Book 5

Meeting of the Senate in Epirus, lines Appius consults the Oracle at Delphi. Its history and description, Mutiny of Caesar's troops, Speech of the mutineers, His reply, quelling the mutiny He returns to Rome, and thence goes to Brundusium, And crosses to Epirus, He exhorts Antonius to join him, He endeavours to cross over in a small boat; the storm, and the return, His reception, Is joined by Antonius, Pompeius parts with Cornelia, whom he sends to Lesbos,

THUS had the smiles of Fortune and her frowns

Brought either chief to Macedonian shores

Still equal to his foe. From cooler skies

Sank Atlas' daughters down, and Haemus ' slopes

Were white with winter, and the day drew nigh

Devoted to the god who leads the months,

And marking with new names the book of Rome,

When came the Fathers from their distant posts

By both the Consuls to Epirus called

Ere yet their year was dead: a foreign land

Obscure received the magistrates of Rome;

A senate sojourning in foreign lands

Held there high questions, not in warlike camp

But hedged by all the axes of the law;

And all men gazing on the reverend ranks

Knew that no Magnus' party there was met,

But all the state; and Magnus was but one.

Mid silent sadness from his lofty seat

Thus spake the Consul: ' If your hearts still beat

' With Latian blood, and if within your breasts

' Still lives your fathers' vigour, look not now

' On this strange land that holds us, nor enquire

'How far the captured city. Know the face

Of your own company; the rulers you

In all that comes. Be this your first decree,

' Whose truth all peoples and all kings confess;

' Be this the Senate. Let the frozen wain

' Demand your presence, or the torrid zone

' Wherein the day and night with equal tread

'For ever march; still follows in your steps

' The central power of Imperial Rome.

' When flamed the Capitol with fires of Gaul,

' When Veii held Camillus, there with him

' Was Rome, nor ever though it changed its clime

' Your order lost its rights. In Caesar's hands

' Are sorrowing houses and deserted homes,

' Laws silent for a space, and forums closed

' In public fast. His Senate-house beholds

' Those Fathers only whom from Rome it drove,

' While Rome was full. Of that high order all

' Not here, are exiles. Ignorant of war,

'Its crimes and bloodshed, through long years of peace,

'Ye fled its outburst: now in session all

'Are here assembled. See ye how the gods

Weigh down Italia 's loss by all the world

'Thrown in the other scale? Illyria 's wave

'Rolls on our foes: in Libya 's arid wastes

'Is fallen their Curio, the weightier part

'Of Caesar's senate! Lift your standards, then,

'Spur on your fates and prove your hopes to heaven.

'Let Fortune, smiling, give you courage now

'As, when ye fled, your cause. The Consuls' power

' Fails with the dying year: not so does yours;

' By your commandment for the common weal

' Decree Pompeius leader.' With applause

They heard his words, and placed their country's fates,

Nor less their own, within the chieftain's hands.

Then did they shower on people and on kings

Honours well earned- Rhodes, Mistress of the Seas,

Was decked with gifts; Athena, old in fame,

Received her praise, and the rude tribes who dwell

On cold Taygetus; Massilia 's sons

Their own Phocaea 's freedom; on the chiefs

Of Thracian tribes, fit honours were bestowed.

They order Libya by their high decree

To serve King Juba's sceptre; and, alas!

On Ptolemaeus, of a faithless race

The faithless sovereign, scandal to the gods,

And shame to Fortune, placed the diadem

Of Pella. Boy! against the common herd

Fierce is thy weapon. Ah, if that were all!

The fatal gift gave, too, Pompeius' life;

Bereft thy sister of her sire's bequest,

Half of the kingdom: Caesar of a crime.

Then all to arms. While soldier thus and chief,

In doubtful sort, against their hidden fate

Devised their counsel, Appius only feared

To face the chances of the war, and sought

Through Phoebus' ancient oracle to break

The silence of the gods, and know the end.

Between the western belt and that which bounds

The furthest east, midway Parnassus rears

His double summit: to the Bromian god

And Paean consecrate, to whom conjoined

The Theban band leads up the Delphic feast

On each third year. This mountain, when the sea

Poured o'er the earth her billows, rose alone,

By loftiest peak scarce master of the waves,

Parting the crest of waters from the stars.

There, to avenge his mother, from her home

Chased by the angered goddess while as yet

She bore him quick within her, Paean came

(When Themis ruled the tripods and the spot)

And with unpractised darts the Python slew.

But when he saw how from the yawning cave

A godlike knowledge breathed, and all the air

Was full of voices murmured from the depths,

He took the shrine and filled the deep recess;

Henceforth a prophet. Which of all the gods

Has left heaven's light in this dark cave to hide?

What spirit that knows the secrets of the world

And things to come, here condescends to dwell,

Divine, omnipotent? bear the touch of man,

And at his bidding deigns to lift the veil?

Perchance he sings the fates; perchance his song,

Once sung, is fate. Haply some part of Jove

Sent here to rule the earth with mystic power,

Balanced upon the void immense of air,

Sounds through the caves, and in its flight returns

To that high home of thunder whence it came.

Caught in a virgin's breast, this deity

Strikes on the human spirit: then a voice

Sounds from her breast, as when the lofty peak

Of Etna boils, forced by compelling flames,

Or as Typheus on Campania 's shore

Frets 'neath the pile of huge Inarime.

Though free to all that ask, denied to none,

No human passion lurks within the voice

That heralds forth the god; no whispered vow,

No evil prayer prevails; none favour gain:

Of things unchangeable the song divine;

Yet loves the just. When men have left their homes

To seek another, it has turned their steps

Aright, as with the Tyrians; and raised

The hearts of men to war, as prove the waves

Of Salamis: when earth refused her fruits

Or plague has filled the air, this voice benign

Has given fresh hope and pointed to the end.

No gift from heaven's high gods so great as this

Our centuries have lost, since Delphi 's shrine

Has silent stood, and kings forbade the gods

To speak the future, fearing for their fates.

Nor does the priestess sorrow that the voice

Is heard no longer; and the silent fane

To her is happiness; for whatever breast

Contains the deity, its shattered frame

Surges with frenzy, and the soul divine

Shakes the frail breath that with the god receives,

As prize or punishment, untimely death.

These tripods Appius seeks, unmoved for years,

These soundless caverned rocks, in quest to learn

Hesperia's destinies. At his command

To loose the sacred gateways and permit

The prophetess to enter to the god,

The keeper calls Phemonoe; whose steps

Round the Castalian fount and in the grove

Were wandering careless; her he bids to pass

The portals. But the priestess feared to tread

The awful threshold, and with vain deceits

Sought to dissuade the chieftain from his zeal

To learn the future. ' What this hope,' she cried,

Roman, that moves thy breast to know the fates?

'Long has Parnassus and its silent cleft

'Stifled the god; perhaps the breath divine

'Has left its ancient gorge and through the world

'Wanders in devious paths; or else the fane,

'Consumed to ashes by barbarian fire,

'Closed up the deep recess and choked the path

'Of Phoebus; or the ancient Sibyl's books

'Disclosed enough of fate, and thus the gods

'Decreed to close the oracle; or else

'Since wicked steps are banished from the fane,

'In this our impious age the god finds none

'Whom he may answer.' But the maiden's guile

Was known, for though she would deny the gods

Her fears approved them. On her front she binds

A twisted fillet, while a shining wreath

Of Phocian laurels crowns the locks that flow

Upon her shoulders. Hesitating yet,

The priest compelled her, and she passed within.

But horror filled her of the holiest depths

From which the mystic oracle proceeds;

And resting near the doors, in breast unmoved

She dares invent the god in words confused,

Which proved no mind possessed with fire divine;

By such false chant less injuring the chief

Than faith in Phoebus and the sacred fane.

No burst of words with tremor in their tones,

No voice re-echoing through the spacious vault

Proclaimed the deity, no bristling locks

Shook off the laurel chaplet; but the grove

Unshaken, and the summits of the shrine,

Gave proof she shunned the god. The Roman knew

The tripods yet were idle, and in rage,

'Wretch,' he exclaimed, 'to us and to the gods,

'Whose presence thou pretendest, thou shalt pay

'The punishment; unless thou enter the recess,

'And cease to speak in phrases of thine own

Of this vast conflict, of a world by war

'Convulsed and shaken.' Then by fear compelled,

At length the priestess sought the furthest depths,

And stayed beside the tripods; and there came

Into her unaccustomed breast the god,

Breathed from the living rock for centuries

Untouched; nor ever with a mightier power

Did Paean's inspiration seize the frame

Of Delphic priestess; his pervading touch

Expelled the mortal, and her former mind,

And made her wholly his. In maddened trance

She whirled throughout the cave, her locks erect

With horror, and the fillets of the god

Dashed to the ground; her steps unguided turned

To this side and to that; the tripods fell

O'erturned; within her seethed the mighty fire

Of angry Phoebus; nor with whip alone

He urged her onwards, but with curb restrained;

Nor was it given her by the god to speak

All that she knew; for into one vast mass

All time was gathered, and her panting chest

Groaned 'neath the centuries. In order long

All things lay bare: the future yet unveiled

Struggled for light; each fate required a voice;

The compass of the seas, Creation's birth,

Creation's death, the number of the sands,

All these she knew. Thus on a former day

The prophetess upon the Cuman shore,

Disdaining that her frenzy should be slave

To other nations, from the boundless threads

Chose out with pride of hand the fates of Rome.

E'en so Phemonoe, for a time oppressed

With fates unnumbered, laboured ere she found,

Beneath such mighty destinies concealed,

Thine, Appius, who alone hadst sought the god

In land Castalian; then from foaming lips

First rushed the madness forth, and murmurs loud

Uttered with panting breath and blent with groans;

Till through the spacious vault a voice at length

Broke from the virgin conquered by the god:

'From this great struggle thou, O Roman, free

'Escap'st the threats of war: alive, in peace,

'Thou shalt possess the hollow in the coast

'Of vast Euboea.' Thus she spake, no more.

Ye mystic tripods, guardians of the fates

And Paean, thou, from whom no day is hid

By heaven's high rulers, Master of the truth,

Why fear'st thou to reveal the deaths of kings,

Rome 's murdered princes, and the latest doom

Of her great Empire tottering to its fall,

And all the bloodshed of that western land?

Were yet the stars in doubt on Magnus' fate

Not yet decreed, and did the gods yet shrink

From that, the greatest crime? Or wert thou dumb

That Fortune's sword for civil strife might wreak

Just vengeance, and a Brutus' arm once more

Strike down the tyrant?

From the temple doors

Rushed forth the prophetess in frenzy driven,

Not all her knowledge uttered; and her eyes,

Still troubled by the god who reigned within,

Or filled with wild affright, or fired with rage

Gaze on the wide expanse: still works her face

Convulsive; on her cheeks a crimson blush

With ghastly pallor blent, though not of fear.

Her weary heart throbs ever; and as seas

Boom swollen by northern winds, she finds in sighs,

All inarticulate, relief. But while

She hastes from that dread light in which she saw

The fates, to common day, lo! on her path

The darkness fell. Then by a Stygian draught

Of the forgetful river, Phoebus snatched

Back from her soul his secrets; and she fell

Yet hardly living. Nor did Appius dread

Approaching death, but by dark oracles

Baffled, while yet the Empire of the world

Hung in the balance, sought his promised realm

In Chalcis of Euboea. Yet to escape

All ills of earth, the crash of war-what god

Can give thee such a boon, but death alone?

For on the solitary shore a grave

Awaits thee, where Carystos' marble crags

Draw in the passage of the sea, and where

The fane of Rhamnus rises to the gods

Who hate the proud, and where the ocean strait

Boils in swift whirlpools, and Euripus draws

Deceitful in his tides, a bane to ships,

Chalcidian vessels to bleak Aulis ' shore.

But Caesar carried from the conquered west

His eagles to another world of war;

When envying his victorious course the gods

Almost turned back the prosperous tide of fate.

Not on the battle-field borne down by arms,

But in his tents, within the rampart lines,

The hoped-for prize of this unholy war

Seemed for a moment gone. That faithful host,

His comrades trusted in a hundred fields,

Almost forsook him. The sad trump perchance

Mute for a moment, and the blade in sheath

Grown cold, had tamed their frenzy for the war;

Or else in hope of greater gifts, their cause

And leader they betrayed, and sold the sword

Still soiled with murder. By no other risk

Caesar more surely learned how as he looked

O'er all things else, the height on which he stood

Trembled beneath him. But a moment since

His high behest drew nations to the war;

Now, maimed of all who smote, no weapon left

Saving his own, he knows that swords unsheathed

Are wielded by the soldier, not the chief.

No timorous voice was there; no silent wrath

Concealed; nor doubting mind, as though alone

Indignant at the wrong, and in distrust

Of those in turn distrusting. Fear in each

Had fled before the boldness of the host:

The crime is free where thousands bear the guilt.

They hurled their menace: 'Caesar, give us leave

'To quit thy crimes; thou seek'st by land and sea

'The sword to slay us; let the fields of Gaul

And far Iberia, and the world proclaim

'How for thy victories our comrades fell.

'What boots it us that by an army's blood

'The Rhine and Rhone and all the northern lands

'Thou hast subdued? Thou giv'st us civil war

'For all these battles; such the prize. When fled

'The Senate trembling, and when Rome was ours

'What homes or temples did we spoil? Our hands

'Reek with offence! Aye, but our poverty

'Proclaims our innocence! What end shall be

Of arms and armies? What shall be enough

'If Rome suffice not? and what lies beyond?

'Behold these silvered locks, these nerveless hands

'And shrunken arms, once stalwart! In thy wars

'Gone is the strength of life, gone all its pride!

'Dismiss thine aged soldiers to their deaths.

'How shameless is our prayer! Not on hard turf

'To stretch our dying limbs; nor seek in vain,

' When parts the soul, a hand to close our eyes;

'Not with the helm to strike the stony ground:

' Rather to feel the dear one's last embrace,

' And gain a humble but a separate tomb.

'Let sickness end old age. If Caesar's slaves,

' Let something more than battle be our doom.

' Deem'st thou we are thy dupes? that we alone

' In civil war are ignorant what crime

' Will fetch the highest price? What thou canst dare

' These years have proved, or nothing; law divine

' Nor human ordinance shall hold thine hand.

'He was our leader on the banks of Rhine;

' Now is our equal; for the stain of crime

' Makes all men like. And for a judge ingrate

' We waste our valour; for as fortune's gift

' He takes the victory which our arms have won:

'But we his fortunes are, his fates are ours

'To fashion as we will. Boast that the gods

' Shall do thy bidding! Nay, thy soldiers' will

' Shall close the war.' With threatening mien and speech

Thus through the camp the troops demand their chief.

When faith and loyalty are fled, and hope

For aught but evil, thus may civil war

In mutiny and discord find its end!

What general had not feared at such revolt?

But mighty Caesar trusting on the throw,

As was his wont, his fortune, and o'erjoyed

To front their anger raging at its height

Unflinching comes. No temples of the gods,

Not Jove's high fane on the Tarpeian rock,

Not Rome 's high dames nor maidens had he grudged

To their most savage lust: that they should ask

The worst, his wish, and love the spoils of war.

Nor feared he aught save order at the hands

Of that unconquered host. Art thou not shamed

That strife should please thee only, now condemned

Even by thy minions? Shall they shrink from blood,

They from the sword recoil? and thou rush on

Heedless of guilt, through right and through unright,

Nor learn that men may lay their arms aside

Yet bear to live? This civil butchery

Escapes thy grasp. Stay thou thy crimes at length;

Nor force thy will on those who will no more.

Upon a turfy mound unmoved he stood

And, since he feared not, worthy to be feared;

And thus while anger stirred his soul began:

' Thou that with voice and hand didst rage but now

' Against thine absent chief, behold me here;

Plunge in this breast, all ready for the wound

And bare, thy sword; and end the war and flee.

This mutiny devoid of daring deed

Betrays your coward souls, betrays the youth

' Who tires of victories which gild the arms

Of an unconquered chief, and yearns for flight.

Leave me to fate; with that I'll wage the war

You I cast forth. For every weapon left,

Fortune shall find a man, to wield it well.

Shall Magnus in his flight with such a fleet

Draw nations in his train; and not to me

' My victories bring legions? They shall reap

' For its mere close the prizes of the war

' Won by your toil, and scatheless join the train

'That leads my chariot to the sacred hill:

' While you, despised in age and battle worn,

' Gaze on our triumph from the civic crowd.

' Think you your dastard flight shall give me pause?

' If all the rivers that now seek the sea

' Were to withdraw their waters, it would fail

' By not one inch, no more than by their flow

'It rises now. Have then your efforts given

' Strength to my cause? Not so: the heavenly gods

' Stoop not so low; fate has no time to judge

' Your lives and deaths. The fortunes of the world

' Follow heroic souls: for the fit few

'The many live; and you who terrified

' With me the northern and Iberian worlds,

' Would flee when led by Magnus. Strong with me

' Was Labienus: vile deserter now;

' A homeless exile with his chief preferred.

' Nor were your faith more firm if, neither side

'Espoused, you ceased from arms. Who leaves me once,

'Though not to fight against me with the foe,

'Joins not my ranks again. Surely the gods

'Smile on these arms who for so great a war

'Grant me fresh soldiers. From what heavy load

'Fortune relieves me! for the hands which aimed

'At all, to which the world did not suffice,

'I now disarm, and for myself alone

'Reserve the conflict. Quit ye, then, my camp,

'And leave my standards to the grasp of men,

'Coward Quirites! But some guilty few

'I keep, not as their captain, but their judge.

'Lie, traitors, prone on earth, stretch out the neck

'And take th' avenging blow. And thou whose strength

'Shall now support me, young and yet untaught,

'Behold the doom and learn to strike and die.'

Such were his words of ire, and all the host

Drew back and trembled at the voice of him

They would depose, as though their very swords

Would from their scabbards leap at his command

Themselves unwilling; but he only feared

Lest hand and blade to satisfy the doom

Might be denied; till they submitting pledged

Their lives and swords alike, beyond his hope.

To strike and suffer holds in surest thrall

The heart inured to guilt; and Caesar kept,

By dreadful compact ratified in blood,

Those whom he feared to lose.

He bids them reach

In ten days' march Brundusium, and recall

From old Tarentum and from Hydrus lone

His navy, and from Leucas ' point remote,

And the Salapian marsh where Sipus lies

By rich Garganus, jutting from the shore

In huge escarpment that divides the waves

Of Hadria; on each hand, his seaward slopes

Buffeted by the winds; or Auster borne

From sweet Apulia, or the sterner blast

Of Boreas rushing from Dalmatian strands.

But Caesar entered safe without a guard

Rome, trembling, taught to serve the garb of peace,

Dictator named, to grant their prayers, forsooth:

Consul, in honour of the roll of Rome.

Then first of all the names by which we now

Lie to our masters, men found out the use:

For to preserve his right to wield the sword

He mixed the civil axes with his brands;

With eagles, fasces; with an empty word

Clothing his power; and stamped upon the time

A worthy designation; for what name

Could better mark the dread Pharsalian year

Than 'Caesar, Consul'? Now the famous field

Pretends its ancient ceremonies: calls

The tribes in order and divides the votes

In vain solemnity of empty urns.

Nor did they heed the portents of the sky:

Deaf were the augurs to the thunder roll;

The owl flew on the left; yet were the birds

Propitious sworn. Then was the ancient name

Degraded first; and monthly Consuls, now

Shorn of their rank, were chosen to mark the years.

And Trojan Alba's god (since Latium 's fall

Deserving not) beheld the wonted fires

Blaze from his altars on the festal night.

Then through Apulia 's fallows, which her hinds

Left all untilled, to sluggish weeds a prey

Passed Caesar onward, swifter than the fire

Of heaven, or tigress dam: until he reached

Brundusium 's winding ramparts, built of old

By Cretan colonists. There icy winds

Constrained the billows, and his trembling fleet

Feared for the winter storms nor dared the main.

But Caesar's soul burned at the moments lost

For speedy battle, nor could brook delay

Within the port, indignant that the sea

Should give safe passage to his routed foe:

And thus he stirred his troops, in seas unskilled,

With words of courage: 'When the winter wind

'Has seized on sky and ocean, firm its hold;

But the inconstancy of cloudy spring

'Permits no certain breezes to prevail

'Upon the billows. Straight shall be our course.

'No winding nooks of coast, but open seas

Struck by the northern wind alone we plough,

'And may he bend the spars, and bear us swift

'To Grecian cities; else Pompeius' ships

'From coasts Phaeacian, with their swifter oars

May catch our flagging sails. Cast loose the ropes

'From our victorious prows. Too long we waste

'Tempests that blow to bear us to our goal.'

Now sank the sun to rest; the evening star

Shone on the darkening heaven, and the moon

Reigned with her paler light, when all the fleet

Freed from retaining cables seized the main.

With slackened sheet the canvas wooed the breeze,

Which rose and fell and fitful died away,

Till motionless the sails, and all the waves

Were still as deepest pool, where never wind

Ripples the surface. Thus in Scythian climes

Cimmerian Bosphorus restrains the deep

Bound fast in frosty fetters; Ister's streams

No more impel the main, and ships constrained

Stand fast in ice; and while in depths below

The waves still murmur, loud the charger's hoof

Sounds on the surface, and the travelling wheel

Furrows a track upon the frozen marsh.

Cruel as tempest was the calm that lay

In stagnant pools upon the mournful deep:

Against the course of nature lay outstretched

A rigid ocean: 'twas as if the sea

Forgat its ancient ways and knew no more

The ceaseless tides, nor any breeze of heaven,

Nor quivered at the image of the sun,

Mirrored upon its wave. For while the fleet

Hung in mid passage motionless, the foe

Might hurry to attack, with sturdy stroke

Churning the deep; or famine's deadly grip

Might seize the ships becalmed. For dangers new

New vows they found: for tempests was their prayer,

To rouse the billows till the watery plain

Freed from its torpor should be sea once more.

But cloudless was the sky and calm the deep,

All hope of shipwreck gone, till night was fled,

And marred by gathering mist the day arose

And stirred the depths, and moved the fleet along

Towards the Ceraunian headland; and the waves

And favouring breezes followed on the ships,

Now speeding faster, till (their goal attained)

They cast their anchors on Palaeste's shore.

This land first saw the chiefs in neighbouring camps

Confronted, which the streams of Apsus bound

And swifter Genusus; a lengthy course

Is run by neither, but on Apsus' waves

Scarce flowing from a marsh, the frequent boat

Finds room to swim; while on the foamy bed

Of Genusus by sun or shower compelled

The melted snows pour seawards. Here were met

(So Fortune ordered it) the mighty pair;

And in its woes the world yet vainly hoped

That, brought to nearer touch, their crime itself

Might breed abhorrence: for from either camp

Voices were clearly heard and features seen.

Nor e'er, Pompeius, since that distant day

When Caesar's daughter and thy spouse was reft

By pitiless fate away, nor left a pledge,

Did thy loved kinsman (save on sands of Nile)

So nearly look upon thy face again.

But Caesar's mind though frenzied for the fight

Was forced to pause until Antonius brought

The rearward troops; Antonius even now

Rehearsing Leucas ' fight. With prayers and threats

Caesar exhorts him. ' Why delay the fates,

Thou cause of evil to the suffering world?

My speed hath won the major part: from thee

Fortune demands the final stroke alone.

Do Libyan whirlpools with deceitful tides

Uncertain separate us? Is the deep

Untried to which I call? To unknown risks

Art thou commanded? Caesar bids thee come,

Thou sluggard, not to leave him. Long ago

I ran my ships midway through sands and shoals

To harbours held by foes; and dost thou fear

My friendly camp? I mourn the waste of days

'Which fate allotted us. Upon the waves

And winds I call unceasing: hold not back

Thy willing troops, but let them dare the sea;

Here gladly shall they come to join my camp,

Though risking shipwreck: with indignant voice

I call upon thee. Not in equal shares

'The world has fallen between us: thou alone

Dost hold Italia, but Epirus I

And all the lords of Rome.' Twice called and thrice

Antonius lingered still: but Caesar's mind

Was that he failed the gods, not they his cause.

By night he braved the strait which others feared

Though bidden: for he knew that daring deeds

Are safely wrought beneath the smile of heaven:

And thus he hoped in fragile boat to cross

The stormy billows fearful to a fleet.

Now gentle night had brought repose from arms;

And sleep, blest guardian of the poor man's couch,

Restored the weary; and the camp was still.

The hour was come that called the second watch

When mighty Caesar, in the silence vast

With cautious tread advanced to such a deed

As slaves should dare not. Fortune for his guide,

Alone he passes on, and o'er the guard

Stretched in repose he leaps, in secret wrath

At such a sleep. Pacing the winding beach,

Fast to a sea-worn rock he finds a boat

On ocean's marge afloat. Hard by on shore

Its master dwelt within his humble home.

No solid front it reared, for sterile rush

And marshy reed enwoven formed the walls,

Propped by a shallop with its bending sides

Turned upwards. Caesar's hand upon the door

Knocks twice and thrice until the fabric shakes.

Amyclas from his couch of soft seaweed

Arising, calls: ' What shipwrecked sailor seeks

'My humble home? Who hopes for aid from me,

' By fates adverse compelled? ' He stirs the heap

Upon the hearth, until a tiny spark

Glows in the darkness, and throws wide the door.

Careless of war, he knew that civil strife

Stoops not to cottages. O! happy life

That poverty affords! great gift of heaven

Too little understood! what mansion wall,

What temple of the gods, would feel no fear

When Caesar called for entrance? Then the chief:

' Enlarge thine hopes and look for better things.

' Do but my bidding, and on yonder shore

' Place me, and thou shalt cease from one poor boat

' To earn thy living; and in years to come

' Look for a rich old age: and trust thy fates

' To those high gods whose wont it is to bless

' The poor with sudden plenty.' So he spake

E'en at such time in accents of command,

For how could Caesar else? Amyclas said,

''Twere dangerous to brave the deep to-night.

' The sun descended not in ruddy clouds

' Or peaceful rays to rest; part of his beams

' Presaged a southern gale, the rest proclaimed

' A northern tempest; and his middle orb,

' Shorn of its strength, permitted human eyes

' To gaze upon his grandeur; and the moon

' Rose not with silver horns upon the night

' Nor pure in middle space; her slender points

'Not drawn aright, but blushing with the track

' Of raging tempests, till her lurid light

'Was sadly veiled within the clouds. Again

' The forest sounds; the surf upon the shore;

' The dolphin's mood, uncertain where to play;

' The sea-mew on the land; the heron used

' To wade among the shallows, borne aloft

' And soaring on his wings-all these alarm;

' The raven, too, who plunged his head in spray,

' As if to anticipate the coming rain,

And trod the margin with unsteady gait.

But if the cause demands, behold me thine.

'Either we reach the bidden shore, or else

'Storm and the deep forbid-we can no more.'

Thus said he loosed the boat and raised the sail.

No sooner done than stars were seen to fall

In flaming furrows from the sky: nay, more;

The pole star trembled in its place on high:

Black horror marked the surging of the sea;

The main was boiling in long tracts of foam,

Uncertain of the wind, yet seized with storm.

Then spake the captain of the trembling bark:

See what remorseless ocean has in store!

Whether from east or west the storm may come

Is still uncertain, for as yet confused

'The billows tumble. Judged by clouds and sky

'A western tempest: by the murmuring deep

'A wild south-eastern gale shall sweep the sea.

'Nor bark nor man shall reach Hesperia's shore

In this wild rage of waters. To return

'Back on our course forbidden by the gods,

'Is our one refuge, and with labouring boat

'To reach the shore ere yet the nearest land

'May be too distant.'

But great Caesar's trust

Was in himself, to make all dangers yield.

And thus he answered: ' Scorn the threatening sea,

Spread out thy canvas to the raging wind;

If for thy pilot thou refusest heaven,

'Me in its stead receive. Alone in thee

One cause of terror just-thou dost not know

'Thy comrade, ne'er deserted by the gods,

'Whom fortune blesses e'en without a prayer.

'Break through the middle storm and trust in me.

'The burden of this fight falls not on us

But on the sky and ocean; and our bark

Shall swim the billows safe in him it bears.

Nor shall the wind rage long: the boat itself

Shall calm the waters. Flee the nearest shore,

Steer for the ocean with unswerving hand:

Then in the deep, when to our ship and us

No other port is given, believe thou hast

' Calabria 's harbours. And dost thou not know

'The purpose of such havoc? Fortune seeks

'In all this tumult of the sea and sky

A boon for Caesar.'

Then a hurricane

Swooped on the boat and tore away the sheet:

The fluttering sail fell on the fragile mast:

And groaned the joints. From all the universe

Commingled perils rushed. In Atlas' seas

First Corus raised his head, and stirred the depths

To fury, and had forced upon the rocks

Whole seas and oceans; but the chilly north

Drove back the deep that doubted which was lord.

But Scythian Aquilo prevailed, whose blast

Tossed up the main and showed as shallow pools

Each deep abyss; and yet was not the sea

Heaped on the crags, for Corus' billows met

The waves of Boreas: such seas had clashed

Even were the winds withdrawn; Eurus enraged

Burst from the cave, and Notus black with rain,

And all the winds from every part of heaven

Strove for their own; and thus the ocean stayed

Within his boundaries. No petty seas

Rapt in the storm are whirled. The Tuscan deep

Invades th' AEgean; in Ionian gulfs

Sounds wandering Hadria. How long the crags

Which that day fell, the Ocean's blows had braved!

What lofty peaks did vanquished earth resign!

And yet on yonder coast such mighty waves

Took not their rise; from distant regions came

Those monster billows, driven on their course

By that great current which surrounds the world.

Thus did the King of Heaven, when length of years

Wore out the forces of his thunder, call

His brother's trident to his help, what time

The earth and sea one second kingdom formed

And ocean knew no limit but the sky.

Now, too, the sea had risen to the stars

In mighty mass, had not Olympus ' chief

Pressed down its waves with clouds: that night from heaven

Came not, as others; but the murky air

Was dim with pallor of the realms below;

The sky lay on the deep; within the clouds

The waves received the rain: the lightning flash

Clove through the parted air a path obscured

By mist and darkness: and the heavenly vaults

Re-echoed to the tumult, and the frame

That holds the sky was shaken. Nature feared

Chaos returned, as though the elements

Had burst their bonds, and night had come to mix

Th' infernal shades with heaven.

In such turmoil

Not to have perished was their only hope.

Far as from Leucas point the placid main

Spreads to the horizon, from the billow's crest

They viewed the dashing of th' infuriate sea;

Thence sinking to the middle trough, their mast

Scarce topped the watery height on either hand,

Their sails in clouds, their keel upon the ground.

For all the sea was piled into the waves,

And drawn from depths between laid bare the sand.

The master of the boat forgot his art,

For fear o'ercame; he knew not where to yield

Or where to meet the wave: but safety came

From ocean's self at war: one billow forced

The vessel under, but a huger wave

Repelled it upwards, and she rode the storm

Through every blast triumphant. Not the shore

Of humble Sason, nor Thessalia 's coast

Indented, not Ambracia 's scanty ports

Dismayed the mariners, but the giddy tops

Of high Ceraunia's cliffs.

But Caesar now,

Thinking the peril worthy of his fates:

Are such the labours of the gods? ' exclaimed,

Bent on my downfall have they sought me thus,

Here in this puny skiff in such a sea?

If to the deep the glory of my fall

Is due, and not to war, intrepid still

Whatever death they send shall strike me down.

Let fate cut short the deeds that I would do

And hasten on the end: the past is mine.

The northern nations fell beneath my sword;

'My dreaded name compels the foe to flee.

'Pompeius yields me place; the people's voice

Gave at my order what the wars denied.

And all the titles which denote the powers

Known to the Roman state my name shall bear.

Let none know this but thou who hear'st my prayers,

Fortune! that Caesar summoned to the shades,

Dictator, Consul, full of honours, died

Ere his last prize was won. I ask no pyre

Or tomb, ye gods! wherein my dust may rest:

Nay! plunge in middle deep this battered frame!

All earth shall look for me, nor shall men cease

At Caesar's name to fear.' Such words he spake,

When lo! a tenth gigantic billow raised

The feeble keel, and where between the rocks

A cleft gave safety, placed it on the shore.

Thus in a moment fortune, kingdoms, lands,

Once more were Caesar's.

But on his return

When daylight came, he entered not the camp

Silent as when he parted; for his friends

Soon pressed around him, and with weeping eyes

In accents welcome to his ears began:

'Whither in reckless daring hast thou gone,

Unpitying Caesar? Were these humble lives

Left here unguarded while thy limbs were given,

Unsought for, to be scattered by the storm?

'When on thy breath so many nations hang

For life and safety, and so great a world

Calls thee its master, to have courted death

Proves want of heart. Were none of all thy friends

Deserving held to join their fate with thine?

'When thou wast tossed upon the stormy main

We lay in slumber! Shame upon such sleep!

'And why thyself didst seek Italia 's shores?

'"Twere cruel (such thy thought) to speak the word

That bade another dare the furious sea.

All men must bear what chance or fate may bring,

The sudden peril and the stroke of death;

But shall the ruler of the world attempt

'The raging ocean? With incessant prayers

Why weary heaven? is it indeed enough

To crown the war, that Fortune and the deep

'Have cast thee on our shores? And wouldst thou use

'The grace of favouring deities, to gain

Not lordship, not the empire of the world,

'But lucky shipwreck! ' Night dispersed, and soon

The sun beamed on them, and the wearied deep,

The winds permitting, lulled its waves to rest.

And when Antonius saw a breeze arise

Fresh from a cloudless heaven, to break the sea,

He loosed his ships which, by the pilots' hands

And by the wind in equal order held,

Swept as a marching host across the main.

But night unfriendly from the seamen snatched

All governance of sail, parting the ships

In divers paths asunder. Like as cranes

Deserting frozen Strymon for the streams

Of Nile, when winter falls, in casual lines

Of wedge-like figures first ascend the sky;

But when in loftier heaven the southern breeze

Strikes on their pinions tense, in loose array

Dispersed at large, in flight irregular,

They wing their journey onwards. Stronger winds

With day returning blew the navy on,

Past Lissus ' shelter which they vainly sought,

Till bare to northern blasts, Nymphaeum 's port,

But safe in southern, gave the fleet repose.

When Caesar's troops were gathered in their strength

And Magnus saw the battle day was near

Before his camp, Cornelia he resolved

To send to Lesbos ' shore, from rage of fight

Safe and apart: so lifting from his soul

The weight that burdened it. Thus, lawful Love,

Thus art thou tyrant o'er the mightiest mind!

His spouse was the one cause why Magnus stayed

Nor met his fortunes, though he staked the world

And all the destinies of Rome. The word

He speaks not though resolved; so sweet it seemed,

When on the future pondering, to gain

A pause from Fate! But at the close of night,

When drowsy sleep had fled, Cornelia sought

To soothe the anxious bosom of her lord

And win his kisses; when amazed she saw

His cheek was tearful, and with boding soul

Shrank from the hidden wound, nor dared surprise

Magnus in tears. But sighing thus he spake:

' Dearer to me than life itself, when life

'Is happy (not at moments such as these);

'The day of sorrow comes, too long delayed,

'Nor long enough! With Caesar at our gates

' With all his forces, a secure retreat

'Shall Lesbos give thee. Try me not with prayers.

'This fatal boon I have denied myself.

'Thou wilt not long be absent from thy spouse.

'Disasters hasten, and things highest fall

With speediest ruin. 'Tis enough for thee

' To hear of Magnus' peril; and thy love

'Deceives thee with the thought that thou canst gaze

'Unmoved on civil strife. It shames my soul

'On the eve of war to slumber at thy side,

'And rise from thy dear breast when trumpets call

'A woeful world to misery and arms.

'I dread lest Magnus in this war endure

'Nor loss nor sorrow. But do thou lie hid

'Safer than kings or peoples, far removed;

'That so the grievous fortunes of thy lord

' May lighter fall on thee. If unkind heaven

' Our armies rout, still let my choicest part

' Survive in thee; if fated is my flight,

' Still leave me that whereto I fain would flee.'

Hardly at first her senses grasped the words

In their full misery; then her mind amazed

Could scarce find utterance for the grief that pressed.

Nought, Magnus, now is left wherewith to upbraid

'The gods and fates of marriage; 'tis not death

'That parts our love, nor yet the funeral pyre,

Nor that dread torch which marks the end of all.

I share the ignoble lot of vulgar lives:

'My spouse rejects me. Yes, the foe is come!

'Break we our bonds and Julia's sire appease! -

Is this thy consort, Magnus, this thy faith

'In her fond loving heart? Can danger fright

'Her and not thee? Long since our mutual fates

'Hang by one chain; and dost thou bid me now

'The thunder-bolts of ruin to withstand

Without thee? Is it well that I should die

'Even while you pray for fortune? And suppose

' I flee from evil and with death self-sought

' Follow thy footsteps to the realms below—

' Am I to live till to that distant isle

' Some tardy rumour of thy fall may come?

' And then thou say'st, unfeeling! that by use

' Strength shall be mine to bear such load of ills

' As fate reserves for us: but at such a strength

' My spirit trembles. Ah! forgive the truth.

' And if the favouring gods shall hear my prayers,

' I shall be last to hear the victory

' In that lone isle of rocks. When all are glad,

' My heart shall throb with anguish, and the sail

' Which brings the message I shall see with fear,

' Not safe e'en then: for Caesar in his flight

' Might seize me there, abandoned and alone

To be his hostage. If thou place me there,

The spouse of Magnus, shall not all the world

'Well know the secret Mitylene holds?

This my last prayer: if all is lost but flight,

'And thou shalt seek the ocean, to my shores

'Turn not thy keel, ill-fated one: for there,

'There will they seek thee.' Thus she spoke distraught,

Leaped from the couch and rushed upon her fate;

No stop nor stay: she clung not to his neck

Nor threw her arms about him; both forego

The last caress, the last fond pledge of love,

And grief rushed in unchecked upon their souls;

Still gazing as they part no final words

Could either utter, and the sweet Farewell

Remained unspoken. This the saddest day

Of all their lives: for other woes that came

More gently struck on hearts inured to grief.

Borne to the shore with failing limbs she fell

And grasped the sands, embracing, till at last

Her maidens placed her senseless in the ship.

Not in such grief she left her country's shores

When Caesar's host drew near; for now she leaves,

Though faithful to her lord, his side in flight

And flees her spouse. All that next night she waked;

Then first what means a widowed couch she knew,

Its cold, its solitude. When slumber found

Her eyelids, and forgetfulness her soul,

Seeking with outstretched arms the form beloved,

She grasps but air. Though tossed by restless love,

She leaves a place beside her as for him

Returning. Yet she feared Pompeius lost

To her for ever. Nay! such happy lot

The gods prepared not; for the hour drew near

Which gave her Magnus to her arms again.