with crumbling frame, dark with the tooth of rust their swords, and javelins with blunted points. But when the well-known signs and eagles shone and Caesar towering or the throng was seen, they shook for terror. Fear possessed their limbs, and thoughts unuttered stirred within their souls. Oh, miserable those to whom their home denies the peace that all men else enjoy. Placed as we are beside the northern bounds and scarce a footstep from the restless gall, we fall the first. Would that our lot had been beneath the eastern sky or frozen north to lead a wandering life rather than keep the gates of Latinum? Green has sacked the town in Hannibal and all the Teuton hosts, for when the fate of Rome is in the scale by this path war advances. Thus they moan their fears, but speak them not. No sound is heard giving their anguish utterance. As when in depth of winter all the fields are still, the birds are voiceless, and no sound is heard to break the silence of the central sea. But when the day had broken through the shades of chilly darkness, low the torch of war. For by the hand of fate is swift dispersed all Caesar's shame of battle, and his mind scarce doubted more and fortune toiled to make his action just and give him cause for arms. For while Rome doubted and the tongues of men spoke of the chiefs who won them rights of your, the hostile senate in contempt of right drove out the tribunes. They to Caesar's camp with Curio Hasen, who a venal tongue, bald, prompt, persuasive, had been want to preach of freedom to the people and to call upon the chiefs to lay their weapons down. And when he saw how deeply Caesar mused, while from the rostrum I had power, he said, to call the populace to aid thy cause, by this my voice against the senate's will was thy command prolonged. But silenced now are laws and war, we driven from our homes. Yet is our exile willing, for thine arms shall make us citizens of Rome again. Strike, for no strength as yet the foe have gained. Occasion calls, delay shall mar it soon. Like risk, like labor thou hast known before, but never such reward. Could Gallia hold thine armies ten long years ere victory came, that little nook of earth, one paltry fight or twain, fought out by thy resistless hand, and Rome for thee shall have subdued the world. Tis true, no triumph now would bring thee home, no captive tribes would grace thy chariot reels, winding in pomp around the ancient hill. Spite gnaws the factions, for thy conquests one scarce shall thou be unpunished. Yet, to his fate thou shouldst subdue thy kinsmen, share the world with him thou kenced not, rule thou kenced alone. As when at Ellis festival a horse in stable pence, gnaws at his prison bars in patient, and should clamor from without strike on his ear, bounce furious at restraint. So then was Caesar eager for the fight, stirred by the words of Curio, to the ranks he bids his soldiers with majestic men, and hand commanding silence as they come. Comrades, he cried, victorious returns, who by my side for ten long years have faced mid-alpine winters and on arctic shores the thousand dangers of the battlefield. Is this our country's welcome, this her prize for death and wounds, and Roman blood outpoured? Rome arms her choicest sons, the sturdy oaks are felled to make a fleet. What could she more if from the Alps fierce Hannibal were come with all his punic host? By land and sea Caesar shall fly, though an adverse war are bested fallen and the savage gall were hard upon our track, we would not fly. And now, when fortune smiles and kindly gods beckon us on to glory, let him come fresh from his years of peace with all his crowd of conscript burgesses. Marcellus tongue and Cato's empty name. We will not fly. Shall Eastern hordes and greedy hirelings keep their lovin' Pompeius ever at the helm? Shall chariots of triumph be for him, though youth and law forbid them? Shall he seize on Rome's chief honors near to be resigned? And what of harvests blighted through the world and ghastly famine made to serve his ends? Who hath forgotten how Pompeius' bands seized on the forum and with glittering arms made outraged justice tremble? While their swords hemmed in the judgment seat where Milo stood. And now, when warm and old and ripe for rest, greedy of power, the impious sword again he draws. As tigers in hercanean woods wondering, or in the caves that saw their birth, once having lapped the blood of slaughtered Khan, shall never seize from rage. And so this welp of cruel cellar, nursed in civil war, outstrips his master in the tongue which licked that weak'n weapon ever thirsts for more. Stain once the lips with blood, no other meal they shall enjoy. And shall there be no end of these long years of power and crime? Nay, this one lesson, ere it be too late, learn of thy gentle cellar to retire. Of old his victory or Sicilian thieves and Pontus' weary monarch gave him fame by poison scarce attained, his latest prize shall I be Caesar, I who would not quit my conquering eagles at his proud command. Nay, if no triumph is reserved for me, let these at least of long and toilsome war neath the other leaders the rewards enjoy. Where shall the weary soldier find his rest? What cottage homes their joys? What fields their fruit shall to our veteran yield? Will Magnus say that pirates only till the fields alight? Unfurl your standards. Victory guilds them yet as through those glorious years. Deny our rights. He that denies them makes our quarrel just. Nay, use the strength that we have made our own. No booty seek we nor imperial power. This would be ruler of subservient Rome, we forced to quit his grasp, and heaven shall smile on those who seek to drag the tyrant down. Thus Caesar spake, but doubtful murmurs ran throughout the listening crowd. This way and that their wishes urging them. The thoughts of home and household gods and kindred gave them pause. But fear of Caesar and the pride of war their doubts resolved. Then Leelius who wore the well-earned crown for Roman life preserved. The foremost captain of the army spake. Oh, greatest leader of the Roman name. If tis thy wish, the very truth to hear, tis mine to speak it. We complain of this, that gifted with such strength thou didst refrain from using it. Hath thou no trust in us? While the hot lifeblood fills these glowing veins, while these strong arms avail to hurl the lance, wilt thou make peace and bear the senate's rule? Is civil conquest then so base and vile? Lead us through Scythian deserts. Lead us where the inhospitable Sirtes line the shore of Africa's burning sands, or where thou wilt. This hand to leave a conquered world behind held firm the ore that tamed the northern sea and Rhine's swift torrents foaming to the main. To follow thee, fate gives me now the power. The will was mine before. No citizen I count the man against whom thy trumpet sound. By ten campaigns of victory I swear by all thy worldwide triumphs, though with hand unwilling, shouldst thou now demand the life of Sire, or brother, or a faithful spouse, Caesar, the life were thine. To spoil the gods and sack great Juno's temple on the hill, to plant our arms or tibers yellow stream, to measure out the camp against the wall to drive the fatal ram and raise the town, this arm shall not refuse, though roam the prize. His comrades swore consent with lifted hands and vowed to follow, wheresoever he led. And such a clamor rent the sky as when some thration blessed on Osas pine-clad rocks falls headlong in the loud re-echoing woods, or bending, or rebounding from the stroke in sounding chorus lift the roar on high. When Caesar saw them welcome thus the war and fortune leading on and favoring fates, he seized the moment, called his troops from Gaul, and breaking up his camp set on for Rome. The tents are vacant by Lake Leem inside, the camps upon the beatling crags of Vosges no longer hold the warlike lingon down. Fierce in his painted arms, Isere is left, who, past his shallows gliding, flows at last into the currents of more famous Rhone to reach the ocean in another name. The fair-haired people of Savannas are free, soft out a rejoicing, bears no Roman keel, nor pleasant varre, since then itally is bound. The harbor sacred to El Sidi's name, where hollow crags encroach upon the sea, is left in freedom. There, nor Zephyr gains nor chorus access, but the Cersei unblast forbids the roadstead by Manacus hold. And others left the doubtful shore, which sea and land alternate claim, wherein the tide pours in a main, or when the wave rolls back, be it the wind which thus compels the deep from furthest pole and leaves it at the flood, or else the moon that makes the tide to swell, or else in search of fuel for his fires, the sun draws heavenward the ocean wave. What air the cause that may control the main I leave to others? Let the gods for me lock in their breasts the secrets of the world. Those who kept watch beside the western shore have moved their standards home. The happy gall rejoices in their absence. Fair Garon, through peaceful meads, glides onward to the sea, and where the river broadens, neath the cape, her quiet harbor sleeps. No outstretched arm except in mimic war now hurls the lance. No skillful warrior of sane directs the scythe chariot against his country's foe. Now rest the Belgians and the Arvernian race that boasts our kinship by descent from Troy. And those brave rebels, whose undaunted hands were dipped in Coda's blood, and those who wear Sarmatian garb. But Tavia's warriors fierce no longer listen for the bugle call, nor those who dwell where Rhone's swift eddies sweep Siona to the ocean, nor the mountain tribes who dwell about its source. Thou too, O Trevis, rejoicest that the war has left thy bounds. Ligurian tribes now shorn in ancient days first of the long-haired nations on whose necks once flowed the Auburn locks in Pride Supreme. And those who pacify with blood accursed savage to Tattus, Haces horrid shrines, and Tyranus alters cruel as were those loved by Diana, goddess of the north. All these now rest in peace, and you ye bards, whose marshal lays sand down to distant times the fame of valorous deeds in battle done, pour forth in safety more abundant song. While you ye druids when the war was done, to mysteries strange and hateful rites returned, to you alone tis given the gods and stars to know or not to know, secluded groves your dwelling place, and forests far remote. If what ye sing be true, the shades of men seek not the dismal homes of arabus or death's pale kingdoms, but the breadth of life still rules these bodies in another age, life on this hand and that and death between. Happy the peoples neath a northern star in this their false belief, for them no fear of that which frights all others. They with hands and hearts undaunted rush upon the foe and scorn to spare the life that shall return. Ye too depart who kept the banks of Rhine safe from the foe and leave the two-time tribes free at their will to march upon the world. Caesar, with strength increased and gathered troops, new efforts daring, spreads his bands afar through Italy and fills the neighboring towns. Then empty rumor to well-grounded fear gave strength, and heralding the coming war in hundred voices midst the people spread. One cries in terror, swift the squadrons come where gnar with tybour joins and where in meads by oxen-loved mevania spreads her walls, fierce Caesar hurries his barbarian horse. Eagles and standards wave above his head and broad the march that sweeps across the land. Nor is he pictured truly greater, far more fierce and pitiless from conquered foes advancing in his rear the people's march, snatched from their homes between the Rhine and Alps to pillage Rome while Roman chiefs look on. Thus each man's panic thought swells rumors lie. They fear the phantoms they themselves create. Nor does the terror seize the crowd alone but fled the fathers to the consuls first issuing their hated order as for war and doubting of their safety doubting to where lay the peril through the choking gates each where he would rushed all the people forth. Thou wouldst believe that blazing to the torch were men's abodes or nodding to their fall. So streamed they onwards frenzied with a fright as though in exile only could they find hope for their country. So when southern blasts from Libyan whirlpools drive the boundless man and mast and sail crash down upon a ship with ponderous weight but still the frame is sound. Her crew and captain leap into the sea each making shipwreck for himself. It was thus they passed the city gates and fled to war. No aged parent now could stay his son nor wife her spouse to grant the safety of their fatherland. None linger on the threshold for a look of their loved city though perchance the last. Ye gods who lavage priceless gifts on men nor care to guard them see victorious Rome teaming with life. Chief city of the world with ample walls that all mankind might hold to come in Caesar left an easy prey. The Roman soldier when in foreign lands pressed by the enemy in narrow trench and hurried mounds finds guard enough to make his slumber safe but thou Imperial Rome alone on rumor of advancing foes art left a desert and thy battlements they trust not yet for their fear this one excuse was left Pompeis fled nor found a room for hope for nature gave unerring portents of worse ills to come the angry gods filled earth and air and sea with frequent prodigies in darkest nights strange constellations sparked through the gloom the pole was all a fire and torches flew across the depths of heaven with horrid hair a blazing comet stretched from east to west and threatened change to kingdoms from the blue pale lightning flashed and in the murky air the fire took divers shapes a lance afar would seem to quiver or a misty torch a noiseless thunderbolt from ploughedless sky rushed down and drawing fire in northern parts plunged on the summit of the Albin Mount the stars that run their courses in the night shown in full daylight in the orbit moon hid by the shade of earth grew pale and wan the sun himself when poised in mid-career shrouded his burning car in blackest gloom and plunged the world in darkness so that men disparate of day like as he veiled his light from that fell banquet which my sine saw the jaws of Etna were agape with flame that rose not heavenwards but headlong fellen smoking stream upon the Italian flank then black caribbas from her boundless depth threw up a gory sea in piteous tones hailed the wild dogs the vestal fire was snatched from off the altar and the flame that crowned the Latin festival was split in twain as on the thebian pyre in ancient days earth tottered on its base the mighty alps from off their summits shook the eternal snow in huge upheaval ocean raised his waves or calpis rock an atlas hoary head the native gods shed tears and holy sweat dropped from the idols gifts in temples fell foul birds defiled the day beasts left the woods and made their lair among the streets of Rome all this we hear nay more dumb oxen spake monsters were brought to birth and mothers shrieked at their own offspring words of dire import from Khoma as prophetess were noised abroad Bologna's priests with bleeding arms and slaves of Sibley's worship with ensanguine hair held chance of havoc and of woe to men arms clashed and sounding in the pathless woods were heard strange voices spirits walked the earth and dead men's ashes muttered from the urn those who lived near the walls desert their homes furlough with hissing serpents in her hair waving in downward whirl a blazing pine a fiend patrols the town like that which earthed at Thebes urged Oynagavi or which hurled like curgis bolts or that which as he came from Hades scene at Haute Juno's word brought terror to the soul of Hercules trumpets like those that summon armies forth were heard re-echoing in the silent night and from the earth arising Sulla's ghost sang gloomy oracles and by Anyo's wave all fled the homesteads frighted by the shade of Marius waking from his broken tomb in such dismay summoned as of Yor the Tuscan sages to the nation's aid Aaron's the eldest leaving his abode in desolate Luka came well versed in all the lore of omens knowing what may mean the flight of hovering bird the pulse that beats in offered victims in the leaven bolts all monsters first of all birth brought into being in accursed flames he bids consume then round the walls of Rome each trembling citizen in turn proceeds the priests chief guardians of the public faith with holy sprinkling purge the open space that borders on the wall in sacred garb follows the lesser crowd the vestals come by priestess led with laurel crown bedecked to whom alone is given the right to see Minerva's effigy that came from Troy next come the keepers of the sacred books and fates predictions who from Almos Brook bring back Sababi laved the auger too taught to observe sinister flight of birds and those who served the banquets to the gods and titan brethren and the priest of Mars proud of the buckler that adorns his neck by him the flamin on his noble head the cap of office while they tread the path that winds around the walls the aged seer collects the thunderbolts that fell from heaven and lays them deep in earth with muttered words naming the spot a cursed next a steer picked for his swelling neck in beauty's form he leads to the altar and with slanting knife spreads on his brow the meal and pours the wine the victims struggles prove the gods averse but when the servers press and pours he bends the knee and yields him to the blow no crimson torrent issued at the stroke but from the wound a dark and poisoned stream ebbed slowly downward errands at the sight a guest upon the entrails of the beast as said to read the anger of the gods their very color the seer spotted they were and pale with sable streaks of lukewarm gore bespread the liver damp with foul disease and on the hostile part the angry veins defiant of the lungs the fiber hid and through the vital parts the membrane small the heart had seized the bruises through the ducts the call is split and fatal omen of impending ill one lobe or grows the other of the twain the one lies flat and sick the other beats and keeps the pulse in rapid strokes a stir disasters near approach thus learned he cries what air of the gods tis not for me to tell this offered beast not jove possesses but the gods below we dare not speak our fears yet fear doth make the future worse than fact may all the gods prosper the tokens and the sacrifice be void of truth and tagus famous seer have vainly taught these mysteries such as words involved mysterious figulous to whom for knowledge of the secret depths of space and laws harmonious that guide the stars Memphis could find no peer then spake at large either he said the world and countless orbs throughout the ages wonder at their will or if the fates control them ruin huge hangs or the city and or all mankind shall earth yawn open and engulf the towns shall scorching heat usurp the temperate air and fields refuse their timely fruit the streams flow mixed with poison what plague you gods in what destruction shall you wreak your ire what air the truth the days in which we live shall find the doom for many had the star of baleful Saturn frigid in the height kindled his lurid fires the sky had poured its torrents forth as in ducalians time and dwelmed the world or a thou febus beside the nimean lion fierce were driving now thy chariot flames should seize the universe and set the air ablaze these are at peace but Mars why art thou bent on kindling thus the scorpion his tail pretending evil and his claws aflame deep sunk is kindly Jupiter and dull sweet venus star and rapid mercury stays on his course Mars only holds the sky why does Orion's sword too brightly shine why planets leave their paths and through the void thus journey on obscure this war that comes fierce rabid war the sword shall bear the rule confounding justice hateful crime usurp the name of virtue and the havoc spread through many a year but why entreat the gods the end Rome longs for and the final peace comes with a despot draw thou out thy chain of lengthening slaughter and for such thy fate make good thy liberty through civil war the frightened people heard and as they heard his words prophetic made them fear the more but worse remained for as on pindus slopes possessed with fury from the Theban god speed some back end thus in roman streets behold a matron run who in her trance relieves her bosom where doth thou snatch me peon to what shore through airy regions born I see the snows of thracian mountains and philippines planes lie broad beneath but why these battle lines no foe to vanquish Rome on either hand again I wonder neath the rosy use that paint thine eastern skies where regal Nile his flowing wave the rising tide known to mine eyes that mutilated trunk that lies upon the sand across the seas by changing whirlpools to the burning climes of libya born again I see the hosts from thracia brought by fate's command and now thou bearest me or the cloud compelling alps from its next to Rome there in mid-senate see the closing scene of this foul war in fallest murder done again the factions rise through all the world once more I pass but give me some new land some other region Phoebus to behold washed by the pontic billows for these eyes already once have seen philippe's plains the frenzy left her and she speechless fell end of book one part two book two part one of farsalia dramatic episodes of the civil wars this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Farsalia by Lucan translated by J.D. Duff book two the flight of Pampedas part one this was made plain the anger of the gods the universe gave signs nature reversed in monstrous tumult fraught with prodigies her laws and prescient spake the coming guilt how seen did she how seen did just to thee olympus king that suffering mortals at thy doom should know by omens dire the massacre to come or did the primal parents of the world when first the flames gave way and yielding left matter unformed to his subduing hand and realms unbalanced fixed by stern decree unalterable laws to bind the whole himself too bound by law so that for I all nature moves within its faded bounds or is chance sovereign over all and we the sport of fortune and her turning wheel whatever be truth keep thou the future veiled from mortal vision and amid their fears may men still hope thus known how great the woes the world should suffer from the truth divine a solemn fast was called the courts were closed all men in private garb no purple hem adorned the togas of the chiefs of Rome no planes were uttered and a voiceless grief lay deep in every bosom as when death knocks at some door but enters not as yet before the mother calls the name allowed or bids her grieving maidens beat the breast while still she marks the glazing eye ensues the stiffening limbs and gazes on the face in nameless dread not sorrow and in awe of death approaching and with mind distraught clings to the dying in a last embrace the matrons laid aside their wanted garb crowds filled the temples on the unpitying stones some dashed their bosoms others bathed with tears the statues of the gods some tore their hair upon the holy threshold and with shrieks and vows and seizing called upon the names of those who mortals supplicate nor all lay in the thunderers feign at every shrine some prayers are offered which refused shall bring reproach on heaven one whose livid arms were dark with blows whose cheeks with tears bedoed and riven cried beat mothers beat the breast tear now the lock while doubtful on the scales still fortune hangs nor yet the fight is won you still may grieve when either wins rejoice thus sorrow stirs itself meanwhile the men seeking the camp and setting forth to war address the cruel gods in just complaint happy the youths who born in punic days in canne's uplands or by trivia's stream fought and were slain what wretched lot is ours no peace we ask for let the nations rage ral's fiercest cities may the world find arms to wage a war with Rome let Parthian hosts rush forth from Susa Scythian Easter curb no more the massagate pockered rhyme let loose from furthest north her fair-haired tribes Elb, pour thy suave in's forth let us be foes of all the peoples may the getten press hear in the Dacian there Pompeyus meet the eastern archers Caesar in the west confront thy birian leave to Rome no hand to raise against herself or if atalia by the gods be doomed let all the sky fierce parent be dissolved and falling on the earth in flaming bolts their hands still bloodless strike both leaders down with both their hosts why plunge in novel crime to settle which of them shall rule in Rome scarce were it worth the price of civil war to hinder either thus the patriot voice still found an utterance soon to speak no more meantime the aged fathers or their fates in anguish grieved detesting life prolonged that brought with it another civil war and thus spake one to justify his fears no other deeds the face laid up in store when Marius victor over tutan hosts afric's high conqueror cast out from Rome lay hid in marshy ooze at thy behest of fortune by the yielding soil concealed and waving rushes but ere long the chains of prison war his weak and aged frame and lengthened squalor thus he paid for crime his punishment before hand doomed to die consul and triumph over wasted Rome death often refused him in the very foe enact to murder shuttered in the stroke and drop the weapon from his nervous hand for through the prison gloom of light he saw the deities of crime abhorred the Marius to come a voice proclaimed mysterious hold the fates permit thee not that neck to sever many a death he o's to times predestined laws ere his shall come cease from thy madness if ye seek revenge for all the blood shed tribes to let this man Cymbrians live out all his days not as their darling did the gods protect the man of blood but for his ruthless hand fit to prepare that sacrifice of gore which fate demanded by the seas despite born to our foes jugerthas wasted realm he saw now conquered there and squalid huts a while he lay and trod the hostile dust of Carthage and his ruin matched with hers each from the other's fate some solace drew and prostate pardoned heaven when Libyan soil fresh fury gathering next when fortune smiled the prisons he threw wide and freed the slaves forth rushed the murderous lands their melted chains forged into weapons for his ruffian needs no charge he gave to mere recruits in guilt who brought not to the camp some proof of crime held dread that day when conquering Marius seized the city's ramparts with what faded speed death strode upon his victims plebes alike and nobles perished far and near the sword struck at his pleasure till the temple floors ran wet with slaughter and the crimson stream befell'd with slippery gore the holy walls no age found pity men of failing years just tottering to the grave were hurled to death from infants and their beings earliest dawn for what crime it was cause enough for death that they could die the fury grew soon it was a sluggards part to seek the guilty hundreds died to swell the tale of victims shamed by empty hands the bloodstained conqueror snatched a reeking head from neck unknown one way of life remained to kiss with shuttering lips the red right hand degenerate people hedgy hearts of men though ye were threatened by a thousand swords far rather death than centuries of life bought at such price much more than breathing space till Sulla comes again but time would fail in weeping for the deaths of all who fell encircled by innumerable bands felbabeus his limbs asunder torn his vitals dragged abroad Antonius II prophet of ill whose hoary head was placed dripping with blood upon the festival board their headless fell the crassie mangled frames neath fimbria's falchion and the prison cells were wet with tribune's blood hard by the feign where dwells the goddess and the sacred fire fell aged Scavola though that gory hand had spared him but the feeble tide of blood still left the flame alive upon the hearth that self same year the seventh time restored the consul's rods that year to Marius brought the end of life when he at fortune's hands all ills had suffered all her goods enjoyed and what of those who at the sac report and Colleen Gate were slain then when the rule of earth and all her nations almost left this city for another and the chiefs who led the Sam Knight hoped that Rome might bleed more than at Claudium's forks she bled of all then came great Sulla to avenge the dead and all the blood still left within her frame drew from the city for the surgeon's knife which shore the cancerous limbs cut in too deep and shed the life stream from still healthy veins true that the guilty fell but not before all else had perished hatred had free course and anger reigned unbridled by the law the victor's voice spake once but each man struck just as he wished or willed the fatal steal urged by the servant laid the master low sons dripped with gore of sires and brothers fought for the foul trophy of a father slain or slew each other for the price of blood men sought the tombs and mingling with the dead hoped for escape the wild beasts dens were full one strangled died another from the height fell headlong down upon the unpitying earth and from the crimson victor snatched his death one built his funeral pyre and opened his veins and filled the furnace ere his blood was gone born through the trembling town the leader's heads were piled in middle forum hence men knew of murders else unpublished not on gates of Diomedes tyrant king of Thrace nor of Antius libyus giant brood were hung such horrors nor in Pisa's hall were seen when the suitors died Decay had touched the features of the slain when round the motoring heap with trembling steps the grief struck parents sought and stole their dead I too the body of my brother slain thought to remove my victim to the peace which Sulla made and place his lovid remains on the forbidden pyre the head I found but not the butchered corpse why now renew the tale of Catilus's shade appeased and those dread tortures which the living frame of Marius suffered at the tomb of him who happily wished them not pierced, mangled, torn nor speech nor grasp was left his every limb maimed hacked and riven yet the fatal blow their murderers with savage purpose spared for scarce believed that one poor mortal frame such agonies could bear their death should come thus crushed beneath some ruin lie the dead thus shapeless from the deep are born the drowned why spoil delight by mutilating thus the head of Marius to please Sulla's heart that mangled visage must be known to all fortune high goddess of Prenesti's fame saw all her townsmen hurried to their deaths in one fell instant all the hope of Rome the flower of latinum stained with blood the field where once the peaceful tribes their votes declared famine and sword the raging sky and sea and earth up heaved have laid such numbers low but near one man's revenge between the slaying and living victims there was space no more death thus let slip to deal the fatal blow hardly one struck they fell the severed head scarce toppled from the shoulders but the slain bled in a weighty pile of massacre pressed out the life and helped the murderer's arm secure from staying upon his lofty throne unshuttering sat the author of the hall nor feared that at his word such thousands fell at length the tusk and flood received the dead the first upon his waves the last on those that lay beneath them vessels in their course were stayed and while the lower current flowed still to the sea the upper stood on high damned back by carnage through the streets meanwhile in headlong torrents ran a tide of blood which furrowing its path through town and field through slow river on but now his banks no longer held him and the dead were thrown back on the fields above with labor huge at length he struggled to his gall and stretched in crimson streak across the Tuscan sea for deeds like these shallcella now be styled darling of fortune savior of the state a tomb in middle field of Mars record his fame like horrors now returned for us to suffer and the civil war thus shall be waged again and thus shall end yet worse disasters may our fears suggest for now with greater carnage of mankind the rival hosts in way to your battle meet to exiled Marius successful strife was Rome regained Triumph and Sulla knew no greater joy than on his hated foes to wreck his vengeance with unsparing sword but these more powerful rivals fortune calls to worse ambitions nor would either chief for such reward as Sulla's wage the war thus mindful of his youth again wept for the past but feared the coming days such terrors found and haughty Brutus breast no home when others sat them down to fear he did not so but in the dewy nights when the great Wayne was turning round the pall he sought his kinsmen Kato's humble home him sleepless did he find himself fearing but pondering the fates of Rome and deep in public cares and thus he spake O thou on whom that virtue which of your took flight from earth now finds its only home outcast to all the sides but safe with thee thou save thy counsel to my wavering soul and make my weakness strength while Caesar some Pompeius others follow in the fight Kato is Brutus' guide art thou for peace holding thy footsteps in the tottering world unshaken or wilt thou with the leaders crimes and with the people's fury take thy part and by thy presence purge the war of guilt and battles men on sheath the sword but each by cause and pelt the household crime laws feared in peace once by the sword removed and broken credit that its ruin hides in general ruin drawn by hope of gain ends not by thirst for blood they seek the camp shall Kato make war alone what profits it through all these wicked years that thou hast lived untainted this were all thy mead of virtue that the wars which find guilt and all else shall make thee guilty too ye gods permit not this fatal strife should stir those hands to action and all else of flying javelins hiss upon the air let not a dart be thine nor spent in vain such virtue all the fury of the war shall launch itself on thee for who when faint and wounded would not rush upon thy sword take thence his death and make the murder thine do thou live on thy peaceful life apart as on their paths the stars unshaken roll the lower air that verges on the earth gives flame and fury to the leaven bolts the deeps below the world engulf the winds and tracks the flaming fire by joe's decree olympus rears his summit o'er the clouds in lowlier valleys storms and winds content but peace eternal reigns upon the heights what joy for Caesar if the tidings come that such a citizen has joined the war glad would he see thee in magnus tense for Cato's conduct shall approve his own Pompeius with a consul in his ranks and half the senate and the other chiefs vexes my spirit and should Cato too bend to a master's yoke in all the world the one man free is Caesar but if thou for freedom and thy country's laws alone be pleased to raise the sword nor Magnus then nor Caesar shall and Brutus find the foe not till the fight is fought shall Brutus strike then strike the victor Brutus thus but spake Cato from in most breast these sacred words chief in all wickedness is civil war yet virtue in the paths marked out by fate treads on securely heavens will be the crime to have made even Cato guilty who has strength to gaze unawed upon a toppling world when stars and sky fall headlong and when earth slips from her base who sits with folded hands shall unknown nations touched by restaurant strife and monarchs born beneath another climb grave the dividing seas to join the war shall Scythian tribes desert their distant north and get a haste to view the fall of Rome and I look idly on as some fawn sire reft of his sons compelled by grief himself marshals the long procession to the tomb thrusts his own hands within the funeral flames soothing his heart and as the lofty pyre rises on high applies the kindled torch not Rome shall tear thee from me till I hold thy form in death embraced and freedom's name shade thou it be I'll follow to the grave yea let the cruel gods exact in full Rome's expiation of no drop of blood the war be robbed I would that to the gods of heaven and hell devoted death might satisfy their vengeance desius fell crushed by the hostile ranks when Cato falls let Rhine's fierce barbarous hordes and both the hosts thrust through my frame their darts may I alone receive in death the wounds of all the war thus may the people be redeemed and thus Rome for her guilt pay the atonement due why should men die who wish to bear the yoke and shrink not from the tyranny to come strike me and me alone of laws and rights in vain the guardian this vicarious life shall give Hesperia peace and end her toils who then will reign shall find no need for war you ask why follow Magnus if he wins he too will claim the empire of the world then let him conquering with my service learn not for himself to conquer thus he spoke and stirred the blood the Rhine and Brutus Vins moving the youth to action in the war soon as the sun dispelled the sounding doors flew wide and from the tomb of dead Hortensius grieving Marcia came first joined in wedlock to a greater man three children did she bear to grace his home then Cato to Hortensius gave the dame to be a fruitful mother of his sons and join their houses in a closer tie and now the last sad offices were done she came with hair disheveled beaten breast and ashes on her brow and features worn with grief thus only pleasing to the man when youth was in me and maternal power I did thy bidding Cato and received a second husband now in years grown old near to be parted I returned to thee renew our former pledges undefiled give back the name of wife upon my tomb let Marcia spouse to Cato be engraved nor let men question in the time to come didst thou compel or did I willing leave my first espousals not in happy times partner of joys I come but days of care and labor shall be mine to share with thee nor leave me here but take me to the camp thy fond companion why should Magnus wife be nearer Cato to the wars than thine although the times were warlike and the fates called to the fray he lent a willing ear yet must they plight their faith in simple form of law their witnesses the gods alone no festal wreath of flowers crowned the gate nor glittering fillet when each post entwined no flaming torch was there nor ivory steps no couch with robes a broader and gold adorned no comely matron placed upon her brow the bridal garland no foot to touch the threshold stone no saffron veil concealed the timid blushes of the bride no jeweled belts confined her flowing robe nor modest circle bound her neck no scarf hung lightly when the snowy shoulders edge around the naked arm just as she came wearing the garb of sarum while the wool covered the purple border of her robe thus was she wedded as she greets her sons so doth she greet her husband festal games graced not their nuptials nor were friends and kin as by the sabons bitten silent both they joined in marriage yet content unseen by any saved by brutus sad and stern when Cato's liniments the marks of grief were still unsoftened and the hoary hair hung or his reverend visage for since first men flew to arms his locks were left unkempt to stream upon his brow and on his chin his beard untended groove it was his alone who hated not nor loved for all mankind who mourned alike nor did their former couch again receive them for his lofty soul and lawful love resisted it was his rule inflexible to keep the middle path marked out and bounded to observe the laws of natural right and for his country's sake to risk his life his all as not for self brought into being but for all the world such was his creed to him a sumptuous feast was hunger concrete and the lowly hut which scarce kept out the winter was a home equal to palaces a robe of price such hairy garments as were worn of old the end of marriage offspring to the state father alike husband right in law he ever followed with unswerving step no thought of selfish pleasure turned the scale in Kato's axe or swayed his upright soul End of book 2 part 1 Book 2 part 2 of Farsalia dramatic episodes of the Civil Wars This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Farsalia by Lucan translated by J.D. Duff Book 2 The Flight of Pompeius Part 2 Meanwhile Pompeius led his trembling host to fields Campanian and held the walls first founded by the chief of Trojan race these chose he to the central seat of war some troops dispatching who might meet the foe where shady apony lifts up the ridge of mid-Italia nearest to the sky absorbing with the seas on either hand the upper and the lower pieces sands breaking the margin of the Tuscan deep here bound his mountains there and conus towers laved by Dalmatian waves rivers immense and his recesses born pass on their course to either sea diverging to the left Matoris and Crosstomium's torrent fall insane his streams and Ophidus who bursts on Adrian billows and that mighty flood which more than all the rivers of the earth creeps down the soil and tears the woods away and drains his spurious springs in fabled lore his banks were first by poplar shade enclosed and when by Theoton the waning day was drawn in path transverse and all the heaven blazed with his car aflame and from the depths of inmost earth were wrapped all other floods rolled in pride of stream along Nile were no larger but that or the sand of level Egypt he spreads out his waves nor Easter if he sought the Scythian main unhelped upon his journey through the world by tributary waters not his own but on the right hand Tiber has his source deep flowing rootaba full ternous swift and soreness breathing vapors of the night rise there and Lyrus with Vistinian waves still gliding through Marcia's shady grove and Silor flowing through Salernian meads and Makra's swift unnavigable stream by Luna lost in ocean on the apse whose spurs strike plainwards and on fields of Gaul the cloudy heights of Apennine look down in further distance on his nearer slopes the Sabine turns the plowshare Umbrian kind and Marcian fatin with his pine clad rocks he girds the tribes of Latinum nor leaves his spurious soil until the waves that beat on Silus cave compel his southern spurs extend to Juno's temple and of all stretched further than Italia till the main orstepped his limits and the lands repelled but when the seas were joined Pelorus claimed his latest summits for Sicilia's Isle Caesar in rage for war rejoicing found foes in Italia no bloodless steps nor vacant homes had pleased him 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 they were 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 favor held yet faith with fear fought in their breasts as when with strident blast a southern tempest has possessed the main billows follow in its track then by the storm king smitten should the earth set 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 or their wavering faith for libo fled Etruria Umbria lost her freedom driving thermus from her bounds great sulla's son unworthy of his sire feared at the name of Caesar Varus sought the caves in woods when smote the hostile horse the gates of oxamon and splinther driven from ascolum the victor on his track fled with his standards soldier-less and thou, Scipio, gets leave Nusarius citadel deserted though by bravest legions held sent home by Caesar for the Parthian war whom Magnus earlier to his kinsmen gave alone of Roman blood to fight the Gaul but brave Dometeus held firm his post behind corphineum's ramparts his the troops who newly levied kept the judgment hall at Milo's trial when from far the plain rolled up a dusty cloud beneath whose veil the sheen of armor glistening in the sun revealed a marching host dashed down he cried swift as he came the bridge that spans the stream and thou, O river from thy mountain source with all thy torrents rushing ranks and beams ruined and broken on thy foaming breast bare 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 from his chains 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 has passed no stream on earth shall hinder Caesar forward horse and foot where it totters rush upon the bridge urged in their swiftest gallop to the front dashed the light horse across the sounding plain and suddenly a 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 to the mighty engines soon to hurl gigantic stones press forward and the ram creeps when the gates fly back and lo the traitor troops foul crime and war yield up their leader him they placed before his proud compatriot yet with upright form and scornful features and with noble men he asks his death Caesar knew his wish was punishment and pardon was his fear live though thou wouldst 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 chutz thou conquer count this pardon nothing take and bade let loose the bands and set the captive free ah better had he died and fortune spared the Romans last dishonor whose worst 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 and peaceful scenes degenerate rather war the furious battle in 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 soldiers air 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 hisperian fields and galley's fury or the snowy alps is poured upon us Caesar's swords at last are read 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 wreck the vengeance as when catiline lifted against her roofs the flaming brand and partner in his fury lentulus and mad sephegus with his naked arm is such thy madness Caesar when the fates with great camillus and metellus names might place thine own thus thou preferred to rank with marius and sena swift shall be thy fall as lepidus before the sword of catilus or who my axis felt carbo now buried in secanian tomb or who in exile roused Iberius 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 steps had conquering crasses come then happily haths 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 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 Pompeis 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 the life spent there in labor or because he fled Rhine's icy torrents in 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 and who ere the moon twice filled her orb compelled to flight the pirate shrinking from the open sea and humbly begging for a narrow home in some poor nook on shore twice I again who happier far than Sulla draped to death 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 faces hot Egyptian shores and where Scythian neath its noontide sun knows shade on neither hand all these have learned to fear Pompeis and far Betis stream last of all floods to join the refluency Arabia and the warlike courts that dwell beside the Erexon wave the famous land that lost the golden fleece Silesian wastes and Cappadocia 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 kinsmen wage no louder claim received his words nor shalt asked for the promised battle and the chief drew back the standards for the soldiers 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 with secret forest depths wets on opposing trunks his growing horn and proves himself for battle till his neck is ribbed fresh with muscle then returns defiant of the hind and Victor now leads where so where he will his lowing bands thus Magnus yielding to a stronger foe gave up and saw it in flight Brundusium's sheltering battlements here of all flood Cretan settlers when the dusky sail spread the false message of the hero dead here where hisperia curving as a bow draws back her coast a little tongue of land shuts in with bending horns the sounding mane yet insecure the spot unsafe and storm were not sheltered by an isle on which the Adriatic billows dash and fall and tempests lose their strength on either hand a craggy cliff opposing breaks the gale that beats upon them while the ships within held by their trembling cables ride secure hence to the mariner the boundless deep lies open whether for Corsera's ports he shapes a sails or for Illyria's shore and Epidamus facing to the main Ionian here when raging in his might fierce Adria whelms in foam Calabria's coast when clouds tempestuous veil Serena's height the sailor finds a haven when the chief could find no hope in battle on the soil he now was quitting and the lofty alps for bad Iberia to his son he spake the eldest scion of that noble stock search out the far recesses of the earth Nile and Euphrates where so where the fame of Magnus lives where through thy father's deeds the people tremble at the name of Rome lead to the sea again the pirate bands rails Egypt's kings Tigranes, Holy Mine and Pharnaces and all the vagrant tribes of both Arminias and the Pontic hordes war like in fierce the dwellers on the hills repayant and by that dead northern marsh whose frozen surface bears the loaded wane why further stay thee let the eastern world sound with the war all cities of the earth conquered by me as vassals to my camp sent all their levied hosts and you whose names within the Latian book recorded stand strike for Epirus with the northern wind and thence in Greece and Macedonian tracks while winter gives us peace and the choir for coming conflicts they obey his words and loose their ships and launch upon the main but Caesar's might intolerance of peace or lengthy armistice lest now perchance the fates might change their edicts swift pursued the footsteps of his foe to other men so many cities taken at a blow so many strongholds captured might suffice and Rome herself the mistress of the world lay at his feet the greatest prize of all not so with Caesar instant on the gall he fiercely presses thinking nothing done while ought remained to do now in his grasp lay all Italia but while Magnus stayed upon the utmost shore his grieving soul his grieving soul deemed all was shared with him yet he is said escaped to hinder and with labor vain piled in the greedy main gigantic rocks mountains of earth down to the sandy depths were swallowed by the vortex of the sea just as if Eryx and its lofty top were cast into the deep yet not a speck should mark the watery plain or gauris huge split from his summit to his base were plunged in fathomness Avernus stagnant pool the billows thus unstemmed to a Caesar's will to you the stately forests and with trees in chain to form a rampart thus of all the fame be true the boastful Persian king prepared away across the rapid straight and made one the European and the Trojan shores and marched upon the waters wind and storm counting as not but trusting his imprise to one frail bridge so that his ships might pass through middle Athos thus a mighty mole of fallen forests grew upon the waves until then and lofty turrets rose and land usurped the entrance to the main this when Pompeya saw with anxious care his soul was filled yet hoping to regain the exit lost and win a wider world wherein to wretch the war on chosen ships he hoists the sails these driven by the wind and drawn by cables sent to their prowls scattered the beams asunder and at night not seldom engines worked by stalwart arms flung flaming torches forth but when the time for secret flight was come no sailor shout rang on the shore no trumpet marked the hour no bugle called the armament to sea already shone the virgin in the sky leading the scorpion in her course whose claws foretell the rising sun when noiseless all they cast the vessels loose no song was heard to greet the anchor wrenched from stubborn sand no captain's order when the lofty mast was raised or yards were bent a silent crew drew down the sails which hung upon the ropes nor shook the mighty cables lest the wind should sound upon them but the chief in prayer thus spake to fortune thou whose high decree has made us exiles from Italia's shores grant us at least to leave them yet the fates hardly permitted for a murmur vast came from the ocean as the countless keels furrowed the waters and with ceaseless splash the parted billows rose again and fell then were the gates thrown wide for with the fates the city turned to Caesar and the foe seizing the town rushed onward by the pier that circled in the harbor then they knew with shame and sorrow that the fleet was gone and held the open and Italia's flight gave a poor triumph yet was narrower far the channel which gave access to the sea than that Euboean straight whose waters laid the shore by Chalcis here two ships stuck fast alone of all the fleet the fatal hook grappled their decks and drew them to the land and the first bloodshed here left a blush upon the ocean wave as when the famous ship sought faces stream the rocky gates closed in and hardly gripped her flying stern then from the empty sea the cliffs rebounding to their ancient seat were fixed to move no more but now the steps of mourn approaching tinged the eastern sky with rosy years the Pleiades were dim the wagon of the charioteer grew pale the planets faded in the silvery star which ushers in the day was lost in light then Magnus halts the deep yet not the same now are thy fates as when from every sea thy fleet triumphant swept the pirate pest tired thy conquests fortune now no more shall smile upon thee with thy spouse and sons thy household gods and peoples in thy train still great in exile in a distant land thou seekest thy faded fall not that the gods wishing to rob thee of a Roman grave decreed the strands of Egypt Twas Italy they spared that far away fortune on shores remotes might hide her crime and Roman soil be pure of Magnus blood End of book two part two