This band, that all behind us might be quailed,

Hath with thee passed the swelling ocean, And swept the foaming breast of Arctic Rhene.

Love over-rules my will; I must obey thee, Cæsar: he whom I hear thy trumpets charge,

I hold no Roman; by these ten blest ensigns And all thy several triumphs, shouldst thou bid me

Entomb my sword within my brother's bowels,

Or father's throat, or women's groaning womb,

This hand, albeit unwilling, should perform it;

Or rob the gods, or sacred temples fire, These troops should soon pull down the church of Jove;

If to encamp on Tuscan Tiber's streams,
I'll boldly quarter out the fields of Rome:
What walls thou wilt be levelled to the
ground,

These hands shall thrust the ram, and make them fly,

Albeit the city thou wouldst have so razed Be Rome itself." Here every band applauded,

And, with their hands held up, all jointly cried

They'll follow where he please. The shouts rent heaven,

As when against pine-bearing Ossa's rocks Beats Thracian Boreas, or when trees, bowed down

And rustling, swing up as the wind fets breath.

When Cæsar saw his army prone to war, And Fates so bent, lest sloth and long delay Might cross him, he withdrew his troops from France,

And in all quarters musters men for Rome. They by Lemannus' nook forsook their tents;

They whom the Lingones foiled with painted spears,

Under the rocks by crooked Vogesus;
And many came from shallow Isara,
Who, running long, falls in a greater flood,
And, ere he sees the sea, loseth his name;
The yellow Ruthens left their garrisons;
Mild Atax glad it bears not Roman boats,
And frontier Varus that the camp is far,
Sent aid; so did Alcides' port, whose seas
Eat hollow rocks, and where the north-west
wind

Nor zephyr rules not, but the north alone
Turmoils the coast, and enterance forbids;

And others came from that uncertain shore Which is nor sea nor land, but ofttimes both,

And changeth as the ocean ebbs and flows; Whether the sea rolled always from that point

Whence the wind blows, still forced to and fro;

Or that the wandering main follow the

moon;

Or flaming Titan, feeding on the deep, Pulls them aloft, and makes the surge kiss heaven;

Philosophers, look you; for unto me, Thou cause, whate'er thou be whom God assigns

This great effect, art hid. They came that dwell

By Nemes' fields and banks of Satirus, Where Tarbell's winding shores embrace the sea;

The Santons that rejoice in Cæsar's love; Those of Bituriges, and light Axon pikes; And they of Rhene and Leuca, cunning darters,

And Sequana that well could manage steeds;

The Belgians apt to govern British cars; Th' Averni too, which boldly feign themselves

The Romans' brethren, sprung of Ilian

race;

The stubborn Nervians stained with Cotta's blood;

And Vangions who, like those of Sarmata, Wear open slops; and fierce Batavians, Whom trumpet's clang incites; and those that dwell

By Cinga's stream, and where swift Rhoda

nus

Drives Araris to sea; they near the hills, Under whose hoary rocks Gebenna hangs; And, Trevier, thou being glad that wars are past thee;

And you, late-shorn Ligurians, who were

wont

In large-spread hair to exceed the rest of
France;

And where to Hesus and fell Mercury
They offer human flesh, and where Jove

seems

Bloody like Dian, whom the Scythians serve. And you, French Bardi, whose immortal pens

Renown the valiant souls slain in your wars,

Sit safe at home and chant sweet poesy. And, Druides, you now in peace renew Your barbarous customs and sinister rites:

In unfelled woods and sacred groves you dwell;

And only gods and heavenly powers you know,

Or only know you nothing; for you hold
That souls pass not to silent Erebus
Or Pluto's bloodless kingdom, but else-
where

Resume a body; so (if truth you sing) Death brings long life. Doubtless these northern men,

Whom death, the greatest of all fears, affright not,

Are blest by such sweet error; this makes them

Run on the sword's point, and desire to die, And shame to spare life which being lost is

won.

You likewise that repulsed the Cayc foe, March towards Rome; and you, fierce men of Rhene,

Leaving your country open to the spoil. These being come, their huge power made him bold

To manage greater deeds; the bordering

towns

He garrisoned; and Italy he filled with soldiers.

Vain fame increased true fear, and did invade

The people's minds, and laid before their eyes

Slaughter to come, and swiftly bringing

news

Of present war, made many lies and tales: One swears his troops of daring horsemen fought

Upon Mevania's plain, where bulls are grazed:

Other that Cæsar's barbarous bands were spread

Along Nar flood that into Tiber falls,

And that his own ten ensigns and the rest Marched not entirely, and yet hid the ground;

And that he's much changed, looking wild and big,

And far more barbarous than the French, his vassals;

And that he lags behind with them, of pur

pose,

Born 'twixt the Alps and Rhene, which he hath brought

From out their northern parts, and that Rome,

He looking on, by these men should be sacked.

Thus in his fright did each man strengthen fame,

And, without ground, feared what them selves had feigned.

Nor were the commons only strook t heart

With this vain terror; but the court, th

senate,

The fathers selves leaped from their seats and, flying,

Left hateful war decreed to both the consuls Then, with their fear and danger all distract,

Their sway of flight carries the heady rout, That in chained troops break forth at ever port:

You would have thought their houses ha been fired,

Or, dropping-ripe, ready to fall with ruin.
So rushed the inconsiderate multitude
Thorough the city, hurried headlong on,
As if the only hope that did remain
To their afflictions were t' abandon Rome.
Look how, when stormy Auster from th
breach

Of Libyan Syrtes rolls a monstrous wave,
Which makes the mainsail fall with hideou

sound,

The pilot from the helm leaps in the sea, And mariners, albeit the keel be sound, Shipwreck themselves; even so, the city left,

All rise in arms; nor could the bed-rid pa

rents

Keep back their sons, or women's tears their husbands:

They stayed not either to pray or sacrifice; Their household-gods restrain them not none lingered,

As loth to leave Rome whom they held so dear:

Th' irrevocable people fly in troops.
Oh, gods, that easy grant men great estates,
But hardly grace to keep them! Rome, that
flows

With citizens and captives, and would hold
The world, were it together, is by cowards
Left as a prey, now Cæsar doth approach.
When Romans are besieged by foreign
foes,

With slender trench they escape night-stratagems,

And sudden rampire raised of turf snatched up,

Would make them sleep securely in their

tents.

Thou, Rome, at name of war runn'st from thyself,

And wilt not trust thy city-walls one night: Well might these fear, when Pompey feared and fled.

How evermore, lest some one hope might

ease

e commons' jangling minds, apparent signs arose,

range sights appeared; the angry threatening gods

iled both the earth and seas with prodigies.

eat store of strange and unknown stars

were seen

andering about the north, and rings of fire

ty in the air, and dreadful bearded stars, id comets that presage the fall of kingdoms;

he flattering sky glittered in often flames, and sundry fiery meteors blazed in heaven, ow spear-like long, now like a spreading torch;

ightning in silence stole forth without clouds,

nd, from the northern climate snatching fire,

easted the Capitol; the lesser stars,

hich wont to run their course through empty night,

: noon-day mustered; Phoebe, having filled

ter meeting horns to match her brother's light,

rook with th' earth's sudden shadow, waxed pale;

itan himself, throned in the midst of heaven,

lis burning chariot plunged in sable clouds, nd whelmed the world in darkness, making

men

espair of day, as did Thyestes' town, lycenæ, Phoebus flying through the east. ierce Mulciber unbarred Ætna's gate, Which flamed not on high, but headlong pitched

Her burning head on bending Hespery. Coal black Charybdis whirled a sea of blood.

Fierce mastives howled. The vestal fires went out;

The flame in Alba, consecrate to Jove, Parted in twain, and with a double point Rose, like the Theban brothers' funeral fire. The earth went off her hinges; and the Alps

Shook the old snow from off their trembling laps.

The ocean swelled as high as Spanish Calpe Or Atlas' head. Their saints and household gods

Sweat tears, to show the travails of their city:

Those that inhabited the suburb-fields
Fled: foul Erinnys stalked about the walls,
Shaking her snaky hair and crooked pine
With flaming top; much like that hellish
fiend

Which made the stern Lycurgus wound his thigh,

Or fierce Agave mad; or like Megæra
That scared Alcides, when by Juno's task
He had before looked Pluto in the face.
Trumpets were heard to sound; and with
what noise

An armèd battle joins, such and more strange

Black night brought forth in secret. Sylla's ghost

Was seen to walk, singing sad oracles;
And Marius' head above cold Tav'ron peering.
His grave broke open, did affright the boors.
To these ostents, as their old custom was,
They call th' Etrurian augurs: amongst
whom

The gravest, Arruns, dwelt in forsaken
Luca,

Well-skilled in pyromancy; one that knew The hearts of beasts, and flight of wander

ing fowls.

First he commands such monsters Nature hatched

Against her kind, the barren mules' loathed issue,

To be cut forth and cast in dismal fires; Then, that the trembling citizens should walk

About the city; then, the sacred priests That with divine lustration purged the walls, And went the round, in and without the town;

Next, an inferior troop, in tucked-up vestures, After the Gabine manner; then, the nuns And their veiled matron, who alone might View

Minerva's statue; then, they that keep and

read

Sibylla's secret works, and wash their saint In Almo's flood; next, learned augurs follow;

Apollo's soothsayers, and Jove's feasting priests;

The skipping Salii with shields like wedges; And Flamens last, with net-work woollen veils.

While these thus in and out had circled Rome,

Look what the lightning blasted, Arruns takes,

And it inters with murmurs dolorous,

And calls the place Bidental. On the altar He lays a ne'er-yoked bull, and pours down wine,

Then crams salt leaven on his crooked knife: The beast long struggled, as being like to prove

An awkward sacrifice; but by the horns The quick priest pulled him on his knees, and slew him:

No vein sprung out, but from the yawning gash,

Instead of red blood, wallowed venomous gore.

These direful signs made Arruns stand amazed,

And searching farther for the god's displeasure,

The very colour scared him; a dead black

Th' infernal powers. My fear transcends my words;

Yet more will happen than I can unfold : Turn all to good, be augury vain, and Tages, Th' art's master, false !" Thus, in ambiguous

terms

Involving all, did Arruns darkly sing.

But Figulus, more seen in heavenly mysteries.
Whose like Ægyptian Memphis never had
For skill in stars and tuneful planeting,
In this sort spake: "The world's swift
course is lawless

And casual; all the stars at random range;
Or if Fate rule them, Rome, thy citizens
Are near some plague. What mischief shall
ensue?

Shall towns be swallowed? shall the thickened air

Become intemperate? shall the earth be barren !

Shall water be congealed and turned to ice? Oh, gods, what death prepare ye? with what plague

Mean ye to rage? the death of many men Meets in one period. If cold noisome Saturn

Were now exalted, and with blue beams shined,

Then Ganymede would renew Deucalion's flood,

And in the fleeting sea the earth be drenched. Oh, Phoebus, shouldst thou with thy rays now singe

The fell Nemæan beast, th' earth would be fired,

And heaven tormented with thy chafing heat: But thy fires hurt not. Mars, 'tis thou inflam'st

The threatening Scorpion with the burning tail,

And fir'st his cleyes: why art thou thus enraged?

Kind Jupiter hath low declined himself; Venus is faint; swift Hermes retrograde; Mars only rules the heaven. Why do the planets

Alter their course, and vainly dim their virtue? Sword-girt Orion's side glisters too bright: War's rage draws near; and to the sword's

strong hand

Let all laws yield, sin bear the name of virtue :

Many a year these furious broils let last : Why should we wish the gods should ever end them?

War only gives us peace. Oh, Rome, continue

The course of mischief, and stretch out the date

Of slaughter! only civil broils make peace."
These sad presages were enough to scare
The quivering Romans; but worse things
affright them.

As Mænas full of wine on Pindus raves,
So runs a matron through th' amazed streets,
Disclosing Phoebus' fury in this sort:
"Paan, whither am I haled? where shall
I fall,

hus borne aloft? I see Pangaus' hill With hoary top, and, under Hæmus' mount, Philippi plains. Phoebus, what rage is this?

Why grapples Rome, and makes war, having no foes?

Whither turn I now? thou lead'st me toward th' east.

Where Nile augmenteth the Pelusian sea:
This headless trunk that lies on Nilus' sand
I know. Now throughout the air I fly
To doubtful Syrtes and dry Afric, where
A Fury leads the Emathian bands. From
thence

To the pine-bearing hills; thence to the

mounts

Pyrene; and so back to Rome again.
See, impious war defiles the senate-house!
New factions rise. Now through the world
again

I go. Oh, Phoebus, show me Neptune's shore,

And other regions! I have seen Philippi." This said, being tired with fury, she sunk down.