Pharsalia [Civil War] | Page 7

blood, no other
meal They shall enjoy. And shall there be no end Of these long years of
power and of crime? Nay, this one lesson, e'er it be too late, Learn of
thy gentle Sulla -- to retire! Of old his victory o'er Cilician thieves And
Pontus' weary monarch gave him fame, By poison scarce attained. His
latest prize Shall I be, Caesar, I, who would not quit My conquering
eagles at his proud command? Nay, if no triumph is reserved for me,
Let these at least of long and toilsome war 'Neath other leaders the
rewards enjoy. Where shall the weary soldier find his rest? What
cottage homes their joys, what fields their fruit Shall to our veterans
yield? Will Magnus say That pirates only till the fields alight? Unfurl
your standards; victory gilds them yet, As through those glorious years.
Deny our rights! He that denies them makes our quarrel just. Nay! use
the strength that we have made our own. No booty seek we, nor
imperial power. This would-be ruler of subservient Rome We force to
quit his grasp; and Heaven shall smile On those who seek to drag the
tyrant down."
Thus Caesar spake; but doubtful murmurs ran Throughout the listening
crowd, this way and that Their wishes urging them; the thoughts of
home And household gods and kindred gave them pause: But fear of
Caesar and the pride of war Their doubts resolved. Then Laelius, who
wore The well-earned crown for Roman life preserved, The foremost
Captain of the army, spake: "O greatest leader of the Roman name, If
'tis thy wish the very truth to hear 'Tis mine to speak it; we complain of
this, That gifted with such strength thou did'st refrain From using it.

Had'st thou no trust in us? While the hot life-blood fills these glowing
veins, While these strong arms avail to hurl the lance, Wilt thou make
peace and bear the Senate's rule? Is civil conquest then so base and vile?
Lead us through Scythian deserts, lead us where The inhospitable
Syrtes line the shore Of Afric's burning sands, or where thou wilt: This
hand, to leave a conquered world behind, Held firm the oar that tamed
the Northern Sea And Rhine's swift torrent foaming to the main. To
follow thee fate gives me now the power: The will was mine before. No
citizen I count the man 'gainst whom thy trumpets sound. By ten
campaigns of victory, I swear, By all thy world-wide triumphs, though
with hand Unwilling, should'st thou now demand the life Of sire or
brother or of faithful spouse, Caesar, the life were thine. To spoil the
gods And sack great Juno's temple on the hill, To plant our arms o'er
Tiber's yellow stream, To measure out the camp, against the wall To
drive the fatal ram, and raze the town, This arm shall not refuse, though
Rome the prize."
His comrades swore consent with lifted hands And vowed to follow
wheresoe'er he led. And such a clamour rent the sky as when Some
Thracian blast on Ossa's pine-clad rocks Falls headlong, and the loud
re-echoing woods, Or bending, or rebounding from the stroke, In
sounding chorus lift the roar on high.
When Csesar saw them welcome thus the war And Fortune leading on,
and favouring fates, He seized the moment, called his troops from Gaul,
And breaking up his camp set on for Rome.
The tents are vacant by Lake Leman's side; The camps upon the
beetling crags of Vosges No longer hold the warlike Lingon down,
Fierce in his painted arms; Isere is left, Who past his shallows gliding,
flows at last Into the current of more famous Rhone, To reach the ocean
in another name. The fair-haired people of Cevennes are free: Soft
Aude rejoicing bears no Roman keel, Nor pleasant Var, since then
Italia's bound; The harbour sacred to Alcides' name Where hollow
crags encroach upon the sea, Is left in freedom: there nor Zephyr gains
Nor Caurus access, but the Circian blast (16) Forbids the roadstead by
Monaecus' hold. And others left the doubtful shore, which sea And land
alternate claim, whene'er the tide Pours in amain or when the wave
rolls back -- Be it the wind which thus compels the deep From furthest
pole, and leaves it at the flood; Or else the moon that makes the tide to

swell, Or else, in search of fuel (17) for his fires, The sun draws
heavenward the ocean wave; -- Whate'er the cause that may control the
main I leave to others; let the gods for me Lock in their breasts the
secrets of the world.
Those who kept watch beside the western shore Have moved their
standards home; the happy Gaul Rejoices in their absence; fair Garonne
Through peaceful meads