 Book 3, Part 1 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. Recording by Josh Kibbe. Farsalia by Lucan. Translated by JD Duff. Book 3, Massilia, Part 1. With canvas yielding to the western wind, the navy sealed the deep and every eye gazed on Yonian billows. But the chief turned not his vision from his native shore now left forever, while the morning mist strewn down upon the mountains, and the cliffs faded in distance till his aching sight no longer knew them. Then his wearied frame sank in the arms of sleep. But Julius' shape and mournful guise, dread horror on her brow, rose through the gaping earth, and from her tumul wrecked, in form as of a fury spake. Driven from elysian fields and from the plains the blessed inhabit, when the war began, I dwell in stygian darkness where abide the souls of all the guilty. There I saw the amenities with torches in their hands prepared against thy battles, and the fleets which by the ferrymen of the flaming stream were made to bear thy dead, while hell itself relaxed its punishments. The sisters three with busy fingers all their needful tasks could scarce accomplish, and the threads of fate dropped from their weary hands. With me thy wife, thou, Magnus, let his happy triumphs home. New wedlock brings new luck. Thy concubine, whose star brings all her mighty husbands ill, Cornelia, weds in the abreathing tomb. Through wars and oceans let her cling to thee so long as I may break thy nightly rest. No moment left thee for her love, but all by night to me, by day to Caesar given. Me, not the oblivious banks of Lethe's stream have made forgetful, and the kings of death have suffered me to join thee. In mid-fight I will be with thee, and my haunting ghost remind thee Caesar's daughter was thy spouse. Thy sword kills not our pledges. Civil war shall make thee holy mine. She spake and fled, but he, though heaven and hell thus bode defeat, more bent on war with mind assured of ill, why dread phantoms of a dreaming brain, or not of sense and feeling to the soul as left by death, or death itself is not. Now fiery titan in declining path dipped to the waves. His bites circumference so much diminished as a growing moon not yet full circled, or when past the full. When to the fleet a hospitable coast gave access and the ropes in order laid, the sailors struck the masts and rode ashore. When Caesar saw the fleet escape his grasp and hidden from his view by lengthening seas, left without rival on Asperian soil, he found no joy in triumph, rather grieved that thus in safety Magnus' flight was sped. Not any gifts of fortune now suffice to his fiery spirit, and no victory won unless the war was finished with the stroke. Then arms he laid aside in guise of peace seeking the people's favour, skilled to know how to arouse their ire and not to gain the popular love by corn in plenty given. For famine only makes a city free. By gifts of food the tyrant buys a crowd to cringe before him, but the people starved his fearless ever. Curio he bids cross over to Sicilian cities, where our ocean by a sudden rise overwhelmed the land, or split the isthmus right in twain, leaving a path for seas. Unceasing tides their labour hugely lest again should meet the mountains rent asunder. Nor were left Sardinian shores invisited. Each isle is blessed with noble harvests which have filled more than all else the granaries of Rome, and poured their plenty on Asperia's shores. Not even Libya, with its fertile soil, their yield surpasses when the southern wind gives way to northern and permits the clouds to drop their moisture on the teaming earth. Disordered Caesar led his legions on. Not armed for war, but as in time of peace returning to his home. Had he come with only Galea conquered in the north what long array of triumph he brought? What pictured scenes of battle? How had Rhine and Ocean borne his chains? How noble Gaul and Britain's fair-haired chiefs his lofty car had followed? Such a triumph he lost by further conquest. Now in silent fear they watched his marching troops, nor joyful towns poured out their crowds to welcome his return. They did the conqueror's proud soul rejoice, far more than at their love, at such a fear. Now Anksher's hold was passed, the oozy road that separates the marsh, the grove sublime where reigns the Scythian goddess, and the path by which men bear the feces to the feast on Elba's summit. From the high to far, gazing in awe upon the walls of Rome as native city, since the northern war unseen and visited, thus Caesar spake. Who would not fight for such a godlike town, and have they left the Rome without to blow? Like the high gods no eastern hosts are here to wreak their fury, nor Sarmatian horde with northern tribes conjoined, by fortune's gift this war is civil, else this coward chief had been thy ruin. Trembling at his feet he found the city, deadly fire and flame is from a conqueror gods and feigns dispersed. Such was the measure of their fear, as though his power and wish were won, no festal shot greeted his march no feign to claim of joy, scarce had they time for hate. In Phoebus all their hiding places left, a crowd appeared of senators, uncalled, for none could call. No consul there the sacred shrine adorned, no praetor next in rank, and every seat placed for the officers of state was void. Caesar was all, and to his private voice all else were listeners. The Fathers sat ready to grant a temple or a throne, if such is wish, and for themselves to vote or death or exile, while it was for Rome that Caesar blushed to order what they feared, yet in one breast the spirit of freedom rose indignant for the laws, for when the gates of Saturn's temple hot Metellus saw, were yielding to the shock he cloved the ranks of Caesar's troops, and stood before the doors as yet unopened. It is the love of gold alone that fears not death, no hand is raised for perished laws or violated rites, but for this dross the vilest cause of all men fight and die. Thus did the tribune bar the victor's road to rapine, and with voice clear ringing spake, save our medallist dead this temple opens not, my sacred blood shall flow, thou robber ere the gold be thine, and surely shall the tribune's power defied finding a vinging god. This Crestus knew, who, followed by our curses, sought the war and met disaster on the Parthian plains. Draw then thy sword, nor fear the crowd that gapes to view thy crimes. The citizens are gone. Not from our treasury reward for guilt thy hosts shall ravish. Other towns are left, and other nations. Wage the war on them, drain not Rome's peace for spoil. The victor then, and since to ire. Then is thy hope to fall in noble death as guardian of the rite. With all thine honors thou of Caesar's rage art a little worthy. Never shall thy blood defile his hand. Time-lowest things with high confounds not yet so much that, if thy voice could save the laws, it were not better far they fell by Caesar. Such his lofty words. But as the tribune yielded not, his rage rose yet the more, and at his soldier's swords one look he cast, forgetting for the time what robes he wore. But soon, medalists heard these words from Cata, when men bowed to power freedom of speech is only freedom's bane, whose shade at least survives if with free will that dust what air is bidden thee. For us some pardon may be found, a host of ills compels submission, and the shame is less that to have done which could not be refused. Yield then this wealth, the seeds of direful war, a nation's anger is by losses stirred when laws protect it, but the hungry slave brings danger to his master, not himself. But this medalist yielded from the path, and as the gates rolled backward echoed loud the rock-tarpean, and the temple's depths gave up the treasure which for centuries no hand had touched. All that the Punic foe and Percy's and Philip's conquered gave, and all the gold which Pierce Panic struck left when he fled, that gold the price of Rome which yet Fabricius sold not, not the hoard laid up by saving sires, the tribute sent by Asia's richest nations, and the wealth which conquering medalists brought from Crete and Cato Bore from distant Cyprus home, and last, the riches torn from captive kings and borne before Pompeius when he came in frequent triumph. Thus was Robert the Shrine, and Caesar first brought poverty to Rome. Meanwhile, all nations of the earth were moved to share in Magnus' fortunes in the war and in his fated ruin. Gracia sent nearest of all her suckers to the host. From Sira and Parnassus double-peak and from Amphisa, Phosys sent her youth. One leader's muster in the meads by Dursi laved, and where Cephasus rolls, gifted with fateful power his stream along, and where Alpheus, who beyond the sea, in found Sicilian, seeks the day again. Pisa deserted stands and Oita loved by Hercules of old. Dodona's oaks are left to silence by the sacred train, and all Epirus rushes to the war, and proud Athena, mistress of the seas, sends three poor ships, alas, her all, to prove her ancient victory over the Persian king. Oaks seek the battle Cretus, hundred tribes beloved of Jove, and rivaling the east and skill to wing the arrow from the bow. The walls of Dardan Orcum, the woods where Athamanians wander, and the banks of swift absurdus foaming to the main are left forsaken. In Calian tribes whose king was Cadmus, and whose name records his transformation, join the host, and those who till Penian fields, and turn the share above Yolco-Synthesalian lands. Their first men steel their hearts to dare the waves, and against the rage of ocean and the storm to match their strength, when the rude Argos sailed upon that distant quest, and spurned the shore, joining remotest nations in their flight, and gave the fates another form of death. Left to was Folo, pretended home where dwelt the fabled race of double form. Arcadian Minilis, the Thracian mountain named Hamas, Strymon Wence, as Altumthos, winged his squadrons seek the banks of warmern Isle. And all the Isles, the mouths of Yesterbae, the mixed with the tidal wave, the land through which the cooling eddies of Caicus flowed Allian. And there is bebear of Glebe, the Hines of Patane, and those who till Scyllianes fields which mourned of Yor, the gift of Pallas, and the Vigents of the God all draw the sword, and those from Marcia's flood first swift, then doubling backwards with the stream of Senuous Meander. And from where Pactillus leaves his golden source and leaps from earth permitting, and with rival wealth rich Hermes parts the meads. Nor stayed the bands of Troy, but doomed as in old time they joined Pompeus' fated camp. Nor held them back the fabled past, nor a Caesar's claim descent from their Yolus. Serian peoples came from Palmyidumia and the walls of Nenus great of Yor. From windy plains of far Damascus and from Gaza's hold, from Sidon's courts enriched with purple dye, and tire off trembling with the shaken earth. All these let down by Sinashura's light, furrow their certain path to reach the war. Phoenicians first if story be believed dared to record in characters. For yet Papyrus was not fashioned, and the priests of Memphis, carving symbols upon walls of mystic scents in shape of beast or fowl, preserved the secrets of their magic art. Next Persian Tarsus and High Tars Groves are left asserted, and a Curricium's cave, and all Cilicia's ports pirate no more resound with preparation. Nor the east refused the call, where furthest Gengis dares alone of rivers to discharge a stream against the sun opposing. On this shore the Macedonian conqueror stayed his foot and found the world his victor. Number two Roll's Indus is torrent with Idaspi's join yet hardly feels it. Here from Luscious Reed men draw sweet liquor. Here they dye their locks with tints of saffron, and with colored gems bind down their flowing garments. Here are they, who satiate of life and proud to die, ascend the blazing pyre, and conquering fate scorn to live longer. But triumphant give the remnant of their days in flame to heaven. Nor fails to join the host a hardy band of Cappadocians, tilling now the soil once pirates of the main. For those who dwell were steep knifeties, Roll's the avalanche, and where on Median coachers' sides the giant forest rises to the sky. And you Arabians from your distant home came to a world unknown, and wondering saw the shadows fall no longer to the left. Then, fired with ardor for the Roman war, Oritas came, and far Carmania's chiefs, whose climb lies southward yet men thence to scry low down the pole star, and boots runs hasting to set, part seen his nightly course. And Ethiopians from that southern land, which lies without the circuit of the stars, did not the bull with curving hoof advanced or stepped the limit. From that mountain zone they come, where rising from a common fount, Euphrates flows, and Tigris, and did earth permit, were joined with either name. But now, while like the Egyptian flood, Euphrates spreads as fertilizing water, Tigris first drawn down by earth and covered depths as plunged, and holds a secret course. Then born again flows on unhindered to the Persian sea. But war like Parthia wavered, tooks the chiefs, content to have made them too, while Scythia's hordes dipped fresh their darts and poison, whom the stream of Bactrous bound and Vasturcanium woods. Hence springs that rugged nations swift and fierce, descended from the twin's great charioteer. Nor fields are Macea, nor the tribes that dwell by richest faces, and on hailess banks which seal the doom of Croesus king. Nor where, from far ripane ranges to naus flows, on either hand a quarter of the world, Asia and Europe, and in winding course, carves out to continent. Nor where the straight and boiling surge pours to the Pontic deep Mayotus' waters, rivaling the pride of those Herculian pillar gates that guard the entrance to an ocean. Thence with hair and golden filets, Eremaspians came, and fierce Masegate, who quaffed the blood of the brave steed on which they fight and flee. Not to ingrate Cyrus on Memnonian realms as warriors poured. Nor when their weapons piled, the Persian told the number of his host. Nor when the Avenger of a brother's shame loaded the billows with his mighty fleet, beneath one chief so many kings made war. Nor Eremant nations varied thus in garb and thus in language. To pompous death thus fortune called them, and a world in arms witnessed his ruin. From where Aphrax god, two horned Ammon, rearers his temple, came all Libya ceaseless, from the wastes that touch the bounds of Egypt to the shore that meets the western ocean. Thus, to award the prize of empire at one blow, Pharsalia brought neath Caesar's conquering hand the banded world. Now Caesar left the walls of trembling Rome and swift across the claddy alpine tops, he winged his march. But while all others fled far from his path in terror of his name, Phukhia's manhood with un-Grecian faith held to their pledged obedience, and dared to follow right not fate. But first of all, with all of boughs of truce before them, born the chieftain they approached, with peaceful words in hope to alter his unbending will and tame his fury. Search the ancient books which chronicled the deeds of lashing fame. Thoualt ever find when foreign foes pressed hard, Miss Silia's prowess on the side of Rome. And now, if triumphs in an unknown world thou seekest Caesar, here are arms and swords except in aid. But if, in impious strife of civil discord, with the Roman foe thou seeks to join in battle, weeping then we hold aloof. No stranger hand may touch celestial wounds. Should all Olympus hosts have rushed to war, or should the giant brew to salt the stars, yet men would not presume or buy their prayers or arms to help the gods. And ignorant of the fortunes of the sky, taught by the thunderbolts alone, would know that Jupiter's supreme still held the throne. And that a numbered nations join the fray, nor shrinks the world so much from taint of crime that civil wars reluctant swords require. But grant that strangers shun thy destinies, and only Romans fight, shall not the sun's shrankary strike his father? On both sides brothers forbid the weapon to be hurled. The world's end comes when other hands are armed than those which custom in the gods allow. For us this is our prayer. Leave Caesar, hear thy dreadful eagles, keep thy hostile signs back from our gates, but enter thou in peace Macilia's ramparts. Let our city rest withdrawn from crime, to magnus and to thee safe. And should favoring fate preserve all walls and violate, when both shall wish for peace here meet unarmed. Why hither turns thou now thy rapid march? Nor wait nor power have we dissuade the mighty conflicts of the world. We boast no victory since our fatherland we left in exile. When Macalia's fort perished in flames we sought another here, and here on foreign shores in narrow bounds confined and safe our boast is sturdy faith, not else. But if our city to blockade is now thy mind, to force the gates and hurl javelin emblazing torch upon our homes, do with thou wilt, cut off the source that fills our foaming river, force us, prone and thirst, to dig the earth and lap the scanty pool. Burn our corn and leave us food aboard, nor shall this people shun for freedom's sake the ill-suguntum-born punic siege. Torn, vainly clinging, from the shrunken breast the starving babe shall perish in the flames. Wives at their husband's hand shall pray their fate and brother's weapons deal a mutual death. Such be our civil war, not Caesar thine. But Caesar's visage stern betray desire which thus broke forth in words. Vain is the hope ye rest upon my march, speed though I may towards my western goal, time still remains to blot Missilia out. Rejoice my troops, unsought the war ye long for meet you now. The fate concedes it. As the tempest lose their strength by sturdy force sun opposed, and as the fire that finds no fuel dies, even so to find no foe is Caesar's ill. When those who may be conquered will not fight, that is defeat. Degenerate, disarmed, their gates admit me. Not content forsooth, with shutting Caesar out they shut him in. They shun the taint of war. Such prayer for peace brings with it chastisement. In Caesar's age learn that not peace, but war within his ranks alone can make you safe. Fearless he turns as march upon the city, and beholds fast barred the gateways, while in arms the youth stand on the battlements. Hard by the walls a hillock rose, upon the further side expanding in a plain of gentle slope, fit as he deemed it, for a camp with ditch in mound encircling. To aloft he height the nearest portion of the city rose, while intervening valleys lay between. These summits with the mighty trench to bind the chief resolves, gigantic though the toil. But first, from furthest boundaries of his camp, enclosing streams and meadows to the sea to draw a rampart, upon either hand heave duped with the earthy sod, with lofty towers crowned, and to shut messilia from the land. Then did the Grecian city win renown eternal, deathless, for that uncompelled nor fearing for herself, but free to act she made the conqueror pause, and he who seized all in resistless course found here delay, and fortune, hastening to lay the world low at her favorite's feet, was forced to stay for these few moments her impatient hand. End of Book 3, Part 1 Book 3, 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 3, Massilia, Part 2 Now fell the forests far and wide, despoiled of all their giant trunks. For as the mound on earth and brushwood stood, a timber frame held firm the soil, lest pressed beneath its towers the mass might topple down. There stood a grove which from the earliest time no hand of man had dared to violate, hidden from the sun its chill recesses, matted bowels entwined, prisoned the air within. No silvin' nymphs here found a home, nor pan, but savage rights and barbarous worship alters horrible, on massive stones upreared. Sacred with blood of men was every tree. If faith be given to ancient myth, no foal 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 God's 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 you 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 in the priest, or when bright Phoebus holds the height, or when dark night controls the heavens, an anxious dread draws near the grove and fears to find its lord. Spirited 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 up rose the ponderous axe, which downward fell, cleaving the 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. For Caesar's ire weighed down the wrath of heaven, yet ceased they not to fear. When first the oak, the Donna's ancient boast, the naughty home, the Cyprus, 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 galls 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, and the poor alone the gods convent their ire. Enough hewn down they seized the country wagons, and the hind, his oxen gone which else had drawn the plow, mourns for his harvest. But the eager chief, impatient of the combat by the walls, carries the warfare to the farthest west. Meanwhile a giant mound on star-shaped wheels concealed, they fashioned, 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 knotting pile aloft, and wondered, soar 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 mountaintop some time worn rock at length by winds dislodged, and all its track spreads rune 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 armor shield the might of Rome drew nigh beneath the wall. The front rank with their buckles interlaced and held above their helms. The missiles fell behind their backs, nor could the toiling Greeks deflect their engines, throwing still the bolts far into space, but from the rampart top flung ponderous masses down. Long as the shields held firm together, like to hail that falls harmless upon a roof, so long the stones crushed down innocuous, but as the blows rained fierce and ceaseless, and the Romans tired, some here and there sank fainting. Next the roof advanced with earth besprinkled. Underneath the ram concealed his head, which poised and swung they dashed with mighty force against the wall, covered themselves with mantlets. Though the head light on the lower stones, yet as the shock falls and refalls from battlement the rampart soon shall topple. But by bulks the rocky fragments overwhelmed, and flames the roof at length gave way, and worn with toil all spent in vain the weary troops withdrew and sought the shelter of their tents again. Thus far to hold their battlements was all the Greeks had hoped. Now venturing attack, with glittering torches for their arms, by night fearless they sallied forth, nor lance they bear, nor deadly bow, nor shaft, for fire alone is now their weapon. Through the Roman works driven by the wind the conflagration spread, nor did the newness of the wood make pause the fury of the flames, which fed afresh by living torches Neath a smoky pall leaped on in fiery tongues. Not wood alone, but stones gigantic crumbling into dust dissolved beneath the heat, the mighty mound lay prone, yet in its ruin larger seemed. Next conquered on the land upon the main they try their fortunes. On their simple craft no painted figurehead adorned the bowels, nor claimed protection from the gods, but rude, just as they fell upon their mountain-homes, the trees were knit together, and the deck gave steady foothold for an ocean fight. Meanwhile Head Caesar's squadron kept the isles named Stone-Sheddies, and Brutus, Turret Ship, mastered the Roan. More lest the Grecian host, though he's not yet grown to war, and aged men, armed for the conflict with their all at stake. Nor only did they marshal for the fight ships meet for service, but their ancient keels brought from the dockyards. When the morning rays broke from the waters and the sky was clear, and all the winds were still upon the deep, smoothed for the battle, swift on either part the fleets assay the open, and the ships tremble beneath the oars that urged them on by sinewy arms impelled. Upon the wings that bound the Roman fleet, the larger craft with triple and quadruple banks of oars gird in the lesser, so they front the sea, while in their rear, shaped as a crescent moon, Liberian galleys follow. Overall towers Brutus's Decperatorian. Oars on oars propel the bulky vessel through the main, six ranks, the topmost strike, the waves afar. When such a space remained beneath the fleets as could be covered by a single stroke, innumerable voices rose in air, running with Resonant Din the beat of oars, and a note of trumpet summoning, and all sat on the benches and with mighty stroke swept o'er the sea, and gained the space between. Then crashed the prowls together, and the keels rebounded backwards, and unnumbered darts, or darkened all the sky, or, in their fall, the vacant ocean. As the wings grew wide, less densely packed the fleet. Some Grecian ships pressed in between, as when with west and east the tide contends, this way the waves are driven in that the sea. So as they plow the deep in various lines converging, what the prowl throws up advancing, from the foreman's oars falls back repelled. But soon the Grecian fleet was handier found in battle, and in flight pretended, and in shorter curves could round, more aptly governed by the guiding helm. While on the Roman side their steadier keels gave vantage as to men who fight on land, then brutish to the pilot of his ship. Thus suffered them to range the wider deep, contending with the foe and naval skill, draw close the war and drive us on the prowls of these Phoenicians. Him the pilot heard, and turned his vessels slant-wise to the foe. Then was the sea all covered with the war, then Grecian ships attacking brutish found their rune in the stroke, and vanquished lay beside his bow-works, while with grappling hooks others laid fast the foe, themselves by oars held back the while. And now no outstretched arm hurls forth the javelin, but hand to hand with swords they waged the fight. Each from his ship leans forward to the stroke, and falls when slain upon the foe-man's deck. Deep flows the stream of purple slaughter to the foe-mane, by piles of floating corpses are the sides, though grappled kept asunder. Some half-dead plunge in the ocean, gulping down the brine and crimsoned with their blood, some lingering still draw their last struggling breath amid the wreck of broken navies, weapons which have missed find yet their victims, and the falling steel fails not in middle-deep to deal the wound. One vessel circled by focian keels divides her strength, and on the right and left on either side with equal war contends, on whose high poop, while Tegas fighting gripped the stern focian, pierced his back and breast two fatal weapons. In the midst the steel meets, and the blood, uncertain wints to flow, stands still, arrested, till with double course forth by a sudden gush it thrives each dart, and sends the life abroad through either wound. Here faded tellen also steered his ship, no pilot's hand upon an angry sea more deftly ruled the vessel. While he knew, or by the sun or crescent moon, all best to set his canvas fitted for the breeze to morrow's light would bring. His rushing stem shattered a Roman vessel, but a dart hurled at the moment quivers in his breast. He falls, and in the fall his dying hand diverts the prow. Then Gaiarius, in act to climb the friendly deck, by javelin pierced, still as he hung by the retaining steel fast to the side, was nailed. Twin brethren stand a fruitful mother's pride, with different fates, but near distinguished till death's savage hand struck once, and ended error. He that lived, cause of fresh anguish in their sorrowing souls, called ever to the weeping parent's back the image of the lost, who, as the oars Grecian and Roman mixed with their teeth oblique, grasped with his dexter hand of the Roman ship, when fell a blow that shore his arm away. So died, upon the side it held the hand, nor loosed its grasping death. Yet with the wound his noble courage rose, and maimed he dared renew the fray, and stretched across the sea to grasp the lost. In vain another blow lopped arm and hand alike. Nor shield nor sword henceforth are his. Yet even now he seeks no sheltering hold, but with his chest advanced before his brother armed he claims the fight. And holding in his breast the darts which else had slain his comrades, pierced with countless spears, he fails in death well earned. But ere his end collects his parting life, and all his strength strains to the utmost, and with failing limbs leaps on the foment's deck, by wait alone injurious. For streaming down with gore and piled on high with corpses, while her side sounded to ceaseless blows, the faded ship let in the greedy brine until her ways were level with the waters. Then she plunged in whirling eddies downwards, and the main first parted, then closed in upon its prey. Full many wondrous deaths, with fates diverse, upon the sea in that day's fight befell, caught by a grappling hook that missed the side, had Lacedas been whelmed in middle deep, but by his feet his comrades dragged him back, and wrinked in twain he hung, nor slowly flowed as from a wound the blood. But all his veins were torn thunder, and the stream of life gushed o'er his limbs till lust amid the deep. From no man's dying has the vital breath rushed by so wide a path. The lower trunk succumbed to death, but with the lungs and heart long strove the fates, and hardly won the whole. Still bent upon the fight an eager crew were gathering to the margin of the deck, leaving the upper side as bare of foes, their ship was over set. Beneath the keel which floated upwards, prison'd in the sea, and powerless by the spread of arms to float the main, they perished. One who happily swam amid the battle chanced upon a death strange and unheard of, for two meeting prows transfixed his body. At the double-stroke wide yawned his chest, blood issued from his mouth with flesh co-mingled, and the brazen beaks resounding clashed together by the bones unhindered. Now they part, and through the gap swift pours the sea and drags the corpse below. Next of a ship-wrecked crew the larger part struggling with death upon the waters reached a comrade bark, but when with elbows raised do they seize upon the bulwarks and the ship rolled, nor could bear their weight. The ruthless crew hacked off their straining arms, then maimed, they sank below the seething waves to rise no more. Now every dart was hurled and every spear, the soldier weaponless, yet their rage found arms. One hurled an oar, another's brawny arm tugs at the twisted stern, or from the seats the oarsmen driving swings the bench in air. The ships are broken for the fight. They seized the fallen dead and snatched the sword that flew. Nay, many from their wounds, frenzied for arms, plucked forth the deadly steel, and pressing still upon their yawning sides, hurled forth this spear back to the hostile ranks from which it came, then ebbs their life-blood forth. But deadlier yet was that foul force most hostile to the sea, for thrown in torches and in sulfurous bolts fire all consuming ran among the ships, whose oily timbers soaked in pitch and wax inflamable gave welcome to the flames. Nor could the waves prevail against the blaze which claimed as for its own the fragments borne upon the waters. Lo, on burning plank one hardly escapes destruction, one to save his flaming ship gives entrance to the main. Of all the forms of death each fears the one that brings immediate dying, yet quails not their heart in shipwreck. From the waves they pluck the fallen darts, and furnishing the ship as say the feeble stroke, and should that hope still fail their hand they call the sea to aid, and seizing in their grasp some floating foe drag him to mutual death. But on that day Ficus, above all others, proved his skill. Well trained was he to drive beneath the main and search the waters with unfailing eye, and shouldn't anchor against the straining rope to firmly bite the sands to wretch it free. Oft in his fatal grasp he seized a foe, nor loosed his grip until the life was gone. Such was his frequent deed, but this his fate, for rising Victor, as he thought, to err, full on a keel he struck, and found his death. Some drowning seized a hostile oar, and checked the flying vessel, not to die in vain their single gear. Some on the vessel's side hanging in death with wounded frame assayed to check the charging prowl. As high upon the bulwarks of his ship was struck by leaden bolt from Balearic sling of Ligdomus, straight through his temples past the faded nistle, and in streams of blood forced from their seats his trembling eyeballs fell. Plunged in a darkness as of night, he thought that life had left him, yet ere long he knew the living rigors of his limbs, and cried, Place me, o friends, as some machine of war, straight facing towards the foe, then shall my dart strike as of old, and thou Tyrinas spend the latest breath still left upon the fight, so shall thou play, not wholly dead, the part that fits a soldier, and the spear that strikes thy frame shall miss the living. Thus he spake, and hurled his javelin, blind, but not in vain, for Argus, generous youth of noble blood, below the middle waste, received the spear, and feeling drove it home. His aegid sire from furthest portion of the conquered ship beheld, then whom in prime of manhood none more brave in battle, now no more he fought, yet did the memory of his prowess stir Phoenician youths to emulate his fame. Off stumbling o'er the benches the old man haste to reach his boy, and finds him breathing still. No tear bedo'd his cheek, nor on his breast one blow he struck, but o'er his eyes there fell a dark, impenetrable veil of mist that blotted out the day, nor could he more discern his luckless Argus. He who saw his parent, raising up his drooping head with parted lips and silent features, asked the father's latest kiss, a father's hand to close his dying eyes. But soon his sire, recovering from his swoon when ruthless grief possessed his spirit, this short space, he cried, I lose not which the cruel gods have given, but die before thee. Grant thy sorrowing sire forgiveness that he fled thy last embrace. Not yet has passed thy life-blood from the wound, nor yet is death upon thee. Still thou mayest outlive thy parent. Thus he spake, and seized the reeking sword, and draved it to the hilt, then plunged into the deep with headlong bound, to anticipate his son. For this he feared a single form of death should not suffice. Now gave the fates their judgment, and in doubt no longer was the war. The Grecian fleet in most parts sunk. Some ships by Romans, or conveyed the victor's home. In headlong flight some sought the yards for shelter. On the strand wet tears of parents for their offspring slain. I wept the mothers. Mid the pile confused off times the wife sought madly for her spouse, and then chose for her last kiss some Roman slain. While wretched fathers by the blazing pyres fought for the dead. But Brutus, thus at sea, first gained a tramp for great Caesar's arms. End of Book 3, Macilia, Part 2. Book 4, Part 1 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. Recording by Rita Brutros. Farsalia, Dramatic Episodes of the Civil Wars by Lucan, 39 to 65 BC. Translation by J.D. Duff. Book 4, Part 1. Caesar in Spain, War in the Adriatic Sea, Death of Curio. But in the distant regions of the Earth, fierce Caesar warring, though in fight he dealt no baneful slaughter, hastened on the doom to swift fulfillment. There on Magnus' side, Afranius and Petrius held command, who ruled alternate, and the Rampart guard obeyed the standard of each chief and turn. There with the Romans in the camp were joined Astorians swift, and Vettans lightly armed, and Celts, who exiled from their ancient home, had joined Iberus to their former name, where the rich soil in gentle slope ascends and forms a modest hill. Ilerda stands, founded in ancient days, beside her glides not least of western rivers, sycorus of placid current, by a mighty arch of stone or spand, which not the winter floods shall overwhelm. Upon a rock hard by was Magnus' camp, but Caesar's on a hill, rivaling the first, and in the midst of stream. Here boundless plains are spread beyond the range of human vision. Shinga girds them in with greedy waves, forbidden to contend with tides of ocean, for that larger flood, who names the land, Iberus sweeps along the lesser stream, co-mingled with his own. Guiltless of war, the first day saw the hosts in long array confronted, standard rows opposing the standard, numberless, yet none, essayed attack, in shame of impious strife. One day they gave their country and her laws, but Caesar, when from heaven fell the night, drew round a hasty trench, his foremost rank with close array concealing those who wrought. Then with the mourn he bids them, sees the hill which parted from the camp, Ilerda's walls, and gave them safety. But in fear and shame, on rush the foe, and seized the vantage ground, first in the onset. From the height they held their hopes of conquest, but to Caesar's men their hearts by courage stirred, and their good swords promised the victory. Burdened up the ridge, the soldier climbed, and from the opposing steep, but for his comrades shield had fallen back. None had the space to hurl the quivering lance upon the foemen, spear and pike made sure the failing foothold and the falchion's edge hewed out their upward path. But Caesar saw ruin impending, and he bade his horse by circuit to the left with shielded flank, hold back the foe. Thus gained his troops retreat, for none pressed on them, and the victor chiefs, forced to withdraw, gained the day in vain. Henceforth the fitful changes of the year governed the fates and fashioned out the war, for stubborn frost still lay upon the land, and northern winds controlling all the sky prisoned the rain in clouds. The hills were nipped with snow unmelted, and the lower plains by frost that fled before the rising sun. And all the lands that stretch towards the sky, which whelms the sinking stars neath wintry heavens, were parched and arid. But when Titan neared the ram, who backward gazing on the stars, bore perished heli, and the hours were held in juster balance, and the day prevailed. The earliest faded moon, which in the vault to hung with uncertain horn from eastern winds received a fiery radiance whose blast forced Boreus back, and breaking on the mists within his regions to the occident, drave all that shroud Arabia and the land of Ganges, all that, or by chorus born, be dim the orient sky, or rising suns permit together. Pitiless flamed the day behind them, while in front the wide expanse was driven, nor on mid-earth sank the clouds, the wade with vapor. North and south alike were showerless, for on Calpe's rock alone all moisture gathered. Here at last forbidden to pass that sea by Zephyr's bounds contained, and by the furthest belt of heaven they pause. In masses huge convolved, the widest breath of murky air scarce holds them, which divides earth from the heavens, till pressed by weight of sky in densest volume to the earth they pour their cataracts. No lightning could endure such storm unquenched, though oft a thwart the gloom gleamed its pale fire. Meanwhile a watery arch scarce touched with color in imperfect shape embraced the sky and drank the ocean waves, so rendering to the clouds their flood out poured. And now were thawed the Pyrenean snows, which Titan had not conquered. All the rocks were wet with melting ice, accustomed springs found not discharged, and from the very banks each stream received a torrent. Caesar's arms are shipwrecked on the field, his tottering camp swims on the rising flood, the trench is filled with whirling waters, and the plain no more yields corn orcine, for those who forage seek air from the hidden furrow. Famine knocks, first herald of or-whelming ills to come, fierce at the door, and while no foe blockades the soldier hungers, fortunes by, not now, the meanest measure. Yet, alas, is found the fasting peasant, who in gain of gold will sell his little all, and now the hills are seen no more, and rivers whelmed in one, beasts with their homes sweep downwards, and the tide repels the foaming torrent. Nor did night acknowledge Phoebus' rise, for all the sky felt her dominion, and obscured its face, and darkness joined with darkness. Thus doth lie the lowest earth beneath the snowy zone, and never-ending winters, where the sky is starless ever, and no growth of herbs sprouts from the frozen earth, but standing ice tempers the stars, which in the middle zone kindle their flames. Thus, father of the world, and thou, trident God, who rules the sea, second in place, Neptuneus, load the air with clouds continual, forbid the tide, once risen to return, forced by thy waves, let rivers backward run in different course. Thy shores no longer reaching, and the earth shaken, make way for floods, let wrine overflow and roam their banks, let torrents spread afield unmeasured waters, melt ripayan snows, spread lakes upon the land, and seas profound, and snatch the groaning world from civil war. Thus for a little moment, fortune tried her darling son, then smiling to his part returned, and gained her pardon for the past by greater gifts to come. For now the air had grown more clear, and Phoebus' warmer rays coped with the flood and scattered all the clouds in fleecy masses, and the reddening east proclaimed the coming day. The land resumed its ancient marks, no more in middle air the moisture hung, but from about the stars sank to the depths. The forest glade upreared its foliage, hills again emerged to view, and, neath the warmth of day, the plains grew firm. When Sikorus kept his banks, the shallop light of Horry Willow bark they build, which bent on hides of oxen bore the weight of man and swam the torrent. Thus, on sluggish Poe, Venetians float, and on the encircling sea are born Britannia's nations, and when Nile fills all the land, are Memphis's thirsty reeds shaped into fragile boats that swim his waves. The further bank, thus gained, they haste to curve the fallen forest, and to form the arch by which imperious Sikorus shall be spanned. Yet, fearing he might rise in Rathenew, not on the nearest march they place the beams, but in midfield, thus the presumptuous stream they tame with chastisement, parting his flood in devious channels out, and curb his pride. Petrius, when he saw that Caesar's fates swept all before them, left Ilerda's steep, his trust no longer in the Roman world, and sought for strength amid those distant tribes, who, loving death, rushed in upon the foe and win their conquests at the point of sword. But in the dawn, when Caesar saw the camp stand empty on the hill, to arms he cried, seek not the bridge nor ford, plunge in the stream and breast the foaming torrent. Then did hope of coming battle find for them away, which they had shunned in flight. Their arms regained their streaming limbs they cherished till the blood coursed in their veins until the shadows fell short on the sword, and day was at the height. Then dashed the horsemen on and held the foe twixed flight and battle. In the plane arose two rocky heights, from each a lofty ridge of hills ranged onwards, sheltering in their midst a hollow veil, whose deep and winding paths were safe from warfare, which, when Caesar saw, that if Petrius held, the war must pass two lands remote by savage tribes possessed. Speed on, he cried, and meet their flight in front. Fierce be your frown and battle in your glance. No coward's death be theirs, but as they flee plunge in their breast the sword. They seized the pass and placed their camp. Short was the span between the opposing sentinels, with eager eyes undimmed by space, they gazed on brothers, sons, or friends and fathers, and within their souls they grasped the impious horror of the war. Yet for a little while no voice was heard, for fear restrained by waving blade alone of gesture, spake they, but their passion grew and broke all discipline and soon they leaped the hostile rampart, every hand outstretched, embraced the hand of foeman, palm in palm, one calls by name his neighbor, one his host, another with his schoolmate talks again of olden studies. He who in the camp found not a comrade was no son of Rome. Wet are their arms with tears and sobs break in upon their kisses, each unstained by blood dreads what he might have done, why beat thy breast, why madman weep, the guilt is thine alone to do or to abstain, dost fear the man who takes his title to be feared from thee, when Caesar's trumpet sound the call to arms, heed not the summons, when thou seest advance his standards, halt, the civil fury thus shall fold her wings, and in a private robe Caesar shall love his kinsmen. Holy peace that sway us the world, thou whose eternal bands sustain the order of material things, come, gentle concord, these are times do now for good or evil destiny control the coming centuries, ah, cruel fate, now have the people lost their cloak for crime, their hope of pardon, they have known their kin, woe for the respite given by the gods, making more black the hideous guilt to come. Now all was peaceful and in either camp sweet converse held the soldiers, on the grass they placed the meal, on altars built of turf poor out libations from the mingled cup, on mutual couch with stories of their fights they while the sleepless hours in talk away, where stood the ranks arrayed from whose right hand the quivering lance was sped, and while they boast or challenge deeds of prowess in the war, faith was renewed and trust. Thus made the fates their doom complete and all the crimes to be grew with their love. For when Petrius knew the treaties made, himself and all his camp sold to the foe, he stirs his guard to work an impious slaughter, the defenseless foe flings headlong forth and parts the fond embrace by stroke of weapon and in streams of blood, and thus in words of wrath to stir the war of Rome forgetful to your faith force worn and could ye not with victory gained return, restorers of her liberty to Rome? Lose then, but losing call not Caesar Lord, while still your swords are yours, with blood to shed in doubtful battle, while the fates are hid will you like cravens to your master bear doomed eagles, will you ask upon your knees that Caesar Dane to treat his slaves alike and spare forsooth like yours your leader's lives? Nay, never shall our safety be the price of base betrayal, not for boon of life we wage a civil war. This name of peace drags us to slavery, nare from depths of earth. Fane to withdraw her wealth, should toiling men draw store of iron, nare in trench a town, nare should the warhorse dash into the fray, nor fleet with turret bulwarks breast the mane. If freedom for dishonorable peace could thus be bought, the foe are pledged to fight by their own guilt, but you who still might hope for pardon if defeated, what can match your deep dishonor? Shame upon your peace thou callest Magnus, ignorant of fate, from all the worlds thy powers and dost and treat monarchs of distant realms. While happily here we in our treaties bargain for thy life. Thus did he serve their minds and rouse anew the love of impious battle. So when beasts groan strange to forest, long confined in dens their fierceness lose and learn to bear with man, once should they taste of blood, their thirsty jaws swell at the touch and all the ancient rage comes back upon them till they hardly spare their keeper. Thus they rush on every crime and blows which dealt at chance and in the night of battle had brought hatred on the gods, though blindly struck, their recent vows of love made monstrous horrid, where they lately spread the mutual couch and banquet and embraced some newfound friend, now falls the fatal blow upon the self-same breast and though at first groaning at the fell chance they drew the sword, hate rises as they strike, the murderous arm confirms the doubtful will. With monstrous joy through the wild camp they smite their kinsmen down and carnage raged unchecked and each man strove proud of his crime before his leader's face to prove his shamelessness of guilt. But thou, Caesar, though losing of thy best, dost know the gods do favor thee. The salient fields gave thee no better fortune nor the waves that lave messilia, nor on Pharris's mane didst thou so triumph. By this crime alone, thou from this moment of the better cause, shalt be the captain. Since the troops were stained with foulest slaughter, thus their leaders shunned all camps with Caesar's joined and sought again Illerda's lofty walls. But Caesar's horse seized on the plain and forced them to the hills reluctant. There by steepest trench shut in, he cuts them from the river nor permits their circling ramparts to enclose a spring. By this dread path death trapped his captive prey which when they knew fierce anger filled their souls and took the place of fear. They slew the steeds now useless groan and rushed upon their fate hopeless of life and flight. But Caesar cried, hold back your weapons soldiers from the foe, strike not the breast advancing, let the war cost me no blood. He falls not without price who with his life blood challenges the fray, scorning their own base lives and hating light to Caesar's loss they rush upon their death nor heed our blows. But let this frenzy pass, this madman onset, let the wish for death die in their souls. Thus to its embers shrank the fire. Within when battle was denied and fainter grew their rage until the night drew down her starry veil and sank the sun. Thus Keener fights the gladiator whose wound is recent while the blood within the veins still gives the sinews motion, air the skin shrinks on the bones. But as the victor stands his fatal thrust achieved and points the blade on faltering watching for the end their creeps torpor upon the limbs the blood congeals about the gash more faintly throbs the heart and slowly fading ebbs the life away. Raving for water now they dig the plains seeking for hidden fountains not with spade and mattock only searching out the depths but with the sword. They hack the stony heights in shafts that reach the level of the plain. No further flees from light the pallid wretch who tears the bowels of the earth for gold. Yet neither riven stones revealed a spring nor streamlet whispered from its hidden source to water trickled on the gravel bed nor dripped within the cavern. Worn at length with labor huge they crawl to light again. After such toil to fall to thirst and heat the reddier victims this was all they won. All food they loathe and gaint their deadly thirst call famine to their aid. Damp clouds of earth they squeeze upon their mouths with straining hands wearer on foulest mud some stagnant slime or moisture lies though doomed to die they lap with greedy tongues the draught their lips had loathed had life been theirs to choose. Beast like they drain the swollen udder and where milk was not they suck the lifeblood forth from herbs and bows dripping with dew from tender shoots they pressed say from the pith of trees the juice within. Happy the host that onward marching finds its savage enemy has fouled the wells with murderous venom had thou Caesar cast the reeking filth of shambles in the stream and henbane dire and all the poisonous herbs that lurk on cretin' slopes still had they drunk the fatal waters rather than endure such lingering agony. Their bowels racked with torments as a flame the swollen tongue and jaws now parched and rigid and the veins each labored breath with anguish from the lungs and feebled moistureless was scarcely drawn. And scarce again returned and yet agape their panting mouths sucked in the nightly dew they watch for showers from heaven and in despair gaze on the clouds when slightly poured a flood nor were their tortures less than marrow saw not their sufferings nor cancer's zone nor where the Garamantian turns the soil but sycorus and Ibarus at their feet two mighty floods but far beyond their reach rolled down in measureless volume to the main. But now their leaders yield afranius vanquished throws down his arms and leads his troops now hardly living to the hostile camp before the victor's feet and soothes for peace proud was his bearing and despite of ills his main majestic of his triumphs past still mindful in disaster thus he stood though suppliant for grace a leader yet from fearless heart thus speaking had the fates thrown me before some base ignoble foe not Caesar thee still had this arm fought on and snatched my death now if I suppliant ask tis that I value still the boon of life given by a worthy hand no party ties roused us to arms against thee when the war this civil war broke out it found us chiefs and with our former cause we kept the faith so long as brave men should the fates decree no longer we withstand unto thy will we yield the western tribes the east is thine and all the world lies open to thy march be generous blood nor sword nor wearied arm thy conquest bought thou hast not to forgive ought but thy victory won nor ask we much give us repose to lead in peace the life thou shalt bestow supposed these armed lines our corpses prostrate on the field of war nare where it meet that thy victorious ranks should mix with ours the vanquished destiny has run for us its course one boon I beg bid not the conquered conquer in thy train such were his words and Caesar's gracious smile granted his prayer remitting rights that war gives to the victor to the unguarded stream the soldiers speed prone on the bank they lie and lap the flood or foul the crowded waves in many a burning throat the sudden draft poured in two copious filled the empty veins and choked the breath within yet left unquenched the burning pest which though their frames were full craved water for itself then nerved once more their strength returned oh lavish luxury contented never with the frugal meal oh greed that searchest over land and sea to furnish forth the banquet pride that joyous insumptuous tables learn what life requires how little nature needs no ruddy juice pressed from the vintage in some famous year whose consoles are forgotten served in cups with gold and jewels wrought restores the spark the failing spark of life but water pure and simplest fruits of earth the flood the field suffice for nature ah the weary lot of those who were but these their armor laid low at the victor's feet with lightened breast secure themselves no longer dealing death be set by care no more seek out their homes what priceless gift in peace had they secured how grieved it now their souls to have poised the dart with arm outstretched to have felt their raving thirst and prayed the gods for victory in vain nay hard they think the victor's lot for whom a thousand risks and battles still remain if fortune never is to leave his side how often must he triumph and how oft pour out his blood wherever great Caesar leads happy thrice happy he who when the world is nodding to its ruin knows the spot where he himself shall though in ruin lie no trumpet call shall break his sleep again but in his humble home with faithful spouse and sons unlettered fortune leaves him free from rage of party for if life he owes to Caesar Magnus sometime was his lord thus happy they alone live on apart nor hope nor dread the event of civil war end of book four part one book four part two of farsalia dramatic episodes of the civil wars this is a libravox recording all libravox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libravox.org recording by Rita butros farsalia dramatic episodes of the civil wars by lukin 39 to 65 bc translation by jd duff book four part two not thus did fortune upon Caesar's smile in all the parts of earth but against his arms dared somewhat where Salona's lengthy waist opposes hadria and iadar warm meets with his waves the breezes of the west there brave curecte dwell whose island home is girded by the main on whom relied antonius and beleaguered by the foe upon the furthest margin of the shore safe from all ills but famine placed his camp but for his steeds the earth no forage gave nor golden series harvest but his troops gnawed the dry herbage of the scanty turf within their rampart lines but when they knew that basilis was on their opposing shore with friendly force by novel mode of flight they aim to reach him not the accustomed keel they lay nor build the ship but shapeless rafts of timbers knit together strong to bear all ponderous weight on empty casks beneath by tightened chains made firm in double rows supported nor upon the deck were placed the oarsmen to the hostile dart exposed but in a hidden space by beams concealed and thus the eye amazed beheld the mass move silent on its path across the sea by neither sail nor stalwart arm propelled they watched the main until the refluent waves ebb from the growing sands then on the tide receding launch their vessel thus she floats with twin companions over each uproads with quivering battlements a lofty tower octavius guardian of illyrian seas restrained his swifter keels and left the rafts free from attack in hopes of larger spoil from fresh adventures for the peaceful sea may tempt them and their goal in safety reached to dare a second voyage round the stag thus will the cunning hunter draw a line of tainted feathers poisoning the air or spread the mesh and muzzle in his grasp the straining jaws of the molossian hound and leash the spartan pack nor is the break trusted to any dog but such as tracks the scent with lowered nostrils and refrains from giving tongue the while content to mark by shaking leash the covert of the prey air long they manned the rafts an eager wish to quit the island when the latest glow still parted day from night but magnus's troops salicy and once taught by their ancient art in fraudulent deceit had left the sea to view unguarded but with chains unseen fast to illyrian shores and hanging loose they blocked the outlet in the waves beneath the leading rafts passed safely but the third hung in mid passage and by ropes was hauled below or shadowing rocks these hollowed out in ponderous masses overhung the main and nodding seemed to fall shadowed by trees dark lay the waves beneath hither the tide brings wreck and corpse and burying with the flow restores them with the ebb and when the caves belch forth the ocean swirling billows fall in boisterous surges back as boils the tide in that famed whirlpool on sicilian shores here with venetian settlers for its load stood motionless the raft octavius's ships gathered around while fomen on the land filled all the shore but well the captain knew voltaeus how the secret fraud was planned and tried in vain with sword and steel to burst the bands that held them without hope he fights uncertain where to avoid or front the foe caught in this straight they strove as brave men should against opposing hosts nor long the fight for fallen darkness brought a truce to arms then to his men disheartened and in fear of coming fate voltaeus great of soul thus spake in tones commanding free no more save for this little night consult you now in this last moment soldiers how to face your final fortunes no man's life is short who can take thought for death nor is your fame less than a conqueror's if with breast advanced you meet your destined doom none know how long the life that waits them summon your own fate and equal is your praise whether the hand quench the last flicker of departing light or shear the hope of years but choice to die is thrust not on the mind we cannot flee see at our throats in now our kinsman's swords then choose for death desire what fate decrees at least in war's blind cloud we shall not fall nor when the flying weapons hide the day and slaughtered heaps of foemen load the field and death is common and the brave man sinks unknown inglorious us within this ship scene of both friends and foes the gods have placed both land and sea and island cliffs shall bear from either shore their witness to our death in which some great and memorable fame thou fortune dost prepare what glorious deeds of warlike heroism of noble faith times annals show all these shall we surpass true Caesar that to fall upon our swords for thee is little yet to be leagered thus with neither sons nor parents at our sides shorn of the glory that we might have earned we give thee here the only pledge we may yet let these hostile thousands fear the souls that rage for battle and that welcome death and know us for invincible and joy that no more rafts were stayed they'll offer terms and tempt us with a base unhonored life would that to give that death which shall be ours the greater glory they may bid us hope for pardon and for life lest when our swords are reeking with our hearts blood they may say this was despair of living great must be the prowess of our end if in the host that fight his battles Caesar is to mourn this little handful lost for me should fate grant us retreat myself would scorn to shun the coming onset life I cast away the frenzy of the death that comes apace controls my being those alone whose end inspires them know the happiness of death which the high gods that men may bear to live keep hid from others thus his noble words warmed his brave comrades hearts and who with fear and tearful eyes had looked upon the wane turning his nightly course now hoped for day such precepts deep within them nor delayed the sky to dip the stars below the main for Phoebus in the twins his chariot drave at noon near cancer and the hours of night were shortened by the archer when day broke low on the rocks the istrians while the sea swarmed with the galleys and their grecian fleet all armed for fight but first the war was stayed and terms proposed life to the foe they thought would seem the sweeter by delay of death thus granted but the band devoted stood proud of their promised end and life for sworn and careless of the battle no debate could shake their high resolve in numbers few against foment numberless by land and sea they waged the desperate fight then satiate turn from the foe and first demanding death volteus bared his throat what youth he cries dares strike me down and through his captain's wounds attest his love for death then through his side plunge blades uncounted on the moment drawn he praises all but him who struck the first grateful with dying strength he does to death they rush together and without a foe work all the guilt of battle thus of yore rose up the glittering Durkhaian band from seed to kadmasone and fought and died dire omen for the brother kings of thieves and so in faces fields the sons of earth born of the sleepless dragon all inflamed by magic incantations with their blood deluged the monstrous furrow while the queen feared at the spells she wrought devoted thus to death they fall yet in their death itself less valor show than in the fatal wounds they take and give for in the dying hand missed not a blow nor did the stroke alone inflict the wound but rushing on the sword their throat or breast received it to the hilt and when by fatal chance or sire with son or brothers met yet with unfaltering weight down flash the pitiless sword this proved their love to give no second blow half living now they dragged their mangled bodies to the side whence flowed into the sea a crimson stream of slaughter towards their pleasure yet to see the light they scorned with haughty looks to scan the faces of their victors and to feel the death approaching but the raft was now piled up with dead which when the foments saw wondering at such a chief and such a deed they gave them burial never through the world of any brave achievement was the fame more widely blazed yet meaner men untaught by such examples see not that the hand which frees from slavery needs no valiant mind to guide the stroke but tyranny is feared as dealing death and freedom self is galled by ruthless arms and knows not that the sword was given for this that none need live a slave ah death which thou but let the coward live and grant the brave alone the prize to die nor less were libyan fields ablaze with war for curio rash from lily bean coast sailed with his fleet and born by gentle winds betwixt half ruined carthage mighty once and clopias cliff upon the well-known shore his anchors dropped first from the hoary sea remote where baghra slowly plows the sand he placed his camp then sought the further hills and mazy passages of cavernous rocks and taeus's kingdom called from ancient days this name was given and thus a swain we told the story handed down from sire to son not yet exhausted by the giant brood earth still another monster brought to birth in libyus caverns huger far was he more justly far her pride than briarius with all his hundred hands or typhon fierce or titios was in mercy to the gods that not in flagrous fields and taeus grew but here in libya to her offspring's strength unmeasured vast she added yet this boon that when in weariness and labor spent he touched his parent fresh from her embrace renewed in rigor he should rise again in yonder cave he dwelt nith yonder rock he made his feast on lion slain in chase there slept he not on skins of beasts or leaves but fed his strength upon the naked earth perished the libyan hinds and those who came brought here in ships until he scorned at length the earth that gave him strength and on his feet invincible and with unaided might made all his victims last to afric shores drawn by the rumor of such carnage came magnanimous else cities he who freed both land and sea of monsters down on earth he threw his mantle of the lion's skin slain in clion nor and taeus last cast down the hide he wore with shining oil as one who wrestles at olympia's feast the hero rubs his limbs the giant feared less standing only on his parent earth his strength might fail and cast or all his bulk hot sand in handfuls thus with arms entwined and grappling hands each seizes on his foe with hardened muscles straining at the neck a long time in vain for firm the sinewy throats stood column like nor yielded so that each wondered to find his peer nor at the first divine lcds put forth all his strength by lengthy struggle wearing out his foe till chili drops stood on anteus's limbs and toppled to its fall the stately throat and smitten by the hero's blows the legs began to totter breast to breast they strive to gain the vantage till the victor's arms gird in the giants yielding back and sides and squeeze his middle part next twix the thighs he puts his feet and forcing them apart lays low the mighty monster limb by limb the dry earth drank his sweat while in his veins warm ran the lifeblood and with strength refreshed the muscle swelled and all the joints grew firm and with his might restored he breaks his bonds and reaves the arms of hercules away amazed the hero stood at such a strength not thus he feared though then unused to war that hydro fears which smitten in the marsh of inacus renewed its severed heads again they join in fight one with the powers which earth bestowed the other with his own nor did the hatred of his step dame find in all his conflicts greater room for hope she sees bedewed and sweat the neck and limbs which once had borne the mountains of the gods nor knew the toil and when anteus felt his fomens arms close round him once again he flung his weary limbs upon the sand to rise with strength renewed all that the earth though laboring sore could breathe into her son she gave his frame but hercules at last saw how his parent gave the giant strength stand thou he cried no more upon the ground thy liest at thy will here must thou stay within mine arms constrained against this breast anteus shall thou fall he lifted up and held by middle girth the giant form still struggling for the earth but she no more could give her offspring rigor slowly came the chill of death upon him and was long before the hero of his victory sure trusted the earth and laid the giant down hence whore antiquity that loves to pray and wonders at herself this region called anteus's kingdom but a greater name is gained from sypio when he recalled from roman citadels the punic chief here was his camp here can't thou see the trace of that most famous rampart whence at length issued the eagles of triumphant rome but curio rejoiced as though for him the fortunes of the spot must hold and store the fates of former chiefs and on the place of happy augury placed his tents ill-starred took from the hills their omens and with force unequal challenged his barbarian foe all africa that bore the roman yoke then lay neath verus he though placing first trust in his latin troops from every side and furthest regions summoned to his aid the nations who confessed king juba's rule not any monarch over wider tracks held the dominion from the western belt near gaddies atlas parts their furthest bounds but from the southern hamen girds them in hard by the whirlpools and their burning planes stretch forth unending neath the torrid zone in breath it's equal till they reach at length the shore of ocean upon either hand from all these regions tribes unnumbered flock to juba's standard moors of swarthy hue as though from ind numidian nomads there and nasimons needy hordes and those whose darts equal the flying arrows of the mead dark garamanteans leave their fervid home and those whose corsers unrestrained by bit or saddle yet obey the rider's hand which wields the guiding switch the hunter too who wanders forth his home a fragile hut and blinds with flowing robe if spear should fail the angry lion monarch of the step not eagerness alone to save the state stirred juba spirit private hatred too roused him to war for in the former year when curio all thinks human and the gods polluted he by tribune law essay to ravish libya from the tyrant sway and drive the monarch from his father's throne while giving roam a king to juba thus still smarting at the insult came the war a welcome harvest for his crown retained these rumors curio feared nor had his troops tain and corphinium's hold in waves of rye been tested nor to Caesar in the wars had learned devotion wavering in their faith their second chief they doubt their first be trade yet when the general saw the spirit of fear creeped through his camp and discipline to fail and sentinels desert their guard at night thus in his fear he spake by daring much fear is disguised let me be first in arms and bid my soldiers to the plane descend while still my soldiers idle days breed doubt by fight for stall the plot soon as the thirst of bloodshed fills the mind and eager hands grip firm the sword and pressed upon the brow the helm brings valor to the failing heart who cares to measure leaders merits then who weighs the cause with whom the soldier stands for him he fights as at the fatal show no ancient grudge the gladiators arm nerves for the combat yet as he shall strike he hates his rival thinking thus he leads his troops in battle order to the plane then victory on his arms deceptive shown hiding the ills to come for from the field driving the hostile host with sword and spear he smote them till their camp opposed his way but after varus's route unseen till then all eager for the glory to be his by stealth came juba silent was his march his only fear lest rumor should forestall his coming victory in pretended war he sends saboura fourth with scanty force to tempt the enemy while in hollow veil he holds the armies of his realm unseen thus doth the sly ik numan with his tail waving allure the serpent of the nile drawn to the moving shadow he with head turned sideways watches till the victim glides within his reach then ceases by the throat behind the deadly fangs fourth from its seat balked of its purpose through the brimming jaws gushes a tide of poison fortune smiled on juba's stratagem for curio the hidden forces of the foe unknown sent forth his horse by night without the camp to scour more distant regions he himself at earliest people of dawn bids carry forth his standards heating not his captain's prayer urged on his ears beware of punic fraud the craft that taints a carthaginian war hung over him the doom of coming death and gave the youth to fate and civil stright dragged down its author on the lofty tops where broke the hills abruptly to their fall he ranks his troops and sees the foe afar who still deceiving a simulated flight till from the height in loose unordered lines the roman forces streamed upon the plane in thought that juba fled then first was known the treacherous fraud for swift numidian horse on every side surround them leader men all see their fate in one dread moment come no coward fleas no warrior bravely strides to meet the battle nay the trumpet call stirs not the charger with resounding hoof to spurn the rock nor galling bit compels to champ and eagerness nor toss his mane and prick the ear nor prancing with his feet to claim his share of combat tired the neck droops downwards smoking sweat be dues the limbs dry from the squalid mouth protrudes the tongue horse raucous panting issues from their chests their flanks distend and every curb is dry with bloody foam the ruthless sword alone could move them onward powerless even then to charge but giving to the hostile dart a nearer victim but when the afric horse first made their onset loud beneath their hooves rang the wide plain and rose the dust in air as by some thracian whirlwind stirred and veiled the heavens in darkness when on curious host the tempest burst each footman in the rank stood there to meet his fate no doubtful end hung in the balance destiny proclaimed death to them all no conflict hand to hand was granted them by lance is thrown from far and side long sword thrust slain nor wounds alone but clouds of weapons falling from the air by weight of iron or whelmed them still drew in the straightening circle for the first pressed back on those behind did any shun the foe seeking the inner safety of the ring he needs must perish by his comrades swords and as the front rank fell still narrower grew the close crushed phalanx till to raise their swords space was denied still close and closer forced the armed breast against each other driven pressed out the life thus not upon a scene such as their fortune promised gaze the foe no tide of blood was there to glut their eyes no members lopped asunder though the earth so was piled with corpses for each roman stood in death upright against his comrade dead let cruel carthage rouse her hated ghosts by this fell offering let the punic shades and bloody Hannibal from this defeat receive atonement yet to us shame you gods that libya gained not for herself the day and that our romans on that field should die to save Pompeius and the senate's cause now was the dust laid low by streams of blood and curio knowing that his host was slain chose not to live and as a brave man should he rushed upon the heap and fighting fell in vain with turbid speech has thou profane the pulpit of the forum waved in vain from that proud citadel the tribune flag and armed the people and the senate's rights betraying has compelled this impious war betwixt the rival kinsmen lo they'll liest before farcella's fight and from thine eyes is hid the war tis thus to suffering Rome for arms seditious and for civil strife ye mighty make atonement with your blood happy were Rome and all her sons indeed did but the gods as rigidly protect as they avenge her violated laws there curio lies untombed his noble corpse torn by the vultures of the libyan waste yet shall we since such merit though unsung lives by its own imperishable fame give thee thy mead of praise Rome never bore another son who had he right pursued had so adorned her laws but soon the times their luxury corruption and the curse of two abundant wealth in transverse stream swept or his wavering mind and curio changed turned with his change the scale of human things true mighty sellah cruel marius and bloody sinna and the long descent of Caesar and of Caesar's house became lords of our lives but who had power like him all others bought the state he sold alone end of book four part two