Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes of the Civil Wars. Lucan

Pharsalia; Dramatic Episodes of the Civil Wars - Lucan


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Advancing; in his rear the peoples march.

       Snatched from their homes between the Rhine and Alps,

       To pillage Rome while Roman chiefs look on.

       Thus each man's panic thought swells rumour's lie:

       They fear the phantoms they themselves create.

       Nor does the terror seize the crowd alone:

       But fled the Fathers, to the Consuls (20) first

       Issuing their hated order, as for war;

       And doubting of their safety, doubting too

       Where lay the peril, through the choking gates,

       Each where he would, rushed all the people forth.

       Thou would'st believe that blazing to the torch

       Were men's abodes, or nodding to their fall.

       So streamed they onwards, frenzied with affright,

       As though in exile only could they find

       Hope for their country. So, when southern blasts

       From Libyan whirlpools drive the boundless main,

       And mast and sail crash down upon a ship

       With ponderous weight, but still the frame is sound,

       Her crew and captain leap into the sea,

       Each making shipwreck for himself. 'Twas thus

       They passed the city gates and fled to war.

       No aged parent now could stay his son;

       Nor wife her spouse, nor did they pray the gods

       To grant the safety of their fatherland.

       None linger on the threshold for a look

       Of their loved city, though perchance the last.

      Ye gods, who lavish priceless gifts on men,

       Nor care to guard them, see victorious Rome

       Teeming with life, chief city of the world,

       With ample walls that all mankind might hold,

       To coming Caesar left an easy prey.

       The Roman soldier, when in foreign lands

       Pressed by the enemy, in narrow trench

       And hurried mound finds guard enough to make

       His slumber safe; but thou, imperial Rome,

       Alone on rumour of advancing foes

       Art left a desert, and thy battlements

       They trust not for one night. Yet for their fear

       This one excuse was left; Pompeius fled.

       Nor found they room for hope; for nature gave

       Unerring portents of worse ills to come.

       The angry gods filled earth and air and sea

       With frequent prodigies; in darkest nights

       Strange constellations sparkled through the gloom:

       The pole was all afire, and torches flew

       Across the depths of heaven; with horrid hair

       A blazing comet stretched from east to west

       And threatened change to kingdoms. From the blue

       Pale lightning flashed, and in the murky air

       The fire took divers shapes; a lance afar

       Would seem to quiver or a misty torch;

       A noiseless thunderbolt from cloudless sky

       Rushed down, and drawing fire in northern parts

       Plunged on the summit of the Alban mount.

       The stars that run their courses in the night

       Shone in full daylight; and the orbed moon,

       Hid by the shade of earth, grew pale and wan.

       The sun himself, when poised in mid career,

       Shrouded his burning car in blackest gloom

       And plunged the world in darkness, so that men

       Despaired of day — like as he veiled his light

       From that fell banquet which Mycenae saw (21).

       The jaws of Etna were agape with flame

       That rose not heavenwards, but headlong fell

       In smoking stream upon the Italian flank.

       Then black Charybdis, from her boundless depth,

       Threw up a gory sea. In piteous tones

       Howled the wild dogs; the Vestal fire was snatched

       From off the altar; and the flame that crowned

       The Latin festival was split in twain,

       As on the Theban pyre (22), in ancient days;

       Earth tottered on its base: the mighty Alps

       From off their summits shook th' eternal snow (23).

       In huge upheaval Ocean raised his waves

       O'er Calpe's rock and Atlas' hoary head.

       The native gods shed tears, and holy sweat

       Dropped from the idols; gifts in temples fell:

       Foul birds defiled the day; beasts left the woods

       And made their lair among the streets of Rome.

       All this we hear; nay more: dumb oxen spake;

       Monsters were brought to birth and mothers shrieked

       At their own offspring; words of dire import

       From Cumae's prophetess were noised abroad.

       Bellona's priests with bleeding arms, and slaves

       Of Cybele's worship, with ensanguined hair,

       Howled chants of havoc and of woe to men.

       Arms clashed; and sounding in the pathless woods

       Were heard strange voices; spirits walked the earth:

       And dead men's ashes muttered from the urn.

       Those who live near the walls desert their homes,

       For lo! with hissing serpents in her hair,

       Waving in downward whirl a blazing pine,

       A fiend patrols the town, like that which erst

       At Thebes urged on Agave (24), or which hurled

       Lycurgus' bolts, or that which as he came

       From Hades seen, at haughty Juno's word,

       Brought terror to the soul of Hercules.

       Trumpets like those that summon armies forth

       Were heard re-echoing in the silent night:

       And from the earth arising Sulla's (25) ghost

       Sang gloomy oracles, and by Anio's wave

       All fled the homesteads, frighted by the shade

       Of Marius waking from his broken tomb.

      In such dismay they summon, as of yore,

       The Tuscan sages to the nation's aid.

       Aruns, the eldest, leaving his abode

       In desolate Luca, came, well versed in all

       The lore of omens; knowing what may mean

       The flight of hovering bird, the pulse that beats

       In offered victims, and the levin bolt.

       All monsters first, by most unnatural birth

       Brought into being, in accursd flames

       He bids consume (26). Then round the walls of Rome

      


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