Which being broke, the foot had easy passage.
As soon as Cæsar got unto the bank
"Here! here!" saith he, "An end of peace; here, end polluted laws! Hence leagues and covenants! Fortune, thee I follow; War and the destinies shall try my cause."
This said, the restless general through the dark,
(Swifter than bullets thrown from Spanish slings,
Or darts which Parthians backward shoot) march'd on,
And then (when Lucifer did shine alone,
And some dim stars) he Ariminum enter'd.
Day rose and view'd these tumults of the war.
Whether the gods, or blust'ring south were cause
I know not, but the cloudy air did frown;
The soldiers having won the market-place,
There spread the colours, with confused noise
Of trumpet's clang, shrill cornets, whistling fifes;
The people started; young men left their beds,
And snatch'd arms near their household gods hung up,
Such as peace yields; worm-eaten leathern targets,
Through which the wood peer'd, headless darts, old
swords
With ugly teeth of black rust foully scarr'd:
But seeing white eagles, and Rome's flags well known,
And lofty Cæsar in the thickest throng,
They shook for fear, and cold benumm'd their limbs, And muttering much, thus to themselves complain'd. O walls unfortunate! too near to France, Predestinate to ruin! all lands else
Have stable peace; here war's rage first begins;
We bide the first brunt, safer might we dwell,
Under the frosty bear, or parching east,
Waggons or tents, than in this frontier town.
We first sustain'd the uproars of the Gauls,
And furious Cymbrians and of Carthage Moors.
As oft as Rome was sack'd here 'gan the spoil.
Thus sighing whisper'd they, and none durst speak,
And shew their fear, or grief: but as the fields
When birds are silent thorough winter's rage,
Or sea far from the land, so all were wist.
Now light had quite dissolv'd the misty night,
And Cæsar's mind unsettled musing stood;
But gods and fortune prick'd him to this war,
Infringing all excuse of modest shame,
And labouring to approve his quarrel good.
The angry senate urging Gracchus' deeds,
From doubtful Rome wrongly expell'd the tribunes
That crost them; both which now approach'd the
And with them Curio, sometime tribune too,
One that was fee'd for Cæsar, and whose tongue
Could tune the people to the nobles' mind:
"Caesar" (said he)" while eloquence prevail'd,
And I might plead, and draw the commons' minds
To favour thee, against the senate's will,
Five years I lengthen'd thy command in France:
But law being put to silence by the wars,
We from our houses driven, most willingly
Suffered exile: let thy sword bring us home.
Now, while their part is weak and fears, march hence!
Where men are ready, lingering ever hurts:
In ten years won'st thou France; Rome may be won
With far less toil, and yet the honor's more;
Few battles fought with prosperous success
May bring her down, and with her all the world;
Nor shalt thou triumph when thou com'st to Rome;
Nor capital be adorn'd with sacred bays;
Envy denies all; with thy blood must thou
Abide thy conquest past: the son decrees
T'expel the father; share the world thou can'st not;
Enjoy it all thou may'st." Thus Curio spake
And therewith Cæsar prone enough to war
Was so incensed as are Eleus' steeds
With clamors: who, though lock'd and chain'd in stalls,
Souse down the walls, and make a passage forth.
Straight summon'd he his several companies
Unto the standard: his grave look appeas'd
The wrestling tumult; and right hand made silence :
And thus he spake: "You that with me have borne
A thousand brunts, and tried me full ten years,
See how they quit our bloodshed in the north;
Our friend's death; and our wounds; our wintering
Under the Alps. Rome rageth now in arms
As if the Carthage Hannibal were near ;
Cornets of horse are muster'd for the field;
Woods turn'd to ships; both land and sea against us :
Had foreign wars ill-thriv'd, or wrathful France,
Pursu'd us hither, how were we bestead
When coming conqueror Rome afflicts me thus?
Let come their leaders whom long peace hath quail'd; Raw soldiers lately prest; and troops of gowns ; Babbling Marcellus; Cato whom fools reverence! Must Pompey's followers with strangers' aid, (Whom from his youth he brib'd) needs makes him king?
And shall he triumph long before his time,
And having once got head still shall he reign?
What should I talk of men's corn reap'd by force,
And by him kept of purpose for a dearth.
Who sees not war sit by the quivering judge;
And sentence given in rings of naked swords,
And laws assail'd, and arm'd men in the senate.
'Twas his troop hemm'd in Milo being accus'd;
And now lest age might wain his state, he casts
For civil war, wherein through use he's known
To exceed his master, that arch-traitor Sylla.
A brood of barbarous tigers having lapp'd
The blood of many a herd, whilst with their dams
They kennel'd in Hircania, evermore
Will rage and prey; so Pompey, thou having lick'd
Warm gore from Sylla's sword art yet athirst.
Jaws fresh with blood continue murderous.
Speak, when shall this thy long usurp'd power end?
What end of mischief? Sylla teaching thee,
At last learn, wretch! to leave thy monarchy;
What now Sicilian pirates are suppress'd
And jaded, king of Pontus, poisoned, slain,
Must Pompey as his last foe plume on me,
Because at his command I wound not up
My conquering eagles? say I merit nought,
Yet for long service done, reward these men,
And so they triumph, be't with whom ye will.
Whither now shall these old bloodless souls repair?
What seats for their deserts? what store of ground
For servitors to till? What colonies
To rest their bones? say Pompey, are these worse
Than pirates of Sicilia? they had houses.
Spread, spread these flags that ten years space have conquer'd!
Let's use our tried force; they that now thwart right,
In war will yeild to wrong: the gods are with us,
Neither spoil nor kingdom seek we by these arms,
But Rome, at thraldom's feet, to rid from tyrants."
This spoke, none answered but a murmuring buz
Th' unstable people made: their household gods
And love to Rome (though slaughter steel'd their
hearts
And minds were prone)restrain'd them; but war's love
And Cæsar's awe dash'd all: then Lælius
The chief centurion crown'd with oaken leaves
For saving of a Roman citizen,
Stepp'd forth, and cry'd, "Chief leader of Rome's force,
So be, I may be bold to speak a truth;
We grieve at this thy patience and delay.
What! doubt'st thou us? even now when youthful
Pricks forth our lively bodies, and strong arms
Can mainly throw the dart, wilt thou indure
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