LUCAN'S PHARSALIA: CONTAINING The Civil Wars between CAESAR and POMPEY.  
WRITTEN In Latin Heroical Verse by M. ANNAEUS LUCANUS.  
TRANSLATED INTO ENGlish verse by Sir Arthur George's Knight.  
Whereunto is annexed the life of the Author, collected out of divers Authors.  
Fides fortibus fraus formidolosis.  
London printed for Edward Blount 1614   

❧ TO THE RIGHT NOBLE AND VIRTUOUS LADY, LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD, MY MOST honoured Lady and Mistress.  
MADAM  
THE least good documents, which we learn in our youth, may in some part of our life serve us to use. I remember this sentence in my Pueriles, Voluntas, ubi desunt vires, est laudanda: Where power is wanting the good will is to be accepted. Which I presume will be my warrant in presenting your La ship with this Poem, which by chance I did see in my father's study, amongst many other of his Manuscripts. And because it lay idly there, I desired him to give it me. Who then ask what I would do with it, I told him that I would present it to my Lady my Mistress. Which humour of mine he seemed very well to like: but he answered, that it was not fair enough written for her reading. Whereunto I replied, that if I might have it, I would amend that fault, and get it printed by the help of my Schoolmaster, and in that sort offer it. Whereto my father said, that he liked so well of my devotion to so noble a Mistress, as that he would freely give it me. The which now (as mine own) I do humbly recommend to your honourable acceptance, as some testimony of my devoted zeal, until years, and ability shall second my endeavours with parts more answerable to my desire. And in the mean season I will persuade myself that this poor present is the more aptly offered, knowing that the reading of Heroical actions do as properly belong to noble and virtuous Ladies, as the acting of them to worthy and valorous Knights. Besides that, your Ladyship is an honourable lover and Patroness of learning and the Muses, an instinct naturally engrafted in your excellent spirit, by that worthy blood of the sydney's, wherewith you do so nearly participate, and whose perfections did so eminently shine in that hopeful young Lord your late brother, one of the mirrors of our Age. Now if this may but receive your honourable applause, as some pledge of my Devotion, I will never think that I need to be ashamed to flutter with my Father's feathers. And so am ever ready to approve myself,  
Your ladyships most humble and faithful servant, Carew Gorges.   

To the Translator.  
HAD Lucan hid the truth to please the time,  
He had been too unworthy of thy Pen:  
Who never sought, nor ever cared to climb  
By flattery, or seeking worthless men.  
For this thou hast been bruised: but yet those scars  
Do beautify no less, than those wounds do  
Received in just, and in religious wars;  
Though thou hast bled by both, and bear'st them too.  
Change not, to change thy fortune 'tis too late.  
Who with a manly faith resolves to die,  
May promise to himself a lasting state,  
Though not so great, yet free from infamy.  
Such was thy Lucan, whom so to translate  
Nature thy Muse (like Lucans) did create  
W. R.   

To the Translator.  
HOMER and MARO, that did Poetize,  
As much in matter, as in kind of style,  
Did thereby dim the glorious deeds the while  
Of them, whose acts they meant to memorise.  
So did not LUCAN, who (in other guise)  
The gests of two great Worthies did compile;  
S'deining their high achievements to defile,  
Or inter-lace with idle vanities.  
Therefore how far from Fable Truth is set,  
So far above all feigners LUCAN shines;  
While in his Muse both faculties are met,  
That with sweet Number beauteous Truth combines.  
And we to thee in endless debt must dwell  
For making Lucan speak our tongue so well.  
S. S.   

To the Translator.  
AS Thetis famous son concealed lay  
From that brave troup of Greekish martial Knights,  
Until Ulysses (quicker eyed than they)  
Presented him unmasked to Trojan fights.  
So Lucans Spaine-borne, Rome-bred, Muse-nurced wit,  
Lay hid in lines obscure to most of us,  
Till thou (Ulysses-like) with numbers fit  
Didst happily unclowd his Genius.  
And though for it that Ithac boastingly  
Claimed to himself Achilles acts of fame;  
Thou (worthy Knight) dost use more modesty:  
Although thy work alike deserves the same.  
For who with judgement reads thy well-tuned Lays,  
Will judge thee worthy Lucan's Crown of Bayes.  
A. I.   

To the Translator.  
LUCAN, that first in the Imperial tongue  
(In naked truth of acted history)  
The civil wounds made for an Empire song;  
Hath checked precedent, taught succeeding Poesy,  
That flatteries and fictions may delight,  
May please a Tyrant, wrong a rightful King,  
May please an Orphan judgement, wrong the right,  
Enuelop Truth, proclaim an untrue thing.  
Lucan, that first hath shown the force of verse,  
Relating only what was seen, felt, done,  
Of Conqueror's triumphs, of the Conqu'reds' hearse,  
All as it left, all as it first begun.  
Not like the Trojan Theamers, fit for schools,  
Fabling of this and that in Heaven, Earth, Hell,  
Sober to madmen, turning wise to fools,  
Gods to be Neat-heards, men in stars to dwell,  
Hath matched the faith, that History requires:  
Hath matched best History in choice of phrase:  
Hath taught, that History in nought aspires  
Above the truth of deeds, itself to raise.  
This Lucan for his truth a Truchman gains  
As true to him, as he to Truth remains.  
T. W.   

The Printer to the Reader.  
THat which no Impressions have ever been free from, were now needless for me to excuse, I mean the faults escaped in the printing; which may appear the more harsh, because the lines be short. In regard whereof, (to do right as well to the Translator, as also the better to satisfy the Reader) I have here set down the Errata, with the page and lines specified where the defects are, to be amended with the more ease.  
PAge 3. line 22. for arms read harms. pag. 4. lin. 7. for time read twine. pa. 9 li. 9 for brangling read brandling. p 11. l. 35. for fettered read feltered. p. 16. l. 31 for strong read stung. p. 33. l. 5. for with read which. p. 33. l. 19 for interposing read interposed. p. 34. l. 9 for Thebans read Theban. p. 34. l. 39 for fettered read feltered. p. 36. l. 6. for that read for. p. 37. l. 39 for then r. the. p. 37. l. 40. for clothed, r. choked. p. 45. l. 14. for captive read caitiff. p. 46. l. 39 for they read thy. p. 52. l. 40. for stream read streams. p. 56. l. 8. for thy read they. p. 64. l. 19 for laws read saws. p. 66. l. 37. deest a. p. 82. l. 39 for it read is. p. 86. l. 12. for this read these. p. 90 l. 40. for ease read these. p. 91. l. 12. for event ready bend. p. 92.22. for Hernius read Hermus. p. 105. l. 35. for cost read cast. p. 106. l. 39 for flames read frames. p. 110 l. 3. for fierce read firm. p. 116. l. 7. for foil read soil. p. 124. l. 11. for either, read neither. Ibid. for a read or. p. 126. l. 23. deal of. p. 126. l. 34. for To read The. p. 130 l. 13. for fight read flight. p. 155. l. 40. for the read these. p. 181. l. 17. deest our. p. 186 l. 9 for Moors read moares. p. 192. l. 24. for timeless read time lost. p. 196. l. 6. for takes delight, read takes so great delight. p. 212. l. 1. for parties read party. p. 215 l. 1. for a read read as. p. 225. l. 32. for place read peace. p. 226. l. 34. for slang read slaugh. p. 236. l. 28. for suspected read respected. p. 240. l. 6. for is read 'tis. p. 258. l. 2. for high read his. Ibid. l. 8. deest are. p. 260. l. 16. for she read he. p. 262. l. 20 for no read now. p. 268. l. 14. for valley read valley. p. 280. l. 32. for affected read effected p. 292. l. 25 for world read worlds. p. 300. l. 5. for Pentheius read Pentheus. p. 305. l. 3. for were read where. p. 306. l. 14. for Achilles r. Achillas. p. 309. l. 16. deal if. p. 313 l. 18. for desired r. deserved. p. 319. l. 6. for None read Nor. p. 319. l. 38. for Palean r. Pelean. p. 329. l. 39 for sucst r. such. p. 330. l. 2. for stitched read sticked. p. 333. l. 21. for we read no. p. 333. l. 25. deest do. p. 335. l. 16. for fathers read brothers. p. 335. l. 20. for spirits read sprights. p. 337. l. 15. for Thy read Fly. p. 342. l. 37. for these read those. p. 343. l. 3. for meant read went. p. 344. l. 10. for he read had. p. 344. l. 17. for resolves read revolves. p. 344. l. 25. for sip read ship. p. 347. l. 31. for The read That p. 348. l. 28. for yet read erst. p. 360. in marg. for Comely read Country. p. 362. l. 23. for (O grief) read of grief. p. 367. l. 36. for dandling read dangling. p. 373. l 3. for for no read to. p. 378. l. 26. for bitter read better. p. 383. l. 9 for streaming read strange. p. 385. l. 11. for wretched read wreathed. p. 390. l. 5. for when read whom. p. 399. l. 39 for fury read fiery. p. 409. l. 14. for he read they. p. 418. l. 40. for Pollean read Pelean. p. 419. in marg. for envies read inveighes. p. 424. l. 24. for a bear, read bear a. p. 425. l. 35. for rifing read rising. p. 427. l. 9 for Falermums, read Falernums. p. 430. l. 18. for unto read to. p. 431. l. 19 for Nero read Meroe. p. 431. l. 33. for Zoylan read Nylan. p. 434. l. 39 for Nero read Meroe. p. 435. l. 6. for bands read bends.   

❧ THE LIFE OF M. ANNAEUS LUCAN.  
ANnaeus Seneca coming from Corduba, (a City in the inner Province of Betique Spain) to Rome, was presently advanced to the honour of Knighthood; whose Orations (albeit of great fame and note) were by the injury of Time denied to posterity. He had by his wife Elbia three sons, whose names were, L. Annaeus Seneca, julius Annaeus Gallio, and Annaeus Mela: who (because he was youngest) was left behind at Corduba. The other two (to wit) Seneca and Gallio, he committed to the tuition of Marullus Grammaticus, Cestius Smyrneus, and Asinius Pollio. Mela when he came to years of discretion, was by his father made governor of his household affairs; and being graced as well as his other brethren (by the favour of the Caesars) with the order of Knighthood, he married C. Acilia, the daughter of Acilius Lucanus, a famous Orator in the Proconsul's Court, and much esteemed for his wit among the better sort. Bt her (about the fourth of the Nones of November, in the second Consulship of Caius Caesar Germanicus with Lucius Cecianus) he begat Marcus Annaeus Lucan; taking his sur●●●e from his grandfather (by his mother's side) Acilius Lucan. At length growing weary of the care of housekeeping, and desirous to live with his brethren in more ease and quiet; he went with his son Lucan (being then but eight months old) to Rome, hoping that by the well managing of his wealth which he had gathered, it would in short space come so to pass, that he should be chosen Consul. Now as he was journeying, it chanced that a swarm of Bees flying about the cradle wherein the child was carried (as it is reported happened to Hesiodus) lighted and hung at his mouth; signifying (no doubt) the sweet and admirable eloquence that should be in that child, whereof his works give good testimony. His Masters and Tutors were Rhemnius Palemon, and Flavius Virginius, the one a famous Grammarian, the other a singular Rhetorician: Under whom he profited so well (the dexterity of his wit being furthered with his diligence) that within a very short space, he declaimed both in Greek and Latin, to the great admiration of the Auditors. His Schoolfellows were Saleius Bassus, and Au. Persius: he held a long time in the grace and favour of Nero (who in his young years was brought up under Seneca, this Lucan's Uncle) He was advanced to the Office of Questor before due age; at what time he set out such excellent sword-playes, that by the people's favour, he was the next year called to the Office of Priest among the Augurs, as Papinius Statius records.  
Romam colitur chori Sacerdos.  
Lucan was held in such admire,  
That he became Priest of the Quire.  
He took to wife Polla Argentaria (the daughter of Pollus Argentarius) of whom Papinius in Calliope sings thus: 
Nec solum dabo carminum nitorem,  
Sed taedis genialibus dicabo  
Doctam, atque ingenio tuo decorum,  
Qualem blanda Venus, daretque juno,  
Forma, simplicitate, comitate,  
Censu, sanguine, gratia, decore.  
The purer numbers that I write,  
Shall not with empty words be dight:  
But to thy genial bed I'll bring  
A Bride, that learnedly can sing:  
A wench, that Nature framed to sit  
The swelling torrent of thy wit.  
And such a milk-white turtle-dove,  
As that the Empress of love,  
Or else the Queen of Majesty,  
Might as a boon bestow on thee.  
She is so fair, so sweet, so kind,  
So rich, and of so noble mind,  
So match esse in her graceful port,  
So moving to Ambrosian sport.   
But on a certain time there being a Poetical Comedy to be acted in Pompey's Theatre; and Nero having promised by Chuius Rufus, that he himself in person would act the Fable of Niobe: Lucan (stepping out upon the stage) recited certain vers●s extempore in the praise of Orpheus: for which he had a crown of Laurel bestowed on him. Whereupon Nero conceiving a spleen against him, forbid him ever after to frequent the Marketplace, and Theatre, or to make any verses. Of which Papinius saith thus: 

Ingratus Nero dulcibus Theatris,  
Et noster tibi praeferatur Orpheus.   

Nero thou showest thyself ingrate  
To dulcet theatres, for hate  
Thou bar'st to him that did rehearse  
More pleasing numbers then thy verse.    
Who hoping to be revenged on Nero, he joined himself to the Pisionian treason: But the plot being discovered, he persisted not in the denial of his fault: but craving mercy for himself, he accused his innocent mother to be also one of this conspiracy: hoping that this empiety might be a means to procure pardon at the hands of an impious Prince. But having received the sentence of condemnation, and liberty given to him to choose what death he would▪ he writ certain verses unto his father; and (after a large banquet) causing the veins of his arms to be opened, he died bleeding. But when his feet and hands began to wax cold, and that he was now at the point to resign his latest breath, he recited certain verses of his, which he had made on a Soldier in the same case. Lib. 3.  

Scinditur avulsus, nec sicut vulnere sanguis  
Emicuit lentus, ruptis, cadit undique venis:  
Discursusque animae diversa in membra meantis,  
Interceptus aquis, nullius vita perempti  
Est tanta dimissa via.   

His body made of fenny mud,  
Was torn asunder us he stood,  
So that his blood dropped not so slow  
As that which from a wound doth flow.  
But from each broken hollow vain,  
A stream of crimson gushed amain.  
And that which wont was to impart  
Life to the limbs from out the heart,  
With that same element was mixed  
That earth and air lies betwixt.  
Never did any dying wight  
So many ways breath out his sprite.   
He ended his life the day before the Calends of May (Atticus Vestinius, and Nerua Silius being Consuls) in the 27 year of his age. He was entombed in his own garden, on whom might be engraved this inscription.  

Bethis' habet natale solum, est Annaea propago,  
De genitore Mela, dat matter Acilia terris,  
Vix Luna octovos coelo confecerat orbs,  
Come me Roma sui, etc.   

My native Country Betique Spain,  
Th' Annaean blood I did retain,  
My noble father Mela hight,  
Acilia brought me to the light.  
Eight times had scarce the nightly Queen,  
This massy round with full face seen.  
When Rome did wash my infant sides  
With moisture that in Tiber glides.  
Then was I from the Forum ta'en,  
And consecrate to Phoebus' Fane.  
Then I composed sylua's ten,  
And flames of Rome and Troy did pen.  
I did declaim 'gainst Sagita,  
That foully murdered Pontia.  
Then (that which moved Nero's hate)  
Orpheus praise I and relate.  
Next, having ta'en the war in hand  
That raved throughout Pharsalia land,  
The tyrant (that could not away  
My fame should grow, and his decay)  
Did quell my Muse with envies blade,  
Before the work was perfect made.  
My veins in sunder being shred,  
He all besmeared my sacred head,  
With blood which did my soul set free,  
When from my body it did flee.   
Papinius saith, that being but a Boy, he writ the combat of Hector and Achilles: he wrote also the feasts of Saturn, ten Books of Sylues, the Tragedy of Medea (not perfected) the journey of Orpheus to Hell, the burning of Rome, the sacking of Troy, with the misery of King Priamus. He wrote an invective Oration against Octavius Sagitta, that murdered Pontia, with many other Fables and Epistles. He undertook the civil wars of Caesar and Pompey, but being prevented by death, he wrote but only ten Books, and of them ten perfected but three, with the help of his wife, the other seven were diligently corrected, and published after his death. Fabius Quintilian saith, that he was rather to be accounted an Orator than a Poet, as being lofty and vehement in his style, full of excellent sentences: so admirable and witty in his Orations, as that he seems to express that singular Elegancy and Majesty that is observed in Virgil. His Epitaph may yet be seen in Rome, graved on a marble Monument in old Characters, thus.  

Corduba me genuit, rapuit Nero, praelia dixi,  
Quae gessere pares, hinc gener, inde socer.  
Continuo nunquam direxi carmina ductu,  
Quae tractum serpant, plus mihi comma placet.  
Fluminis in morem, quae sunt miranda, citentur,  
Haec vero sapiet dictio, quae feriet.   

In Corduba I first drew breath:  
By Nero I was doomed to death,  
Before I made an end to write  
Two Rival Romans civil fight:  
Where Ensigns opposite did run,  
The Father-in-law against the Son.  
I have not kept a steady course  
In pouring out my Muse's source:  
But where the matter large did fall,  
A Comma pleased me best of all.  
When wonders come, I make them slide  
Like to a full-brimed swelling tide.  
But that which bears the stamp of wit,  
Are well-couched numbers shortly knit.    

LUCAN'S PHARSALIA. The first Book.  
THE ARGUMENT  
WHat motives did this war incense,  
Caesar's and Pompey's insolence.  
Forbidden Rubicon is passed,  
Aryminum surprised in haste.  
Tribunes disgraced from Rome retire:  
They Caesar's heart do set on fire.  
To wars his Legions he exhorts,  
And calls from far his old Cohorts.  
The woeful cities mazed plight,  
With Pompey's base untimely flight.  
A stout Decree the Senate make,  
And then for fear do Rome forsake.  
Lastly, prodigious signs are seen,  
And what the Augurs answers been.  
A More than civil war I sing,  
That through th' Emathian fields did ring,  
Where reins let loose to headstrong pride,  
A potent people did misguide:  
Whose conquering hand enraged rebounds  
On his own bowels with deep wounds.  
Where Hosts confronting near allies,  
All faith and Empires Laws defies.  
A world of force in faction meets,  
And common guilt like torrents fleets.  
Where like infestuous ensigns wave,  
The Eagle doth the Eagle brave,  
And Pyle against the Pyle doth rave.  

A sharp reprehension of Civil war.  ¶ Dear Citizens, what brainsick charms?  
What outrage of disordered arms?  
Leads you to feast your envious foes,  
To see you gored with your own blows?  
Proud Babylon your force doth scorn,  
Whose spoils your trophies might adorn,  
And Crassus' unrevenged ghost,  
Roams wailing through the Parthian coast.  
Doth now your hearts such war desire,  
As yields no triumphs for your hire?  
O what a world by Lands and Seas,  
Mought you have won with much more ease.  
Then half the blood your weapons drains,  
In civil strife from out your veins!  
As far as Phoebus first doth rise,  
Until in Thaetis lap he lies:  
Or where his parching golde-beamed ray,  
Doth dart down flames at mid of day:  
Or frosty Hiems shivering stands,  
Glazing the Sea with icy hands;  
Whose air benumbed with Scythian flaws,  
No Summer's sunshine ever thaws:  
The Seres, and Araxes rude,  
Not to our Empire yet subdued;  
Or what Barbarians else are bred,  
About old Nilus' unknown head;  
All these might you have vanquished.  
¶ And then, O Rome, when thou hadst hent  
The whole world's homage to thy bent,  
And played at full this mastering prize,  
If envies spleen thee then agrize,  
Against thyself, thyself oppose,  
For yet thou want'st no foreign foes:  
But Italy lies now aspoile,  
Her Cities levelled with the soil.  
Their lofty walls with breaches torn, 
The miserable estate of Italy.   
The vacant houses all forlorn.  
The Markets unfrequented been,  
The untrod streets o'ergrown with green:  
The fruitful fair Hesperian fields,  
That nothing now but thistles yields,  
Cries out for hands to plow and plant,  
Her labourers are grown so scant.  
¶ This dismal state wherein she stands,  
Proceeds not from fierce Pyrrhus' hands;  
Nor yet could Hannibal's despite  
Inflict on us this wretched plight.  
No foreign foes could so prevail, 
The Romans themselves work their own ruin.   
Our settled state to rent and quail:  
Th' audacious sword worn by thy side,  
Hath hewn in thee these gashes wide.  
¶ And yet if Fates have so decreed,  
That thou (O Nero) shouldst succeed  
By these means to the Empire's throne,  
Our forepast arms the less we moan.  
For jupiter was not possessed  
Of heavens sole rule in settled rest,  
Before the Giants were suppressed.  
Let then Pharsalia fields be spread  
With iron legions scorning dread.  
So to appease the whining mood  
Of Punic Ghosts with Latium blood.  
Let Munda be the fatal place  
Where Caesar quails great Pompey's race:  
And let as hard a siege betid  
As erst Mutina did abide.  
Yea let as great a famine flow  
As ever did Perusia know:  
And two such Fleets confronting rage,  
As did the Axium battle wage:  
With as much broil and hammering din,  
As when that Vulcan did begin  
To set his Cyclops to their tasks;  

It should seem that this was written in the beginning of Nero's reign, which was most excellently governed for the first 5 years, with singular justice & temperance.  Whose sparkles forges Aetna marks.  
¶ And yet thou Rome shalt be in debt  
Unto these wracks, that did beget  
This happy peace, wherein we live,  
And to our toils an end did give.  
But when (O Nero) Atropos knife  
Shall shred in twain thy time of life:  
And thou (unto the stars bequeaued)  
With heavens joy shalt be received.  
There shalt thou freely take thy choice,  
Whether thy humour more rejoice  
To sit in the Empiring Throne,  
As ruling over all alone:  
Or whether thou do more desire  
To sway the Car of Phoebus' fire,  
And thence (with wandering flames) survey  
The earth in all her rich array:  
Whom thy mild beams will not dismay.  
The Deities bend to thy hest,  
And Nature yields thee thy request,  
To be what Godhead likes thee best,  
And where thy Empire's seat shall rest.  

This is mere Ironical flattery.  But I beseech thee of high grace,  
Do not thy Sovereign Mansion place  
About the North or Southern star,  
Which is from us remote so far:  
For than should Rome fall to mischance,  
If thou on her look but askance.  
But if a part of heavens huge sphere,  
Thou choose thy ponderous heft to bear;  
O let the Axle-tree sustain  

In this he teacheth NERO how he should govern, by an Imagination of what is.  The poise of thy Majestic train.  
Amidst the firmament be placed,  
For that with brightest beams is graced.  
So Nero's shine shall still subsist,  
Never obscured with cloudy mist.  
Then shall men lay aside their Arms,  
And rue the shame of civil harms.  
All Nations than shall be at peace  
With mutual leagues, and Trades increase.  
So when all jars do end their dates,  
janus may spar his Iron gates.  
But whilst that I some power Divine  
Invoke, to strength this Muse of mine:  
If I thy favour can obtain  
(O Nero) to assist my vain;  
I will not then desire or crave,  
Apollo's furtherance to have;  
Nor yet entreat the God of wine,  
To aid this Tragic work of mine:  
For thou alone canst life infuse  
And spirit to my Latin muse.  
¶ My mind gives me the cause to write,  
That did this humorous rage incite:  
A task that will much labour cost,  
To show what frantic fevers tossed  
This people's mood, to rave in spoil,  
And banish peace from Latium soil.  
It was conspiring Destiny, 
The causes of the civil war.   
The bane of all felicity:  
And that which is by heavenly reed,  
As doom to greatness still decreed,  
Not long to stand in settled state:  
But, being too much elevate,  
The own poise must it ruinate:  
And Rome herself, too powerful grown,  
With insolence was overthrown.  
So when by great resistless Fate,  
The world dissolves to her last date,  
Returning to that formless mass,  
Which was before aught form was:  
Stars shall with stars confusedly,  
In clusters meet within the sky:  
The fiery Element displaced,  
Shall down into the deep be cast:  
The massy globe in this disease,  
Deny due bounds unto the seas:  
Belphoebe will run counter quite  
To Titan, that doth lend her light:  
And (scorning her own oblique way)  
Would guide the Lantern of the day.  
So that the course of this vast All,  
Into confusion's lap will fall.  
For jove to great things this doom left,  
They should be crushed with their own heft.  

Fortune most triumphs over great estates.  Fortune doth scorn to cast a frown  
On those, that mean estate keeps down:  
But envies those that lofty stand,  
Empiring over sea and land.  
O Rome! then bondage pressed thee,  
When thou wert first made slave to three.  
Divided kingdoms staggering stand,  
One Sceptre fits one sovereign hand.  
¶ O ye contentious Roman knights,  
Whom blind Ambition so incites!  
What solace yields that Sovereignty  
That's gained with such hostility  
As doth your hands and hearts divide,  
And turmoils all the world beside?  
But otherwise it never sorts:  
For whilst the land the seas supports;  
Or that the Air (in heats and colds)  
The Earth in her soft mantle folds:  
And Phoebus shall maintain his race,  
Or Cynthia supply his place,  
So long Competitors of States  

No faith amongst Competitors of kingdoms.  (In jealousy) shall cloak debates.  
Faith holds not firm twixt crowned Mates.  
We need not far examples seek,  
What other climate breeds the like:  
For when Rome first her walls ordained,  

Romulus and Rhemus.  With brother's blood they were distained.  
Yet all the whole world's worth, that time,  
Could not requite so foul a crime.  
A petty structure (scarce begun)  
Hath this fraternal outrage spun.  
Our two great Chieftains (for a space)  
A jarring concord did embrace.  
And so an outward peace maintained,  
Which their ambitious hopes disdained.  
But Crassus' power doth interpose, 
Crassus' the means that kept Caesar and Pompey within their bounds.   
And hold them off from fatal blows.  
Like Istmos, that divided keeps  
The raging concourse of the deeps,  
And doth so strongly part the waves,  
That each with other never raves.  
But if this Istmos break asunder,  
How would th' Aegean billows thunder,  
Incountering the Ionian seas,  
And struggle with their counterpoise?  
So Crassus whilst he was a life,  
Held these two worthies off from strife;  
And (with persuasive powerful words)  
Within their sheaths confined their swords.  
But when the hapless Carran fight,  
Brought Crassus to his latest night,  
This Parthian blow dissolved the Chain 
By Crassus' death this civil rage broke out.   
That did these headstrong Peers restrain;  
And bred more scathe unto our state  
Then it was aware (by home-debate:)  
For now the Roman Lordly guides  
Divide themselves in factious sides:  
And our great fortune, that had long  
Subsisted by a people strong,  
That conquered worlds on seas and main, 
What mischief two ambitious minds can breed in a quiet state.   
Could not two haughty minds contain:  
For julia (with like cruel fate  
Untimely brought unto her date,  
By Atropos life-destroying hands)  
Dissolved the neere-allianced bands  
Betwixt her father, and her spouse,  
Forgetting their contracted vows. 
JULIA the means to hold Caesar & Pompey in good correspondency.   
Whereas if Julia's line of life  
Had longer 'scaped the fatal knife;  
Even she had been of power alone,  
Betwixt them two to make atone,  
And from insulting force to cease,  
With joining armed hands in peace;  
As did the Sabines daughters erst,  
Who sweetly all dislikes dispersed  
Betwixt their Fathers and their Feres:  
But by thy death these pride-swollen Peers,  
Shake off all leagues, and strain to wars,  
Where virtue emulates it jars.  

Pompey's jealousy.  ¶ For thou great Pompey dost suspect,  
That new-raised triumphs thine deject,  
And that thy Pyrate-Laurell falls  
Short of the conquest of the Gauls.  
Thus the remembrance of thy deeds,  
In thee so great impatience breeds,  
As that thou hold'st it fowl disgrace  
Except thou run a matchless race,  
None now endures a second place.  

Popeys' humour.  For Pompey will no equal have,  

Caesar's humour.  Nor supreme Lord must Caesar brave.  
Heinous it was, but to be scanned,  
Which of them in the right did stand:  
And took up Arms with just pretence,  
Great judges do with both dispense.  
The conquering part the Gods avows,  
Cato the vanquished allows:  
Th' ambition of these captains tends  
Not to the like and self-same ends.  

Pompey's disposition described.  Pompey (surprised with elder years)  
His course in quiet glory steers.  
And (keeping state in peaceful gown)  
Follows not Mart for more renown.  
He dotes upon domestic fame,  
And so (to glorify his name)  
To State-affairs doth frame his bent.  
And then (to give the world content)  
With largesse plies the common Rout,  
And, on the theatres, sets out  

Popular affectation.  His great exploits, and service done  
Till through the people's ears it run,  
Sufficed when their applause is won.  
No new employments he requests;  
But on his forepast fortunes rests.  
So Pompey's name is like a shade,  
That by a stately Oak is made,  
Towering amidst a flowering field,  
Adorned with many a battered shield,  
With Trophies hanging on his twists,  
(The gifts of famous Martialists)  
And though not rooted deep in land,  
With his own weight upright doth stand:  
With leavelesse arms spreading his sprays  
From naked trunks doth shadows raise.  
Yet (brangling with tempestuous blast)  
Is dangered to be overcast:  
When other trees, grown round about,  
Against the winds standing more stout,  
To this old Oak do lowly lout,  
But Caesar's name (in men's conceit)  
Was not yet grown unto that height,  
Nor for the wars in like request: 
Caesar's disposition described   
And yet his virtue cannot rest,  
But pricks him forth to think it shame,  
By valour not to win the game.  
His dreadless courage, and his hope  
Unto his plots, gave ample scope  
Never to spare his daring sword,  
Where glory might him work afford,  
And his successful fate pursue,  
Which in heavens favour daily grew.  
Affecting all, daunts as him lists,  
What force soever him resists,  
Contented best when that he may  
Level out paths for Ruins way.  
Like lightning, gendered in the Clouds,  
By force of wind itself unshroudes,  
Tears through the air with claps of thunder,  
(Mazing the world twixt fear and wonder.)  
The Temples fills with oblique flashes,  
And of their lamps the lights out dashes,  
The strongest walls asunder rents,  
If they resist, or stop his vents,  
And spoiling all, makes Revell-rout  
In going in, and coming out;  
Collects his parted flames again,  
And with fresh force doth strive and strain,  
'Gainst which resistance all is vain.  
¶ These former motives led the way  
Unto these captains lawless sway.  
But public seeds were after sown,  

The Roman Vices.  From whence this baneful strife is grown  
Which hath great Kingdoms overthrown.  
O this was it when conquering Fates  
Had made us Lords of mighty states,  
And cloyed us with abundant treasure,  

Wealth the cause of all excess.  We steeped our thoughts in pride & pleasure.  
Then Luxury the State surprised,  
And virtuous manners grew disguised:  
For Avarice (that ravening gull,  
Who more she hath, the less is full)  
To stately mansions draws their minds,  
And Gluttony new dainties finds;  
The moderate diet not regarded,  
Our appetite must now be larded.  
So men from manly humours fall,  
And grew effeminate withal:  
Decking themselves with quaint attires,  
Scarce fit for women's nice desires.  
Then Poverty (that had of yore  

The great alteration of the Roman humours.  Of worthy Champions bred such store)  
Did scorned creep from door to door.  
And Riches (mischief's pleasing guest)  
Then only grew into request  
Pampered Delight spares for no charge.  
Their Territories they enlarge.  
Camillus Blow ears not their lands,  
Nor Curios spades will fit their hands.  
Their bounds no measure can endure,  
And strangers must their farms manure:  
And yet this opulent increase,  
Could not contain their minds in peace:  
But as their plenty more did flow,  
Ambition with it more did grow.  
And many vices more to boot,  
Which in them took so deep a root,  
That covetise no crime was thought,  
What force could win, was held as bought.  
Oppression all doth overawe,  
And wrong to right prescribeth law. 
Division between the Senate and the people.   
Then Faction ushers on this war,  
The Senate with the people jar.  
Force doth authorize their decrees,  
The laws their sacred freedom lose,  
Consuls with Tribunes now contest,  
Private respects their censures wrest,  
All suffrages are bought and prized,  
The Consulships are Merchandized,  
And Bribery (the City's bane)  
Did Campus Martius so profane,  
That her brave Palms (the Victor's hire)  
The purses virtue did acquire.  
Then Vsuryes moth-eating trade  
So rife was grown, and lawless made,  
That debtor, at the payment day, 
Honours bought and sold, and not conferred by merit.   
To Creditors became a prey.  
So Banquerupts (wanting means to live)  
Their hopes to war and spoil did give.  
¶ Now Caesar's Army marcheth fast,  
And o'er the frosty Alps was passed:  
But ere he said, The dice are cast,  
Within his troubled thoughts he scanned  
The boisterous storms of wars at hand:  
And (having led his legions on  
Unto the River Rubicon)  
In gloomy night there did appear 
Caesar marching toward Rubicon, is forbidden by an apparition.   
(In dreams to him with trembling cheer)  
Of Italy the Image vast,  
With naked Arms abroad out cast.  
And (as a woman in distress)  
Shaking her head, and fettered tress,  
That was ingrained with aged hoar,  
In sobbing speech doth thus deplore.  
Whither (quoth she) doth your march tend?  
Whither (dear sons) and to what end  
My famous Standard do you spread?  
Can lawfully these Troops be led  
Unto this place prohibited?  
Therewith did Horrors heaviness  
This captains spirits so oppress,  
As that his hair stood up an end,  
And faintness doth his pace suspend.  
Then at the rivers brink he stays,  
And with a manly voice he says:  

Caesar's answer to the Apparition.  Great Thunderer, that dost protect  
(From thy Tarpeian high prospect)  
The Roman State with grace divine,  
The julian and the Latin Line,  
The mysteries of rap't Quirine;  
O jupiter the Latium guide,  
That in high Alba dost reside,  
Preserver of our Vestal flame;  
And Rome (thou type of supreme name)  
From your applause do not exempt  
This enterprise, that I attempt.  
I do not I, with furious arms,  

Caesar's Protestation to Rome.  (Dear City) seek thy wracks or harms.  
Behold thy Caesar here doth stand,  
That hath (with his successful hand)  
Conquered for thee by sea and land.  
Let me thy Champion now be height,  
And deem him heinous in thy sight,  
That me provokes to such debate,  
As must disturb thy settled state.  
This said, he shakes off all delay  
That might his speedy passage stay:  
His armed legions he will guide  

Caesar will pass the Rubicon with his legions.  Unto the rivers further side:  
And as a Lybian Lion dread,  
(In sunburnt Deserts bloody bred)  
When Hunters near at hand he spies,  
Upon the sandy soil down lies,  
And doth a while amazed remain,  
Till his fierce courage comes again;  
Then rousing up his curled crest,  
His beesomed tail, and boisterous breast,  
From yawning jaws (besmeared with gore)  
Doth bellow out a hideous roar.  
If then the Mauritanian lance  
Upon his rugged hide do glance,  
Or in his wounded bleeding side,  
The Hunter's javelin do abide;  
He careless then for loss of blood,  
Assails (with ramping fiery mood)  
The Huntsman; and (with out stretched paws)  
By force at last himself withdraws.  
¶ Clear Rubicon (that first is fed 
The description of Rubicon.   
But from a bubbling fountains head)  
During the time of Summer's sun,  
With a low shallow stream doth run:  
His current through the valleys glides,  
And Italy from Gaul divides.  
But at this time his source was more,  
The Winter's rain increased his store.  
The Moon likewise (but young in days)  
His feeding springs doth higher raise.  
And that which made him most to swell,  
Were molten heaps of snow that fell  
From down the Alps in torrents great,  
Dissolved by some gentle heat.  
The Horsemen first the work do wage, 
Caesar passeth Rubicon.   
And of the stream the shallows gage.  
And with thick Troops in close arrays,  
The swiftness of the torrent stays.  
The passage thus more easy made,  
The Foot doth through the river wade.  
Caesar his Army thus at last  
Forbidden Rubicon hath past;  
And standing on th' Hesperian banks, 
Caesar's speech when he had past the Rubicon.   
Thus spoke he to his filled Ranks.  
here do I now all peace abjure,  
And laws unjustly put in ure.  
O Fortune! I will follow thee,  
From other bonds myself I free.  
In Fate my trust I do affy,  
War (as a judge) my cause shall try.  
No more he said, but (with dispatch)  
At the approach of nights first watch,  
His well-trained Troops he doth prepare,  
Who in their march as speedy are  
As motions of Balarian slings,  
That circling through the thin air sings.  
Or showers of shafts at Parths let fly,  
When they retire, that dim the sky:  
His March with such great speed he plies,  
As doth Ariminum surprise.  

Caesar surpriseth Ariminum  Phoebus' by this, with dawning light,  
Obscured had the lamps of night;  
And now the dismal day begun,  
Wherein his first attempt was done  
Upon this City, that doth stand  
A frontier of Italian land.  
And whether Fates did so forecast,  
Or foggy-faced Austers blast  
Did scowl upon this wretched fact,  
The air with misty clouds was pact.  
The Town thus suddenly possessed,  
The Marketplace they do invest.  
Where their brave Ensigns proudly stands,  
Guarded with many armed bands.  
The Trumpets (with their dreadful notes  
Drawn through their hoarse Meandry throat▪  
Mixed with tempestuous noise of wars)  
The Burghers with Alarms scars.  
Their state, which was secure at night,  
By dawn of day was in this fright.  
They outh amazed, their beds forsake,  

The amazement of the Ariminenses.  And to the Temples them betake.  
Where they do arm them in a stound,  
With such munitions as they found,  
Which in long peace hanged on the walls  
Idle, un-usd to Martial brawls.  
The Shields, that were of ancient dates,  
Worm-eaten to the very plates.  
Their Piles with heads blunted and bowed,  
Their glaives the cankered rust did cloud.  
¶ But when the Eagle was displayed,  
And Caesar (in bright Arms arrayed)  
Mounted upon a Throne of State,  
In midst of his stern Legions sat;  
The Citizens then silent were,  
Their senses rap't with numbing fear,  
A patient silence them possessed, 
The complaint of the Ariminenses.   
Whilst these sad moans boil in their breast.  
What dismal Planets wrathful frown,  
So near the Gauls, confined our Town?  
What Destiny (with endless toil)  
First drew us to this fatal soil?  
In peace all people live secure:  
But we in peace must wars endure,  
To Outrage we are still a pray,  
Our seat stands so in Harms highway.  
O Fortune! more had we been blest,  
In dwelling farthest East or West:  
Or near the Pole to have our homes:  
Or else in Tents, that wandering roams;  
Then thus to keep a Frontier gate  
Of Italy's envied state.  
We first did see that great deluge  
Of the fierce Senons' Army huge.  
We first endured the Cymbrian brunt,  
Ere Marius' force did them confrunt. 
The many wracks that Ariminum had endured.   
And frightful bruited Hannibal,  
Did at his entrance on us fall.  
Then savage Troops of Teuton swarms,  
Infested us with hostile arms.  
And thus as oft as lowering Fate  
Did please to scourge the Roman state,  
(By raising up some powerful foe)  
This was the way that War did go.  
These sour accounts that them attaint,  
They swallow up without complaint.  
And so their discontentment hide,  
heartbreaking sorrow is tongue-tied.  
But look what silence doth possess  
The air, when Winter doth distress  
The singing birds, and them restrains  
From uttering their melodious veins:  
Or else as calms the billows binds,  
Not being moved with gusts of winds,  
Such stiffness ceased their grief-bound minds.  
This days work done, and overpast,  
And following night grown to his last,  
The Sun his Chariot Eastward hies,  
And with his beams doth clear the skies.  
Caesar (that doubtful yet remained  
Before this entrance he had gained)  
Is now, in hot blood, fully bend  
To follow on his bold attempt.  
The Fates likewise his humour draws  
Dreadless to break all leagues and laws.  

Caesar the child of Fortune.  And Fortune (whose he was avowd)  
His enterprise, as just, allowed;  
And motive reasons doth provide  
To trust to Arms, lest worse betide.  

The jealousy of the Senate.  The jealous Senate now forecast  
What danger former times had passed  
By the seditious Gracchian fact,  
That with the people were compact.  
And thereupon (against all right)  
The Court, with over-bearing might,  
Those Tribunes presently expel,  
Whose power did in the City swell,  
And with the Senate so contest,  
For Caesar's right, against their hest:  

The Tribunes disgraced by the Senate.  The fired Tribunes (thus disgraced)  
Forthwith to Caesar's camp did haste.  
But he, that felt himself most strong  
Was Curio, that, (with bribed tongue)  
The Senate so much had upbraid,  
And people's voice for Caesar swayed.  
And he no sooner was arrived  
At Caesar's Camp (of fear deprived)  
To Caesar he himself presents,  
Whom many careful thoughts torments,  
In plotting of these wars events.  
¶ Caesar, quoth he, whilst justice, 
Curios oration.  laws  
Gave upright hearing to thy cause;  
And that a truthfull tongue might speak,  
So long my words the ice did break:  
And durst confront thy proudest foes,  
Yea though the Senate did oppose.  
For whilst I might (as Tribune) plead  
The people's voice so did I lead,  
That thou hadst their applauses all,  
A longer time to govern Gaul.  
But after this the Senate's might  
(Against all law with scornful spite) 
Curio accuseth the Senate.   
Us as a factious party held,  
And from our native Rome expelled:  
Which outrage and oppressive scorn,  
With greater patience we have borne;  
In hope that thy victorious arm  
Their Dunghill crowing so will charm,  
As shall our liberties restore  
Free Roman Tribunes, as before.  
Now therefore whilst surprising frights  
Possess thy foes, and daunts their sprights:  
Whilst they confused (twixt hope and fear)  
Know not on sudden how to rear  
Such valiant Troops, and trained Bands,  
As now are under Caesar's hands;  
Slack thou no time: Fate guides thy game,  
To men prepared, delay is shame.  
And do but to remembrance call  
The dangers passed in conquering Gaul,  
Thy toils that thou didst undergo, 
Curio stirs Caesar to attempt Rome.   
Before thou couldst subdue that foe;  
And then compare it with this task,  
Which doth but resolution ask;  
And thou shalt find this of less pain,  
But greater much in glorious gain.  
Couldst thou ten years on Gallia spare,  
So poor to Rome in all compare;  
And canst thou think less time worse spent,  
To win the whole world to thy bent?  
Fortune (that still with thee abounds)  
When thou dost march, her Trumpet sounds:  

A strong persuasion.  Then to this work with courage fall,  
In conquering Rome thou conquerst all.  
But as the case now stands with thee,  
No Triumphs will allowed be  
At thy return, for service done,  
Nor Laurels worn for Gallia won.  
Envy (that doth at virtue spurn)  
Will at thy triumph rather mourn:  
And (which is more to thy disgrace)  
The honour of thy name to base.  
Thy envious foes have plotted pranks  

Curio persuades Caesar that the Senate conspire to wrong him.  To cut thy conquests short of thanks,  
And will in lieu thereof, at last,  
Some fowl aspersion on thee cast.  
Pompey, that matched thy daughter dear,  
Admits thee not his equal Peer,  
The Empire must be shared twixt none,  
But thou mayst have it all alone.  
¶ This speech of Curio sets on fire  
The mind of Caesar, whose desire  
Before to war was fully set,  
But with these words more sharply whet▪  
Like a proud Courser bred in Thrace,  

Caesar incensed.  Accustomed to the running race,  
Who when he hears the Trumpets noise,  
The shouts and cries of men and boys,  
(Though in the stable close up-pent)  
Yet, with his hooves, doth beat and rend  
The planched floor, the bars and chains,  
Until he have got loose the rains.  
reins Caesar forthwith his troops doth call,  
T'attend him at his Tribunal:  
And every Ensign to be man'd,  
And followed with his armed band.  
So in the midst his place he takes:  
Then head and hand he beckoning shakes,  

Caesar's oration to his Soldiers.  And therewithal deep silence makes.  
¶ fellows in Arms and friends (quoth he)  
That have this ten years space, with me,  
In wars endured a thousand brunts,  
With many hazards, and affronts;  
And yet have brought our foes at length  
Under our feet, by conquering strength.  
Is this that Curio now relates,  
All the esteem the Roman States  
Doth make of us, and our lost blood,  
Expended for the Empire's good,  
By conquest of this Northern soil?  
Is this the hire of all our toil  
About the frosty Alps endured,  
That many a Worthies bane procured?  
Though Rome so scorn her Martial breed,  
Yet is she now as hard bestead,  
As when the Carthaginian sway  
Over the Alps did force a way.  
Her wasted Cohorts are supplied  
With men, that war hath never tried:  
But mere Besognios priest in haste.  
And now the woods are field as fast  
To build a Navy out of hand:  
And Caesar (as I understand)  
Must be pursued by sea and land.  
But now suppose some man will say,  
What if (in one unlucky day)  
When we do hope to give a blow,  
Ourselves receive the overthrow?  
And that the Gauls (to venge their wracks)  
With furious swarms come on our backs?  
Alas poor sprights! what doubts are these?  
Since Fortune sways which way I please,  
And always prospers my designs?  
And that the Gods their grace inclines  
Our glory higher to advance?  
When Fortune pipes, shall we not dance?  
Let Pompey (whom dis-vse hath made 
Caesar's scornful speech of Pompey, and some other Romans.   
A stranger to Bellona's trade)  
Come on, with his new swaggering host,  
Which cannot of one Skirmish boast.  
Let Senators (in their grave gowns)  
Browbeat us with their haughty frowns.  
And Marcell, that same prattling jay,  
With Stoic Cato, that gives way  
To nought but what himself doth say:  
Let all this rabble show their spite,  
We scorn their malice, and their might.  
Shall these consorts (for money bought)  
Pompey to please, set us at nought?  
Shall they so proudly undertake  
In him a Monarchy to make?  
Must our great Empires supreme sway,  

Pompey taxed in divers kinds  Him only serve, and sole obey?  
Must he (with new insulting pride)  
Again in Triumphs Chariot ride?  
When no man knows for what, or why;  
But all due course doth it deny?  
What, must he never quit again  
The rule, that once he doth attain?  
Nor suffer others have their turn?  
Must he at all men's honours spurn?  
Who liveth now that doth not know  
The famine that did overflow  
By public dearth of corn and bread,  
Whereby his avarice was fed?  
Who knows not that (by his affront  
Contrary to the Roman wont)  
The judges, in the Marketplace,  
Assaulted were with foul disgrace?  
And with what pride he bolstered out  
The outrage of that rascal rout?  
And how, by main oppressing might,  
(Against all law and civil right)  

Milo.  Milo, that so condemned stood,  
For foully shedding Clodius' blood,  

Clodius.  By Pompey's rude presumptuous bands,  
Was rescued out of justice hands?  
But now, he waxing old and crazed,  
Yet still affecting to be blazed,  
And fearing that his date, far spent,  
Will grow unfit for government, 
Caesar chargeth Pompey with the cause of this civil war.   
Loathing to lead a private life,  
Now makes new work for civil strife;  
Wherein he trained is so well,  
As that he doth by far excel  
His Tutor Sylla, bloody sire,  
That mischiefe-monger ruins fire.  
And as a Tiger wildly fed,  
In the Hyrcanian forest bred,  
Who (following of his ravening dam  
With blood of beasts his paunch doth cram)  
Can never afterwards allay  
His savage longing after pray; 
Pompey a follower of Sylla.   
So Pompey (nuz'led in the taste  
Of Sulla's sword, that made such waste  
Of his own countries guiltless blood)  
Cannot assuage his thirsting mood:  
But that his jaws (enured to gore)  
Must bathe in bowels, as before.  
Shall his usurped lawless state  
Nor limits have, nor any date?  
How long shall he (with hands unclean)  
Support his pride, that holds no mean?  
His Master Sylla might him learn  
By (his example) to discern,  
That Tyranny at length should end,  
And aged hopes to quiet bend.  
Must Caesar needs give up his rest,  
Because the Pirates are suppressed,  
And Mithridates, with long toil,  
At length received hath the foil?  
Although it cannot be denied  
But Pontus' poisons first he tried. 
Caesar allegeth the wrongs offered him by the senates decree   
Shall Caesar now (I say) be made  
A prey to Pompey's rusty blade,  
Because I scorned to forego  
My conquering Legions to my foe?  
And disobeyed that proud decree,  
Made against right in wrong of me?  
But though I be denied my due,  
And that no Triumphs must accrue  
Unto our conquest, as our hire,  
Yet (whilst I breathe with living fire)  
And these brave Troops are led by me,  
They never shall defrauded be  

Caesar insinuates with his Soldiers.  Of their reward for service done,  
Nor after stranger Captains run  
To seek new Fortunes at their hands,  
In foreign wars, and unknown lands.  
For if that such a course be held,  
When they be overgrown with eld;  
And not of force, as erst they were,  
To broil in wars, and arms to bear;  
Where shall they then their limbs repose,  
Weakened with age, with toil and blows?  
What comfort should they find at last,  
To recompense their travails past?  
What lands to them shall be aloud?  
What fields to plant, or to be ploughed?  
Where they in peace may eat their breads,  
And rest their limbs in quiet bed?  
Shall Pirates so (by Pompey's grace)  

Caesar allegeth Pompey's provision for pirates whilst old Roman Veterans are neglected.  In fruitful Colonies find place,  
And Roman Veterans not have  
That due regard their worth doth crave?  
O then resolve (without delay)  
Your conquering Ensigns to display.  
Employ those arms in battles tried,  
By your own valour dignified.  
Unjustly to withhold a right,  
Is to give all to armed might.  
We want not higher powers to friend,  
Yet do not I this Mart intend,  
priest on for need, or greedy gain,  
Or else ambitiously to rain;  

Caesar's protestation against tyrannical ambition.  But to resist that Pride that raves  
To make both Rome and us his slaves.  
¶ When he had said, the wavering rout  
Did softly murmur many a doubt:  
For though their fiery Martial sprights  
In war and rapine most delights;  
Their household Gods, and Country's love,  
To some remorse their hearts did move.  
But yet of Arms the high esteem,  
And Caesar's wrath they greater deem▪  
Then Loelius, with undaunted face, 
Loelius.   
(Who for his valour held the place  
Amongst the piles as Ensign chief,  
And (by his hardy hands relief)  
A Roman rescued from his foes:  
For which his Oaken crown he shows)  
Steps forth, and thus he doth declaim.  
¶ Conductor chief of Roman fame; 
Loelius oration to Caesar.   
If it be lawful, and but just  
To show our griefs with tongues of trust,  
We may complain of these delays,  
That with such lingering patience stays  
Thy powerful arms; did our faith fail  
In aught that might thy course avail?  
Will we (thinkst thou) whilst life retains  
The boiling blood within our veins:  
Or whilst our active arms have might  
To wield the Pile with Martial slight,  
Endure thus to subject our State  
To Senate gowns degenerate?  
Is it a fault by civil war,  
Their insolences to debar?  
Nay, lead us through scythes icy fens,  
And through the Syrts unhaunted dens,  
Through Lybia's thirsty parched sands;  
here are the self-same forward hands  
That holp through deeps to tug the Oars,  
When thou invadedst Britain's shores: 
Loelius devotee's his faith to Caesar.   
And (with like courage ready were)  
Through stickle Rhine the boats to steer,  
Our hearts shall be as forward still,  
As able to obey thy will.  
And whom against thy Trumpets sound,  
I wish mischance may them confound.  
Yea though they be right Romans borne,  
As deadly foes I will them scorn.  
And here I do protest and swear  
By those brave Ensigns (that we bear)  
Of our victorious legions ten,  
By all the conquests where and when  
So happily achieved by thee;  

Loelius most desperate protestation for Caesar's service.  If thou but give in charge to me,  
To stab my brother to the heart,  
My father's head and neck to part,  
Or to rip up (with bloody knife)  
The rising belly of my wife,  
When she conceived is with child,  
My hands should be therewith defiled,  
Though they said nay, with mood more mild  
Yea, if it were the Gods to spoil,  
To raze their Temples with the soil,  
Their ornaments and wealth to burn,  
Until to ashes they did turn,  
Or else (upon the Tiber banks)  
To place and file our armed ranks,  
I would be first of all the Rout,  
That should the Stations quarter out,  
There to encamp our legions stout.  
Nay, do but say, which are the walls  
That thou rain'st to Ruins falls,  
These hands of mine first hold shall lay  
Upon the Ram, and give him sway  
Unto the ground, the stones to tear;  
Yea though the walls of Rome they were.  
¶ When Loelius thundering peal was rung,  
The Cohorts (clustering in a thrung,  
With open voice, and hands out flung)  

The affection Caesar's soldiers do bear to him.  Do vow to follow Caesar's Arms,  
Through heat and cold, through haps or harms  
And therewithal they bellow out  
As main a cry (with hideous shout)  
As do the hurling winds from Thrace,  
When they the lofty Pines embrace  
That on the mountain Ossa grows,  
Whose stormy gusts so fiercely blows,  
That tops of Trees bow to the ground,  
And with such force again rebound,  
As if they would the clouds confound.  
confound Caesar, that now his soldiers minds  
So prone to war and willing finds,  
(Seeing withal the Fates his friend)  
Is loath more time in vain to spend.  
But lest his Fortune should be stayed  
For want of force and greater aid,  
Forthwith in haste he sends for all  
His Cohorts, garrisoned in Gaul. 
Caesar assembles his forces   
Then flying Ensigns doth display,  
And towards Rome directs his way.  
¶ The Troops, about Lemanus Lake,  
To Caesar's Camp themselves betake:  
And those great forces of account,  
That fortified Vogesus mount,  
And fierce Lingones held in awe,  
To Caesar's tents do likewise draw.  
Others, that with his wars will share,  
From Isar flood to him repair,  
Which (washing with his water falls  
So many goodly cities walls)  
His silver streams at last he hides  
In Rhodonus, that swifter slides,  
And there his native name doth lose,  
Before that he the Ocean knows.  
The gold-haired Ruthens left at large,  
Their mastering garrisons discharge.  
And silent Atax new joy greeets  
Dis-burdened of the Latium Fleets.  
The gallant Towns that bordering ranks  
On either side of Varus banks  
Do public bone-fire-feasting make,  
When Roman Troops their soil forsake.  
The like contentment them befell,  
That by th' Herculean port do dwell;  
Upon which shores (in rolling flocks)  
The boisterous billows sweep the rocks;  
Not stirred with rage of Western flaws,  
But by whirlwinds that thither draws.  
From off the Narbonensian coast,  
Where ships so furiously are tossed,  
As that no harbour can suffice  
To shelter them from those fierce skies,  
So joyed the people of that land,  
That evermore do doubtful stand  
To be o'erwhelmed with flowing seas;  
As oft it haps to their disease:  
Which floods, the ebbs again appease.  
Now whether this deluge proceeds  
From Northern winds, that high seas breeds  
During their powerful whirling whiffs,  
That raise the waves above the cliffs,  
And being laid, the stilled main  
Reclaims her mounted waves again:  
Or whether Cynthia's influence  
Do with this breach of bounds dispense:  
Or else the suns attractive beams  
Exhale up vapours from those streams,  
Thereby the watery clouds to feed:  
Or else from whence it doth proceed,  
I leave it to their better reed  

Opinions of ebbing and flowing of the sea.  That dives into the hidden cause  
Of heavens course, and Nature's laws.  
And as for me I will submit  
The censure of my humble wit  
To that great Godhead, that best knows  
The reason why it ebbs and flows.  
Now were the Nemetes released  
Of all the bands upon them ceased:  
Where the Tarbellians bound at large  
A calmed sea, with crooked verge.  
Then, to the Santons turn it fell,  
To bid their Latium guests farewell.  
The Bituriges do the same,  
And the Axones that bear fame  
With their long bows, so fit for Mart,  
The Rheni, trained to throw the dart.  
The Sequani, that rankly ride  
And skilfully their horses guide.  
The Belgi, that so well can steer,  
And turn their Coach in main career.  
Th' Auverni, that themselves do grace  
For their descent from Trojan race,  
And Roman parentage embrace.  
The Neruij, that with faithless words  
In Cotta's blood did bathe their swords.  
The Vangiones, that desire  
To wear the Sarmatan attire.  
The stout Battavi, that delight  
When Trumpets call them forth to fight.  
And all those people that are bred  
And harbour about cynga's head,  
Where Rhodonus so swiftly fleets,  
With whom the River Arar meets,  
And Neptune with their tribute greets.  
Or what inhabitants beside  
About Gebenna's mount reside,  
All these to mirth convert their mean,  
That Latin Garrisons are gone.  
And Trevers turn to joy their tears,  
To see the Romans by the ears.  
And you Lygiers the rest among,  
That used to wear your locks so long,  
For which of old the common fame  
Comated Gauls gave you the name:  
(Though now you changed have that guise)  
From Garrisons were freed likewise.  
So all those Nations that did use  
Mercurius Altars to infuse,  
And sprinkle round with human blood.  
And you (that with like savage mood)  
To Mars make cruel sacrifice.  
And ye, that do men's hearts agrize  
When you to jove your offerings make,  
And fires with human blood do slake,  
Whose Altars therewith you distain,  
As deep as Scythians use to bane  
Diana's Altars, and much more,  
So do they overflow with gore.  
And ye O Bards, that (with your rhymes)  
Record their fame to future times,  
That valiantly expose their blood  
For honour, and their Country's good.  
And Druids high Priests of hell,  
That in all barbarous Rites excel,  
Who (by your uncouth Sorc'rous spell)  
Pretend that you alone can tell  
The influence of the stars that shine,  
And natures of the powers divine;  
Now may you freely, at your wills,  
Solace yourselves in woody hills,  
And build your booths on tops of Trees,  
And preach your Doctrines and Decrees,  
Whereof you Authors are alone;  
For now the Roman Rites are gone.  
Now you may silly fools persuade,  
That (when death hath his conquest made)  
men's souls descend not to the shades  
Of silent dark Eraebus glades,  
Nor where the horrid mansion is  
Of loathsome deepe-indungioned Dis:  
But (when that this world's life is done)  
Their souls into new bodies run.  
So loss of life to them brings gain,  
That would eternity attain.  
For in another world to live,  
You say Death only means can give▪  

The great resolution of the Druids.  Ye that in this opinion dwell,  
In happiness do far excel  
All Northern nations that are known:  
For where you have this error sown,  
All fear of death is cast aside,  
Which terror most the heart doth gryde  
And from this confidence proceeds  
Your valour, and your venturous deeds.  
Whose dauntless brave ennobled sprights,  
Meets deaths approaches without frights.  
And holds it base for to adiurne  
Life, that (so lost) will soon return.  
Lastly, those mastering brave Cohorts,  
That shagge-heard Caicos tamed with forts, 
All that Caesar had conquered in ten years wars was hazarded to be lost.   
The banks of Rhine unguarded leave,  
And Caesar's host doth them receive.  
Lo what a world, won with long pain,  
Is at an instant lost again.  
¶ Caesar (with these collected swarms  
Of valiant Soldiers, bred in Arms)  
His haughty courage doth advance  
At greater game to try his chance.  
His ranging Troops, with spirits fierce,  
Through Latium fields he doth disperse:  
And all the Towns he doth surprise,  
With garrisons he fortifies.  
Then Fame (that doth false rumours blaze)  
His foes with true fears doth amaze.  
The Citizens in general 
The fears that the rumours of Caesar's approach breeds at Rome.   
Into despairful humours fall:  
And in their daunted minds debate  
The fortunes of a conquered state.  
Like fearful Scowts, that set a broach  
False Larums of a foes approach:  
So Rome's imaginary fears  
With her own tongues affrights her ears.  
Then from Mevania tidings came  
(A Town ennobled by the fame  
Of that rich soil wherein it stands)  
That Caesar (with huge armed bands)  
Had overrun, and prayed their lands.)  
And many of his men of war  
Were come unto the banks of Nar,  
(Which River into Tiber falls)  
And thence would march unto the walls 
The fame of Caesar's coming to Rome.   
Of Rome itself, without delay:  
And that they did, at large, display  
Their Banners, and their eagles brave:  
That such a mighty host they have  
As never yet (the rumour ran)  
Was seen in memory of man.  
Yea much more fierce and truculent  
Then those (that were most bloody bent)  
Of all the people ruthless rude,  
That Romans ever yet subdued.  
Others again gave out reports,  
That daily to this Camp resorts  
Those Nations (that do dwell between  
The frozen Alps and Northern Rhine)  
And that they all with one accord,  
From out their Countries did disbord,  
Caesar to follow, and to aid;  
And from these wars would not be stayed:  
So as it cannot other be,  
But that with grief they soon shall see  
Rome seized and sacked by foreign fone,  
(A Roman Chieftain looking on)  
Thus every one (rap't with amaze)  
Doth these approaching perils blaze.  
And yet no certain Authors known,  
By whom this frighting news is blown:  
But what their weak conceits suggest,  
With that their senses are oppressed.  
Neither did this unmanly doubt  
Only appall the common rout;  
But even the Senate, drowned in dread,  
Leaving their homes, the City fled.  
Yet they decreed at their adieu,  
The Consuls should with force pursue  
Caesar, from whom the Senate flew.  

The Senate fly from Rome  To safest places than they run,  
And where is hazard, that they shun.  
The giddy people they exhort  
To join themselves in their consort,  
And with them such adventures bide,  
As means and fortune could provide.  
¶ Lo thus (with many heavy hearts)  
Huge numbers instantly departs.  
He that their sudden flight had seen,  
Would think all Rome on fire had been:  
Or else some Earthquakes fearful rage  
Their tottering houses did engage.  
For (with such boisterous press and cry)  
Out at the City gates they fly:  
As if no better hope remained  
To men (whom froward fates constrained)  
Then to forsake their native home,  
To seek for refuge where they roam.  
Like as a ship with tempests tossed,  
Driving upon the Lybian coast,  
Entangled with Sirtss wracking sands,  
The crazed mast in danger stands,  
With sails and cordage rend and torn,  
All over shipboard to be borne:  
The Pilot, whom despair doth cease,  
First headlong leaps into the seas,  
And after him (with madding vain)  
The sailors plunge into the main:  
And so themselves to death betake,  
Before the vessel shipwreck make. 
The Roman frights and flying.   
So out in droves the Romans fly  
Before that Caesar's Camp was nigh,  
And left Rome for herself to try.  
¶ No parents counsel could assuage  
Their headstrong children's flying rage.  
Nor loving wives lamenting tears  
To pity turn their husband's fears:  
Nor awe of Gods, nor Countries love  
Their parting humour could remove;  
Through brutish fear, with base neglect,  
All Nature's bonds they did reject:  
The place where they were bred and borne,  
They fled with shame, and left forlorn.  
In their own houses, where they dwell,  
They stay no time to bid farewell:  
Nor any such affection show  
To their dear City, ere they go,  
As with full sight her to deplore,  
Whom they perchance should see no more,  
All fly in haste from Tiber's shore.  
¶ Ye Gods with bounty fortunes lend  
But niggardly do them defend.  
This City, that did so abound  
With Citizens, for wars renowned,  
Obeyed with many conquered slaves,  
Now every flying rumour braves.  
And (as a spoil and open pray)  
Abandoned to Caesar's sway.  
The valiant Romans, that were wont  

The Roman Citizens fall from their old wont valour.  (In foreign wars) to bear the brunt  
Of many mighty barbarous foes,  
Did in their Arms such trust repose;  
That slender trenches did suffice,  
To hold them safe from all surprise.  
And by such means securely kept  
Their guarded Tents whilst that they slept.  
But thou, O Rome, from this art far,  
Daunted but with the name of War.  
Thy walls not deemed to be of might  
To lodge thy people safe one night:  
So faint of courage all and some  
Are thy inhabitants become.  
But yet thy Commons may defend  
Themselves, and for excuse pretend,  

Pompey taxed for flying from Rome at the bruit of Caesar's approach.  That they were not possessed with dread  
Before they saw great Pompey fled,  
By whose example they were led.  
¶ Then (that no hope of future chance)  
Their based courage should advance)  
Apparent signs they do descry  
Of worse events approaching nigh.  
The supreme power wrath-threatning wills  
The Air, the Earth, and Ocean fills  
With Prodigies, foretelling ills.  
In silent nights, that darkest been,  
Many strange uncouth stars are seen.  

Many prodigious signs seen before these civil wars.  The Element all flaming was,  
And through the air did flying pass  
Obliquous streams, like torches bright,  
And tailed Comets show by night,  
With Blazing stars, that do presage  
Of changing stars the future rage.  
Then fearful lightning flashes break  
A thwart the clouds, and thundering speak:  
With sundry shapes of fearful fires  
The air is filled with all admires.  
Sometimes like lamps, sometimes like darts,  
And so to sparkling gleams converts,  
Which over all the skies doth blaze.  
And (that which bred no less amaze)  
Strange lightnings oftentimes did hap,  
(Not seconded with thunderclap)  
When as no clouds the Sun did wrap.  
And Rome itself (to wrack designed)  
Was scorched with blasting Northern wind.  
The lesser stars (seen but by night)  
At mid of day appeared bright.  
The Moon at full (that with round face  
Should represent her brother's grace)  
The interposing earth obscures.  
Titan likewise this change endures,  
That when at Noonesteed, in his pride,  
Over the earth his sheen should stride,  
His face was masked with sable veil,  
And daylight through the world doth fail.  
So as men greatly stood in doubt,  
That such a time was come about,  
As when Thyestes babes were slain:  
Which guilt the Sun did so disdain,  
That (loathing to adorn that day)  
Back to the East he posts away.  
And cole-smeered Vulcan doth the verge  
Of Aetna's forge so much enlarge:  
As that the sparks, wont up to high  
With rolling smoke into the sky,  
Now to Italia shores do fly.  
Charybdis (like a glutted wolf)  
So spews up blood from her vast gulf,  
As that the sanguine dye doth stain  
The waves of the Cicilian main.  
And Scylla's Dogs so loud did yell,  
As they had been the hounds of hell.  
Then did the sacred Vestal fire  
Divide itself with forked spire  
Upon the Altars, where it burns:  
Whose parted flames, presaging, mourns  
The proud division and debate  
That should confound the Roman state.  
As did that flame divide in twain,  
Which burned the Thebans brothers slain.  
Then follows on such huge Earthquakes,  
That from the lofty Alps it shakes  
The snow, that tumbles down in flakes.  
And Atlas mount (whom some conceit  
To shoulder up the heavens whole weight:  
And Calpe, that high hill in Spain,  
Were wellnigh covered with the main.  
The Temple Images withal,  
From out their eyes did tears let fall.  
The Household Gods did likewise sweat,  
To witness Rome's distempered heat.  
And all the sacred gifts down falls,  
That hung about their Temple walls.  
The Screech-owls, and the birds of night,  
Were common seen in broad day light.  
And savage beasts without dismay,  
(Leaving their dens at close of day)  
would come to Rome their rest to take,  
And in the streets their kennels make:  
And cattle human language spoke.  
Women likewise the sight did fear  
Of their own births, which monstrous were.  
Sibylla, that Cumana hight,  
Her prophecies were brought to light,  
Then those whom stern Bellona's ire  
With frantic humours did inspire,  
(Tearing their arms) did raving cry,  
The vengeance of the Gods was nigh.  
The grisly ghosts of Gallicke flocks,  
(Shaking their bloudy-fettred locks)  
Unto the people threatening tell  
Many a heavy fearful spell.  
And from the shrines the heaped bones  
Did often mutter ruthful groans.  
Clashing or arms, and horrid sounds,  
From the unhaunted groves rebounds:  
And many apparitions strange  
So near the City-walls did range,  
That they, which in the Suburbs won,  
Did from their homes affrighted run.  
An ugly Fiend, (that in her hand  
Did hold a sparkle-blazing brand,  
With snaky hair about her face)  
Alongst the streets did stalking trace.  
Even such a one as did constrain  
Agave with a frantic vain:  
Or that Lycurgus did incite  
To wound himself through Bacchus' spite.  
Or like Megaera, whose aspect  
Did more Alcides' sprite deject  
Then This with his infernal look,  
When junos' task he undertook.  
And oft by night, when all was still,  
The Trumpets sounds were heard as shrill,  
And shoutings main with clamorous cries,  
As when two hosts together flies.  
And Sylla's ghost lamenting rombd  
In Mars his field where it was fombd.  
Which by conjecture did presage  
Some bloody broils and civil rage.  
So from his broken Sepulchre,  
Was Marius seen his head to rear,  
That by Arriems brink did stand,  
Wherewith the Peasants of that land  
Were so surprised (with trembling fits)  
That some were scared out of their wits.  
¶ These tokens do the Romans cause  
(According to their ancient laws)  
In cases of so great dismay,  
To send for those without delay,  
That could by divinations guess,  
If flights of fowls might aught express.  
Or else if bowels of beasts slain,  
These strange presages could explain,  
Then from Tuscana one arrived  
That in such mysteries had dived,  

Aruns, an Augur, seeks out the causes of the civil war by divination.  That he knew well the course of heaven,  
And influence of the Planets seven.  
And Aruns was this wizard's name,  
Who from the City Luna came.  
This solemn sire did first decree,  
That all such beasts destroyed should be  
As were engendered against kind,  
And unto monstrous shapes inclined.  
And that same ugly fleshy clot  
(Upon a barren Mule begot)  
Should be consumed in Cinders hot.  
Then he the frighted Burghers calls  
To march about the City-walls  

A Roman procession.  Procession-like in ordered rows,  
And first the sacred Bishops goes.  
And in their turns next to them trace  
Prelates of an inferior place,  
In short robes with Gabinian braids.  
The Matron then Vesta's maids,  
(To whom it lawful was alone,  
That Pallas Temple should be known)  
Doth follow with her virgin-traine:  
Then all such Priests as appertain  
To Oracles, and Sibyl's loare,  
With those that drew unto the shore  
Cybellen, out of Almon flood.  
The Augurs then that understood  
Of all unlucky birds the flight.  
And the Septemviri that dight  
And overlook the solemn feasts.  
Then Titius Priests, whose sacred hests  
The suburbs of the City sways  
In all their ceremonial ways,  
Than next the dancing Salijs rank,  
Whose necks guilt gaudy brooches prank,  
And last of this religious fry  
The holy Flamen he passed by  
With Lordly Turban towering high.  
¶ Whilst (in a long outstretched drove)  
They thus about the walls do rove,  
Aruns the scattered ruins took,  
That with the lightning blasts were struck:  
And (when some muttering charms were said)  
Deep under mould the same he laid.  
And every place (where they were shrined)  
With names and characters he signed.  
Then doth he take a fair large bull,  
(Which he out of a heard did cull)  
And him unto the Altar leads, 
A Bull sacrificed.   
And twixt his horns pure wine he sheds.  
Then mingled flower, and crooked blade,  
For sacrifice he ready made.  
But yet the beast, with struggling might,  
Resists to serve that sacred Rite,  
Wherein the Gods took no delight.  
And yet at last the Priestly rout  
pulls down this Bull, that was so stout,  
Then bound, and laid to lose his life,  
Within his throat they sheathed the knife.  
Which with so deep a gash they slit,  
That thence abundantly did flit  
A reeking stream of venom black,  
Which did of blood the colour lack.  
This uncouth sacrifice amazed  
Pale Aruns, whilst thereon he gazed. 
Aruns the Augur amazed.   
And yet again he further seeks  
To find some cause of heavens dislikes:  
And up the paunch he rippeth wide,  
To see what luck would there betide.  
But that which more did him confound,  
Were bowels spotted and unsound,  
Of colour pale, and blew commixed,  
With clotted gore congealed betwixt.  
Then rotten liver, which he saw,  
Was clothed with the waterish maw;  
The left side guts no ill signs wants:  
The lung-veines neither stirs nor pants:  
The slender rimme too weak to part  
The boiling liver from the heart:  
The smothered heart expressed no pulse,  
The crackt-shrunke entrails did convulse  
Corrupted blood into the veins:  
The cawl the paunch-hest over-straines.  
And that of all (which he found worst)  
No part appeared, but seemed accursed.  
Then he amongst these inwards finds  
Two massy heads of sinnoye kinds:  
Wannish the one, and all forespent,  
Flaggy, corrupt, and drooping bent:  
The other with more vital heats  
His veins with naughty humours beats.  
¶ All these he takes to be true shows,  
Prognosticating future woes.  

Aruns afeard to express the conjecture.  And then cries out, O Gods I see  
'Tis more than lawful now for me  
To blaze abroad your high decree;  
Neither, O jove, do I design  
This offering to thy grace divine.  
For I suspect the fiends of hell  
Within these slaughtered bowels dwell.  
We fear mis-haps not fit to speak  

Aruns censure.  Yet worse shortly out will break.  
heavens turn to good what is betide!  
Let no presage in bowels bide!  
But Tages fictions; to devise  
Such mysteries in sacrifice.  

Tages the first inventor of Auguring.  Thus doubtfully his doom he shrouds  
Of what was seen, and spoke in clouds.  
¶ But Figulus that deeply looks  
Into the heavens, as in his books;  
And only did his time bestow  

Figulus an excellent ginger.  The natures of the Gods to know:  
Who in Astrology excelled  
The Egyptians, that in Memphis dwelled.  
Thus said; either the heavens, quoth he,  
Disordered in their motions be,  
And all the Planets (in their sway)  
Do hold a clean contrary way;  
Or else if providence divine  
Thus strangely guide them to incline,  
Sudden and heavy wrack will fall 
Doubtful conjectures.   
Upon this City, and us all.  
But whether the Earth gaping wide,  
Will in her womb whole Cities hide:  
Or whether the contagious Air,  
With pestilence will health impair:  
Or that the Land barren of food,  
Will cease to nourish human brood:  
Or that the Rivers from their heads  
Streams with infectious poison spreads:  
I cannot say, O supreme powers!  
What woes upon our mortal bowers,  
Or what strange plagues do you intend  
Upon this wretched world to send?  
Shall now with us all age's end?  
If Saturn's i'll unlucky star  
Had in the tenth house ranged his Car; 
Figulus considers the inclinations of the heavens.   
Then might Aquarius watery vain  
Have brought Deucalion's flood again,  
And all the earth overwhelmed with rain,  
And raging Neptune's rising main.  
Or if thou Phoebus hadst combined  
With Leo of Nemean kind;  
The Fire would then the Earth have melt,  
And with thy flames the heavens have swelled.  
But now these planets being still;  
O Mars! what hath incensed thy will,  
(With the great force of thy aspect)  
Such beams on Scorpio to reflect  
As that his tail all flaming rolls,  
With scorching claws as red as coals?  
Mild jupiter, with friendly eyes,  
Into the west his progress hies.  
But Venus' face (with smiling lips)  
Is now obscured in Eclipse.  
And Mercury (so swift of source)  
Doth retrograde distort his course.  
So Mars as now in this discord,  
Is of th' ascendant only Lord,  
And whilst all stars their rooms resigns,  
Blading Orion only shines.  

The censure of Figulus.  Fury of war comes now in date,  
And force of arms will steer the State,  
justice and laws may both go sleep,  
Strong hand will them in bondage keep,  
Vice now shall virtues name retain,  
And many years this rage shall reign.  

Prayers bootless against Destiny.  What boots it then the Gods to pray,  
This misery to turn away?  
For peace again we shall not have,  
Till all become a Tyrant's slave.  
O Rome! post off (if thou have power)  
The date of this unhappy hour.  
Extend these furies off a far,  
And us preserve from civil war.  
¶ These hard predictions sadly told,  

The censure of Figulus discomforteth the Romans.  Did make the people's hearts full cold;  
But that which followed on behind,  
Trenched deeper wounds within their mind:  
For as Aedonis, Bacchus' Nun,  
From Pyndus hill enraged doth run,  
When as Ogigian wine distrains  
The madding humour of her brains:  
So did a Matron of the Town  

The prophesying of a Roman Matron rap't with a sudden fury.  In frantic wise gad up and down,  
Uttering such words as they express  
Whom sprights of prophesing possess.  
O Paean tell me (than she said)  
Unto what place am I conveyed!  
What shore wilt thou cast me upon,  
That rapt above the clouds have gone?  
Me thinks Pangeus mount I spy,  
Upon whose top the snow doth lie:  
And thence Philippi's fields I see,  
That at the foot of Haemus be.  
O Phoebus tell me the intent  
By this great hurly burly meant.  
Why do the Roman armies strain  
Against themselves with might and main?  
By what means comes it to be so,  
They war without a foreign foe?  
Nay, whither am I further tossed?  
Me seems I now am on the coast  
Eastward, where Nilus her seven heads  
Within the Ocean softly beds.  
There see I him, and him deplore,  
That lies upon that sandy shore,  
A headless trunk distained with gore.  
Thence am I rap't again anew,  
And now the Lybian Syrts I view,  
Where Destinies transport with spite,  
The remnants of Pharsalia's fight.  
Yet further am I forced to walk  
Over the Cloud-browed Alps to stalk▪  
And in this flitting whirlwind vease,  
I pass the Mountains Pyrinees.  
Thence back unto my Native Town,  
Where I find all turned upsidedowne.  
uproar, division, and debate  
Turmoils the Senate and the State.  
So am I now (from mine own shore)  
Hurried about the world once more.  
O Phoebus, ease me of this toil,  
In unknown seas, and unknown soil,  
For I have seen Philippies broil!  
Thus said, a slumbering rest she takes,  
Wherewith this fury her forsakes.  
Finis Libri primi.   

LUCAN'S PHARSALIA· The second Book.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Foreknowledge much it doth bewail  
Of woes, that needs must men assail.  
The Roman Matrons plaints expressed  
All laws and justice are suppressed.  
Marius and Sylla's rage it shows,  
Brutus in doubt to Cato goes,  
Who once again doth Martia wed,  
Attired like mourners for the dead.  
Pompey to Capua takes his way,  
Caesar at large bears all the sway,  
And doth Domitius prisoner take.  
Pompey doth his oration make.  
His son he sends for more supplies,  
Himself then at Brundisium lies,  
And there besieged, thence hardly flies.  
NOw have the Gods revealed their ire,  
The heavenly signs with wars conspire,  
And Nature likewise (with foresight)  
Her laws and bonds perverteth quite  
With monstrous tumults and garboil,  
Which wretchedly doth humans toil.  
Great guider of olympus hill,  
Why hath it pleased thy sacred will,  
That careful mortals take such count  
Of what their skill can not surmount,  
As that they should presaging know  
Those wracks they needs must undergo?  
Whether the All-Creator high  
(When first he 'gan to rectify  
This formless mass of Chaos rude,  
And did the fire a part seclude) 
Whether there be destiny or chance in worldly courses.   
With an eternal fixed decree  
Ordained that all should certain be;  
And to that law himself confined,  
Wherewith all ages he did bind:  
And framed the world that course to run,  
That Fates unchanging hests had spun?  
Or else of human haps the heft  
Were un-fore-doomed at random left?  
So that in life's uncertain dance,  
Things to and fro should slide and glance,  
And all subjecteth unto chance?  
But howsoever 'tis ordained,  
O let man's mind be so restrained  
From knowing chances future scope  
As that his fears may live in hope! 
An Imprecation against foreknowledge.   
¶ When all at length had full conceived,  
In what sort higher powers bequeathed  
The City to resistless harms;  
Then laws and justice silence charms;  
And reverent Honour lacked his meed,  
Attired in base Plebeian weed.  
No Axes now (in bundles bore)  
Makes way the Magistrates before.  
Amazement so doth grief forestall,  
That Sorrow hath no voice at all.  
Such stupid silence doth invest  
Whole families (with grief possessed)  
Where husbands lie, in gasping strife,  
Before they do resign their life.  
The goodwife wrapped in sorrows bands,  
With flaring locks wring her hands,  
Amidst her woeful household stands:  
Until the living breath be fled  
From out the corpses (that stretched out dead)  
Doth in the pale disfigured face  
And closed eyen Deaths portrait place,  
Sorrow doth not at full complain;  
But than begins her howling vain.  
Whose mazement now with rage surprised,  
Doth change her robes to weeds disguised:  
And (with her woeful sad consorts)  
Unto the Temples than resorts.  
So did our women (in their fears)  
Sprinkle the Temple-gods with tears.  

The Roman Matrons frequent the Temples with an extraordinary devotion.  Beating their breasts against the stones,  
power out their plaints and ruthful moans.  
And (stupefied twixt grief and dread)  
Did rend their hairs from off their head,  
And sacred porches therewith spread.  
And such as wont in humble wise  
To pray and cast to heaven their eyes,  
With outrage now the Gods would bend,  

Not to use presumption in praying.  Whose ears with clamours they offend,  
Neither to jupiter alone,  
Do they expose their vows and moan:  
But to all Temples else beside,  
Where any of their Gods resides:  
The which are filled, and all too scant,  
No Altar doth devotion want.  
So do the Matrons (with outcries)  
Invoke the Gods, and tear the skies.  
And one of them amongst the rest  
(With blubbered cheeks beating her breast)  
Her braided locks in pieces cuts,  
And then her arms she spreads and shuts,  
Whilst with these plaints her voice she gluts  

The speech of a Roman Matron.  ¶ O wretched Mothers now, she said,  
To beat your breasts be not afraid,  
Nor yet your tressed locks to tear.  
Langor no longer now forbear.  
Like haps did never us assail,  
For which we had such cause to wail:  
Whilst that the fortunes are untried  
Of these two Chieftains swelling pride.  
But were once one of them subdued,  
Then should our comforts be renewed:  
And so their plaints they aggravate  
That sorrows self grew passionate.  
¶ Their men likewise resolved for war,  
Now clustered into camps a far,  
Against the wrathful Gods on high,  
In this sort do exclaiming cry.  
O hapless Captive-youths forlorn!  
Why were we not in those days borne,  
When Punic wars did us engage, 
The complaints of the Romans leaving the City, and following the wars.   
With Canna's and Trebeia's rage?  
Ye heavens we do not peace desire;  
But on us turn some foreign ire:  
Let all the world our bane conspire;  
Stir Cities up with sword and fire.  
Let Parths and Persians bend their arms,  
Let Scythians ramp on us in swarms:  
And (from the Northern extreme parts)  
Let red-haird Sweaths power showers of darts  
And with them all that people bred  
About the raging Rhenus' head:  
Yea make us to all Nations foes,  
So you divert our Civil blows.  
Then let the wrathful Danes and Geteses, 
All wars more pleasing to the Romans then civil strife.   
Assail us in their hostile heats.  
Let the Iberians make descent,  
With ensigns and with weapons bend:  
Unto the Archers of the East  
Let Rome from no strife be released.  
Nay if high powers decree the same,  
To raze out the Hesperian name;  
From heaven, to earth let flames descend;  
That so the Latium race may end.  
And then O direful Fates withal  

The Romans lay a curse on Caesar & Pompey both.  Grant that some hateful wrack befall  
Both Factions, and the leaders both;  
For yet they have not showed their wrath▪  
Why should they such dominion seek,  
As never yet was heard the like?  
That all men's thoughts it must dismay,  
Whether of them the world should sway?  
Not both their worth can counterpoise  
The civil strife that so they raise.  
¶ Thus Piety's declining state  
Her lamentations did relate,  
And parents woefully beside,  
Like pressing care and cumbers grides.  
In whose repining words appears,  
The wretched fate of their old years:  
To be preserved in life's disdain,  
To see a civil war again.  
And one of them thus wailed with tears,  
Th' example of great former fears.  

The complaint of an old Citizen, declaring the bloody times of Marius and Sylla.  ¶ No otherwise (quoth he) did fate  
Stir up commotion in our state;  
When Marius after victory  
Obtained against the Teuton fry,  
And after he in Triumphs Car  
Had rid; for the Numidian war.  
A banished man he hid his head  
In dikes, where flaggie rushes bred.  
So did the greedy marish fens,  
And quagmire bogs shut in their dens,  
(O Fortune) they reserved a ward;  
But yet anon he was not spared  
From fettering gives, nor loathsome jail,  
Which long the old man's life did bail.  
But blest had been if he had died,  
When Consul he the State did guide;  
Before he felt the scourging doom  
For his mischievous deeds at Rome.  
But Death itself did from him fly,  
When 'twas decreed that he should die.  
And that the foe was ready priest  
To rid the life out of his breast.  
When he should give the fatal wound,  
Numbness his senses so confound,  
And mortified his arm withal,  
That from his hand the sword did fall:  
Wherewith the darksome prison shone  
Like Phoebus' beams at height of noon:  
He heard withal a fearful spell,  
As from the ghastly sprights of hell,  
That Marius power must come again,  
Lawful 'tis not thy steel to bane  
Within his blood; therefore refrain:  
For he shall many doom to death,  
Ere he yield up his latest breath.  
Let thy vain rage his sword up-sheath.  
But if the Cymbrian youth desires  
Auengement, for their slaughtered sires;  
Let them wish him a longer race,  
Who was not (by the heavens high grace)  
Preserved for good; but, by their wrath,  
Designed to work Rome's greater scathe;  
A murderous man (and if Fates will)  
Able much Roman blood to spill. 
Marius a bloody man.   
This wretched wight the raging wave  
Into a hostile Country drove.  
Where fain he was for his relief  
(Skulking in corners like a Thief)  
To lodge in dens where none did won  
Of jugurth's Country overrun.  
And sometimes in the ruins lay  
Of Punic walls, the Romans pray.  
Where Carthage fate and his did meet,  
Each others misery to greet.  
But soon again his fortune changed,  
And then unto his party ranged  
The raging scum of Lybick land:  
Where he did all the jails dis-band,  
And of the Fetters and the gives,  
His Martial weapons he contrives.  
But none he gave a captains charge,  
Unless he could make known at large,  
That he had done some heinous deed,  
And at his Camp so sought his meed.  
O cruel Fates, what day was that,  
What day that dismal chance begat?  
That Marius should, with his return,  
Victor again, make Rome to mourn?  
How proudly then did cruel death  
Both Lords and Commons reave of breath?  

Bloody Fury.  How did the sword about him lay?  
No breast was free from Murders way.  
The Temples human blood did store,  
Their pavements stained with the gore.  
No sex nor age protection gave:  
On hoary heads the sword did rave,  
And sent them headlong to their grave.  
Nither did they a whit forbear  
The silly babes, that newly were  
But borne, and brought to this world's light:  
Their living day held not to night.  
O what could colour their pretents,  
Against poor harmless innocents?  
But it suffisd their tyranny  
That they still found out some to die.  
So raves this force in cruelty:  
And he was deemed a coward slack,  
That none but faulty men would wrack.  
Thus numbers died day by day:  
For now they would not spare to slay  
The strangers, whom they did not know:  
But cut their heads their bodies fro.  

More cruelties.  They shamed to come their Lord before  
With empty hands, not filled with gore.  
One saveguard yet for life remains  
To those, that such a grace obtains,  
As on their knees with vows submiss,  
Fell Marius bloody hand to kiss.  
O people grown degenerate,  
From glory of your wont state!  
A thousand swords threatening new kinds  
Of deaths, should not debase your minds.  
By such means to prolong your days,  
As doth so foul dishonour raise.  
And yet you did but life adiurne,  
Until that Sylla do return.  
Few live this common bane to mourn.  
Scarcely shall any one remain,  
That saw when thou O Bebius slain,  
were't into mangled morsels cut, 
Noble Romans slaughtered.   
Their bloody thirsting blades to glut.  
Or yet, O Antony, to tell  
Of thee, that didst presage too well  
These fatal harms, how thy grave head  
(with milk-white locks all overspread)  
Was from the murdered body tore,  
And (by a furious soldier bore  
Dropping and smoking all in gore)  
Was on the Table set, in jest,  
Where Marius kept his solemn feast.  
Nor how the Crassies corpses in scorn,  
By Timbria were hacked and torn.  
And how the awful Rostrums' beak,  
Soiled with Tribunes blood did reak.  
And Scoevola thy age doth plain,  
To be so murdered in disdain,  
Where Vesta's sacred Temple stands,  
By their life-violating hands. 
Murder in Vesta's Temple.   
Those fires that always burn so clear  
With thy blood somewhat tainted were:  
Yet thy old veins could yield small store,  
But spared those flames from quenching gore.  
The seventh time now is come in date,  
That Marius takes his Consul's state.  
Such was the manner of his life,  
No man with Fortune had more strife,  
And none her favours found more rife. 
Marius' change of fortunes.   
Who better than his course should range,  
Then he that oft had tried such change?  
How many other bodies slain  
The streets of Sacroportum bane?  
What heaps of carcases all hewed,  
Before Collina gates were strewed?  
And now at last the whole world's head  
(She whose high power all Nations dread)  
Must be deprived of supreme grace,  
And changed unto another place.  
And Samnium now the world must know,  
Shall give to Rome a greater blow;  
Then when her Army forced was  
Under the Caudium forks to pass.  
¶ Revenging Sylla now comes in,  
And monstrous slaughters do begin:  

Sylla's raging time of cruelty.  For that small store which did remain,  
Of blood, he searcheth every vain.  
And whilst he doth in show pretend  
Corrupted humours to amend,  
The medicines rage did more offend.  
His hand to deep doth search the wound,  
Cutting of those were faultless found,  
And only those were left to live,  
That to his mischief help would give.  
Then spleen did lawless leave obtain,  
That headstrong wrath on law should reign.  
Which power was not to one designed,  
But unto every murderous mind.  
So will did all things loose and bind.  

The liberty that was given to outrage.  Servants and slaves (with baleful blades)  
Their masters bowels now invades:  
Children likewise their hands did stain  
With blood of their own parents slain:  
And strive some meed for it to gain.  
So did the brothers in likewise,  
Of blood fraternal make their prize.  
Unto the Tombs some frighted fled,  
The quick were mingled with the dead.  

The sundry means that men make to die, so to avoid the disdain of Sulla's insolences.  None safeguard seek in savage coats:  
Some hang themselves: some cut their throats  
Others again (short work to make)  
Their necks and limbs in pieces broke,  
By falling to the ground from high,  
Scorning by murderous hands to die.  
Others again do now desire  
To make a pile for funeral fire,  
Wounding themselves to that intent,  
And ere their lifeblood was out-spent,  
Into the flames their bodies cast,  
And laid them there whilst strength did last.  
The heads of Peers were borne the while  
About the trembling streets on piles,  
And in the Forum there lie thrown.  
No villainy is left unknown,  
All horrid acts are boasting blown.  
The Thracian tyrant Dyomede  
Never saw blood more rifely shed,  
Floating in his Bistonian stalls,  
Nor carcases about the walls  
Of huge Antaeus' Lybicke cave:  
Nor Greece to more laments it drove,  
To see the heads of worthy men  
Dight the Picean bloody den.  
Now though the heaps of gored clots.  
And tract of time disfiguring blots  
The knowledge of the faces slain;  
Sad parents yet would not refrain,  
By stealth to get (if they could pry)  
Their children's limbs where they did lie.  
And I myself can call to mind, 
An old man's report of Sulla's time.   
That then I much desired to find  
Mine own dear brother's mangled head,  
That there lay slaughtered 'mongst the dead.  
Whereby to give it funeral,  
And fires (although denied to all)  
When as I saw the rage decrease  
Of Sylla's sword, reputed peace;  
Then heaps of Trunks abroad I spread,  
To see which fitted with his head.  
¶ What should I here at large relate,  
How Catulus ghost was expiate,  
When Marius (hacked and tortured)  
For sacrifice was offered  
To his unsatiable Tomb,  
By an unheardof cruel doom.  

A Marian cruelly tortured by Sylla's Executioners.  Whereas perhaps the wrathlesse sprite  
Did not affect that horrid sight;  
Which we beheld when his crushed bones  
With joint from joint was wracked at once.  
When he as many wounds did bear  
As members in his body were.  
And yet no mortal stroke of sword  
Would him desired end afford.  
Which manner of a cruel death  
Too long deferred his latest breath.  
His hands hewed off, fell from the stumps,  
His tongue out-torn, than trembling jumps.  
Unable to express a voice,  
His weasand pipe roars out a noise.  
One pares his ears from off his head,  
Another doth his nostrils shred:  
Whilst he the while (poor tortured soul)  
On these rend parts his eyes did roll.  
And then (to glut their tyrannies)  
From out his head they plucked his eyes.  
Hardly may credit us assure,  
That life could so much pain endure.  
So (with the fall of ruins heft)  
Are bones and members crushed and cleft:  
And so deformed in tempests drowned  
Upon the rocks are bodies found.  
What fruit or pleasure could they take  
This woeful spectacle to make  
Of Marius' ugly mangled face?  
Forsooth they knew they should gain grace  
To show it Sylla in that case.  
¶ Now comes in Praenestina's turn,  
For her inhabitants to mourn:  
Whom she beheld (all at a trice)  
To pay the bloody sword like price.  
Then quailed were th' Hesperian flowers,  
And Latium youths now death devours:  
Then loathsome stream from bodies slain,  
The pleasant fields of Rome distain,  
Where gallants in their own blood bane.  
Not Famines rage, nor wracks of seas,  
Not Earthquakes dreads, 
Rome did never by any means suffer so great desolation as by Marius and Sylla.  nor Plagues t'apease  
The heavens wrath; nor bloody Wars,  
Ever gave us such deadly scars.  
For now the heaps of bodies dead  
The murderer's sway so pestered,  
That they lacked room to fetch the blow,  
When they would hewing wounds bestow.  
And when that any one was slain,  
He could not fall flat on the plain:  
The dead did reeling them sustain.  
But slaughters came at last so thick,  
That bodies dead stifle the quick.  
Nothing at all these horrid facts,  
Sylla's unmated mind distracts; 
Sylla beholds the slaughters without any remorse.   
But from his Turret's top doth eye  
(Without remorse) those swarms that die  
And careless hears their clamorous cry.  
The Tyrrhen gulf at last receives  
Millions (whom death to it bequeaves)  
Of Syllane slaughters, whose torn limbs,  
At first upon the Tiber swims:  
But at the last 'twas heaped so high,  
That bodies did on body's lie:  
So as the boats were stopped their course,  
And Tiber's streams were bard their source.  
For heaps of limbs that thither flock,  
Damned up the river like a lock.  
But that part next unto the seas,  
Had liberty to take his vease.  
And that which was the heaps behind,  
The clustered carcases did bind. 
Tiber stopped of his course with the infinite number of slain bodies.   
Nathlesse the torrents of the blood  
Did force a way, and with his flood,  
Above the Tiber strand did rise,  
And over all the fields it flies.  
So as the streams of blood gave vent  
Unto the River, that was penned.  
The banks could not this flood withstand,  
Which cast the bodies on the land.  
And thence into the Tyrrhene main,  
The blood did fall with such a train,  
That her blue waves it did divide  
Into a sanguine colour died.  
Were these the means to mend amiss?  
Was Sylla, Foelix named for this?  

A speech of scorn against Sylla.  Is this the merit he doth yield,  
To have his Tomb in Martius field?  
¶ These mischiefs must be borne again,  
This war will follow that same vain  
Of civil strife; I fear this curse  
To fall at last from bad to worse.  
For where two armed factions meets,  
Mankind with common bane it greets.  
The Marian rage did only tend  
His exiled state but to amend:  
So Rome receives him as a friend.  
And Sylla did no more desire,  
But to revenge his quenchless ire  
With bloody ruin of all those  
That were of party with his foes.  
But Fortune calls these Captains twain  

The fear and doubt that this civil war will bring a worse event than the factions of Marius and Sylla.  (I doubt me) to a higher strain.  
These both in Arms are stout and strong,  
And will together rush ere long.  
The others raised no civil strife,  
And Sylla took a private life.  
So did this grave old fire lament  
His mindful woes of time forespent,  
Fearing this civil wars event.  
¶ And yet no fear a place could find  
In noble Brutus valiant mind,  
This staggering dread that mazed all,  

Brutus' constancy and courage.  His constant heart could not appall.  
But ere the dawning of the day,  
When Parrhasis did downward sway  
The oblique Axels of her wain,  
And did the drowsy skies refrain.  
Unto the little lodge he hies,  
Where Cato his dear Uncle lies;  
And at his wicket loud he rapt,  
Whom he found not in slumbers wrapped:  
But tossing (in his careful mood)  
The fortunes of the common good,  
And safety of the City's state,  
Which he more weighed than his own fate:  
Then thus with him he did debate.  
¶ O matchless Truth, and undefiled, 
Brutus' speech to Cato.   
Which all the world hath now exiled!  
O Virtue, whilom in request,  
Now only lodged in thy just breast.  
Which no world's fortunes thence can wrest  
Afford thy grave advice to me,  
Settle my thoughts that wavering be;  
And (with thy judgement sound and stout)  
Direct me now that am in doubt.  
Some now on Caesar's side will war:  
Others of Pompey's party are;  
But reverend Cato, or else none,  
Shall Brutus' Captain be alone.  
And whether thou resolved art  
(In these frail times) to stay from Mart,  
Or that thy mind be not dismayed,  
One of these self-willed guides to aid:  
And that thou deem this civil strife,  
worthy the waging of thy life?  
I do not know; but others all  
Respects to wicked Arms do call.  
Some for their filled houses cause:  
Some that in peace fear justice laws:  
Others their starved estate to mend,  
To spoils and civil rapine tend:  
And many bankrupts (drowned in debts)  
In troubled streams would cast their nets.  
None take up Arms with good intent,  
But all for hope of profit bend.  
Only thyself no humour draws  
To wars, but for thy Country's cause.  
What can it now tend to thy praise  
To have uprightly spent thy days?  
So fraught with virtue, free from crimes,  
In these our vice-corrupted times?  
If thou at last this censure have,  
Thy honest mind so to deprave?  
That others were corrupt before  
(In these vile wars) thy arms had boar.  
But now thyself, this strife accursed  
Hath made as faulty as the worst.  
But I beseech the Gods above,  
That from thy heart they so remove  
The humour of this mood unmild,  
That with it thou be not defil'de:  
And that thy arms thou do not strain  
To cast the Pile, with might and main,  
In clouds amongst the common rout;  
And so great valour spend in doubt.  
For in these wars if any err,  
The blame on thee they will confer:  
And those whom others bring to bane,  
Thy sword therewith they will profane,  
And make thee author of all harms,  
That in this civil discord swarms.  
Peace better with thy temper sorts,  
Exempt from envies false reports.  
Like as the heavenly bodies sway  
With true and mild unchanging way,  
The air (that to the earth is next)  
With thunder's rage is most perplexed:  
Whilst winds earth plants doth overcast,  
And lightning flashes do them blast:  
Olympus 'bove the clouds stands fast.  
It is ordained by Ioues high hest,  
That discord should small things infest:  
But concord highest states hath blest.  
How would it Caesar's ears content,  
That such a Peer, as thou, wert bend  
To yield thyself unto the wars,  
And be partaker of these jars?  
For if thou Pompey's part do take,  
He would thereof advantage make,  
And please himself withal to think,  
Cato at Civil wars doth wink.  
The Senate for the greatest part,  
And Consuls likewise range their Mart,  
Now underneath a private head,  
And many other Lords so lead;  
To whom add Cato to the rest,  
A Soldier under Pompey's hest,  
So Caesar's power shall be increased.  
For than will he sway all alone,  
That in his Camp compear hath none.  
But if our Arms we needs must take,  
For laws defence, and Country's sake,  
Brutus to neither part will go,  
As Pompey's friend, or Caesar's foe:  
But which of them shall victor stand,  
Him Brutus means to take in hand.  
So ends his speech; To whom again  
Cato replies, with sober vain;  
And from the secrets of his breast,  
Like Oracles these words expressed.  
¶ O Brutus, needs we must confess,  
Most heinously they do transgress, 
Cato's answer to Brutus.   
That wilfully raise civil war,  
Which thought be ever from us far.  
But whither fates do men constrain,  
Thither may Virtue safely train.  
Let heaven, for me, bear all the blame,  
If I amiss my course do frame.  
For who can view (with dreadless eye)  
The falling of the starry sky?  
Or else contain his helping hands,  
If he in doubt and danger stands  
To be o'erwhelmed with the fall  
Of earth's gross weight, and this vast all?  
Or that the air on flaming fire,  
Our present ruin did conspire?  
Shall unknown Nations parties take  
With factions that the Romans make?  
Shall Kings, from climes remote so far,  
Assisting be unto our war?  
And shall I hold an idle place?  
far from me be a mind so base!  
These bloody broils like to ensue,  
Might move the Dakes and Geteses to view  
Our hard mishaps; and yet shall I  
Careless let Rome her fortune try?  
Or rather as the parent shows  
His tender love, that mourning goes  
(Accompanied with many friends)  
His child's sad funerals intends;  
When Nature doth his heart enforce  
Unto the grave to guide the corpse;  
And then with sorrow takes in hand  
To fire the stack with blazing brand.  
No: otherwise can I remove  
From thee (O Rome) my loyal love,  
Whilst that my limbs with life do move,  
And liberty thy name embrace,  
Or thy vain shadow in thy place.  
But let the world go how it will,  
And let the wrathful Gods up fill  
The full amends for Rome's offence,  
In this War with our bloods expense;  
No drop thereof will we defraud,  
But if my wish ye would applaud,  
O powers of heaven and hell, vouchsafe  
To cast the burden of this scathe  
Alone upon my wretched head.  
No hostile harms the Deccis fled,  
To free their Country hard bestead.  
Let both the Armies me enclose,  
Let all the barbarous ruthless foes  
Of Rhine, on me bestow their blows.  
Yea let my body bear the scars  
Of all the wounds given in these wars.  
My limbs thereto I would bequeave,  
And willingly them all receive.  
And happy would my death esteem  
The people's wrack so to redeem.  
Could sacrifice of my blood spilled,  
Propitiate the Roman guilt?  
Why do the people fond throng  
To Tyrants, that our State would wrong,  
And willingly the thraldom trust  
Of kingly reigns, proud and unjust?  
O let me witting only feel  
The fury of the murdering steel!  
Let me that still have been afraid  
To violate what justice said,  
And thus in vain have laws obeyed.  
O let this throat be carved in twain,  
If peace by it we may obtain,  
And give an end unto those broils  
Which now th' Hesperian nation toils!  
For if with me these wars had end,  
No man would Monarchy intend.  
But as it is wars we must make,  
And Pompey for our leader take.  
And all our force and courage bend,  
The public standard to defend.  
For I assuredly do know  
If Pompey give the overthrow;  
He is of mind too just and meek  
Supreme command alone to seek,  
But doth such tyranny dislike.  
To make him victor I'll be one:  
He shall not claim the bay alone.  
Thus Cato spoke; whose feeling words  
(Like pricking neelds, or points of swords)  
Stirred up stout Brutus martial ire,  
And his young blood doth set on fire,  
Too much on Civil wars desire.  
¶ By this time Phoebus shining bright,  
With beams had chaste the chilly night. 
Martia, Cato's old wife returns to his house again.   
When all the house did ringing sound  
With blows, that from the gate rebound,  
Given by modest Martia's hand,  
Who mournfully without did stand,  
But newly thither come withal  
From her Hortensius' funeral.  
That whilom (in her virgin's state)  
Was spoused to a better mate.  
And now again she was enlarged  
From nuptial bonds, and vows discharged.  
Which for a time she did fulfil,  
So to obey her Cato's will.  
And fruitfully her children boar,  
Wherewith two houses she did store.  
And then with child she was conceived,  
When first Hortensius her received.  
But after she (with funeral fire,)  
Had paid his bones their latest hire:  
And ashes in the Vrna placed,  
With mournful cheer, and look defaced,  
Her hairs about her shoulders spread,  
Sprinkled with cinders of the dead,  
Beating her breast with mournful cry,  
No presence to delight the eye.  
Thus she her heavy tale began.  

Martias speech to Cato.  began Whilst youth's pure blood through my veins ran,  
And I (replete with fruitful seed)  
Obeyed the hest by thee decreed,  
Yielding myself to husbands twain,  
Posterity to both did gain.  
But now with pains maternal worn,  
And weak with many children borne,  
With thee I seek my days to spend,  
Fit else for none to wedlocks end.  
Restore me to thy love again,  
That never did thy bed distain,  
And (to content my wretched life)  
Afford me but the name of Wife.  
That my sad Tomb this style may bear,  
Cato's true Martia resteth here.  
So that the wrong of future time,  
Slander me not with blameless crime,  
And deem I had defiled thy bed:  
Because I did Hortensius wed.  
When well thou know'st, in thy just mind,  
I was thereto by thee designed:  
Yet seek I not to be thy mate,  
Thereby to live in better state,  
Or to enjoy a life of ease:  
To share thy cares me best will please.  
Part in thy travels I desire,  
To camp with thee shall be my hire:  
Should I in peace and safety shroud,  
Whilst that Cornelia so hath vowed  
To follow Pompey's civil war?  
Do not my love such grace debar.  
¶ These faithful words so won the man,  
That though the time unfit were than,  
Whilst strife and tumults were in date, 
Martia again married to Cato.   
To enter into wedlocks state:  
Yet they agreed, the knot was tied;  
But solemn pomp was laid aside.  
The Matrimonial bond alone  
Suffisd to make the nuptials known:  
All Ceremonies they forbear;  
Only the Gods their witness wear.  
The Porch with Garlands was not dight, 
What Ceremonies Cato would have at his wedding.   
The Pillars want silke-ribbone white,  
No Tapers lent a flaming light:  
No stately steps of Ivory  
Joined to the bed where they should lie:  
The Curtains and the Coverlets  
No gold embroidery besets:  
No matron there, with crown of state,  
To guard the bride till it were late,  
From companing her spoused mate:  
No vail of lawn did hide or grace; 
Martias attire.   
Her modest looks, and bashful face:  
Her mantle that did loosely fly,  
No fair embossed belt did tie:  
Rich Carcanets her neck had none,  
Set out with pearl, and precious stone:  
But from her shoulders there did trail  
Down to her waste a simple vail;  
These doleful weeds her state did wail.  
But as she did her children bear  
In sorrow, and in doubtful fear,  
Such now her spousal pleasures were.  
And over all her purple gown,  
A mourning mantle trailed down:  
No melody, nor musics voice  
Did with these nuptials rejoice:  
Nor suiting with the Sabines trade:  
No solemn feasts at all were made:  
Her Stoic husband them forbade.  
No children then the house did grace,  
No kinsfolks flocked unto the place:  
The match they made up secretly,  
Suffisd with Brutus company.  
The Bride groom had long time deferred  

The description of Cato and his manner of life.  To cut or shave his wild grown beard:  
It overspread his reverend face,  
In his sad looks no mirth took place.  
For when he first did understand,  
That Faction furiously did band;  
Unshorn he left his hairy head,  
Unkembed his rugged brow to spread.  
And in like sort about his face,  
His shaggy beard did dangling trace.  
He thought it fit that some just mind,  
(Unto no partial mood inclined)  
Should wail this rage in human kind▪  
His recreation was not fed  
With comfort of a nuptial bed:  
loves vigour now in him lay dead.  
And (with the common care forespent)  
From troubled thoughts could not relent:  
This course strict Cato doth content.  
The modest mean he still intends,  
And of his actions casts the ends.  
With Nature's laws he holds no strife,  
And to his Country vows his life.  
He doth not think that he was borne  
His own state only to adorn:  
But that he is in duty tied,  
And zeal, to all the world beside.  
His dainties were but hungers stay:  
Large Palaces he did not way:  
But that sound structure that did hold  
Out Summers' heat, and Winter's cold.  
And never in the pomp exceeds  
Of garments, or of costly weeds:  
But as the custom old did bear,  
When Roman Quirites used to wear  
Gowns, made of woven shaggy hear.  
He lent no lust to Venery,  
But to maintain posterity.  
He Father was, and Husband sworn  
Unto his City, now forlorn.  
justice most strictly he observes,  
From honest faith he never swerves.  
Voluptuous life he did detest,  
It could not breed in Cato's breast.  
¶ Now Pompey, 
Pompey having forsaken Rome, comes to Capua.  and his gathered Troops  
Of Soldiers, that with terror droops,  
To Capua's walls themselves betake,  
And there their rendezvous do make.  
A Town built by the Trojan race,  
Where they a Colony did place.  
This for a seat of war he chose,  
And in the Country round bestows  
His bands, and Cohorts to withstand  
The force of Caesar, now at hand.  
¶ Here are those hills of Apennine,  
That in the midst run like a line  
Alongst the whole Italian land,  
Where these umbragious mountains stand, 
The mounts Apenius.   
Towering their lofty tops a high;  
None to Olympus comes more nigh.  
This track of hills (between two manes)  
Just in the midst his race out-straines.  
The higher and the lower deeps,  
These hills conjoined a sunder keeps.  
On this side doth the Pisan land  
The rage of Tyrrhene seas withstand.  
On th'other side Anconas soil  
Makes the Dalmatian floods recoil.  
These mountains in their bowels breeds  
Many springs heads, that Rivers feeds:  
Which diversly their streams convert  
Into both seas on either part.  
Metaurus swift, on the left side  

Names of sundry rivers that flow from the Apenius.  And fierce Crustumium thence do glide:  
With Senna, and Isapis waves,  
Isaurus walls that mildly laves:  
Then Aufidus, that takes his vease  
Into the Adriatic seas:  
Eridanus, that roots up woods,  
And sweeps them with his swelling floods,  
And (from the fair Hesperian lands)  
Conveys them to the Ocean's strands;  
This River (as old laws suppose)  
With poplar shades did first enclose,  
And crown his banks with circling rows,  

Phaeton's flames.  When Phaeton (out of the way,  
Leading his blazing Car astray)  
Did set on fire the air and sky,  
The earth did sing, and waters dry;  
Whilst yet this rivers flowing streams  
Held tack against those burning beams:  
And doth maintain as broad a course,  
As Nilus, with his sevenfold source:  
Except when Nilus' over-bounds  
The Lybicke and Egyptian grounds:  
Nor less than Istar; but when as  
He doth through many Nations pass,  
And other streams unto him takes,  
That to the seas their progress makes:  
Whereby alone he doth not pay  
His tribute to the Scythian bay,  
Now from this mountains steep right side  
First doth the River Tiber glide:  
And high-bankt Rutuba withal:  
Vulturnus likewise with swift fall:  
And Sarnus, from whose muddy lists  
The air about is stuffed with mists:  
And Lyris that the province trades  
Of sweet Maurica, clad with shades,  
Whose back Vestinus water jades:  
And Syler, that through Salerne floats:  
With Macra, that will bear no boats,  
But doth dis-boage into those deeps,  
That by the City Luna sweeps.  
These mountains (as they longer stretch)  
Their tops withal do higher reach  
Towards the confines of fair France,  
And on the Alps their prospect glance,  
The Vmbrians and the Marsians soil,  
Where the Sabellian ploughs do toil.  
So do these Pine-treed hills embrace  
The coasts of latium's ancient race;  
And never leaves th' Hesperian ground,  
Till Sycils seas their limits bound.  
Yet long ago did further wend,  
And to Lacinia's Temple tend;  
Until such time as her confines  
(By seas encroach) their length declines.  
For Italy to Sycill joined,  
Before the double seas purloined  
The land away, and cut the shore,  
That erst was fixed unto Pelore.  
¶ Caesar in Arms with furies sway,  
Not without blood will shape his way. 
Caesar's humour and expedition.   
Hesperians he accounts his foes,  
And would not gain them without blows,  
Lest in that kind he being slack,  
Might leave a war behind his back.  
Those gates more please him that withstand,  
Then those set open to his hand.  
Best sorting are to his desire  
Those Countries won with sword and fire,  
Then such as would his peace acquire.  
He scorns to march through beaten ways,  
Or to deserve a Patriots praise.  

At the first beginning of the war the Cities of Italy stood wavering to which side to incline  The Latin Cities yet repine,  
And doubt which way they should incline:  
For though at first they stood at gaze,  
When as the war began to blaze;  
Yet now their walls they fortify  
With Ramparts, and with Bulwarks high,  
And cast about them ditches deep;  
Then to the Towers, and Turrets steep,  
Round stones of hugy weight they bring,  
And darts amongst the foes to fling.  

The vulgar do more affect Pompey then Caesar.  The vulgar most to Pompey bends;  
Yet with their love their fear contends.  
Like as when whistling Southern wind  
(Unto tempestuous storms inclined)  
Shooving the seas before his blast,  
The rolling billows follow fast,  
Although that Aeols changing hand  
From his vast cave do them dis-band;  
And Eastern gale, that checks the main,  
Whose puffs the very Rack doth strain:  
The sea his first voage yet doth trace,  
And still the Southern wind embrace.  
So dread these men in doubt did hold,  
Their faith so fortune bought and sold.  

Libo flies from his charge.  And Libo first (with base dismay)  
Hytruria naked left a prey.  


Pompey's great Commanders fly from their garrisons before they saw the enemy.  
Sylla flies from his charge. Varus flies from Auximium.   Thermus (with his example led)  
Left Vmbria guardlesse, and thence fled.  
So Sylla (with opprobrious shame,  
Forgetful of his Father's fame)  
Trembled to hear but Caesar's name.  
Varus likewise himself enlarged,  
And all the garrison discharged,  
That in Auximium he had placed,  
Ere any foe the walls had faced;  
Out at postern gate he rides,  
And in the woods and mountains hides.  

Lentulus' forsook Aesculea his garrison.  Aesculea, Lentulus forsook,  
And unto flight himself betook.  
But him the Victor did pursue,  
Making them turn again that slew;  
And of so many armed bands,  
Only the leader scap't his hands:  
No Ensigns 'mongst those Cohorts stands.  
And Scypio thou too soon didst leave 
Scipio forsook Nuceria, that was man'd with a brave garrison of Roman Veterans.   
Nuceria, that their state bequeave  
Unto thy trust, which so did fail,  
Ere any force did them assail;  
When as that warlike Town was man'd  
With many a gallant trained band  
Of valiant youths, from Caesar's arms,  
Called to relieve the Parthian harms.  
But first employed on Pompey's cost,  
To venge the blood in Gallia lost.  
And now himself doth wars intend,  
For these stout troops again did send,  
To be his fathers-in-law sure guards:  
This use of Roman blood awards.  
But thou Corfinium, strong-fenced hold,  
Commanded by Domitius bold,  
That with huge walls environed art,  
With Flanks and Ramparts, fit for Mart;  
Thy garrison were those new bands,  
That Milo took from justice hands.  
Now from the walls (with watchful eyes)  
Domitius first near hand espies  
Great clouds of dust aloft to rise.  
And with the glittering sunshine beams,  
Fair armed Troops cast flaming streams.  
¶ soldiers & friends, quoth he, make haste,  
This bridge forthwith must be laid waste, 
Domitius speech to his garrison Soldiers.   
That doth upon this river stand:  
See it be razed out of hand.  
And you huge mountains now let fly  
Your fountain heads, and raise so high  
The flowing Rivers with rough tides,  
That all the boats that thereon glides,  
Upon the shelves may wrack their sides:  
Stay here the limits of this war,  
This Town their proud attempt shall bar:  
And on these banks those ravening bands  
(With hopeless gains) shall make their stands.  
Here first shall Caesar's force desist,  
And victory yield to our fist.  
He said no more, but hastes withal,  
The swaggering troops from off the wall,  
That headlong to the work do fall.  
¶ When Caesar from his Camp perceived  
The rivers passage was bereaved,  
And that the breaking of the bridge,  
His journeys speed would much abridge;  

Caesar's words at the siege of Corfinium.  Enraged with wrath: what now? quoth he,  
Are not strong walls esteemed to be  
Sufficient skulking dens to hide  
These craven Soldiers terrified?  
O cowards will you overflow  
The fields, thereby my march to slow?  
When Ganges with his stickle sway,  
Nor any other flood can stay  
Caesar, from holding on his way;  
Now he the Rubicon hath past,  
Ye troops of horse set forth with haste:  
And bands of foot come follow on,  
This shaken bridge go set upon.  
¶ No sooner he the word did speak,  
But out his forward horsemen break,  
And do the rivers banks assail,  
Like to a stormy drift of hail.  
To th'other side than they let fly  
A shower of darts, that cloud the sky.  
And Caesar's self the passage takes,  
Where none to him resistance makes.  
Then quickly he doth force them all  
To make retreat within the wall.  
And then the Rams for battery  
Unto the work he doth apply.  
With other Engines brought in place,  
That Towers and Bulwarks will deface.  
¶ But see the villainy of war!  
The garrison the gates unbarre, 
Domitius delivered to Caesar by his own men.   
Their Governor they do betray,  
And him a prisoner forth convey,  
Before proud Caesar's feet to lay,  
But yet his state and noble face  
It seemed no terror did embase:  
For oft he stoutly called for death;  
The Victor knew he loathed breath,  
As one that did despair of life.  
But Caesar said; Our grace is rise:  
Live therefore though against thy will; 
Caesar's words to Domitius his prisoner.   
And by our gift (said he) live still.  
Let others (whom I shall subdue)  
In thee a perfect pattern view  
Of Caesar's mercy; and now choose,  
On whose side thou thy Arms wilt use:  
Or if thou wilt retired live,  
Thy choice to thee I freely give.  
But do not think this moves my mind,  
That I thereby like grace would find,  
If thou hereafter conquest gain;  
That base respect I much disdain.  
Thus said; forthwith he gave in charge  
His hands from fetters to enlarge.  
But better much had him betid,  
If he that present hour had died:  
And Fortune more had freed from shame  
The honour of the Roman name.  
He holds it now a grievous scorn  
(With reputation so forlorn)  
To war for his dear Country's sake,  
And therein Pompey's part to take;  
Whom all the Senate's forces aids,  
Whilst hostile pardon him upbraids. 
Domitius his inward troubled thoughts   
These thoughts his heart do still infest,  
And with himself doth thus contest:  
¶ Shall I in Rome go make my nest,  
And (as a man degenerate)  
Shut up myself in peaceful state?  
And not this noble war pursue,  
That wished for death, so lately due?  
Nay rather into hazards run,  
Until thy life's twist be out-spunne,  
And Caesar's gift with glory shun.  
¶ Report did not as yet relate  
This Captains base subdued state  
To Pompey's ears fraught full of cares,  
For his designs that now prepares  
To strength his part with foreign shares,  
And order gives the following day,  
With Trumpets sound to set in ray  
His troops, and then to feel their mind  
How they to battle were inclined.  
To whom, when they did silence make,  
With reverend voice he thus bespoke.  

Pompey's oration to his soldiers.  ¶ Ye venger's just of guilty hands,  
Ye Soldiers of right Roman bands,  
That for defence of justice stands,  
Whom now the Senate's supreme hest  
Doth not with private arms invest;  
Dispose your forward hearts for fight,  
Since now Hesperia (in our sight)  
Doth flame on fire in wretched state,  
And her fair fields depopulate.  
This clew of rage (in Gallia spun)  
Over the yeie Alps is run,  
And Caesar in this raging mood,  
Pollutes his sword with Latium blood.  
The Gods him justly charge with blame,  
As Author of this civil flame.  
And now even now Rome to me calls,  
Whom she her precedent installes)  
To chastise these rebellious brawls.  
Whose arms (with country's blood defiled)  
Cannot as worthy wars by styled:  
To ours that honoured name belongs,  

He compares Caesar to Catiline.  That do revenge our Country's wrongs.  
His war is of no better kind,  
Then that which Catiline designed,  
When Rome he meant to set on fire,  
And had with him that did conspire  
One of the Lentulij his mates,  
Caethegus, bare-armed in debates. 
The house of the Caethegi used always to fight bare Armed.   
O wretched rage that so dost reign  
Within this leaders wilful brain,  
Whom Fates would raise to no less fame,  
Then those of the Camillan name!  
Or those brave Lords Metellij height.  
But thou art of another sprite:  
Yhy humour follows just the strain  
Of Cinna's and of Marius' vain:  
Whose infamies do still remains▪  
Like Lepidus that was suppressed  
By Catull ', or as we distressed  
Proud Carbo, that (by justice hest)  
Our Axes fatal edges tried,  
Whose bones Sycilia soil doth hide.  
Or as Sertorius, 
Sertorius.  justly slain  
For his rebellious course in Spain.  
Although in faith it grieves me much  
So to compare with any such  
Thee Caesar; but that Rome's offence  
Cannot with our revenge dispense.  
But would it had been so ordained  
That Crassus' victory had gained  
Against the Parthes, and from the coast  
Of Scythia, brought again his host;  
Whereby he might thyself subdue,  
As Spartacus he overthrew.  
Or if the all foreseeing eye  
Will that we two our forces try; 
Spartacus a Rebel.   
My arm as well as thine shall show,  
That it the piercing Pile can throw.  
And that my blood, for courage bold,  
Disdains by thee to be controlled.  
And that a heart to peace inclined,  
Is not therefore of coward's kind. 
Pompey's ostentation recounting all his own great deeds.   
For though he term me spent with years▪  
Let not my age put you in fears.  
My Camp experience so shall guide,  
As fits an ancient leader tried.  
Let his be ordered by the sway  
Of a young Captains heady way;  
I have arrived to highest place  
That freemen gain by people's grace:  
And have all honour's palms possessed,  
But Monarchy, which I detest.  
He (whom ambition so doth feed,  

A vainglorious speech.  That Pompey's power he would exceed,  
In swaying of the Roman state)  
Affects more than a private fate.  
The Roman Peers this Camp do grace,  
The Consuls here do hold their place.  
Shall Caesar's pride them all outface?  
O Fortune! can it thus betide,  
That thou so blindly things should guide,  
And shameless tolerate such pride?  
Because that he (in ten years space)  
Had near subdued the Gallicke race,  
Where he so long a time hath warred,  
And oft from Rhein's cold bank been scared,  

Pompey chargeth Caesar to have fled from the Britons.  And laid the fault upon the deeps,  
That with such rage their channel sweeps  
As no ships there safe harbour keeps;  
Thereby his dastard flight to cloak  
From Britons, whom he did provoke.  
But now, since he doth proudly boast,  
That (at the fame of his fierce host)  
The Senate left their homes for dread,  
And from the armed City fled;  
Vain fool, for fear they fled not thee,  

A poor excuse.  But for good will all followed me;  
That have my glittering streamers showed  
Through all the Seas, with pirates strewed,  
And did those Rovers force to seek,  
Their refuge, in a little creak.  
I likewise did, with conquering hand,  
Subdue the Sovereign of that land,  
That Romans force did long withstand:  
And made an end of Pontus' war,  
More blest thereby then Sylla far.  
No part of all the world is free,  
But hath been conquered by me.  
The cold North streams of Phasidos  
My powerful hand and conquest knows,  
With Egypt's parching sands beside,  
And Syen, whom no shadow hides:  
My name is fearful to the west,  
And Spain likewise I have suppressed:  
Where Baetis river last of all,  
Into the Ocean sea doth fall.  
Arabia conquered felt my hands,  
And fierce Aenochians warlike bands.  
Colchos renowned with fleece of gold,  
And Capadocia I controlled.  
The jews, the unknown God that serve,  
And dainty Sophens that preserve  
Themselves so choice; th' Armenians,  
The Taurynes, and Sylicians:  
All these are vanquished by me,  
And nothing from my hands left free: 
Pompey recounts his actions.   
But Civil wars unwieldy heft,  
Which to my father-in-law I left.  
¶ Thus Pompey did his mind make known,  
Whereat no shouts of joy were shown.  
Neither seemed they much to desire 
Pompey's Soldiers but little moved with his great words.   
The Trumpet kindling Martial ire.  
And he himself (dismayed at this)  
The Bands and Ensigns doth dismiss.  
Not trusting to his staggering troops,  
That basely so halfe-conquered droops,  
To hear the sound of Caesar's fame,  
Before that he a near them came: 
Pompey's men amazed at the fame of Caesar.   
And therefore would not hazard fight  
With cohorts in that daunted plight.  
But as a Bull his lease forsakes,  
When he a foil in combat takes,  
Into some grove, and desert wood,  
Doth range and run with furious mood.  
In which mad plight, (with rage replete)▪  
With hoof and horns the shrubs doth beat,  
And to his pasture comes no more,  
Until his strength he do restore.  
And his ruged neck, and furrowed hide  
Please him again with puffed up pride;  
Doth then at last return again,  
And more insult o'er all the plain;  
Leading the heard with him to go,  
Whether the herdsman will or no.  
So Pompey's force (too weak for fight)  
Leaves Italy to Caesar's spite.  
And (like a skulking runaway)  
Doth through Apulia roave and stray,  
Till at Brundisium he arrives,  
The which strong fortress him revives.  

Pompey comes to Brundisium.  ¶ This Town of old was first possessed,  
By a strange Colony distressed,  
That were as banished men outcast.  
From Crect, and through the Ocean vast  
Conveyed by ships of Athens state,  
(As ancient fables do relate)  
When Theseus did black sails advance,  
Breading false fear of his mischance.  
This part of Italy doth show  
An indraught, compassed like a bow,  
In midst whereof a piece of land  
(Formed like a tongue outstretched) doth stand  
Which bow the Adriatic main,  
With horned compass, doth contain.  

Brundisium described.  And yet thereby ships could not find  
A harbour safe from every wind;  
But that an Island of high rocks  
Safe from the storm, this indraught blocks:  
And doth repel the raging waves,  
When so the stormy tempests raves.  
And here and there, on every side,  
Nature doth safely so provide,  
That boats and ships may safely ride,  
But by a little Cable tied.  
And thence they may free passage take;  
If they a voyage mean to make,  
For the Corcyrian Island bound;  
Or else would seek their anchor ground  
On the Ilyrian left-side lands,  
Where Epidamnus City stands.  
Here also oft seafaring men  
Their tempest-driven ships up pen,  
When Adriatic storms arise,  
Or on Ceraunia cloudy skies:  
Or when Calabria's Sason shores,  
With foaming billows swells and roars.  
¶ When Pompey now did plainly find  
Assurance none remained behind  
His back, in Italy's affair,  
Nor that he could himself prepare  
To turn the war another way  
For Spain, where his chief forces lay:  
Because the Alps were just between  
And from that course debarred him clean;  
His son unto him he doth call,  
That eldest was amongst them all:  
And him commands the world to try, 
Pompey his words to his eldest son, whom he sends for aids.   
For aid whereon he might rely.  
Search Euphrates and Nilus shore,  
To whom our fame was spread of yore:  
And all those Nations draw to head,  
Where I have Roman Armies led:  
With all those Pirates vanquished,  
Whom I in Colonies did spread 
A brief Catalogue of the nations that aid Pompey.   
Throughout the large Cylician soil,  
Bid them unto the seas recoil.  
Stir up with all the Pharaoh's King:  
Let my Tygranes his force bring;  
But therewithal have special care,  
Pharnaces do his arms prepare,  
With both Armenians wandering rout,  
And Pontus people warlike stout:  
Together with Ryphaean bands,  
And those that coast alongst the strands  
Of slow Meotis lake, thick frorne,  
Whereon the Scythian Carts are borne.  
But what, my son, needs many words?  
Bid all the East now whet their swords,  
And Cities all where so they stand  
That have been conquered by our hand:  
And to my Camp summon them all,  
That to my Triumphs have been thrall.  

Pompey's words to the Roman Lords at Brundisium.  And you likewise, brave Latium Lords,  
Whose names our holidays records,  
First to Epyrus get you gone;  
Then through the Grecian fields march on:  
In Macedon new force receive,  
Whilst winter's season lends us leave.  
When he had said, they all agreed  
To follow what he had decreed:  
And that there might no time be lost,  
They hoist their sails, and leave the coast.  
¶ But Caesar not enduring peace,  
Nor liking long from Arms to cease,  

Caesar follows Pompey close at the heels.  Lest Fortune should estrange her face,  
Still hotly doth pursue the chase,  
And presseth Pompey at the heels,  
As one that no contentment feels,  
In aught that yet by him is done:  
That hath so many Cities won  
In so short time; and hath distressed  
So many foes, of Forts possessed:  
And finding Rome, the world's chief head,  
So easy to his conquest lead,  
The greatest prize that war could gain:  
Yet Caesar (in his mastering vain)  
With nothing done contents his mind,  
Whilst ought to do remains behind.  

Caesar's humour.  But onward in this war doth trace,  
Though all Italia gives him place:  
And much at Pompey's state repines,  
That he should rest in her confines.  
And no less doth it him displease,  
That he should pass from thence by seas:  
The havens mouth he strives to shut,  
And therein heaps of rocks doth glut. 
Caesar goes about to shut up the Haven of Brundisium to keep in Pompey from flying away.   
But that his labour lost in vain,  
Swallowed by the devouring main.  
And like the sands are spearst abroad,  
Faster than hands can them unload.  
For of those heaps no mark was seen  
More than if Athos mount had been  
O'erthrown, and in the middle cast  
Of the Egaean Ocean vast.  
Or as if G●urus hill so steep  
Were into the devouring deep  
Of foul avernus headlong thrown:  
So this huge work was overflown:  
No sign at all thereof was shown.  
Now therefore he means to assay  
Another course to stop the bay.  
With piles of wood (hereto designed)  
And huge Oak trees with chains combined, 
The like was used by the Spaniards before Antwerp, which they termed a Stockado.   
This harbours mouth must be confined.  
So fame reports that Zerxes tried,  
The raging seas to overstride,  
Framing on Hellespont a way, 
Zerxes.   
Over the which he would convey  
From Asia's side his mighty host,  
Unto Europa's fertile coast.  
And on this floating bridge transport  
Old Abydos to Sestus fort.  
Not fearing to be overcast  
With Eurus, or with Zephirs blast,  
When he through Athos forced a way,  
Safely his Navy to imbay.  
So was this harbours mouth chained fast  
With woods cut down into it cast;  
Whereon they did large Towers advance,  
That on the rolling billows dance.  
When Pompey now at last perceived  
The outlet of the sea bereaved;  
With firm compact foundation wrought  
Whereby the work to pass was brought,  
A world of cares torment his thought,  
How to set free the bay again,  
And sparse these works into the main.  
He therefore now stout ships provides,  
(With hoist sails, and force of tides)  
Against this linked bridge to rush,  
Which with huge Engines they do crush,  

Pompey forceth a way through Caesar's work before the harbour.  So that piece-meal it tears and splits,  
And on the weltering Ocean flits:  
In cliffs and rocks lie linked trees.  
Thus for his ships a passage frees.  
And in the dark (with force of flings)  
Great wildfire balls amongst them flings.  
Then he commands, in still of night,  
That all prepare themselves for flight.  
That Mariners no clamours make;  
When to their ships they them betake:  
Nor that the Trumpets warning give,  
When they their watches do relieve.  
But that the troops do come aboard,  
Not thereto called by Trumpets word.  

It seems Lucan is here mistaken, for that this beginning of the war was in the Spring of the year, as Appian writeth.  The Sun in Libra now doth shine  
On Autumns equinoxial line,  
When (with the dawning of the day)  
They do prepare to pack away,  
And weighed their Anchors with no cries,  
That in the oaf deep buried lies.  
And whilst they hoist their tackled yards,  
The fearful masters silence guards.  
They cut their sails, and cables coil,  

Pompey leaves Brundisium, & flies by sea in the night.  The Sailors without noise do toil.  
Then Pompey Fortune did desire,  
That now he safely might retire  
From Italy; since she designed,  
That he no resting there should find:  
But seemed it did the Fates displease;  
For (with the working of the seas)  
The ships pellmell encumbered were.  
Which did a sudden clamour rear.  
And falling foul (with blustering weather)  
Their beake-heads clattering meet together.  
¶ The enemy the City takes,  
As soon as Pompey it forsakes.  
The Townsmen strait set open the gates.  
So faith doth change when fortune mates.  
The walls they had no sooner won,  
But strait the armed troops do run  
To both ends of this compassed land,  
Which at the harbours mouth doth stand.  
And much were vexed to look thereon,  
How Pompey with his fleet was gone.  
O shame! a little conquest 'tis,  
To see great Pompey flying this.  
He slipped out at a narrow breach,  
And so the Ocean wide did reach: 
A reproach to Pompey.   
This breach by which his ships did pass,  
Through this huge work, no bigger was  
Then the Euboean strait, whereon  
There beats the waves of Calcydon.  
And here two of these ships stuck fast,  
Into the which these Soldiers cast  
Huge grappling hooks, with mighty chains,  
That them unto the shore constrains.  
Here civil blood the sea first stains.  
The whole fleet else free passage find;  
But these chief ships were left behind.  
Even so when jason took in hand,  
First to attempt the Colchos land; 
jason.   
Cyanea's cliff let fall two rocks  
Into the sea, whose boisterous shocks  
One of his lesser vessels hits,  
Whose stern abaft it somewhat splits:  
Yet safely from those rocks she flits  
Into a sheltering creak, and there  
Her wrack forthwith she doth repair.  
¶ By this the breaking of the day  
A differing colour doth display:  
Yet Phoebus (with his glistering head)  
Had not Aurora's cheeks made red,  
Though his approach drew on a pace:  
To which the nearer stars give place.  
The Pleyades no longer shines:  
Boötes to the East inclines:  
The greater stars that shine by night,  
And Lucifer, that lamp of light,  
Hides from the heat of Titan's sight.  
Now Pompey through the seas doth scour,  
But not with like Empiring power,  
As when he did those Pirates foil,  
That all the main did rob and spoil.  
Thy fortunes have their race out run,  
Tired with thy great conquests won.  
So as mishap thee now doth call,  
With thy dear spouse and children all,  
Into a war far off to flee,  
And all thy household Gods with thee.  
And yet (in this exiled fate)  
A noble train supports thy state.  
But oh some foreign shore is sought,  
Whereas thy ruin must be wrought.  
Not that the Gods in wrath desire,  
That thou shouldst want thy funeral fire  
Untombed in thine own native land;  
But with thy death curse Egypt strand:  
And free that heinous wretched deed  
From Latium, that thy worth did breed.  
For her so Fortune doth provide,  
In coasts remote that guilt to hide.  
To keep the Roman land from stain  
Of blood, of her dear Pompey slain.  
Finis Libri secundi.   

LUCAN'S PHARSALIA· The third Book.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
THis doth declare Whilst Pompey flees,  
The vision that he dreaming sees.  
To Sicill isle is Curio sent,  
Caesar to Rome makes his descent.  
The Treasury as spoil he takes,  
Metellus some resistance makes.  
In these wars who takes Pompey's Part.  
Caesar to Spain transfers his Mart,  
And in his passage takes in hand  
Marseilles siege by sea and land.  
Yet onwards still he doth proceed,  
And leaveth Brutus in his steed:  
Who by a battle on the Main  
With conquest doth the City gain.  
WIth friendly gales the sails do fly,  
Whilst through the deeps the ships do ply;  
And all their looks as they do wend,  
Upon jonias' coast they bend. 
Pompey flying by sea, still casts his eyes toward Italy.   
But Pompey's eyes still fixed stand,  
Gazing on the Hesperian land,  
And whilst he views his native shore,  
(Which he is like to see no more)  
The high lands seem as clouds to sight,  
And then at last do vanish quite.  
Now whilst a slumbering sleep did cease  
His wearied sprights, to give them ease;  
In dreams, a vision he descries,  
That from below did ghastly rise.  
The sad aspect of Julia's face,  

Pompey's vision in a dream on the sea, & Julia's speech to him.  Seemed to appear in that same place,  
Whereas her funeral fire was made,  
And said, I come from Stygian shade,  
Where ghosts afflicted haunt and trade,  
Chased from those fair Elysian fields,  
To blessed souls that solace yields.  
Constrained I follow civil war,  
Where I beheld the Furies jar,  
Sparkling abroad their blazing brands  
Amongst thy troops of armed bands.  
And Charon, Ferryman of Hell,  
More skiffs prepares then tongue can tell.  
And This new torments doth devise  
For souls, that posting to him flies.  
And now the Fatal Sisters try,  
With all their speed, their work to ply.  
Yet their three hands can scarce suffice,  
Their webs so fast in sunder flies.  
O Pompey! whilst I was thy wife,  
In Triumphs thou didst lead thy life:  
Thy Fortune since, it seems, it fled,  
Clean changed with thy new nuptial bed,  
Which is ordained (by wrathful Fates)  
To bring her Feres to doleful dates.  
Cornelia, that same strumpet vile,  
That did her spousal bed defile,  
Before the funeral fires were spent,  
Wherein her husband's bones were brent.  
She still thy Ensigns doth accost,  
By land or sea where so thou ghost.  
Whilst, me in memory to keep,  
Thou wilt not break one hours sleep.  
No vacant time there doth remain,  
Your mutual love-sports to restrain.  
But Caesar shall thee chase by day,  
And I by night will thee dismay.  
Lethe from me cannot remove  
The memory of thy dear love.  
The powers infernal licence me  
Throughout the earth to follow thee.  
Amidst the fierce batalions rage,  
I dreadless will myself engage.  
For by my ghost I do protest,  
Within thy power it shall not rest,  
(O Pompey) that style to profane  
Of Son-in-law, which thou hast ta'en.  
Thou seek'st in vain with thy sword's edge  
To cut the knot of that vowed pledge.  
Do what thou canst, these Civil harms  
At last shall cast thee in mine arms.  
Thus having said, the wandering shade  
From the embracements softly fade,  
Of her old spouse, herewith adrade:  
Yet though the Gods his ruin threats,  
And ghosts would move him to regreats,  
The fiercer he to arms doth fly,  
Resolved his fatal chance to try.  
¶ What now (quoth he) shall slumbering sights 
Pompey's words having seen the vision.   
Of visions vain, appall our sprights?  
Either the bodies laid in grave  
Of mortals here, no feeling have:  
Or nothing 'tis when death doth rave.  
By this time Titan dipped his head  
Down into Thetis azur'd bed:  
And only so much light he lends  
Unto the Earth, as Phoebe sends  
From her pale face, with horns new closed,  
Or when her orb hath been composed.  
Now this desired stranger coast,  
Affords him leave to land his host:  
And to that end they did prepare  
Their Anchors, and their Cables you're.  
And as they do approach the shores,  
They strike their sails, and ply their oars.  
¶ When Caesar saw that from the bay  
The winds had borne the fleet away,  

Caesar discontent with Pompey's escape  Which now the seas hid from his sight,  
Although his only power and might  
Commanded all Hesperia soil;  
No glory yet in him did boil,  
So to put Pompey to that foil.  
But did his mind much more displease,  
That so his foes had 'scaped by seas.  
Fortune by no means could content  
The height whereto his mind was bend:  
He ways not so much conquests gain,  
As still in raging wars to reign.  
And yet now seems that he doth mean,  
From care of wars his thoughts to wean:  
And to intend the public peace;  
Hoping by that means to increase  
The people's vain unconstant love,  
And discontentments to remove.  

Caesar affects to win the people's favour.  Which to effect, the grateful'st way  
Was how the common dearth to stay:  
For now the Cities, and the rest  
Famine most grievously oppressed.  
Then Awe, and Love are surest bread,  
When by the rich the poor are fed,  
The starved vulgar nothing dread.  
¶ Curio therefore to this intent,  

Curio sent into Sycilia.  Into Sycilia isle is sent:  
Whereas the seas with furious waves,  
Either the mouldering shores still shaves,  
Or else the cliffs so beats and shakes,  
As in the land great indraughts makes.  
And still their fury so maintain  
As keeps the parted confines twain  
That they can never join again.  
Now rage of war (but new begun)  
Doth over all Sardinia run.  
Both of which islands still abound  
With fertile crops upon the ground; 
Sycilias fruitfulness,   
So as no coast on all that main  
Hesperia serves with so much grain.  
The Roman barns no land so feeds,  
Scarcely the stalks the ears exceeds.  
Not Africa doth afford like store;  
When as the clouds, with Boreas roar,  
Breeds fruitful years, and moists the shore.  
Thus Caesar did, with care provide  
How these defects might be suplyed:  
Then marcheth on (with stately port)  
But not in any warlike sort:  
His countenance seemed to peace designed,  
And so to Rome his course inclined.  
¶ O had he come unto that Town,  
Only adorned with the renown, 
Caesar comes to Rome.   
And Trophies of the Gallicke spoils,  
And glory of his Northern broils,  
How great a train, what worthy shows  
Might he have made of conquered foes?  
Of all his Rhine and Ocean thralls,  
His conquest of the noble Gauls,  
And with them all his captive flocks,  
Of Britons, with their yellow locks.  
O what a triumph did he lief,  
In winning more than all of these!  
¶ The Cities now as he removes,  
Did not (in troops to show their loves)  
Meet him with shouts and friendly cries: 
Caesar not applauded by the Cities, as he passed towards Rome.   
But silent, and with fearful eyes.  
No flocks of people in the fields  
To see him there, applauses yields:  
Yet his contentment stands in this,  
That he to them a terror is.  
For he did ever more approve  
The people's fear, than their vain love.  
¶ Now he the steepy Towers had passed  
Of strong Anxuris, and at last  
The fenny way withal he takes,  
That lies between Pontinas lakes:  
Near which the grove aloft is seen,  
Of Diane, Scythians heavenly Queen.  
And not far thence, high Albas' way,  
Where Latium rites make Holiday.  
From whence upon a rock on high,  
A loof, the City he did eye:  
Which (since his Gallicke war began)  
He never yet had seen till than.  
And now (admiring that prospect)  
To Rome this speech he did direct.  
¶ O seat of Gods! could this men so  

Caesar's speech looking upon Rome.  Forsake thee, ere they saw a foe?  
If thou canst not, what City can  
Deserve to be fought for by man?  
Well have the higher powers repressed,  
The humours of the armed East,  
From joining with the Hungars stout▪  
And all that fierce outrageous rout  
Of Dakes, of Geteses, and Sarmatans',  
From bringing down their bloody bands  
To thee (poor Rome) by Fortune spared,  
Whom fearful Pompey durst not guard.  
So weakly manned, more blest art far  
With Civil then with Foreign war.  
¶ Thus said, forthwith he did invest  
The City, then with fears possessed:  
For sure they thought, that (in his ire)  
All should have been consumed with fire,  

Caesar is not so cruel as the Romans suspected.  And Temples should to ruin run,  
As soon as he the walls had won.  
Such was the measure of their fright,  
His will they construed by his might.  
And in such sudden mazements wear,  
That they their sacred rites forbear.  
The common sort to sport bent,  
Their merry tunes turned to lament:  
No spleen they had, their sprights were spent  
The Roman Fathers reverend troup  
In Phoebus' Palace sitting, droop:  
Not thither called at an hour,  
By order of the Senate's power.  
No Consuls with their presence grace  
Their sacred seats in supreme place.  
Nor next to them the laws to sway  
The Praetor sat in his array.  
No Coaches at the Senate gate,  
That thither bring the Peers of state.  
Caesar alone was all in all,  
His private voice the Court doth thrall. 
Caesar's great authority in Rome.   
The Fathers to his hests give way,  
Rady his pleasure to obey.  
Whether he Monarchy desire,  
Or would to sacred rites aspire:  
Or lives of Senators would waste,  
Or them into exile would cast.  
But he (more modest and more mild)  
Did blush his power should be defiled; 
Caesar's modesty.   
Moore to command (with threatening fear)  
Then well the Roman state could bear.  
¶ But one there was amongst the rest,  
For liberty that would contest:  
And in a rage he took in hand,  
To know if Caesar might withstand 
Metellus a Roman Tribune contests with Caesar.   
The ancient Rules of their free state,  
And in that point would right debate.  
This stout Metellus was, who saw  
A swarming troup of Soldiers draw  
near to Saturnus Temple gates,  
That were locked up from dire debates,  
Steps forth enraged, and doth assay  
Through Caesar's bands to force a way.  
So much of tempting gold the love 
Metellus would protect the Treasury of Rome from Caesar's spoil.   
The minds of mortal men can move,  
Danger of sword and death to prove.  
The laws no Valour doth protect,  
The care thereof all do neglect.  
But (that which is most vile of all)  
Riches, whereto base minds are thrall,  
Stirs up a foolish idle brawl.  
This Tribune, with a tongue at large,  
The outrage lays to Caesar's charge:  
And tells him plainly that before  
He shall break open the Temple door,  
The sword should first his breast invade,  
And bathe in sacred blood his blade.  
And that the Gods for justice sake,  
Vengeance would pay if spoil he make,  
Or do by force the treasure take.  
The Tribunes curses in like case  
(Said he) did greedy Crassus' trace.  
And did against him so prevail,  
That woeful war his pride did quail.  
Do thou so now unsheath thy sword,  
That dost such lawless leave afford  
To this injurious foul contempt  
From people's rage thou art exempt.  
What can this forlorn town attempt?  
Thy wicked Soldiers must not crave,  
The treasures of our state to have:  
Elsewhere thou hast sufficient spoils  
Of conquered Towns in other soils.  
No want at all thy troops constrains,  
Of our long peace to share the gains:  
In war (O Caesar) lose the rains.  
reins With these proud words the Tribune hath  
So far provoked Caesar's wrath,  
As that with scorn he did reply;  

Caesar's words to Metellus the Tribune.  In vain poor soul thou hop'st to die  
So brave a death, as by my blade:  
Nought hath Metellus worthy made,  
So great a grace as Caesar's ire,  
It sorts not with thy proud desire.  
Thinkst thou that freedoms state must stand  
Supported by thy feeble hand?  
My glory won in so long war,  
Thy vain conceit exceeds so far,  
As that the laws would less detest,  
By Caesar's hand to be suppressed,  
Then by Metellus voice to hold,  
The freedom that they did of old.  
So Caesar spoke, and yet before  
The Tribune left the Temple door,  
His rage increased more and more.  
And to the wrathful swords he priest,  
Forgetting what his gown professed.  
¶ But Cotta checked, and stayed than, 
Cotta's discreet words to Metellus.   
The saucy boldness of this man.  
And said; the freedom now they held,  
To sovereign power in spite must yield.  
For though this act thou couldst maintain,  
Thou shouldst but freedoms shadow gain.  
Since our dejected state obeys  
So many other servile ways.  
This comfort and excuse we have,  
If slander us as base deprave.  
Resistless power doth all men brave.  
And I would rather wish to hear,  
These seeds of war dispersed wear.  
With loss of wealth those may be vexed,  
That freedom have for their pretext.  
For want more grievously doth rave  
Upon the master then the slave.  
¶ Metellus being put aside,  
The Temple was set open wide:  
And such a noise the rushing shocks  
Did make, when they did force the locks,  
That the Tarpeian cliff did sound,  
Loud with the Echoes that rebound.  
Out of the Temple clean they swept  
The wealth, 
The treasures of Rome taken by Caesar.  that had full safe been kept  
So long ago by conquests gained,  
Whereof scarce memory remained.  
¶ The treasures got in Punic broils,  
The Persian, and Macedons spoils;  
With heaps of gold, that were a pray,  
When Pyrrhus trembling fled away, 
A Catalogue of those places from whence the Roman treasures came   
That had Fabritius faith assayed,  
In vain our Rome to have betrayed.  
And whatsoever heretofore  
Our frugal sires laid up in store:  
With all the tribute and the rent,  
From time to time that Asia sent:  
And all the spoils from Creta for,  
By conquest that Metellus got:  
With Cato's wealth, which he did bring  
(By long seas) from the Cyprus King:  
With all the treasures of the east,  
And those rare Trophies that did feast  
The eyes of all that them beheld,  
When Pompey's triumphs so excelled:  
And was the latest conquest won  
On those great kingdoms overrun.  
All these the Victors use supplies  
By woeful rapine made good prize.  

Caesar richer than all Rome.  Whereon might truly pass this doom,  
Caesar was richer now than Rome.  
¶ Pompey mean while a world had won,  
That would in war his fortune run:  
Great Cities on his side did band,  

The aids that came to Pompey.  That shall at Caesar's mercy stand.  
The Grecians first their succour lends:  
Amphisa her brave Phoceans sends;  
Then those that do the Country's fill,  
On both sides of Parnassus hill;  
With rocky Cyrrha, to him swarms  
The Captains of Boetian Arms.  
Where Cephisos, with his swift waves,  
Old Cadmus' City weltering laves.  
Whose water fatal answers raves.  
To these, Pisean people joins:  
With sweet Alpheus, that purloynes  
Her secret current under ground,  
Till she Trinacria hath found.  
Menala then th' Arcadians leave,  
And to these wars themselves bequeave:  
And Trachine Soldiers thither fly,  
From the Herculean Oeten high:  
The Thesprotes and Driopes  
Do likewise march along with ease.  
The Sellae, that his part do take,  
Their solitary groves forsake,  
That on Chaonians top do shake.  
And though th' Athaenian bands were spent  
In former wars whereto they went,  
Yet loyal Salamina lent  
Three little ships, which now they rig,  
That in Phoebeian docks did lig.  
The ancient Crect, Ioues loved land,  
Where Cities ten times ten did stand,  
Her Gnossian quivers thither sent,  
With people using bows event:  
Gortinae shows the like good will,  
Whose Archers equals Eastern skill.  
Then Orithow sent Dardan strength:  
With Athamus that far in length  
Disperseth many woods she owns.  
And old Enchyle, where the stones  
Show Cadmus' metamorphozed bones.  
So Colchis, and Absirtos' flood,  
Whose froth fills Adriatic mud.  
The Paeni, that (with clownish skill)  
The Countries all about there till.  
And with Thessalian Ploughs do toil,  
And furrough up Hialcons' soil.  
From whence (into the raging main)  
Was carried first that stranger train,  
Of Argonauts, whose boisterous bands  
Did range and spoil in foreign lands.  
They first the practice did contrive,  
How men against the seas might strive.  
And how with sails to take the wind,  
Whereby remoted shores to find.  
And therewithal they did display  
To loathsome Death a new found way,  
On mortals lives to rave and pray.  
The Thracian Aemus is left bare:  
And Pholoe, whose manrood are  
(As lying fables leave to mind)  
By nature shaped of Centauris kind.  
Strymon (that doth to Nilus' sands  
Send birds of the Bistonian lands)  
Her aid sets out in warlike bands:  
And barbarous Conè, when she leaves  
Sarmatian streams, and after cleaves  
To Peucens spreading channel deep,  
One of those heads alone doth keep,  
That from great Istars current sweep:  
Then Misia and Idalis land,  
That mingles with cold Caicos strand,  
And the Arisban barren mould,  
With those that do Pitanen hold;  
Then the Celenes most accursed,  
Lamenting that their Marsia durst  
(O Pallas with thy gifts elate)  
Stir conquering Phoebus to debate.  
And high shoared Marsia whose swift race,  
Crooked Meander doth embrace,  
And with her, wheels about her pace.  
With Pactols sands, that do unfold,  
The precious grains of glowing gold  
To foreign coasts, and Hernius strands,  
That equals it with precious sands.  
So likewise all the Ilium bands,  
To fruitless wars for Pompey stands.  
Neglecting the old flying fame,  
That julius of the Troyans' came.  

Caesar supposed to be come of the Troyans'.  So Syria her assistance gives,  
And the inhabitants that lives  
About Orontes desert coasts,  
And Ninus town, whose bliss fame boasts:  
Damascus subject to high winds:  
Gaza likewise; and where men finds  
palm-trees so rife, and thick to stand,  
Named the Idumean land:  
The sea-washt City Tyrus hight,  

The Tyrians & Sidonians skilful seamen.  Sydon with precious purple dight,  
Their ships (when to the wars they fly)  
Range not the seas uncertainly.  
No seamen have the Art more tried,  
How by the Pole their course to guide.  
So likewise (if we credit fame)  
Phoenicians were the first had name, 
The Phaenicians the first that invented letters.   
The use of characters to find,  
And letters to express our mind.  
Memphis the practice had not found  
Of those broad flags upon her ground, 
The Memphites kept their magic art carved in stones, with the figures of Beasts and Birds before they knew letters.   
How they together should be bound.  
Of beasts and birds (this was their trade)  
The shapes deep cut in stones they made.  
And so their magic art preserved  
In brutish Images fair carved.  
Then those inhabitants that roves  
About mount Taurus woody groves.  
And Persian Tarsus, with those men,  
That cut rocks for Coricum den.  
The Mallians, and the Aege coast,  
Whose ships do ring with billows tossed. 
These were the Pirates that Pompey conquered, and triumphed for long before the civil war began.   
And Silix now the seas frequent  
Allowed, but not as Pirates sent.  
So are the Eastern Countries led  
Unto this war by fame far spread.  
That Ganges now her troops forth brings,  
The current of whose floating springs  
Of all streams in the world dares run,  
A course contrary to the Sun;  
And headlong flies against the East, 
Ganges runs his course contrary to the Sun.   
here it is said the warfare ceased,  
That Macedons great Captain made,  
When he the Ocean did invade.  
And did himself o'ercome confess  
With this vast world's unweldnesse.  
There Indus fiercely forth doth sweep, 
The place where Alexander ended his war.   
With mighty streams, and channels deep,  
Divided into gulfs alone,  
But with Hydaspis mingles none.  
Then those that the sweet liquor swills,  
Which from the sugarcanes distills: 
A people that do paint and adorn their hair with jewels.   
And they that use with saffrons' grain,  
To give their hair a shining stain.  
And so in dainty lawns do dangle,  
Which they with glistering jewels spangle.  
And those that make their funeral piles,  
Before that Death their Life exiles.  
And do without constraint embrace,  
The furious flames with dreadless face.  
O how great glory do they gain,  

A people that do burn themselves, and not attend their natural death.  That death can hold in such disdain,  
With their own hands (in spite of fates)  
To hasten on their welcome dates;  
And whilst in perfect health they live,  
Their souls unto the Gods do give!  
Then those fierce Capadocian lads  
Whom hunting humours so much glads,  

A hunting nation.  With bruske Ammannian ploughing swads:  
Armenia, where Nyphatem flows,  
And rowles huge pebbles as she goes,  
With the Coastrae forests high,  
Whose lofty tops do threat the sky.  
And ye Arabians (that do view  
An uncouth clime unknown to you)  
Do wonder much the shade to see  
Stream from the left side of a tree.  
Then came unto this Roman war  
Th' Orestians, that do dwell a far:  
The leaders of Carmania bands,  
Whose climate to the Southward stands,  
Not wholly hid from Arctons' light,  
But see his Car part of the night.  
And Aethiop near to all the signs,  
That in the cirkling zodiac twines.  
Excepting Taurus cloven heels,  
When cowering crookedly he reels.  
And where great Euphrates is bred  
With swift streamed Tigris from one head,  
In Persian fountain jointly fed.  
Who when they mingle here and there,  
Breeds doubt which of the names they bear  
But Euphrates (with fruitful streams,  
As she doth traverse sundry realms)  
Resembles Nilus in her course.  
But Tigris in her rapid source, 
The river Tigris runs a great way under the ground and then rises again.   
Is suddenly devoured quite,  
Into the earth from all men's sight,  
And under ground doth run her race  
Till with new head her stream she trace,  
And with the Ocean interlace.  
This while the Parthians held them coy,  
Either to help or to annoy,  
Any of these two mighty guides, 
The Parthians refused to join either with Caesar or Pompey, but laugh and look on.   
They'll war on none of both their sides:  
But laugh which way the world it slides.  
The wandering Scyths, with poisoned darts,  
Their aid unto this war imparts.  
And Bactrians closed with chilly gulfs,  
With Hyrcan forests fostering wolves.  
Then the Henochians bring their band,  
A part of Lacedaemon land.  
That headstrong are where they withstand  
And of Sarmatia all that tract,  
That joins to Mosko back to back.  
And where rich Phasis cuts and bounds  
The Colchos fields, and fruitful grounds.  
With Halis bringing heavy fate  
To Croesus, in his rich estate▪  
And where as Tannais tumbling down  
His streams, from off Rypheus' crown.  
Gives unto Nations sundry names,  
As she her winding channels frames.  
And Europe doth on either side,  
From Asia with her banks divide.  
Now here, now there, which way she bends,  
The limits of the world extends.  
And where the Euxine sea doth take  
Huge torrents from Meotis lake,  
And so the glory doth abate  
Of Gades, whom (as tales relate)  
Did only through her pillars twain, 
Hercules' Pillars set up at Gades.   
That way let in the western main,  
Wrought by the huge Herculean pain.  
Then aids come from Scythonian ports,  
With whom the Arimasps consorts.  

The delicacy of the Arimaspes.  Those do with golden philets dress  
Their curled locks, and combed tress.  
The Axij, Pompey's part profess,  
With Massagets, that did let blood,  
Their horses hooves in steed of food,  
So to releieve their hungry mood,  
In the Sarmatick lingering brawl,  

The Massagets in their wars for want of victuals let their horse's blood, & so relieved themselves.  And Gelons swiftest of them all,  
So huge a mass of Martial bands  
Came not from the Memnonian lands,  
When Cyrus did his armies make,  
For wars that he had undertake.  
Nor Zerxes with his boisterous crew  
That all his thousands only knew  
By counting of the darts they threw.  
Nor Agamemnon's navy strong,  
Which to revenge his brother's wrong,  
With Grecian Princes past the seas,  
In number ever equalled these.  

The variety of Nations, Languages and attires that were in Pompey's camp.  So many Kings to battle priest,  
Never obeyed one Chieftains hest.  
Such divers forms of habits strange,  
Of language such confused change,  
So great a train of royal Peers  
Was never seen in former years,  
As Fortune now did lead in dance,  
To mingle with this wars mischance.  
Like funerals for Pompey's sake  
A fitting exequy to make.  
Then Corniger, that Hammon hight,  

jupiter Hammon.  Did not forbear with supreme might,  
To summon all Marmatick lands  
Unto these wars to lead their bands.  
Or whatsoever force did rest  
Even from the furthest of the west,  
Of parching Lybs, and sunburnt Moors;  
Together with the Eastern powers,  
As far as Paratonia strands,  
Unto the bounds of Syrteses sands.  
That Caesar's fortune yet may know  
He had not won all at a blow:  
But should in the Pharsalian fields  
Encounter worlds with spears and shields.  
¶ Now Caesar following on his Mart, 
Caesar takes his journey from Rome towards Spain.   
From trembling Rome he doth depart:  
And (with his valiant expert host)  
Over the cloud-browed Alps doth post.  
And whilst that other cities fear,  
The thundering fame of him to hear,  
Massilian youths dare take in hand,  
As N●●ters in these wars to stand.  
Not with Greek lightness unresolved, 
The courage of the Massilians.   
But with a constant courage bold,  
They do intend for to debate  
The laws and freedom of their state,  
And not to change or follow fate.  
But yet before they do engage  
Their City unto battles rage,  
They will attempt (with all their skill)  
To qualify his headstrong will  
With courteous and persuasive words,  
And not till need unsheath their swords.  
Now therefore when they understand  
That Caesar's force was near at hand,  
Ambassadors to him were sent,  
Who with them Olive branches hent,  
To show that peace was their intent.  
¶ Your Latium Annals do make known  
Massilia still such faith hath shown 
The Oration of the Massilians to Caesar.   
Unto the reverend Roman state,  
As that in all the dire debate,  
That they have had with foreign foes,  
She hath partaked with their blows.  
And now if thou do undertake,  
Conquests in unknown Climes to make, 
Massiliians offer to aid Caesar in foreign wars, but not to intermeddle in this civil strife.   
Command our true devoted hands,  
To war with thee in foreign lands.  
But if ye (with infestious Arms)  
Prepared are for discords harms,  
To civil wars, then give us leave  
Our tears in secret to bequeave.  
Against all piety it stands,  
In blood of friends to bathe our hands.  
But if the Gods (to wroth inclined)  
With venging arms would show their mind,  
Or if the earthbred Giants fell,  
Against high heavens would rebel,  
Yet human duty should not dare  
With an inferior bootless care,  
Either by treaty, or by might,  
To offer for the Gods to fight.  
Little can we poor mortals guess  
What humours higher powers possess:  
When jove from high his anger wreaks,  
He thunderbolts and lightning speaks.  
Admit that many nations strange,  
Amongst these broils their forces range.  
And that the sottish vulgar sort  
Would this contagious crime support,  
And not repine (constrained from far)  
To whet their swords for civil war;  
Yet be it far from honest hearts  
To follow any factious parts.  

A reprehension of this civil war.  Let no brave Soldiers venture life,  
To bolster out domestic strife.  
What hand would not with fear be taint,  
To see his wounded father faint?  
Brothers that war on either parts,  
Will doubt to throw their fatal darts.  
And sure your Empire's state will end,  

The sum of the Massilians Petition to Caesar.  If wars unjust you do intend.  
But now our suit we do commend,  
Which is, that from our City gates,  
You would withhold all dire debates;  
And no infestious Ensigns send,  

The Massilians offer to receive Caesar unarmed, and without his Troops.  Nor Eagles fierce us to offend;  
But that as to your friends most just  
Your person with our walls would trust.  
Where Caesar may (devoid of doubt)  
Assure himself his arms shut out.  
Our Town is free from envies wrath  
To Caesar and to Pompey both.  
But if that Rome's unvanquished state  
Shall still subsist by favouring Fate;  
And that your humours it might please,  
Your wraths with friendship to appease▪  
Here may you both unarmed meet,  
And peaceably each other greet.  
But if provoking wars of Spain, 
Massilia indifferent between Caesar & Pompey offer their Town for a place of parley.   
Your forces thither do constrain;  
Why range you then so far astray?  
Our City lies not in your way;  
Whose worth of no importance is,  
Our state stands still exempt from bliss.  
We could not erst with happy arms,  
Defend ourselves, and country's harms.  
But exiled made our last retreat  
From Phocis' Towers, our native seat;  
Arriving in this stranger port,  
Where we securely raised a fort,  
Rounded with walls of no great haigth, 
The strength of the Massilians consisted in their loyal dealings with their neighbours.   
But always guarded with our faith.  
Now if you will besiege our Town,  
And tear our gates and ramparts down,  
And set our houses on a fire,  
Spending on us your hostile ire,  
Our watercourses turn awry,  
And all our fountain heads draw dry,  
And suck the moisture from those fields,  
That fruits and grain unto us yields.  
O then behold a loathsome sight,  
When Famine shall (with ravening plight)  
Constrain us for to eat and gnaw  
Our fleshy limbs to feed our maw;  
Our liberties we hold so dear, 
The resolution of the Massilians.   
That we no toils nor torments fear.  
But as Saguntum, with renown,  
When Hannibal besieged that Town,  
Our mothers so, with dried paps,  
Will cast their infants from their laps,  
Into the fire, to end mishaps.  
The wife will beg with watery eye  
Of her dear husband's hand to die.  
And mischiefs measure up to fill,  
The brother will the brother kill.  
Such civil war they'll rather make,  
Then any other undertake.  
¶ Thus the Massilian Legates said,  
Which speech did Caesar so upbraid,  
As that in him it stirred up spleen  
Which in his very looks were seen.  
And in these terms expressed his teen.  

Caesar's answer to the Massilians.  ¶ Your Grecian race conceives in vain,  
What course we mean to entertain.  
For though our journey seem to bend  
Westward for Spain, yet we may spend  
And spare sufficient time to boot,  
To raze your walls up by the root.  
Rejoice my Cohorts, at this hap;  
Fate casts a war into your lap.  
The blustering winds do lose their grace,  
When in the vacant air they trace,  
If no thick woods withstand their race.  

Caesar's Army cannot endure idleness.  The flaming fire is but a blast,  
If fuel be not on it cast:  
So is it noisome unto me,  
Without a warring foe to be.  
My troops that idle life do rue,  
When they meet no rebellious crew,  
That with their force they may subdue.  

Caesar disdains that the Massilians offer him to come disarmed into their Town, or else to shut their Gates against him as an enemy.  Massilians think they offer fair,  
That Caesar may unarmed repair  
In private sort safe to their state,  
Or else they will shut up their gate:  
I needs must scorn this double flout,  
To shut me in, or shut me out.  
Then they will seem to banish far,  
Contagion of a civil war;  
But they shall smart in that they dare  
Entreat of peace in my affair,  
And by experience well shall see  
None are then those more safe and free,  
That by my arms protected be.  
So having said, his troops he leads  
Towards the Town that nothing dreads,  
Whose gates were shut, & walls well manned  
With store of youths that on them stand. 
The siege of Massilia.   
¶ Not far from thence Caesar espies  
A hill, that loftily did rise.  
Whose top extends a pretty space,  
Fit for a little camping place.  
This he esteemed a piece of ground,  
Which all their tents might safely bound,  
Casting a trench about it round.  
The City's side next fronting this,  
A strong and lofty Castle is,  
Whose top even with this hill is seen,  
And then a plain lies both between:  
Where with great labour up were cast  
divers high mounts with Ramparts vast.  
But first on all parts to the land,  
Whereon the City walls did stand,  
He did environ round about  
With trenches and with bulwarks stout. 
Caesar environs Massilia with a trench on all sides of the land.   
And this huge work so did convey,  
That all was shut up but the bay.  
How great and eternising fame  
Was it unto this cities name,  
That never over-awd with fear,  
In this distress, that now they were,  
Did still undaunted courage bear.  
Seeing that Caesar had so late  
subjecteth all in so short date,  
That one town should oppose his fate. 
Massilia shows more valour in resisting Caesar, than all Pompey's towns in Italy.   
Bootless it is that to foreslow,  
Which Fate sets down how it shall go.  
Fortune, that hastens this man's sway,  
And says the world shall him obey,  
In this but crifles time away.  
Down goes the woods hand over head,  
The Oaks are from the forests shred.  
With which their works of earth are bound,  
Whereby they stand more firm and sound:  
That their foundation well may bear  
The structures that on them they rear,  
which else their heft would mouldering tear  
¶ A Grove there stood full long of yore,  
Which none durst violate before,  
Whose arms so thick did interlace,  
That it obscured all the place.  

The description of a strange and hideous grove near Massilia.  And with cool shadows kept off far,  
The glowing beams of Titan's car.  
The rural Nymphs here did not won,  
Nor Sylvan Gods, nor Fairies run:  
But with a barbarous sacred rite,  
For sacrifice had Altars dight.  
The rugged rinds (throughout this wood)  
Were smered and stained with human blood.  
If we may credit give to eld,  
That heavenly powers in reverence held;  
The very birds it did affright,  
Upon the boughs to perch or light.  
The savage beasts did it forbear,  
And would not haunt or kennel there.  
No winds on these trees showed their force,  
Lightning did thence her flames divorce.  
An ugly horrid den it was,  
That neither bred green leaf or grass.  
But many swarthy springs there rise,  
From whence froth-bubling black streams flies:  
And there rough hewed pictures stands  
Of Gods, framed by some bungling hands.  
In rotten trunks of hollow treen,  
Strange uncouth shapes are often seen.  
The hideous seat of this stern place,  
With dread makes pale the gazer's face.  

Strange sights in this grove.  The usual figures daily seen  
Of Godheads, not so fearful been,  
Nor holds men's minds in so great awe  
As those they never knew or saw.  
Oft-times from out the hollow ground,  
Strange howling voices did resound.  
Huge Ew-trees sometimes seem to fall,  
And strait spring up again withal.  
The fires that run by night in fields,  
Twining these trees no blasting yields.  
About the Okes fell Dragon's twist,  
Thither to come no people list.  
'tis left unto the powers divine:  
For be it when the Sun did shine,  
Or when dark night the earth doth hide, 
This should seem to be a very melancholy God.   
The Priest there scarcely durst abide.  
To meet (in so great fear he stood)  
The God that patronized this wood.  
This grove that near the camp did stand,  
Must now be field down out of hand.  
Of which in former wars with Gaul,  
No stick was ever cut at all;  
But safe untouched did stand upright,  
Near other woods destroyed quite.  
¶ But yet the Soldiers daring mood, 
Caesar's Soldiers make scruple to cut this grove.   
To cut these trees dismayed stood,  
The reverent place so cooled their blood.  
They thought that if this grove they fell,  
The Axes edge would then rebel,  
And in revenge (as thereto loath)  
Upon their limbs turn back his wrath.  
¶ When Caesar saw his Cohorts put  
In so great dread this grove to cut;  
He takes an Axe, and fiercely stroke  
Upon a mighty high-grown Oak:  
Which when he had half hewn a sunder, 
Caesar by his own example causeth his Soldiers to cut down this grove.   
Why mates (quoth he) is this a wonder?  
Fear not with me to do the same,  
Upon my head lay all the blame.  
Which said, they his command attempt: 
The Soldiers doubtful whether to anger Caesar or the Gods.   
But yet from fear not full exempt.  
Their minds in doubt were held at odds,  
To anger Caesar, or the Gods.  
¶ Then down is field the long-grained Ash,  
The knotty Holm in twain they slash.  
The great Dodonian Beech high-grown,  
Now with the Axe lies overthrown.  
The Alder, bred by rivers sides,  
As did the rest, like wrack betides.  
The Cypress, used by those that mourn,  
Whilst noble funerals do burn.  
Then did the place so fleeced and shorn,  
In stead of shade, let in the morn:  
So near they grew, that being field,  
One tree another upright held.  
¶ The Gallicke peasants at this sight,  


The peasants of Gaul grieved to see this grove cut down.  
But the Massilians being glad of it.   Condole the spoil with heavy plight.  
But all the Burghers (from the wall)  
Rejoice to see this huge downfall.  
They hope this sacrilegious deed  
Against the Gods, would vengeance breed.  
Yet Fortune oft we see doth spare  
The mighty that most guilty are.  
And heavenly powers their fury slakes,  
In plaguing wretched harmless snakes.  
¶ When they had trees sufficient store  
To serve their turn, they field no more.  
But round about they seek all parts,  
To bring in carriages and carts:  
Which did the country much annoy,  

The Gallicke peasants repine that their ploughing is hindered by Caesar's carriages.  Their ploughs in that sort to employ.  
This season served the lands to till,  
And much it went against their will  
To let their husbandry stand still.  
¶ Caesar likewise was much enraged,  
About this siege to be engaged.  
His forces were designed a far,  
To be employed in greater war,  

Caesar offended to be thus stayed before Massilia.  Against his enemies in Spain,  
Whose armies coast the Western main.  
And therefore to cut off delays,  
A wooden Turret he did raise,  
Of so great height, and large withal,  
As was the castle and the wall. 
Caesar erects Engines against the walls of Massilia.   
Which was not fixed unto the ground,  
But borne upon huge truckles round.  
And creeping forward like a snail,  
Was not discerned how it did trail.  
And when this mass did crackling shake  
The Townsmen thought that some Earthquake  
This hugeous structure did surprise,  
And musd their walls shaked not likewise, 
The Massilians wonder at Caesar's Tower, to see it go and shake.   
Yet still their courage did subsist  
The Romans stoutly to resist.  
And not alone with casting darts,  
But with great slings they pierce both parts  
Of this huge frame, and make such way,  
That armed troops downright they slay.  
And with those main stones from them cast,  
When bones are bruised, and lives laid waist.  
More wounds they leave so gaping wide,  
That darts had way from side to side.  
Such mighty blows these stones do give,  
As when fierce winds do whirling drive, 
The Massilians resisting engines   
Against some old high tottering rock,  
Which so the cliff doth tear and shock,  
As that on whom the ruins fall,  
The bruised corpses to death doth sprawl,  
And mingles blood and joints withal.  
But then to give them more offence,  
With thick conjoined Target fence,  
They do assail the City wall, 
The walls assaulted by Caesar's soldiers.   
And to that sight with courage fall.  
Target to Targe, borne with high hand,  
One doth behind another stand.  
The sides whereof so wide extends,  
As that their Morions it defends;  
And now the darts that cost from far  
Their enemies did wound and scar,  
Could not prevail 'gainst this close fight,  
But overslipped their bodies quite.  
Then were the Townsmen new to seek  
Some other means that were more like  

The strength of the Romans target-fence.  How to offend, which did them pain  
How to begin to learn again  
To use their darts with fashions strange,  
And practised weapons now to change.  
Therefore (in stead thereof) they chose  
With arms unarmed upon their foes,  
Huge stones to ding down from the walls,  
Whose weight might crush them with their falls.  
But so firm stood their clustered shields,  
That to those stones no more they yields  
Then tops of houses break or fail  
With whirling showers of rattling hail:  
Which on the tile stones sound and dance,  
So from this fence the stones did glance.  
Yet still the Burghers grew more fierce,  
And with continual heaps did pierce  
This Target-fence, and at the length  

The Target-fence at last broken, and Soldiers retire.  Disjoined their strong connexed strength:  
So as the Cohorts overtoiled,  
Severed themselves, and then recoy'ld.  
But therewithal came new supplies,  
Who then another Engine tries.  
Their Vinias to the wall they brought,  
Covered with green turfs all aloft.  
Whose hollow penthouse shelving steep,  

With an other Engine the walls are begun to be undermined.  Did them from blows and danger keep:  
Then with the Pickax and the spade,  
The walls foundation they invade,  
And so began to undermine,  
Safely protected with their Vine.  
The battering Ram then forth they bring  
Whose hanging huge heft with a swing  

The Ram brought to the walls.  Firm couched stones down tottering bring  
And whilst the force thereof they try,  
The Burghers heap down from a high  

The Romans retire to their camp, seeing their Engines burnt & spoiled.  Such monstrous logs and quenchless flames  
With fired brands to burn these frames.  
And still these fires do so renew,  
That the scorched flames in sunder flew:  
Whereat the Soldiers tired with pain,  
Seing their labour lost in vain,  
Home to their Tents retired again.  
¶ The Burghers than the Gods did crave,  
Their City walls from wrack to save.  
And therewithal with courage stout,  
Their youths by night did sally out;  
Pressing upon the Roman bands,  
And closely carried in their hands  
Fierce wildfire balls, 
The Massilians sally out, and set fire on the Roman fortifications & engines.  which they with slings  
Amongst the hostile army flings.  
No other Arms with them they took,  
Their darts for that time they forsook.  
Their bended bows were laid aside,  
Only those whorling fires they tried:  
Which kindling flame with wind enraged,  
Their camp most desperately engaged.  
And with such fury did invade,  
The works and Towers that they had made 
If Caesar had been as well resisted by Pompey's Captains in Italy, or by Pompey himself in Rome, he had not found so easy and speedy a conquest.   
Of wood and timber, though but green,  
Yet did the flames so creep between  
With smouldering heat the joints and floors  
That searching fire the boards devours.  
which spread abroad such swarth-thick smokes,  
As that the air it damps and chokes.  
At last this flame was grown so fierce,  
As that it did not only pierce  
Their timber-frames so strong compact,  
But with like force in sunder cracked  
The very stones new digged from ground,  
Wherewith their structurs were compound 
Great spoil by fire in the Roman Camp   
So wasting fire did all confound,  
And these main ruins overcast  
In hugeness far the works surpassed.  
¶ The Romans thus distressed by land,  
Do now resolve to take in hand  
To try their fortunes on the seas;  
But not with ships the eye to please, 
The Romans do now prepare to attempt the town by sea.   
Adorned and painted on their sides  
With forms of Gods their sails that guides,  
But rough and rude made up in haste,  
Of trees new cut, strong built, and vast,  
Compact with knees and timber sure,  
That seas and tempests would endure.  
This navy rig'd, forthwith they guide,  
Assisted both with wind and tide,  

The Roman fleet, whereof Dectus Brutus was Admiral.  Unto the mouth of Rhodanus,  
Where being all assembled thus,  
On Brutus they attendance gave,  
Whose ship was stout, high carged, & brave,  
Then hoisting sails, they ranged the seas  
Alongst the shores of Staecades.  
The Greek Massilians in like sort,  
Provide themselves within their port:  
No less resolved to venture blows  

The Massillians provide to encounter the Romans on the sea.  Upon the seas, against their foes.  
And in this mind with courage bold,  
They man their ships with young and old.  
And do not set out to this fight,  
Only those vessels in good plight;  
But rig'd up ships decayed and torn,  
That in the docks lay then forlorn.  
¶ Phoebus no sooner with his beams  
Glittered upon the Ocean streams,  
Blunting his darts on Neptune's face,  
And from the skies the clouds did chase.  
The North-winds laid, the Southwind still,  
The seas all calm for fight at will:  
But they weighed anchor, and did load  
Their yards with sails, and left the road.  
¶ Here Caesar's fleet their Oars do ply,  
There do the Greeks like labour try:  
And with such sway their strokes they take,  
As that the very keels did quake.  
The lofty ships are drawn on fast,  
By those that to the fight make haste.  
¶ The Roman wings composed were  

The Roman wings on the sea.  Of many ships, whereof some bear  
Three banks of Oars, and four some,  
Others had more the seas to scum.  
And with this strength into the deep  
They launch, and crescent order keep.  
Whereas Liburnian Galleys go,  
With Oars of two banks and no more.  
Yet Brutus Gallion Admiral,  
With six banks went stoutest of all, 
Brutus' his Gallion.   
And with long Oars their strokes let fall.  
¶ When in the main both of these fleets  
In battle ranged together meets:  
Confronting with their force so near,  
As that their Oars could scarce go clear, 
The battle on the sea begun.   
Such shouts and clamours they did make,  
As that the very air did shake.  
And with the voices that rebound,  
The clashing of the Oars were drowned,  
And did suppress the Trumpets sound.  
The rowers than the blue waves tear  
And on their benches fall and rear,  
Whilst Oars each other overbear.  
Their beak heads first together foin,  
Then cast about their sterns to join,  
And did so fast their darts let fly,  
As that their numbers cloud the sky,  
And on the sea in heaps did lie.  
About again with speed they tack,  
Prow against Prow doth shock and crack:  
And many ships scattered abroad  
Again relying, lay on load.  
As when the Eastern winds oppose  
The Southern gales, that sternly blows.  
One way with force the billows sweeps,  
Another way the current keeps.  
So in the deeps the Galleys range,  
Uncertainly with flitting change.  
For when their Oars have forward plied,  
Back are they checked with wind and tide.  
But the Massilian galleys are  
Of sail and stirrage much more you're, 
The Massilian ships nimble and swift.   
Nimble and light to leave or take,  
And on their stays quick speed can make,  
Whereas the Roman steady ships  

The Roman ships stout, & or deep draft.  With deeper draughts their bottoms dips.  
And in the seas do upright stand,  
As fierce for fight, as on the land.  
The master of that Gallion stout,  
That Admiraled the Roman rout,  
Sitting upon the poop on high,  
From whence he all the course might eye.  

Brutus' stout words to the master of his Gallion.  Brutus to him aloud thus spoke.  
What work (quoth he) mean you to make?  
Shall my fleet idle range the coast,  
That you your marine Art may boast?  
We hither come prepared for fight,  
Against our foes to show our might.  
Come bring us therefore sword to sword,  
Lay me the stoutest Greekes aboard.  
These words of Brutus he obeys,  
His broad side to the foe he lays.  
But whosoever of the foes  
Did shock their sides, or changed blows  

Brutus' ship still victorious.  With Brutus' ship, him grappling fast,  
He boards, and overcame at last.  
The other Galleys waste to waste,  
With hooks and chains do grapple fast.  
And by the Oars did hold each other,  
The fight ships the seas did smother.  
But now they do not make their war  
With slings and engines cast a far.  
Those deadly wounds the life that parts,  
Are not from Iron-headed darts.  

The fury of this sea-fight when the fleets joined.  But now they buckle hand to hand,  
The sea-fight doth on sharp swords stand.  
The ships aloft are man'd and armed,  
And fist to fist encountering swarmed.  
Dead bodies on the hatches fell,  
Their blood amongst the waves do mell  
In such abundance, that the froth  
Of clotted gore, made Neptune wroth.  
And whilst with force their arms they strain  
To link themselves with grappling chain.  
The bodies slain in heaps so rides,  
They cannot join their sides to sides.  
Some half dead sprawling downright sink,  
Some their own blood with salt-waves drink.  
Others half drowned resisting death,  
Struggling for life with latest breath,  
With timbers from cracked ships that slid, 
A terrible description of a sea-battle.   
Out of their pains are quickly rid.  
And many darts that over▪ slips  
The fight, into the Ocean dips.  
Missing the marks their force to stay,  
Imbrue their steel another way.  
Lighting on those that swimming fleet,  
Who in the waves new wounds do meet.  
¶ The Romans now are thoroughly tried,  
Encompassed round on every side.  
And then the fury of the fight,  
Strains on the left hand and the right.  
Where whilst that Tagus deals his blows  
From his high poop on Greekish foes,  
Two dismal darts light on his breast,  
And steep their steel deep in his chest.  
So as the blood did stand in doubt 
A Roman called Tagus, slain with two wounds.   
At whether wound it should gush out.  
Until at length the boiling blood,  
Drove both the darts out with their flood.  
So life departed with the gore,  
The wounds did open death a door.  
¶ Massilian Telo, wretched wight,  
The Galley guided to this fight,  
A better Mariner was none,  
That had more Art and practise shown  
Of any ship to find the trim,  
In wrought seas how she best might swim.  
Nor better knew his marks a far,  
Nor how to take the Sun and Star. 
Telo, an excellent Pilate of the Massilians slain.   
Nor better gest which way the wind  
Was likeliest to be inclined.  
This master with his brasse-beake head,  
Out of a Roman ship had shred  
A mighty plank; but lo the while,  
His breast was pierced through with a pile.  
And as this worthy Pilot died,  
Out of his hand the helm did slide.  

Gayareus, a Massilian.  ¶ Then whilst Gayareus Gallicke Greek,  
Another ship doth bordering streeke,  
And strains to enter her by fight,  
A javelin pierced his bowels quite,  
And to the ship side nails him fast,  
Where he must hang if steelhead last.  

Two Massilian brothers twins slain in this battle whereof one showed admirable valour.  ¶ Two brothers did this fight adorn,  
Twins hard to know, at one birth borne.  
These glorious testimonies were,  
Of that rich womb that did them bear.  
But sundry fates did them pursue,  
Though from one self-same root they grew:  
For one of them in this stern fight,  
With fatal stroke was rest the light.  
And him the parents better knew  
That did survive, wanting the view  
Of him late slain, of semblant hue,  
A chance that much lamenting breeds,  
His halfe-selfe lost, his dolour feeds.  
This brother that as yet survives,  
Against a Roman Galley strives,  
Who though the oars his breast withstand  
Yet on her side he grasped his hand,  
Till one dire stroke the hand did reave,  
Which to his hold still fast did cleave;  
Not utterly deprived of sense,  

True valour increaseth with misfortune.  Whose joints would not be losd from thence  
Now valour with mishap increased,  
The noble stump more wrath expreast.  
Stirring up then his left hands might,  
To take revenge of this despite,  
But as he stooped for to recover  
The first lost hand, he lost the other;  
And both into the sea did fall,  
Slashed from the body arm and all.  
Thus of his limbs despoiled and wracked,  
His Target both and sword he lacked:  
Yet for all this aloft he bides,  
And under hatches never hides.  
But his bare trunk he did display  
On his slain brother where he lay,  
Whilst many wounds he did assay.  
And then as one that life disdains,  
Other men's harms he entertains;  
Until at last, with wounds oppressed,  
Finding that life would leave his breast,  
That little strength that yet remains  
He doth collect into his veins;  
And with that small store of lifeblood, 
A revenging humour strangely expressed.   
He arms his legs, and with fierce mood  
Into the ship did leaping rush,  
That with his weight he might her crush.  
This ship oppressed with slaughtered limbs,  
The blood about the hatches swims:  
And being cracked with many a crush,  
That oft a-thwart her ribs did brush:  
Her knees were loosed, her joints did open,  
The leaks in her did give free scope  
The waves so fast to suck and gull,  
That all her decks at last were full.  
Then to the bottom down she sinks, 
A Galley fight is sunk downright.   
Making a gulf with circling crinkes.  
The hollow where the ship did ride,  
That did before the waves divide,  
Is now again with seas supplied.  
This day in midst of Thetis lap  
Many strange accidents did hap.  
¶ Then whilst into another ship,  
The Harping-irons they did slip,  
Which in her sides their hooks should fix, 
Lycida miserably tortured betwixt his foes and his friends.   
In Lycida one of them sticks;  
Which would have hauled him overboard,  
But that his mates their help afford:  
And by the legs still held him fast,  
Till he in pieces flew at last;  
Whereby his blood dropped not so slow  
As that which from a wound doth flow:  
But out at every broken vain  
A stream of crimson gushed amain.  
And that which wont was to impart  
Life to the limbs from out the heart,  
With that same element was mixed,  
That earth and air lies betwixt.  
Never did any dying wight  
So many ways breath out his sprite.  
The lower parts of that torn trunk,  
Deprived of spirits, fainting shrunk.  
But where the lungs and liver lies,  
And noblest parts that heat supplies,  
That did a while his breath prolong,  
And still for life did struggle strong.  
But he with stretching grew so lither,  
That limb with limb scarce held together.  
¶ Now whilst the fight is fiercely tried,  
The Soldiers all run to that side,  
Whereas the foes do thickest stand,  
And left the other side unmanned.  

A ship overwhelmed by the running of the men all to one side.  With which unequal poise ore-wayed,  
One ship is topsy-turvy swayed,  
And doth into the Ocean reel,  
And over head turns up her keel:  
Which so oppressed all the swarm,  
That none could stretch a leg or arm,  

So was the Mary Rose lost before Portsmouth in a fight against the French in the days of Henry the 8.  Whereby to swim and save their lives,  
And so the sea their breath deprives.  
¶ Thus death amongst them all doth rave  
For whilst one youth did strive to save  
His life, by swimming on the wave,  
Two hostile ships together ran,  
Which 'twixt them bore this hapless man,  
And with such force their powers did rush,  
That flesh and bones together crush.  

A miserable destiny.  The body was not of such proof,  
To keep those ships so far aloof:  
But they so close together fall,  
That their brass beaks did ring withal.  
Herewith his belly being ripped  
Into the paunch the water slipped.  
And at his mouth he powered out  
His blood and bowels like a spout.  
But now the Oars do backward steer,  
So as their beake-heads were set clear:  
And so this carcase rend and slit,  
Upon the waves did weltering flit.  
¶ There were beside a huge rout,  
That suffering shipwreck swam about  
To save their lives, and to that end  
Sought for some ship that was a friend.  
But by mischance they light upon  
A Greekish Galley of their fone, 
The divers strange adventures of a sea-fight.   
Hanging upon her sides and helm,  
So thick, that might her overwhelm:  
Wherewith the soldiers then aboard,  
Hewed off their arms with edge of sword.  
And left the hands clasped on the sides,  
From whence their maimed bodies slides.  
So as they could no more sustain  
Themselves, by swimming on the main.  
¶ Now in this battles long event,  
Were darts and weapons almost spent. 
The weapons all spent, what shift was made to offend one another.   
But fury then provides for Arms,  
With Oars now one another harms.  
The staves that flags and Ensigns bear,  
They from the banners snatch and tear.  
With benches whereon they did sit,  
The rowers one another smit,  
And pieces from the ship sides split.  
Their fellows that in heaps lie slain,  
Upon the decks they search again,  
That they their weapons might retain.  
Others to show their dreadless hearts,  
Out of their wounds do rash the darts,  
And with their left hands close the sore,  
So to repress the bubbling gore,  
Which strives that way to find a vent,  
Whereas the lance had made a dent.  
¶ But all this havoc by the seas,  
Was not to be compared to these,  
That last of all they did invent,  
By a contrary element.  
For now enraged with greater ire,  

The cruelty of fire in a sea-fight.  They cast abroad such desperate fire,  
Composed of brimstone, pitch and oil,  
Wherein their darts they wrap and foil.  
And then such wildfire balls do make,  
Whose flames no waters force can slake,  
But on the ships quick hold will take:  
Where they encounter ropes and boards,  
That tar and rosin store affords;  
Stuff that will quickly flame retain,  
And hard to be extinct again.  
The boards that from the ships sides shakes,  
These fires handfast on them takes.  

To avoid fire, some drowned themselves.  Here some do plunge into the seas,  
The scorching flames so to appease.  
Others in danger of the waves,  

Others to escape drowning adventure upon the flames.  Hold by those planks that flaming raves;  
So whilst 'mongst many deaths they run,  
No death so much they strived to shun,  
As that which first they apprehend  

Any death seems more easy to men, then that which they most doubt.  Did threaten them their lives to end.  
Yet all these shipwracks nought avail,  
Their courage to abase or quail:  
But on the seas the darts that flow  
They gather up, at ships to throw,  
With those faint hands that them sustain,  
By swimming in the rolling main.  
And when they cannot meet with darts,  

Great malice expressed.  Another way they play their parts.  
When one foe doth another spy,  
They strait together struggling try,  
Till both down to the bottom fly.  
¶ Amongst the rest in this fierce fight,  
A man there was that Phoceus hight,  

Phoceus an excellent swimmer and diver drowned at last.  A Soldier of a gallant sprite,  
That well could swim, and well could dive,  
And under water long survive,  
So as for need the bottoms sands,  
He would take up with diving hands.  
Or if the Anchors hook were bound,  
He could unloose it from the ground.  
Or fix the cable, that by chance  
From out the Anchors ring did glance.  
This fellow singles out a foe,  
And in his arms doth grasp him so,  
That to the bottom both do go.  
There him he strangles in the mud,  
Then lifts himself above the flood.  
But after this again he tries  
In semblant sort to dive and rise:  
And as his head aloft he rears,  
Against a ship his skull he tears;  
Wherewith he downright sunk amain,  
And never rose alive again.  
Some now the hostile oars by might  
Would hold and stay their ships from flight.  
But that which most did all offend,  
Was unrevenged their lives to end.  
Many that saw their death draw nigh,  
Would on the ship sides hazards try.  
And so the beakhead brace and clip, 
Some that expose their bodies to save the ships from bruising.   
To bear the blow from off the ship.  
¶ Then Lygdanus by chance did eye,  
Tyrrhenus mounted loftily,  
Strowting upon a Galleons puppe,  
A sling and bullet he takes up,  
And sent it with a strength so fierce,  
That both his temples it did pierce; 
Lygdanus.   
From whence a stream of blood forth flies,  
And after it starts out his eyes.  
His sight thus rap't, amazed did stand, 
Tyrrhenus a valiant Roman.   
And thought this darkness was death's hand.  
But when his sprights were come again  
That did true valour still retain;  
My mates (quoth he) that so well know  
The piercing dart a far to throw,  
Direct me now a right to stand,  
That I may use my darting hand.  
Then to himself a loud he spoke,  
Tyrrhene go now and undertake  
In war all hazards that may chance,  
Thy end more bravely to advance.  
Such noble thoughts this man half slain  
Did in his haughty heart retain.  
My wel-steeled dart, jove grant thou light  
Upon some gallant worthy wight.  
So said, his dart he forth did strain  

It seemed that blind Fortune guided this blind man's hand.  With his blind arm, yet not in vain,  
But did a lusty younker smite,  
Of noble blood, he Argus hight.  
The point his very navel hit,  
But pierced it not half through as yet;  

Argus a noble youth slain.  Until he groveling down did fall,  
Which priest the head home shaft and all.  
¶ When this hap Argus did betide,  
His father on the other side,  
Did in a conquered Galley stand,  
Great was his worth by sea and land;  
For he in all the Phocians wars,  
Gave place to none that doing dares.  
But now with eld was weak and spent,  
And yet unto this battle went;  
Not as a Soldier to obey,  
But in high place to rule and sway.  
Now when this dismal chance he spied,  
Over the seats he strains to stride:  
And so poor man still clambering up,  
Made shift to come unto the poop:  
Where when he saw his Argus lie  
Gasping for life, at point to die,  

The grief of a father for his slain son, not expressed by tears, not cries, but by a resolute death.  No tears fell from the old man's eye,  
Neither did he outraging cry;  
But numbness did his sense surprise,  
And darkness did benight his eyes.  
His body suddenly grew cold,  
His hands outstretched could nothing hold.  
And in this trance and senseless plight,  
He had forgot his Argus quite.  
But he sweet youth his head did beck,  
That faintly reeled on his neck.  
And lifts it up a little space,  
When first he glimpst his father's face. 
A lamentable meeting.   
His jawfalne mouth no voice forth sends,  
But silent to his father bends;  
And becks his head as latest bliss,  
From his old lips to get a kiss.  
And with best means he could devise,  
Pointed to him to close his eyes.  
The griping sorrow that did strain  
This poor old man in every vain,  
Puts rage and sprite in him again.  
Well now (quoth he) I'll lose no time,  
This wrack is chanced for my crime.  
The direful Fates as they ordain  
Shall have me, by mine own hand slain. 
Old Argus his speech to his dying son.   
Dear Argus my sweet boy dispense  
With thy sad father's late offence,  
In that I did not thee embrace,  
Nor with last duties kiss thy face.  
As yet thy wound doth not so drain,  
The lifeblood out of every vain,  
But that thy looks good hope do give,  
That thou a while mayst longer live.  
No sooner had he said that word,  
But strait he fell upon his sword,  
Which he drove to the very hilt;  
Yet not content with his blood spilled,  
Into the sea he headlong flies,  
One way to death could not suffice. 
The old man pursues a double death.   
¶ This fortune now draws to an end  
Which way the victory shall tend.  
No longer cause there doth remain,  
Hazards of battle to maintain.  
Most of Massilian fleet is drowned,  
The rest for Roman service bound. 
The Massilian ships serve the conquering Romans.   
Whose rowers when they changed were,  
The Roman victors in them bear.  
A few with speed away did fly,  
For shelter in some harbours nigh;  
But now what tongue can well express  

The lamentation in Massilia  The Cities fright and heaviness?  
How fathers for their sons lament,  
What tears the wailing mothers spent.  
And how the wives upon the shore,  
In forlorn troops would search and poor  
Amongst the waves distained with gore:  
Where they their husband's corpse might have  

The Massilians affection to their slain friends.  Disfigured weltering in the wave.  
But oftentimes their marks did miss,  
And for a Greek, a Roman kiss.  
The fathers with like strife desires  
To give their sons their funeral fires.  
But Brutus with triumphant hands,  

Brutus' victorious on the sea.  Victor upon the Ocean stands.  
And on the sea first purchased fame  
With victory to Caesar's name.  
Finis Libritertij.   

Lucan's Pharsalia. The fourth Book.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
CEsar upon a lofty mount  
Encamped, doth his foes affront,  
near to Ilerdas stately walls;  
Where by the rage of water falls  
Being distressed; thence his Cohorts  
He over Sicoris transports:  
And doth Petreius host pursue;  
Where both the Camps a league renew.  
Which wickedly Petreius broke,  
And Friendship did with Slaughter slake.  
His Camp then Caesar doth enclose,  
And so oppressed his starving foes,  
That proud Petreius and his bands  
Seek mercy now at Caesar's hands.  
Mean while Antonius men are slain  
Upon the Adriatic main:  
Whereas Vulteius and his mates,  
Most gloriously do end their dates.  
Then Curio on the Lybicke coast  
Is overthrown with all his host.  
FIERCE Caesar now in Climes a far,  
Doth seriously pursue his war:  
And yet his Mart doth mildly wage,  
Free from revenge, or bloody rage.  
Chiefly he doth affect to see,  
Of what import these Captains be;  

Afranius and Petreius command in Spain for Pompey.  Afranius and Petreius were  
The two that all the sway did bear.  
The power was equal that they held  
Over the Troops, in Town or field:  
In camp they no precedence have,  
Either of them the watchword gave.  
These had beside their Latium bands,  
Swift Soldiers from Asturian lands:  
And to them joined the Vectons light,  
With all that people that took flight  
From Gaul, to mix their race with Spain:  
Who Celtiberian name retain.  
¶ A place there is that naturally  
Doth raise itself up loftly;  
And is a fertile plot of ground,  
In midst whereof a hillock round  
Extends itself with ample bound.  

The City Ilerda.  On top whereof Ilerda stands,  
Founded long since by antic hands:  
Whose gallant seat, and stately walls,  
Are washed with the water falls  

The River Sicoris.  Of pleasant Sicoris, not least  
Of those sweet streams that Spain do feast;  
Shaped like a bow on either sides:  
A bridge of stone this flood bestrides.  
And unto it a rock is nigh,  

Afranius camp  Where Pompey's men encamped lie:  

Caesar's Campe.  Whence Caesar's Tents are plainly seen  
High pitched upon a lofty green;  
The River runs the Camps between.  
Which field in largeness doth extend  
Further than sight can comprehend.  
And this great Champion circling round  

The River Cinga.  Swift Cingas streams doth safely bound.  
Which is restrained to dip or lave  
His silver breast in Neptune's wave:  
For he his streams hath intermixed  
With one great Flood that runs betwixt:  

The River Iberius.  And Iberus it hath to name,  
From whom that word Iberia came.  
At first sight no exploits were used,  
But was from bloody Mart excused:  
For both the Captains spent this day  
To view their strength, and bands survey.  
This strife remorse of mind did rue, 
Remorse in both the Armies.   
And shame the rage of Arms withdrew:  
Their Country's sake, and wronged laws,  
Gave one days leisure for a pause.  
No sooner day began to lurk,  
But Caesar sets great Troops a work, 
Caesar's speedy expedition.   
As long as all the night did last,  
About his Camp a trench to cast.  
And then before this work, the whiles  
His armed bands he ranks and files,  
And with this slight his foe beguiles.  
No sooner day his first light lends,  
But Caesar strait some legions sends  
To take a hill, that midway rose  
Between Ilerda and his foes.  
Afranius then ('twixt fear and shame)  
Was forced to entertain this game,  
And first with speed possessed the same.  
The one by sword and valour strove,  
At his command the hill to have: 
An encounter between Caesars and Afranius Soldiers.   
The others for their right contest,  
Already of the place possessed.  
But Caesar's men laden with Arms,  
The Rocks do clamber up in swarms.  
And though the place were craged & steep,  
Where footing fails, they crawl & creep:  
And when they hold or handfast lacks,  
Others with shields support their backs. 
The admirable courage & undertaking humour of Caesar's men.   
No fitting room that place affords  
To throw their darts, or fight with swords.  
Their Piles into the bank they stake,  
And by them mounting steps do make.  
And whilst by shrubs and crags they stay,  
Through bushes they hack out a way.  
But Caesar (seeing that his Troops  
For want of help in danger droops)  
Forthwith his aids of horsemen sends,  
Commanding them to back their friends.  
And that they should with circling ring,  
Charge home upon the left hand wing.  
So by this means up to the top  

Caesar wins the hill from Afranius.  His footmen got, and found no stop:  
For they that first the hill did gain,  
Did now retire from thence amain,  
Their honour lost, and labour vain.  
Only this while the chance of war,  
On either side did make a mar.  
But now the hazards that ensue,  
From the uncertain motions grew,  
Which then the airs untemperance drew.  
drew The winter seasons chilly frost,  
With Northern winds are turned and tossed.  
And now the air within it shrouds,  
Abundant heaps of clustered clouds.  
The hills lay covered thick with snow,  
And all the fields that lie more low,  
Wanting the comfort of the sun,  

A description of winter.  With hoary mists are overrun.  
The utmost coasts that Westward lie  
Were hardened with the freezing sky.  
But when the bright-beamed Titan came  
To lodge him with the gold fleeced Ram,  
That in the seas did Helles bear,  
When from his back she fell for fear,  
And with his flaming rays did bring  
More warmth unto the moisty spring.  
And with an equal poised upright,  
Did balance out the day and night.  
Then Cinthia's horns but late renewed,  
Did Boreas from the air exclude,  
Which was with Eastern shine endued.  
This East wind with Nabathean blasts,  
A loof from his own quarter casts  
The clouds that with him did reside,  
And those that in Arabia bide.  
And all those vapouring mists that mounts  
Into the air from Ganges founts:  
Or whatsoever else the Sun  
By his attractive power had won,  
Or any fogs that Northwest wind  
Hath to the Eastern clime designed,  
Or that the Indian air did bind.  
¶ These clouds removed from out that sky,  
The days began with heat to fry:  
Nor South nor North do tempests feel,  
Their racks with cleared face do wheel.  
But now the Western world of Spain,  
These rolls of clouds doth entertain.  
So this part of the globy round,  
That with his cliffs doth Thetis bound,  
These clustered woolpackes so confound,  
As that the air all thick is seen,  
That lies the heaven and earth between;  
And hardly room there did remain,  
These bundled vapours to contain,  
But priest, do power down showers amain.  
The thunder now the flash holds back  
Of lightning, that precedes the crack, 
Fowl & tempestuous weather in Spain.   
They are no sooner set on flame,  
But the moist clouds do quench the same.  
Here Iris now begins to show  
Some part of her halfe-circled bow; 
The Rainbow   
But not in wont colours died,  
The beauty thereof thick clouds hide.  
Her thirst she in the Ocean slakes,  
And to the clouds bears what she takes:  
And when they are dispersed again,  
They showering fall into the main.  
And now the Pyrenean hills,  
Whose heaps of snow never distills 
The mounts Pyrenes.   
By any vigour of the Sun,  
In torrents down do swiftly run;  
Dissolved with mighty rains that fall,  
Which those steep rocks do bathe withal.  
So as the monstrous streams that slides  
Down from those huge mountains sides;  
So fast into the rivers fly,  

A great inundation.  And do their channels raise so high,  
As that their banks they over-stride  
For want of room, their course to guide.  
And over all the field so skims,  
That Caesar's Camp now floating swims:  
And with the rage of this fierce flood,  
The tents are swept from whence they stood.  
The meadows and the pastures dry,  
All in a pool do bathing lie:  
So as no cattle they can get,  

Famine in Caesar's camp.  Nor ought else whereof to make meat,  
Nor fodder for their horse to eat.  
For those that go to fetch in pray,  
In unknown paths do range and stray,  
And doubtful roam on every hand,  
The floods so covers all the land.  
¶ Now mischiefs mate, dire famine's rage,  
So plays his part upon this stage,  
That Caesar's troops to ruin goes,  
And yet besieged with no foes.  
One Soldier gives a heap of gain  
Only to buy a little of grain,  
Yet therein shows no prodigue vain.  
O hateful humour Covetise,  
Whose quenchless thirst nought can suffice.  
A starved man cannot withhold,  

The force of Avarice.  But he will sell his food for gold.  
The mountains now and hills are hid,  
The floods hath all things over-strid:  
One only face of waters vast,  
Hath all the lands clean overcast.  
No troops of craggy cliffs are kend,  
To savage coats where wild beasts dend,  

A great deluge.  Upon this o'ergrown waters drives,  
Where beasts swim struggling for their lives▪  
There float the neighing Coursers brave,  
Snatched up with this all-sweeping wave:  
Which more than did the Ocean rave.  
The Sun to darkness so gave way  
That night was all as clear as day.  
heavens face with such confusion mourned,  
That all was topsy-turvy turned:  
And as the Poles, and Northern Zones,  
So under cold this mild clime groans.  
No twinkling stars by night are seen,  
The frozen earth brings forth no green;  
The i'll numbed air did cool the heat,  
That makes the Torrid Zone to sweat.  
¶ Great guider of this endless All,  
Let these dire mischiefs so befall:  
And Neptune, thou that hast next place,  
Assist us with thy powerful mace.  
O jove! do not these clouds restrain, 
An imprecation against civil war.   
But let them fill the air with rain.  
And Neptune, when thou forth dost send  
Thy streams, forbid them back to bend  
Their course, nor let them have  
Retreat to thee; but with thy wave  
Repulse the refuge that they crave;  
And with thy Trident strike the ground,  
That fountains may from thence abound.  
Let Rhenus overwhelm these fields,  
And Rhodanus that swift stream yields.  
Yea let all spring-heads fly at large,  
And on this soil their source discharge.  
Let mount Rhypheus' snows descend,  
And every lake to this place bend.  
Let ponds and Pools that stand at stay,  
With oblique course incline this way;  
Whereby the world may find release  
From civil wars, that us oppress.  
But Fortune, with this little touch,  
Is pleased to think all done, to much,  
Until she Caesar do restore  
Unto her favours, as before.  
And all the Gods are now in pain  
To make this man amends again.  
The air therefore is rarefied,  
And Phoebus with his wont pride  
Dissolves these woolpackes in the skies;  
Aurora blushing red doth rise.  
Each thing his wont order takes,  
The stars from them moist humours shakes;  
And where damp mists too much abound,  
They are confined within the ground.  
The groves begin with leaves to bud,  
The hills are seen above the flood.  
The valleys and the pleasant meads  
Firm grass and flowers overspreades.  
¶ When Sicoris had left her pranks,  
And drawn herself within her banks;  
Caesar small skiffs prepares and rigs,  
Composed of green willow twigs.  
And over it doth Oxe-hides dight,  
Wherewith to keep them staunch and tied.  
Thus able made their load to take,  
By them he doth his passage make.  
So the Venetian frames like boats,  
Wherewith on Padus stream he floats.  
And so the Britons in such skiffs,  
Do coast alongst their Ocean's cliffs.  
And so with Canes conjoined together,  
Covered upon with untanned leather.  
The Memphites do on Nilus' trade,  
Of which Canes leaves they paper made.  
Now Caesar with all speed transports  
A many of his chief cohorts.  
Who being on the other side  
Do timber for a bridge provide,  
Wherewith this river to bestride.  
But doubting that it might again  
Above the banks his channel strain,  
He would not on the rivers brink  
The groundwork posts drive down & sink.  
But somewhat farther in the lands,  
On both sides the foundation stands;  
And lest that Sicoris should rise  
With new floods, he did then devise  
Deep trenches cut alongst the sides,  
To drain away all swelling tides.  
Now when Petreius plainly found  
That Fate with Caesar went so round,  
His courage was therewith plucked down,  
And left Ilerda's lofty Town.  
And thus his Army he withdrew 
Petreius leaves Ilerda.   
From those he trusted less than knew:  
And takes his way, with all his train,  
Towards the utmost coasts of Spain.  
A Nation that he heard was man'd  
With many a stout and warlike band:  
Of courage fierce, in broils still bred,  
Affecting Arms, and scorning dread.  
When Caesar saw the hills left bare,  
And Tents no longer standing there,  
He bids his troops their Arms to take,  
And would not stay this bridge to make,  
Nor gauge the river for a ford,  
But bids them swim; and with that word 
Caesar passeth his Army over Sicoris.   
They cut the stream with nimble hands,  
And in that sort transport the bands.  
The Soldiers being grieved at heart  
To see their foes should so depart,  
In headlong swarms do fly to Mart.  
No sooner dried, they fall to Arm,  
And then their chilly joints do warm  
With speedy march, and never stay  
Until the noontide of the day.  
By this did Caesar's horse outgo  
The marching battle of the foe:  
Who were with that vnlook't-for sight  
Doubtful whether to fly or fight.  
Here where they met, a large field lies, 
The place where Caesar's Army pursues Petreius.   
In which two ample hills did rise  
That rocky were, and nothing green,  
And there a valley lay between.  
Which barren earth of stony ground  
A ledge of hills doth both sides bound:  
And by them trending there did stray  
A crooked and uncouth by-way.  
The entrance whereof if the foe  
Had gained first, he safe might go  
(As Caesar saw) and lead the war  
Into a Quarter strange and far:  
The Country wild, and ill to pass,  
Whose people fierce and savage was;  
Therefore he bids his men be bold,  
Haste on (quoth he) no order hold.  
Turn back again your flying foes,  

Caesar encourageth his Soldiers.  The face of Mart 'gainst them oppose.  
With threatening looks show them their death  
Let cowards draw no lingering breath.  
If they by fight away would scape,  
With your sharp blades their bosoms rape.  
No more he said, but did prevent  
His foes, ere they the hills had hent.  
Then there a sunder they did pitch  
Their Tents, fenced with a little ditch:  
From whence each other did descry  
With ease, how they encamped lie.  
Then they began to know each other,  
Father the son, brother the brother.  
Their civil malice waxed cold,  
Yet for a while from speech they hold;  
Only with swords they beckoning make,  

The two Armies take acquaintance one of the other.  And so their first acquaintance take.  
At last unto such terms they fall,  
That love suppresseth raging brawl.  
For then the Soldiers undertook  
Into each others camp to look:  
And with free hearts and dreadless face,  
With friendly arms their guests embrace.  
This man his host calls by his name,  
Others to kinsfolks do the same.  
Another he espies his mate,  
That was his schoolfellow but late.  
No Roman was on either side,  
But he some old acquaintance spied.  
Their Arms were all with tears besprent,  
Their kisses do in so●●…es lament.  
And though no blood were drawn at all,  
Yet did they fear what might befall.  
Alas! why vex you so your breast?  
What need you wail this mad unrest?  
These needless tears were banished quite,  
If you consider but a right  
That you yourselves nurse this despite.  
Do you so much the mischief fear 
And exhortation to peace.   
That your own humours bred and rear?  
Why let the Trumpet sound his fill,  
Regard it not, but keep you still:  
And though the Ensigns fly at large,  
From civil brawls your Arms discharge.  
So shall you end Erinnys date,  
And Caesar then in private state  
Shall cease his son-in-law to hate.  
¶ O Concord with eternal grace!  
That sweetly dost all things embrace:  
Within this mixed massy sphere,  
World's sacred love be present here;  
For now in danger stands our age, 
An Apostrophe to concord.   
To be distressed with future rage:  
Wars mischiefs secretly devised,  
Is now discovered and despised.  
The misled people see with shame,  
What is the cause of all their blame,  
Each friend doth know his friend by name.  
But (ah) dire Fates, that do advance  
With a sinister ordinance,  
The bloody strife that shall increase  
For this small time of pleasing peace.  
Truce now in both the Camps did swarm,  
With visitations free from harm.  
Upon the green turf is their seat,  
Where they together friendly eat. 
The kind entertainment between the Soldiers of both Camps.   
And Bacchus liquor doth abound,  
Huge fires they kindle on the ground.  
Together they do Cabins make,  
But all the night no sleep do take,  
The tales they tell keep them awake.  
One tells how he the trench defends,  
Another how his pile he bends,  
With strength that from his arm he sends.  
And whilst that some thus brags and boasts  
What they have done in sundry coasts:  
Others again will give a glance,  
And say that this fell out by chance.  
Yet they poor souls do find content  
That with such faith the time is spent.  
But (ah) this new contracted love  
Must greater future malice prove.  
For when Petreius heard report,  
How both the Camps in friendly sort  
With mutual love each other greets,  
And in such kindness daily meets;  

Petreius violates the friendly compliments between the two Camps.  He than employs some trusty bands,  
Who with their armed wicked hands,  
Do fall on the unarmed foe,  
And o'er the trenches them do throw.  
Then their embracements and kind words  
They separate with bloody swords;  
So in a savage brainsick mood,  
He washed away this peace with blood.  
¶ Then he enraged with words of ire,  
New fuel adds unto old fire.  
O Soldiers, that with base neglect,  
Do thus your Country's cause reject,  
And with a loose forgetful mind,  
To your own Ensigns are unkind;  
By this means you can never show  

Petreius oration to his Soldiers.  The faith that you the Senate owe.  
Can this league that you have renewed,  
Witness that Caesar is subdued  
By you? and can it be maintained,  
Your country's freedom thus is gained?  
Believe me, now you rather go  
The way yourselves to overthrow.  
Will you become proud Caesar's slave  
Whilst in your hands you weapons have?  
And whilst the Victor's happy state  
Depends upon a doubtful fate?  
And whilst your sturdy limbs and veins  
(Not soaked with wounds) fresh blood retains?  
Will you as men that ill deserve,  
Under condemned Ensigns serve?  
Must Caesar without more ado  
Now needs be sued and sought unto?  
That he would you vouchsafe the grace,  
To serve in some inferior place?  
And must we (that command in chief)  
Of Caesar seek our lives relief?  
Oh no, that scorn we much disdain,  
Treason shall not our safety gain,  
No wicked price can us retain.  
This civil war we do not wage  
To save our lives from fury's rage;  
Our liberties, and Country's cause,  
Us willingly to dangers draws.  
What need we deep mines undertake  
For Steel and Iron, Arms to make?  
Or why should we our cities wall,  
And raise huge Ramparts therewithal?  
What need such troops of Coursers brave,  
As in our Camps we daily have?  
Or to what use should we maintain  
Such towering Galleons on the main,  
If we be willing to release  
Our liberties, to gain a peace?  
A wicked oath our foes doth bind  
To sue these wars with constant mind.  
And can you with your faiths dispense,  
That is engaged with just pretence?  
Need you from guilt to be acquit,  
Because you for your Country fight?  
O shameful and unmanly act!  
That would such heinous leagues contract.  
Pompey, that art estranged by Fate, 
An Apostrophe to Pompey.   
From knowledge of the City's state,  
And Armies dost prepare for war,  
With aids from Kings remote so far.  
Perhaps thou buildest upon our trust,  
Ready to aid thy quarrel just.  
Thus said, again he sets on fire,  
Their minds with wicked wars desire.  

An apt comparison.  ¶ Like as the cruel savage beast,  
That long from forest prey hath ceased,  
Shut up within a closed cage,  
More mildly bred, dis-usd from rage:  
At length his nature being tamed,  
To human bent is brought and framed.  
If he again but taste the smack  
Of blood, that he so long did lack;  
And therewith warm his ravening jaws,  
Will then with furious ramping paws,  
Thirsty of blood, expose his power  
His fearful keeper to devour.  
So to all villainy they go,  
And monstrous treachery they show.  
The which vile fact they cloak with night,  
Blind Fortune's deed, and Fates despite.  
For now behold, 'twixt bed and board,  
They brutishly do bathe the sword  
Within their breasts, whom they before  
With dear embracements did deplore.  
And though at first they moaning yearn,  
So to employ their weapons stern:  
The thirsty sword that peace withstands,  
Offers itself into their hands.  
Yet whilst they kill, they loathe the fact,  
Their faint blows show their minds distract.  
But now the Camp is raging hot,  

Petreius men unwillingly betray their adversaries.  All faith is brutishly forgot:  
Their ravening hands with blood they glut,  
The sons their father's throats do cut.  
Yet that the Soldiers may be freed  
As guiltless of this heinous deed:  
Before their two great Captains eyes  
They did show forth this bloody prize,  
Which sight did them with joy surprise.  
¶ But Caesar, though thy gallant bands  
Be thus despoiled with treacherous hands,  
Yet thou the Gods dost still regard,  
And didst not such revenge award  
Upon thy foes; when thou didst stand  
Triumphant in Pharsalia land.  
Nor when thou didst on seas of late,  
The stout Massilian force abate.  
Nor when thou didst in Egypt's soil  
At Pharos, give thy foes the foil.  
But their outrage, and thy mild course  
Betters thy cause, and makes theirs worse.  
For now these captains spirits droops, 
Caesar's clemency graceth his cause.   
They dare not with polluted troops  
Longer encamp in Champion lands,  
Their Tents too near to Caesar's stands.  
But to Ilerda they will flee,  
Whose walls they think much safer be. 
Petreius minded to fly to Ilerda.   
But Caesar's horsemen them prevent,  
And in dry hills they are up-pent.  
Where want of water they sustain,  
For Caesar did their ditches drain;  
And them with Troops encompassed so,  
That from their Camp they dare not go  
To fetch in water, where springs flow.  
¶ When these men saw their deaths at hand  
No longer now in fear they stand,  
But carried on with raging will,  
Their horses first of all they kill;  
Which now can serve them to no use,  
Being thus penned up in a muse.  
And therefore set aside all hope,  
Seeing to scape was left no scope.  
Towards their armed foes they fly:  
But when that Caesar did espy  
In them this furious desperate vain;  
Soldiers (quoth he) your Arms refrain, 
Caesar's advice to his Soldiers.   
Though rushing thus, they you confront,  
Do not receive their headstrong brunt:  
I know a better way by far,  
In blood I list not bathe my war.  
He conquest gains at too high price,  
That strives with those that death entice.  
These lads now weary of their lives,  
Together with their ruin strives,  
To bring some wrack on us withal;  
But on our swords they shall not fall:  
Though they desire in this starved mood  
To lose their lives, to spill our blood.  
O this is but a madding fit!  
Let them a while champ on the bit.  
Bar them that death so fain they would,  
Their courage will be quickly cooled.  
Hold them but lingering off from fight,  
Until the Sun withdraw his light,  
And in the Ocean dip his head,  
And that the skies be overspread  
With stars; let Titan siluer-bright,  
Give them but space to pause a night.  
Thus when they saw their Mart was marred,  
And means of fight they were debarred;  
Their furious humour waxed cold,  
And in their minds more temper hold.  
Like him whose breast the sword doth pierce  
With wounds, grief doth become more fierce:  
Whilst gushing from the nerves and veins  
Hot blood, his striving spirits strains  
To show the force that yet remains:  
And yet until the bones begin  
Nearer to draw the blood-puft skin,  
The whilst the witting victor stands  
Retired, and doth withhold his hands,  
Until a i'll numb heaviness  
The joints and spirits do possess  
Of this poor wounded man, at length  
Who finds himself deprived of strength,  
When as the gore no longer flows,  
But on the wound stiffe-dried grows.  
¶ Now want of water them constrains  

Petreius Camp distressed for want of water  To dig and search out hidden veins  
Of springs & streams, that have their birth  
Deep in the bowels of the earth.  
And whilst about this work they stand,  
They do not only take in hand  
The Pickax, and the delving spades,  
But do employ their martial blades.  
And tops of hills they deeper sink  
Then any low-lodged rivers brink.  
The pale-hued Miners (that do toil  
For gold, in rich Assyrian soil)  
Do not sink deeper pits downright,  
In dungeons more remote from light.  
And yet for all they can devise,  
They cannot see a spring to rise.  
Nor any stream could be descried  
That underneath the ground did slide.  
Nor from the sides of rocky hills,  
A drop of liquor out distills,  
Though digged & pierced with pickax bills.  
No drop of dew or moisture laves  
The hollow dampish airy caves.  
Nor in the pits of gravill sand,  
Doth any plash of water stand.  
Their men thus over-laid with sweat,  
And fainting now twixt thirst and heat;  
Seeing that they but lose their pain,  
Raise them from out the mines again.  
But by this diving under ground,  
Whereas some dampish mists they found,  
When they come up, can scarce endure  
The air, that is more hot and pure.  
Neither are they refreshed with meat,  
They faint for drink, and loath to eat.  
Hunger to them best help doth give  
Their thirsty humour to relieve.  
But if that any moisty field,  
Do grassy roots, or green turfs yield,  
Between their hands the same they squees  
Into their mouth, and no drop lose.  
Or if they meet with standing puddles,  
Where slime & black mud stinking huddles;  
The Soldiers there (to get a draft)  
Will strive, as though a world they sought.  
And starving, will contented drink  
That, which they would else odious think.  
And then will take it for their feasts,  
To suck the udders of bruit beasts;  
And when therein no milk remains,  
They suck the blood from out the veins.  
Others fresh leaves and herbs will pound  
With dew that on green boughs is found;  
But chiefly, those crude stalks that twines  
About the tender-budding vines,  
They press, and sap from young tree rinds.  
¶ O happy souls, full blessed were ye,  
That whilst your barbarous foes did flee,  
They did in all the ways they past  
Poison amongst the waters cast,  
And so destroyed you all at last.  
Our Roman youths will never shrink  
Witting those water streams to drink;  
Though Caesar should the springs defile  
With venom, or with carrion vile;  
Or wholesome wells should in despite,  
Infect with deadly Aconite:  
But now their bowels drought hath fried,  
Their mouths resemble parchment dried.  
Their tongues the baked froth doth fur,  
In their shrunk veins no blood will stir:  
Their lights and lungs do scarcely pant,  
They all refreshing humour want.  
And it doth grieve them to the death,  
Through their chopped pipes to draw their breath.  
Their jaws wide gaping they do stretch,  
The cooling dews by night to catch.  
They watch when some sweet showers will fall,  
Which but of late o'erwhelmed all:  
And evermore they cast their eyes  
Upon the niggard cloudy skies;  
And so much more it did them grieve,  
Because that now they did not live  
Amongst Meroens' parched plants,  
Nor with the naked Garamants,  
Nor under Cancers fiery lamp,  
But their starved Army did encamp;  
Where they (like Tantalus) might view,  
Sweet Sicoris, with silver hue,  
And Iberus so swift and clear,  
Both hard at hand, they near the near.  
¶ These tamed Captains now are calm,  
In stead of Bays they carry Palm;  
Afranius with a carriage meek,  
Peace for his guilty Arms doth seek:  
And so with all his crest-fallen troops  
(That now in starved languor droops)  
Unto the hostile Tents he wends, 
Petreius & Affranius submit themselves to Caesar.   
And there at Caesar's feet he bends.  
But though he sue, yet holds his grace  
Not with misfortunes daunted face;  
But carries all in fitting sort  
For his now fate, and his late port:  
And with a brow secure and bold,  
To gain his peace, this tale he told.  
¶ Haddit Fate ordained that I should stand  
Thus vanquished by a stranger's hand: 
Afranius Oration to Caesar.   
My dreadless Arm I soon would frame  
To reave my life, and shun that shame.  
But now this reason doth me lead  
For safety of my life to plead;  
Because thou Caesar dost believe  
He nobly doth, that life doth give.  
Of faction we no parties are,  
Our charge we held before this war:  
And to that former Martial trust,  
Whilst we had power, we have been just,  
To strive with Fate we do not lust.  
Spain we deliver to thy hands,  
We opened have the Eastern lands:  
Those coasts shall be secured from wrack,  
That thou dost leave behind thy back:  
This conquest now on us so gained,  
Is not with loss of blood obtained,  
Thy hand or sword it hath not stained.  
This only boon in thee doth rest,  
To spare thy foes that are distressed.  
It is not much that we do crave  
On our mishaps remorse to have.  
Permit our lives that thou dost give,  
From civil discord free to live,  
And rest secure of our intent;  
These prostrate troops their spleen have spent.  
It fits not with thy happy Arms,  
To mingle our subjecteth swarms:  
Nor that our captive Troops should dare  
Triumphs with thy brave Host to share,  
These with contentment know their fare.  
Only this grace let us obtain,  

The sum of Afranius Petition.  That thou do not our Arms constrain,  
And force us (conquered men) to be  
Hereafter Conquerors with thee.  
¶ Thus said, Caesar (of nature mild)  
With gracious looks was reconciled:  

Caesar's clemency.  All punishment he did remit,  
And them from use of Arms acquit.  
No sooner was this grace obtained,  
And their faith bound to be maintained,  
But strait in heaps the Soldiers flee  

Many of the Soldiers kill themselves with greedy drinking.  Unto the rivers, then set free:  
And on the banks did groveling fall,  
Striving for that was free for all;  
So greedily the streams they swill,  
And suddenly their paunches fill,  
As that their breath they never take,  
Striving their thirsty jaws to slake:  
Whereby the air that should relieve  
Their empty veins, and comfort give,  
No passage to their lights can find;  
And so withal they life resigned.  
This scorching pestilent disease,  
So still doth on their bowels cease,  
That though they ready be to burst,  
The more they drink the more they thirst.  
Yet many comfort find at length,  
And well refreshed, receive new strength.  
O Luxury! thou prodigue vain,  
That never canst the mean retain; 
A reprehension of Luxury.   
And thou insatiate Glut tony,  
Pampered with superfluity,  
That rak'st and robbest both land and seas,  
Thy wanton appetite to please.  
O learn, and better do advise,  
How small relief will life suffice,  
For Nature doth excess despise.  
The strong old wine that we do keep  
Time out of mind in Cellars deep,  
No health or help at all can bring  
To sickly souls, whom fevers wring.  
They mixed liquors do not sup  
Deliciously in golden cup:  
Fresh water, and the hearty grain,  
Doth strength restore, and life sustain.  
O! with what storms do they contend,  
That in the wars their lives do spend?  
The Soldier now his Arms bequeaves,  
To Caesar, whence he grace receives.  
And more securely he doth rest,  
Then with his corselet on his breast.  
For freed thus from cark and care,  
Unto the Cities they repair.  
And now do they that find release  
From wars, by this so happy peace,  
That bloody trade and travail scorn,  
Wishing they never Arms had borne,  
To have endured such thirst withal, 
A detestation of war.   
And on the Gods in vain to call,  
For conquest on their side to fall.  
The wished hope of good success  
With doubts doth stoutest hearts oppress.  
When Armies stern confonting strives,  
Such toils the wretched world contrives,  
That Fortune never should have rest,  
If she should tend to their request,  
As oft as men do call and cry,  
When they do doubt of victory.  
For through the world must blood be shed,  
Where troops with Caesar's fate are led.  
And therefore we may think him blest,  
That knoweth where in quiet rest  
His head to shelter free from scars,  
Since all the world is set on jars;  
So that this wretched civil broil,  
Men wearied do not over-toyle.  
And slumbering souls are not affright  

The security and contentment that poor men live in.  When Trumpets sound calls men to fight.  
The wife may have her dear consort,  
Parents may with their children sport.  
And lodged in simple Cotes secure,  
Their fields may labour and manure,  
Unforced wars hazards to endure.  
Thus Fortune now becomes more kind,  
And hath released from cares our mind,  
So as no cause of fear we find.  
Caesar is founder of our rest,  
But we were led by Pompey's hest.  
And now this boon thereby we have,  
That whilst these civil wars do rave,  
For neither side success we crave.  
¶ Fortune doth not her grace express  
On Caesar's side with like success  
In other coast, but there she shows  
That she dares cross him with some blows.  
For where the Adriatic main  
His waves doth on Salona strain.  
And whereas lukewarm jaders' source  
Into soft Zephyr bends his course.  
Antonius with his troops resides;  
Which coasts upon the utmost sides,  
The Adriatic sea doth bound:  
There is he shut up in that ground,  
And trusts unto those valiant bands  
That he had from the Curets lands.  
And able was his war to wage  
Against the force of hostile rage;  
Had Famine not his camp distressed,  
Wherewith strong forts are oft oppressed.  
This soil for horse no fodder yields,  
Nor any grain grew in the fields.  
The hungry soldiers from the turf  
Plucks up for food the heathy scurf.  
And with their teeth do gnabbe the green  
Of meadows, that erst mowed had been.  
But when these men their friends descried  
Upon the shore on th'other side;  
And saw Basilus Ensign spread,  
Under whose conduct they were led:  
A new device they undertake,  
By sea their secret flight to make;  
But not with ships of common wont,  
With sails or oars the waves to front: 
Distress puts men to their shifts.   
But with unused stratagems,  
Together they did bind huge beams,  
That would a mighty freight sustain,  
And safely swim upon the main:  
With empty Cask supported up,  
Which would not sink, nor water sup.  
These bundled trees great chains did strength,  
With doubled ranks combined in length.  
Not drawn with oars on either sides,  
Upon the waves these vast piles slides.  
But by the floating of the beams,  
They are borne up upon the streams.  
And in that sort doth slily wend  
With secret course not to be kend.  
For neither sails do make them fly,  
Nor any oars they do apply:  
But now they do the tides attend,  
For then the seas did backward bend.  
And with the ebb the shores and sands  
All bare and dry uncovered stands.  
But after when the swelling main  
With turning flood did rise again,  
These structures that they did compose,  
Were slide into the floating Oase;  
With two ships that before them go,  
And after them these rafts did tow.  
These ships had turrets built upright,  
That plainly did appear in sight;  
And on the deck the trembling mast  
Did bow, and stoop with every blast.  
But now octavius Admiral,  
That on the seas did govern all  
For Pompey's part, would not in haste  
Assail these rafts, but still stood fast.  
And did his nimble ships restrain  
From ranging out into the main,  
Until the foe were in his way,  
Aloof at sea, far from the bay,  
Securely running on his race,  
Doubting no sails to give them chase.  
So doth the fearful Hart refrain  
To scour or range upon the plain,  
But sculkes and hides amongst the brakes,  
When by the wind the sent he takes  
Of bow or shaft, or human breath,  
Which he doth shun unto the death.  
Thus while the hunt withholds the sounds  
Of his fleet-hunting wel-mouthed hounds;  
And therewithal in couples clogs  
His Spartan, and his Cretan dogs;  
And suffers none the Chase to sue,  
But some old hound that can hunt true  
On dry-feet sent, with nusling snout,  
That will not put the beast in rout,  
With spending of his open jaws;  
But when the tapise near he draws,  
Will shake his tail, and quiet stand,  
To fit all for the hunter's hand.  
Now these huge rafts with speed they load,  
And then convey them from the road,  
When as the last of days twilight  
Withstood the first approach of night.  
Then Cilix, that same Pirate old,  
That did on Pompey's party hold,  
A slight devised them to betray,  
When on the seas they were midway.  
A long huge chain there he did sink,  
And to a rock the end did link  
Of the Ilyrian cliffy shore,  
But lets the first ship pass it over,  
And so the second in likewise,  
And then the third he did surprise,  
With his hooked chain, the which he drew  
Unto the shore, with her armed crew.  
This land doth shelving hollow lie  
Over the seas, strange to the eye.  
Whereon a tough of huge trees grows,  
That on the waves great shadows strews.  
Hither from ships by north-winds torn  
Many dead carcases are borne,  
And in the creeks a while lie closed,  
But after are again exposed:  
For when the Caverns of this bay  
With ebb returns his circling sway,  
These whirlpools spew up from their maw  
More than Charybdis gulfie jaw;  
Here now this Raffe enclosed is,  
Deep laden with the Colonies  
Of Opiterge; and then the fleet  
Of enemies about them meet.  
And all about the neighbour strands  
In Clusters gazing on them stands.  
Vulteius now discerned plain,  
That he was taken in a train:  
For of this Raffe he was the chief,  
And seeing no means of relief,  
Nor that this cumbrous tangling chain  
By any force would break in twain,  
He takes his Arms with doubtful hope,  
Whether by flight to compass scope,  
Or with the sword a passage open.  
Yet in this hard distressed plight,  
Valour affords her manly might;  
For being closed in a pound  
With thousands that this raff did round,  
Which scarcely had aboard it than,  
One Cohort full the same to man.  
(Although not long) they maintained fight  
Until at last they wanting light,  
The fray was parted by dark night.  
¶ Then did Vulteius stoutly brave  
With dreadless speech himself behave,  
And cheereth up his staggering band,  
Amazed with the fate at hand.  

Vulteius manly oration to his distressed troops.  Brave youths (quoth he) weigh in your breasts  
This little time of night that rests;  
And do resolve in this short date,  
How you will seek your latest fate.  
Scarce have we so long time of breath,  
With leisure to forethink our death.  
More glory we shall give our end,  
To meet our Fate, than it attend.  
Those minds do merit no less praise,  
That dare cut off their doubtful days,  
Then those, that shorten do the scope  
Of longer years, that they do hope.  

A Pagan resolution.  For he that doth with his own fist,  
In sunder break his life-spun twist;  
A conquest to himself hath gained,  
Willing to die comes not constrained.  
To scape, no means us hope affords,  
We are impaled with Romans swords.  
Outface proud death, lay dread aside,  
Freely affect that must betide.  
But let us not (take heed withal)  
Like slaughtered beasts in clusters fall,  
With hostile hands hewed down and hacked,  
Be in a cloud obscurely wracked:  

Confused fight in Troops, obscures particular valour.  Or else be slain whilst night doth last  
With showers of darts from our foes cast.  
For they that so confusedly  
Fight, do intermingled die,  
True valour shades from sight of eye.  
The Gods on us this stage bestows  
In open view of friends and foes.  
The rolling seas, and mountains high,  
Shall see our courage death defy:  
This Island witness shall the same,  
And to her rocks record our fame.  
The coasts on both sides shall behold  
Valour unvanquished uncontrolled.  
O Fortune! we unwitting are  
What endless fame thou dost prepare 
What felicity the Romans took to acquire unto themselves future fame.   
Wherewith to glorify our Fates.  
For all records of future dates,  
That endless ages can retain,  
Our memory shall still maintain;  
And for our sakes repeat with ruth,  
To constant Mart our spotless truth,  
Eternising our famous youth.  
And Caesar, 
The affection that Caesar's Soldiers did bear unto him.  for thy sake we know  
In this too little we bestow,  
With our own swords ourselves to gore,  
But thus beset, we can no more.  
This constant death that we will prove,  
We dedicate unto thy love.  
But envious Fate our praise did grudge,  
And from it hath detracted much;  
In that our Parents and our sons  
With us none of this fortune runs.  
Then should they know (had we some aid)  
What dauntless spirits they waylaid.  
And, doubtless, we should make them fear  
To mell with us, that such minds bear.  
But they may hold them well-a-paid,  
That no more of our ships they stayed.  
For than must they some means have found  
For our enlargement to compound;  
And sought with some vain offers base,  
Our living honour to deface.  
O would (that now to give our death  
One glory more, ere our last breath)  

A glorious wish.  They would but us some offer make,  
Whereby we might our pardon take:  
That we with scorn might it forsake:  
That thereby they might plainly know  
How dreadless we to death do go.  
And not as men in hopeless mood,  
With our own swords cool our own blood.  
Let us such virtue now express,  
That Caesar may with right confess,  
That he in us hath undergone  
A bloody loss worthy of moan.  
Although we few are but a mite  
'mongst thousands that for him do fight,  

The resolution of Vulteius.  Though fate would set us free again,  
That offer yet would I disdain;  
Dear mates, this life to me is scorn,  
Death's motives do my thoughts suborn.  
Fury divine hath rap't rap't my mind,  
The Gods in favour have designed  
That we to death should give our mind.  

To be willing to die is a heavenly blessing  To others they such grace deny,  
To think it happiness to die;  
Because here in this world of strife,  
They should protract a wretched life.  
Now are these noble youths on fire,  
To haste their fates with true desire.  

How much Vulteius speech did animate his little troup  Who did before gaze on the skies  
With heavy hearts and watery eyes,  
Expecting death when sun did rise.  
And did behold (with grieving fear)  
The stooping of the greater Bear,  
Before that they this speech did hear.  
But then they wished to see days light,  
So free they were from deaths affright.  
For now their Captains glorious words,  
Provoked their hearts like points of swords.  
The Sphere with all her lamps of night  
Haste in the seas to plunge their light.  
The Sun his parting then begins  

Castor and P●ll●x.  From out the arms of Leda's twins,  
And now this lofty star him draws  
To lodge more near to Cancers claws  
And for a farewell night imparts  
With us, her two Thessalian darts.  
¶ The day spring doth descry abroad  
How Istrian troops the Cliffs do load,  
And how the stout Liburnian fleet  
With Greekish ships in consort meet.  
But first, the rage of war to cease,  
They offer them to treat of peace:  
And only this contract would have,  
To yield themselves, their lives to save;  
Except they more desired death,  
Then to preserve a Captive breath. 
A parley offered, but refused.   
But these brave younkers did disdain  
Parley for life to entertain.  
They were resolved that their own Arms  
Should free them from all scornful harms.  
Their minds prepared for utmost woes,  
Could not be moved with clamorous foes.  
Few hands of theirs sustained the brunt  
Of multitudes, 
Vulteius assailed on all sides  that them affrunt  
By land and seas on every side,  
Constant to death they firm abide.  
And when they saw of hostile gore,  
That they had shed sufficient store;  
They turned their fury from the foe,  
And with themselves in hand they go.  
The noble Captain led the way  
Vulteius brave, that doth display  
His naked breast, and thus did say:  
That hand amongst you most of worth  
My blood with glory to let forth;  
Let him give proof by wounding me,  
That he likewise himself dares free  
From captive fate. No more he spoke, 
The resolution of the Romans in scorn of their foes.   
But therewithal short work to make,  
More swords than one became so fierce,  
That all at once his bowels pierce.  
Yet he that on him first did light,  
Him with like kindness to requite,  
His dying hand did then bestow  
On him again a fatal blow.  
Then all the troup hand over head,  
With mortal wounds each other sped.  
In such sort raged the Dircaean breed,  

Cadmus.  That did spring up of Cadmus' seed,  
Which did presage the dismal fate  

Ocdepus two sons, Etheocles, and Polynices.  Of Theban brethren's dire debate;  
Whose earthbred race their lineage draws  
From that same waking Dragon's jaws,  
Whose teeth sown in the Phasian fields,  
Such cankered bloody natures yields;  
As that the furrows flowing stood  
With fowl enraged allied blood,  
Contrived by wrathful magic's mood.  

Medea.  And vile Medea, that these harms  
Did bring to pass with sorcerous charms,  
Feared what thereof might more betide,  
Because those spells she had not tried.  
In this sort died those gallant lads,  
Whose mutual fate each other glads.  
Death to great virtue did expose,  
To quell such valiant men as those.  
Yet they together die and fall;  
No one man's hand did fail at all  
To give a wound, but it did bring  
With dying hand, deaths deadly sting.  
Neither did they to strong blows trust,  
But through their breasts the swords did thrust;  
And for it should be thoroughly done,  
Up to the hilts they did them run.  
In this bloodthirsty slaughtering fray,  
The brother doth the brother slay;  

A cruel slaughter.  Sons fathers send the self-same way.  
And yet their hands were not affright  
'Gainst natures laws to show their might.  
But this was deemed a pious deed,  
With one blow and no more to speed.  
Now did the bowels all bestrow  
The hatches, and the blood did flow  
Over the sides into the seas.  
To see the light did them displease;  
But that with proud disdainful grace  
They might look in the victor's face,  
And scornfully their deaths embrace.  
The Raffe was heaped, and overspread  
With these brave youths that there lie dead.  
To whom the Conquerors impart  
Due funerals, as their desert.  
And all the Captains wondering stood,  
At this brave Captains dauntless mood.  
And now the fame of this deed done,  
(As matchless) through the world did run.  
But yet this pattern cannot make  
Many base minds like heart to take:  
Dread will not let them understand,  
That Virtue with her valiant hand,  
May easily their woes release,  
If slavish Fate do them oppress: 
What power rests in valour   
But Tyrant's swords do them appall,  
Their freedom under force doth fall,  
Because they do not understand  
Why swords were fitted to the hand.  
O Death! therefore do not affright  
The poor dismayed coward wight;  
But show thy tyrant murderous dart  
Unto the dauntless noble heart.  
Like courage he in Mart expressed  
That doth the Lybian fields invest:  
For noble Curio leaves the road  
Of Lilybey, where his abode  
With all his fleet, a while he made  
Which now the Ocean do invade. 
Curio with an Army goes into Africa.   
When as a friendly Northern gale  
His ships unto the port did hale,  
Whereas the waves the ruins beat  
Of great Carthagoes famous seat.  
And then unto the harbour came  
Clupea hight, of noted name.  
There first he maketh his descents,  

Curios landing in Africa.  And far in land did pitch his tents  
Hard by the stow Bagrada's sides,  
That furrows up the sands with tides.  
Then to the hills his Army goes,  
And to those hollow rocks that shows  

The Giant Antaeus.  Where great Antaeus reigned king,  
As old bards do not vainly sing.  
Here Curio seriously desires  
To hear report of ancient sires,  
And what the peasants of the land  
Did by tradition understand;  
From what occasion that tale rose,  
That through the world this rumour blows.  

The tale of Antaeus  ¶ Long after that same monstrous brood  
Of Earthborn Giants, jove withstood,  
Our Libyan Country did not rear  
Such o'ergrown creatures as they were.  

The Giants that rebelled against jupiter  Neither was Typhon's worth so much;  
Nor Tityos, nor Briareus such,  
As in the world they glory bare;  
But sure the earth the heavens did spare,  
That then Antaeus was not borne,  

A right Heathen conceit.  Nor did in Thessaly sojourn.  
A man so dear unto the earth,  

Antaeus' the son of the earth.  From whom he took his living birth;  
As that he never touched the ground,  
But his main force did more abound.  
And when his huge limbs fainting grew,  
Fresh strength in them it did renew.  
This cave the house where he did dwell,  
And under this high rock the cell  
Where he did lodge, and for his meat  
The flesh of Lions he did eat.  

The manner of Antaeus' life.  On wild beasts skins he would not lie,  
Nor on the broad leaves soft and dry;  
But on the bare mould he would rest,  
Wherewith his vigour still increased.  
The people over all the lands  
Were mangled with his murderous hands.  
Of strangers, that the coast did trade,  
A slaughter and a spoil he made.  
But for a time (proud of his force)  
He did the help of earth divorce.  
And though he were of so great might,  
That none durst him withstand in fight;  
Yet when the fame abroad was spread,  
Of this foul monster so a-dread,  
And what great mischief he had done,  
It moved Alcides noble son 
Hercules.   
To pass to Africa on the main,  
To buckle with this surly swain.  
¶ But ere his task he did begin,  
From him he casts his lions skin,  
That in Cleoneae he had slain:  
Antaeus likewise did refrain  
To wear his Lybicke lions spoil.  
Then Hercules, the sovereign oil  
Upon his brawny limbs infused,  
That in Olympian games he used.  
But now Antaeus (erst so stout)  
His proper force began to doubt;  
And therefore stretched himself at length  
Upon the sands, that gave him strength.  
Now with their hands they handfast take,  
And fiercely do their strained arms shake: 
The combat between Hercules and Antaeus.   
Then did they long (but all in vain)  
Each other by the collars strain,  
And brow they do confront to brow,  
Which neither of them both would bow:  
But each of them did muse to see  
One that his equal match could be.  
Alcides yet forbore to show  
His utmost vigour on his foe:  
But urged him so with cunning slight,  
That out of breath he puts him quite;  
Which by oft panting he expressed,  
With cold sweat trickling down his breast.  
Then both their necks with straining shakes  
Breast against breast resistance makes,  
Whilst their crossed arms, with stooping chine  
About each others thighs they twine.  
Then doth Alcides leave that hold,  
And fiercely both his arms did fold  
About Antaeus' bending waste,  
And wring girds his bowels fast;  
Whilst he his foot with skill did slide  
Betwixt his shanks, and made him stride.  
Then with an in-turne following that,  
Upon his back he threw him flat.  
The parched earth the sweat receives,  
And unto him new force bequeaves:  

Antaeus' strength renewed by touching the earth.  Fresh blood reviveth every vain,  
His sinewy neck grew strong again.  
His joints more firm and nimble were,  
And with such force himself did bear,  
That all that Herc'les did before,  
His body now annoyed no more.  
Herewith Alcides grew amazed,  
And on this strength increasing gazed,  
For he was not so much affright,  

Hydra.  When he did with that Hydra fight,  
That new heads for his old could dight,  
In the Inachian plashie fen,  
Though he were but a stripling then.  
Long doubtfully did they contend:  
One trusts the strength the earth did lend;  
Th'other did on the virtue rest  
That lodged within his manly breast.  

juno.  His bitter stepdame never had  
Such cause as now her hopes to glad,  
In seeing him so hard bestead:  
For now she sees his limbs to sweat,  
And his strong shoulders stark with heat,  
Whereon he wont was to bear  
The burden of the starry sphere.  
But now again he did begin  
His arms about his foe to cling,  
Which when Antaeus did perceive,  
He strait unto the earth did cleave,  
From whence new force he did receive.  
And all the help the earth could give,  
Her son therewith she did relieve;  
And labours with her might and main,  
His wearied limbs to strength again.  
Now when Alcides found at length,  
That still he did renew his strength  
By virtue of the touched earth  
His mother, whence he took his birth.  
Stand now (quoth he) and trust no more  
As thou didst to the earth before: 
Hercules' words to Antaeus.   
I will restrain thee from that hope,  
Within my arms shall be thy scope.  
Thy heft shall stay upon my breast,  
Here is the place that thou shalt rest.  
And with that word aloft him hent,  
That struggling to the earth-wards bend.  
But there the ground no whit avails  
Her child's crushed chest, whom death assails.  
Thus did Alcides gird him fast,  
Until his chine he broke at last.  
And now deaths pangs, with crazy cold  
On all his limbs did lay sure hold.  
Thus he a long time did him strain, 
Antaeus' killed by Hercules.   
Ere he would let him fall again.  
This combat hath been since the cause,  
From whence our Country's ancient saws,  
Admiring this great giants fame,  
Unto his mother gave his name.  
But since a name of greater grace,  
Was given unto this hilly place  
By Scipio, that brave Roman knight, 
Scipio Africanus.   
That did by valour and by might,  
Constrain the hostile Punic powers  
Home to return from Latium bowers.  
And here when first the Lybicke land  
He did invade,, his camp did stand:  
And in this place still may you see  
Where ramparts and huge trenches be;  
So as the fields did first of all,  
Unto the Roman conquest fall.  
¶ Curio is pleased that he hath found  
The chance of such a lucky ground,  
And thinks the fortune of the place  

Curio's vain conceit.  His war with like success would grace,  
As it had done that noble Peer  
Scipio, that erst encamped here.  
And therefore on this happy land,  
His hapless tents he caused to stand:  
Too loosely he doth range his host,  
And of these hills the vantage lost.  
Then with unequal force doth go  
To dare a mighty armed foe.  
In Africa all the Roman bands  
That served, were under Varus hands;  

Actius Varus Pompey's captain in Africa.  Whose Latium forces might suffice,  
Yet he seeks all the best supplies  
That Lybicke kingdom would afford,  
And subjects were to Iuba's sword:  
Who far and near his force did raise,  
And so his standard he displays.  

King juba.  In all that continent no King  
Could so great powers together bring.  
His Territory from the west,  
Where Atlas' mount near Gades doth rest  
Begins, and so forth Eastward runs  
Unto the Syrteses, where Ammon wonnes:  
And then in breadth takes all that cost,  
Whose lands the Torrid Zone doth tossed;  
With those vast kingdoms stretched a far,  
That bounded with the Ocean are.  
Unto his Camp repaired these,  
The Nation of Antololes,  
The vagrant fierce Numidaeans,  
The still prepared Getulians  
That do unarmed horses ride.  
Then Moors, whose skins are coal-black died  
The Nasamons that riches wants,  
And all the parched Garamants.  
The Marmaryds so swift of foot,  
With Maxans, that as strongly shoot  
Those darts that from their arms they throw,  
As Medes can shafts out of a bow.  
And those Massilians that bestride  
Their horses bare-backed when they ride, 
A nation that ride and rule their horses without bridles.   
And never doth a bridle need,  
But with a wand can guide his steed.  
The hunting Aphers, that did use  
No steady dwelling house to choose, 
The several nations under juba.   
But ranged in Tents from place to place,  
As they pursue the lions chase;  
And trusts not to their headed spear,  
But with their cloaks his eyes will blear, 
A strange manner of hunting the Lyon.   
And nothing do his raging fear.  
¶ Neither did juba raise his Mart,  
Only regarding to take part  
With one side in this civil fight,  
But was drawn on with private spite.  
For Curio in his Tribunes time,  
That had committed many a crime  
Against the Gods, and human right,  
Did practise then with all his might, 
Juba's particular malice to Curio.   
By his own Tribunitian law,  
King Iuba's realm from him to draw:  
And to disgrade him from the Throne,  
By true descent that was his own.  
Wherein thou didst thy power display,  
When Rome gave thee too great a sway.  
juba remembering this abuse,  
Did of this war make private use,  
Hoping thereby that uncontrolled  
He should his crown more freely hold.  
The fame of this offended king  
With fear in Curios Camp did ring: 
The rumour of juba's malice troubles Curios Campe.   
For most of all the troops he led,  
In Caesar's Arms were never bred;  
Nor in those Gallicke wars were trained,  
Nor with their blood the Rhine had stained.  
But from Corfinium garrison  
They were withdrawn when it was won.  
And to new leaders bore small trust,  
As they to former were unjust,  
Still thinking to do what they lust.  
When therefore Curio plainly saw  
Base fear their minds did overawe;  
Whereby the trenches every night  
Were barely man'd by sluggish fright:  
And that his soldiers day by day  
From out the trenches fled away:  
His mind these ill presages mates,  
And with himself he thus debates.  
Daring attempts do cover dread:  

Curio finding his Army staggering, debates with himself what course to take.  My Ensigns therefore I will spread,  
And with my Soldiers take the field,  
Whilst they to me obedience yield:  
For Idleness breeds mutiny,  
But action voids conspiracy.  
Whilst that the valiant mind is priest,  
And sees the sword against his breast,  
His helmet then doth shelter shame;  
He leisure wants to scorn, or blame  
His Captains will; or to compare  
How martial causes ordered are.  
But on which part in arms he stands,  
There he employs his hired hands.  
So do the fencers, for rewards  
Expose their skill and venturous guards  
Against their rivals in their fight,  
Not led thereto with ancient spite.  
But when they meet, their force they strain,  
Which of them shall the conquest gain.  
This when he had revolved in mind,  
He to the field his host designed.  
And Fortune gives him one fair day,  
Whom afterwards she did betray.  
For he in battle Varus meets,  

Curio overthrows Varus in the field.  And with such force his Army greets;  
As that he made him turn his face,  
Put him in rout, and gave him chase;  
Who never turned his face again,  
Until his Camp did him constrain.  
¶ These heavy news abroad were blown,  
That Varus now was overthrown:  
Which when to Iuba's ears it came,  
He was well pleased with the Fame, 
juba glad of Varus overthrow.   
Presuming that this warfare stays  
For him, thereof to win the praise.  
And therefore secretly ordained  
Great force, which he with speed retained  
For this exploit, by him concealed  
With charge it should not be revealed.  
He only feared that his intent  
His foe would fearfully prevent.  
Sabbura was the second man  
That ruled all his kingdom than;  
And unto him he did commit  
A little troup that he thought fit  
To march before, and with no more  
Into the field to tyce his foe:  
Pretending that unto his hands  
He had committed all the bands:  
Mean while the King with his huge Train,  
Lay hidden in a hollow plain.  
So doth the Serpent, enemy  
Unto the Aspic, hidden lie, 
A Simile.   
And with a subtle shadow draws  
Him near unto his murdering jaws:  
And when the Aspic nought suspects,  
He suddenly his head reflects,  
And with his teeth the throat doth squise,  
Not where the lurking poison lies;  
And therewithal this vermin dies.  
Who then his venom forth doth cast,  
But all in vain, and all in waist.  
So fraud sits now in Fortune's lap,  
For Curio haught with his late hap,  
Did not forecast the deep deceit  
Of his strong foe, that lay in wait.  
But overnight he gives in charge  
That all his horse-troopes should enlarge  

Curio too venturous, neglecteth good advice.  Themselves, and range the fields about;  
And in the morning he draws out  
From forth his Camp, his armed bands,  
Who in the field imbatteld stands.  
Yet he was warned (but all in vain)  
That close his camp he should contain,  
And wary be of Lybicke baits,  
And of the Punycke wars deceits.  

The Punic deceit in war.  But Destinies resistless date,  
Gave up this young man to his Fate.  
And now this civil war betrayed  
Him, that her first foundation laid.  
His troops and Ensigns he displays,  
And leads them over rocky ways;  
Which when his enemy espied,  
From hills a far where they reside;  
With fraud they seem (as men affright)  
To make retreat in open sight;  
Until thereby they could procure  
Their foe to leave a place so sure,  
And strong, as those high mountains were;  
And that the Army did not fear  
To range itself in martial wise,  
Where as the open Champion lies.  
Now Curio thought his foes did fly,  
And did not their device descry;  

Curio deceived with an ambush.  But as a Conqueror, in haste  
His Army in the fields he placed.  
And then the Lybicke guile broke out:  
For those that fled but for a flout,  
With horsemen seized the hills about;  
And with huge troops they did enclose  
On every side, their Roman foes.  
¶ This Curio somewhat did amaze,  
His hope-lost troops stood at a gaze;  
Yet sought they not for fear to fly,  
Nor strong enough with force to try.  
Their tired horse, when Trumpets sound,  
Would neither snoring bray, nor bound:  
Nor with their hooves the earth would stamp,  
Nor strain their bridles whilst they champ  
The foamy bits, nor crests up-reares,  
Nor with a courage prick their ears.  
Nor strive amongst the thronging troup, 
Curios horse-troopes spen and tired.   
But all forespent, their heads down droop.  
And crest-fallen smoking in a sweat,  
Their mouths are dry, and parched with heat.  
Their tongues do hang below their jaws,  
Hoarse groans they send from out their maws  
With thick drawn wind they puff & pant,  
Their flanks do rise, and breath do want.  
And all their bits were smeared over  
With dusty dried frothy gore.  
So as they hardly could be got  
With whips or wands to keep a trot.  
Nor yet with often stroke of spur  
Could they at last be made to stir.  
It nought availed him that rides,  
To rend and tear their bloody sides.  
His pace he would not so advance,  
With force thereof to break a lance;  
Which greatly did the foe avail,  
For they the while did them assail  
Aloof with darts as thick as hail. 
The battle betwixt Curio and Sabbura.   
¶ Now when the ranging Aphers priest  
In with their troops amongst the rest,  
Their trampling steeds so beat the ground,  
That all the hill therewith did sound.  
And therewith raised such dusty smokes,  
That all the air it dims and chokes.  
Like as when the Bistonian blasts,  
With rage whole hills of sands up casts;  
Which in such clouds aloft do rise,  
As that they dim and dark the skies.  
No sooner now their raging Mart  
Upon the foot they did convert,  
But that the fight was out of doubt, 
Curio's Army oppressed with numbers of foes   
Death spent the time amongst the rout.  
Forward at all, they could not press,  
Nor use their Arms in this distress.  
So were they compassed round with foes,  
That room they want to deal their blows.  
Their spears held upright in their hands,  
Were thronged together in whole bands.  
So heaps of foes their help confounds,  
Neither fall they alone with wounds,  

This fight in an orb was the last refuge that the Romans used ever in extremity.  And blood; but this them death affords,  
The clouds of darts, and weight of swords.  
And then for last refuge of all,  
The troops now left that were but small,  
Into a little orb did fall.  
And those that utmost bore the stress,  
If they into the midst would press  
For fear, thereby relief to gain,  
Hardly escaped, but there was slain.  
This battailed Orb now grew so thick,  
And did so close together stick,  
And foot to foot so pressing stands,  
They could not use their martial hands.  
Their thronged bodies so are priest,  
That armed, they crush each others breast.  
The conquering Moor did not delight  
So much to hear of their hard plight,  
That Fortune prostrates to his might;  
Not having seen the bodies slain,  
Nor how the streams of blood did drain,  
Nor that the limbs bestrewd the land,  
For now the Orb so thick was manned,  
That bodies dead upright did stand.  
Thus Fortune sends new slaughtered wights  
To please Carthagoes envious sprights:  
The sacrifice of this brave Host,  
May well appease the thirsty ghost  
Of bloody Hannibal, and those  
That Punic wars hath made our foes.  
But (O ye Gods) this Roman spoil  
That now is made on Lybic soil,  
To Pompey cannot yield content,  
The Senate will this wrack lament.  
Let Africa thereof make her gains,  
Whose fields our Latium blood distaines.  
When Curio saw his host in rout,  
And that their blood so streamed about,  
As that therewith the dust was laid,  
And with the gore the land bewrayed;  
His heart could not endure the sight  
Of his poor men's distressed plight,  
Nor would he save himself by flight.  
But on his foes he priest amain,  
And so amongst his Troops was slain. 
Curio and his Army destroyed.   
He now disdains longer to live,  
Valour to him his end did give.  
¶ What can the Rostrum thee avail?  
Or Forum now, when Fates assail?  
What boots it, that in thee it lay  
The armed people's wills to sway?  
What profits it thy voice did draw  
The Senate to infringe the law?  
Whereby the Father and the Son,  
This hateful civil war begun.  
Sith thou to death thy date must yield, 
He taxeth Curio for faction.   
And shalt not see Pharsalia's field:  
Where these great Captains, led with rage  
To battles chance, their states engage.  
For crosse-bent Fate denies to thee  
The issue of these wars to see.  
So you disturbers of the state,  
Make your own selves a prey to fate;  
And pay the price with your own blood,  
For which you sold the common good.  
O happy Rome! couldst thou but find  
Thy Citizens so just and kind,  
As that the Gods their minds would move, 
An Apostrophe to the Roman Lords.   
Rather to cherish and to love  
The public freedom of the state,  
Then to revenge their private hate.  
O noble Curio 'tis thy meed,  
The ravening Lybic fowls to feed;  
For to thy lot will never fall  
The honour of a funeral.  
But yet our lines might merit blame,  
To silence that which for thy name  
Deserves to be in brass enchased,  
That with all ages it might last.  
I yield this therefore to thy spirit,  
The due commend that it did merit.  

Curio's praise.  Rome never bred a greater wit,  
That did within the Rostrum sit:  
Nor more did dignify the laws,  
Whilst thou didst stand for justice cause.  

Avarice and Bribery the ruin of Rome  But after Pride and Luxury,  
With avaricious Bribery,  
Possessed the headstrong wills of youth;  
They swam in streams that led to ruth.  
So with the times things changed then,  
That age corrupt, corrupted men;  
And Curio blasted with the rest,  
Was chiefest cause of Rome's un-rest.  
For Caesar did his mind enthrall,  
With golden gifts of conquered Gaul.  
Though Sylla's power, and Marius wrath,  
And Cinna's rage bred Roman scathe;  
Though Caesar's ancient noble line,  
With glory long did sway and shine:  
Yet for all this, their swords lacked might  
To frame a tyranny outright:  
They all did still attempt with gold,  
To purchase Rome, which Curio sold.  
Finis Libri quarti.   

Lucan's Pharsalia. The fifth Book.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
IN Greece the Senate do decree,  
That Pompey shall their leader be.  
Then Appius doth to Delphos go,  
The Oracle's advice to know.  
Now Caesar having mastered Spain,  
His mutineers suppressed again.  
And then to Rome in haste he goth,  
There Consul and Dictator both.  
Thence to Brundisium he departs,  
And to Epyrus bends his Marts,  
He rashly venter's on the Main:  
Then comes Antonius with his train.  
Pompey Cornelia doth betake  
To Lesbos, whilst he war doth make.  
THESE Captains now on either side,  
The wracks of Civil war had tried,  
And Fortune partial unto neither, 
Fortune as yet stand: indifferent between Caesar and Pompey.   
Mingled good luck and bad together;  
Bringing them with an equal hand,  
Into the Macedonian land.  
Mount Aemus now was thatched with snow,  
That from th' Atlantic skies did blow.  
And then the feast days onward drew,  
Which did their Magistrates renew.  
And that prime season 'gan appear,  
That leads the vanguard of the year.  
But whilst some latter time remains  
To those that yet do rule the rains,  
The Consuls both did then decree  
The Senate should assembled be,  
With those great Lords both far & near,  
In Provinces did office bear.  

Epyrus the rendezvous of Pompey's forces.  And then Epyrus they did choose  
The place for this wars rendezvous.  
But oh this foreign sordid seat!  
For Roman Peers was far unmeet.  
It needs must be a scornful jest,  
That their high Court should be a guest  
In stranger lands, there to debate  
The Counsels of the Empire's state.  
For who a Camp will deem this place,  
That all the Consul's axes grace?  
The Senate's reverend order says,  

Pompey follows the Senate, and not the Senate Pompey.  They run not after Pompey's ways.  
But Pompey for the public cause,  
Saith he observes the Senate's laws.  
¶ Now when these sad assembled Peers,  
With silence gave attentive ears:  
Lord Lentulus from his high Throne,  
In these words makes his meaning known;  

Lentulus' oration to the Senators in the Campe.  If courage such your minds do feed,  
As worthy of the Latium breed:  
Or ancient blood boil in your breast,  
What matter is't where Romans rest:  
Regard not how far we reside  
From Rome, by Caesar vilefied.  
But know you now with love and grace  
Your native Country people's face.  
First therefore reverend Fathers hear,  
By all your powers make it appear  
That you the rightful Senate are,  
Whose high decrees in peace and war,  
Nations must reverence near and far.  
For be it so that Fortune's sway  
Would carry us so far away,  
As where the icy lesser Bear  
Doth dimly twinkle in the sphere:  
Or else whereas the Torrid Zone  
Refreshing vapours casteth none.  
But always with one counterpoise  
Equals the length of nights and days;  
Yet wheresoever we should roam,  
There always is the Empire's home.  
With us we hold, as proper mate,  
The supreme care and rule of state.  
So when with fire the furious Gauls  
Assailed the high Tarpeian walls; 
Camillus.   
At Veia did Camillus won,  
And there did Rome her fortune run.  
The Senatorian ordered state  
Is never changed by place or date.  
Caesar the City doth retain,  
Whose houses empty do remain.  
The mourning Courts he over-awes,  
Where Arms have silenced the laws.  
The Roman Courts know but the face  
Of Senators which he did chase  
From out the City swarming than;  
And him that Caesar did not ban  
Of that great Senatorian train,  
His fellowship we must disdain.  
That fury first did scatter such  
As did at wicked discord grudge;  
Who with their children and their wives,  
In peace desired to lead their lives.  
But yet for all this raging vain,  
Here are we now well met again.  
And all the Gods in recompense  
Of Italy (though chaste from thence)  
Hath given us (to cheer our hearts)  
The whole world's force that takes our parts.  
And now in the Ilirian main,  
Vulteius and his troops are slain.  
And Curio, that was greatest part  

A speech of scorn to Caesar.  Of Caesar's Senate in his Mart;  
Lies foiled, with all his Martial bands,  
In Africa's filthy parched sands.  
Therefore your Ensigns now display,  
Brave Captains thrust on Fortune's way;  
In Ioues high grace your hopes repose,  
Your minds as forward now expose,  
Against the forces of your foes,  
As you were ready then to run,  
When their approaches you did shun.  
Our power no further doth extend,  
For with the year the Consul's end.  
But reverend Lords your powerful state  
Is not confined to any date.  
Therefore conclude amongst you all,  

Pompey chosen General of the Army for the Senate.  That Pompey be your General.  
Hereat the Senate did rejoice,  
And then decreed with one voice,  
That they would lay on Pompey's fate,  
The public and their private state.  
That done, to honours they preferred  
The Kings and people that deserved.  
And unto Rhodes, Apollo's seat,  
(Whose power by sea was stout and great)  
They presents gave, and for their truth,  
The like unto the homely youth  
Of Taygety; and then the Town  
Of ancient Athens they renown.  
And to Massilians (Caesar's spoil)  
They freely gave the Phocean soil.  
¶ Then Sadalen, and Cotyn strong,  
And Deiotarus that had long  
Been loyal to the Roman state,  
To honours they did elevate:  
And therewithal Rhasipolin,  
The Lord of that coast whereas been  
The chilly sharp winds fostered;  
All these with praise were honoured.  
Then by the Senators decree,  
juba designed was to be  
The sovereign of all Lybic land,  
To sway that sceptre with his hand.  
But oh dire Fates, thou that hast name  
Of Ptolomey, thou Fortune's shame! 
Ptolomey descended of the race of Peleus.   
To thee a kingdom was designed,  
Whose people were of faithless kind:  
The Gods herein most faulty were,  
To grace thy wretched head of hair  
With that brave Alexandrian crown,  
That had from Peleus his renown.  
Thou boy didst take the sword in hand, 
Young Ptolomey king of Egypt, that caused Pompey to be slain, and had almost betrayed Caesar.   
To rule the people of this land.  
And would to God to them alone  
Thy tyrant sword had been made known;  
But Lagus Realm was given thee more,  
And thou defiled with Pompey's gore,  
Thy sister's Crown thou didst deprive,  
And Caesar's wrack well-near contrive.  
This great assembly now dismissed,  
The multitude in Arms persist.  
Whilst Soldiers and the Captains all,  
Forecasting nought what might befall,  
Their Ensigns and their Arms advance,  
Guided by giddy Fortune's chance.  
But Appius was the only man  
That did this purpose better scan: 
Appius seeks to know of the Oracles what shall be this wars event.   
For he did fear with rash attempt  
To hazard doubtful wars event;  
And therefore he the Gods besought  
To show to what end 'twould be brought.  
Which done, he takes his journey then  
To the Phoebeian Delphic Den,  
That he this Oracle might hear,  
Which had been shut up many a year.  
¶ Parnassus mountain top is spread  
With lofty double forked head.  
And in the world's mid way doth rest,  

It was a little before Christ came that the Oracle, ceased, as was foreprophesied by the scriptures.  Just placed between the East and West.  
This sacred hill, as eld designs,  
To Phoebus, and the God of wines  
With equal hest was consecrate,  
Where they their Oracles relate.  
His only top surmounting stood  
Of all the earth above the flood,  
That in Deucalion's time did drown  
The world with her high towering crown,  
And only as a confine seen  

The Pagans conceit of Parnassus mount.  The waters and the skies between.  
Yet thou Parnassus didst not rise  
So high, but that one forks point lies  
Under the water hid from eyes.  
Revenging Paean there did show  
The vigour of his arm and bow.  
Calling to mind his mother's wrong,  
Whilst he within her womb did throng:  
She from her native home expelled,  
He with his arrows Python quelled,  
Which yet he scarce had skill to wield.  

Themis, the Goddess of justice.  This sacred soil as then did rest  
With Trypods under Thaemis best.  
As soon as Paean first beheld  
The sounding voice these caves did yield,  
Divinely breathing out such saws,  
With windy words from earth's deep jaws,  
He secretly himself withdraws,  
And in the sacred dens did shade,  
There Paean was a Prophet made.  
¶ What God (quoth he) is here enclosed?  
What supreme power (from heaven deposed)  
Vouchsafes confined thus to dwell  
Within this solitary Cell?  
What Deity of heavenly birth  
Can be partaker with this earth?  
Within whose all conceiving breast,  
Eternal secrets live and rest.  
Whose high foreknowledge hath descried  
What shall in future times betide. 
This seems to hold great correspondency with the description of the incarnation and life of our blessed Saviour.   
That preacheth to the people's ears,  
That human form and nature bears.  
Dreadful and potent in his state,  
And whether he doth sing of Fate,  
Or do command that which he sings,  
He Fate unto perfection brings.  
Perhaps of jupiter entire,  
A great part doth his soul inspire;  
Which was unto the earth down sent  
To sway this or by continent  
With true proportioned upright poise,  
Whereby amidst the Air it stays.  
Which power divine, accustomed then  
To haunt in this Cyrrhaean Den, 
Cyrrha a City at the foot of Parnassus.   
And was withal conjoined nigh  
To thundering jove above the sky.  
This power that had such grace received,  
Was in a virgin's breast conceived.  
With human soul it did subsist,  
Sounding his voice when as him list:  
The mouth he opened of the Priest,  
With so great force as flaming blasts  
That Mountain Aetna's top out casts.  
Or as Typhaeus overpress  
With huge weight upon his breast,  
(Whom great Inarymes doth hide)  
Constrained (from his stomach wide)  
To vomit up, with rattling groans,  
Campana's flinty rugged stones.  
¶ This power exposed to all men's good  
No mortals prayers hath withstood;  
Only his nature doth disdain  
To be defiled with human stain.  
Wicked enchanters never dwells  
Nor yet converse within his celles:  
There witches mutter not their spells.  
A constant truth his speeches are,  
To alter which none ought to dare.  
Forbidding mortals that desire,  
His favour is the just man's hire.  
For unto such (cast from their seat)  
He hath restored Cities great.  
The Tyrrians so he did relieve,  
And gave them means away to drive  
The threatenings proud of hostile Lords,  
As Salaminian sea records.  
The barren lands he fruitful makes,  
Contagious airs away he takes,  
And teacheth how the same he slakes.  
This age of ours with grief may say,  
The Gods from us hold not away  
A blessed gift of greater grace,  
Then was this Delphic sacred place.  
Which prophesing no longer sings,  

The grief that the Pagans conceived for the ceasing of their Oracles.  So future fear doth hold our kings:  
And in that jealous doubtful vain  
All Oracles they do restrain.  
Yet Cyrraen Prophets nought lament,  
That so their voices are up-pent,  
Or that their Temples none frequent.  
For if this Godheads spirit lights  
Within the hearts of mortal wights,  
They that this power divine receives,  
Death unto him thereby bequeaves  

The opinion of the Pagans concerning this Oracle.  The full reward of present bliss,  
Or else his pain eternal is.  
For those weak powers of human life  
Faint in the waves and urging strife,  
That in this fury reigneth rife.  
So can the Gods, when they do streeke.  
Shake mortal minds, and make them meek.  
Now Appius that searcheth out  

Appius comes to the Oracle.  To understand this latest doubt  
Of the Hesperian hidden Fate;  
Addressed himself unto the gate  
Of this same silent uncouth cave,  
Whose Oracles no answers gave  
Long time before; nor Trypods drove.  
There he the Prelate doth entreat  
Then to set open his sacred seat,  
And to let in the fearful Nun  
Phaemonoë, that now did run,  
And gad about in shady woods,  
And by Castalio's secret floods,  
Where wandering careless she was caught,  
And so unto the Temple brought.  
¶ The Nun whom fear did now dissuade  
This ugly entry to invade,  
Used all the Art she could invent  
To hold this Lord from his intent, 
Phaemonoë dissuadeth Appius from searching this Oracle.   
Whereon his mind was so hot bent.  
Great Roman Lord, I muse (quoth she)  
What wicked hope inueagleth thee  
To search to know thy future Fate,  
Where Oracles are out of date.  
Parnassus long hath silent stood,  
The God suppressed hath his mood:  
His voice is either dumb or hoarse,  
Or else this seat he doth not force.  
But roameth in by-ways untried,  
Or Pythons tripod-covering hide,  
Is by Barbarians burnt and fried:  
Whose ashes in the Caverns lies,  
And Phoebus' passage so denies.  
Or whether that the Gods high hest  
With Cyrrha's prophecies shall rest,  
And that the Sibylls old presage  
Of things to come in future age,  
Which are committed unto verse,  
Sufficiently may Fates rehearse.  
Or Paean (that is used to chase  
The spirits of a harmful race)  
Cannot find out in this frail time,  
A truthfull tongue devoid of crime.  
Now in this virgin's words and cheer, 
Phaemonoë fearful to enter the cavern of the Oracle.   
Dissembling fraud did plain appear.  
Her guilty fear did then descry  
She falsely did the Gods deny.  
Her writhed fillet she doth dress  
Upon the forepart of her tress.  
Her locks hung down her back behind:  
Upon her crown she wreathing twined  
A garland green of Laurel dight,  
With Phocian vail of lawn pure white;  
But in the porch she made a stay:  
The priest than pushed her on her way.  
Yet she, poor soul, was sore adread  
Into the horrid cell to y:  
Loathing the ghastly dens to prove,  
Nor from the Porch would she remove.  
But there right doth a muttering feign,  
As though the sprite she did retain,  
And yet her breast he did not strain.  
In this sort she untroubled stood,  
With quiet voice, and sober mood;  
Which showed no sacred fury's guise  
Did her distracted sense surprise:  
Neither could that smooth tale she told,  
With Appius more credit hold,  
Than it was able to abuse  
The Trypods, or Apollo's muse.  
No trembling sounds do stop her words,  
The cavern vast no voice affords:  
Her garland doth not brandling rear,  
With the uprising of her hair:  
The Temple's steeple no whit shakes,  
The shady grove no blustering makes.  
And she poor wretch the whilst still fears,  
With Oracles to trust her ears.  
This while the Trypods yield no signs,  
And Appius unto rage inclines:  
Wherewith he said, thou false forsworn,  
That hast both Gods and Me in scorn;  
Thy fraud thou dearly shalt abye,  
Except thou enter presently  
This cavern, and do truths relate,  
Presume not of thyself to prate  
In matters of this great advice,  
No less worth than the world's whole price.  
Herewith the Nun was so aghast, 
Phaemonoë enters the Caverns by the constraint of Appius.   
That to the Trypods she makes haste.  
And to the Caverns being come,  
She stands amazed, and waxeth dumb.  
And with an unaccustomed breast,  
The spirit she receives her guest:  
So as not any long of yore  
This cave so fully did explore.  
Then did the Cyrrhen Fury run  
So fiercely through this rapted Nun,  
That never any had like part  
Of this divine Phoebaean Art.  
Her proper wits it drives away:  
Now now (quoth she) hear whilst you may  
And trust upon the words I say.  
Her neck she whirls, and winds about,  
And madding through the dens doth strut.  
Her philets, and Phoebaean bays,  
Her upright staring locks did raise.  
And through each horrid vacant place, 
The description of one inspired with the fury of prophesying.   
She flings about with ghastly face:  
And where the Trypods she doth meet,  
She overwhelms them with her feet.  
She frets and burns with inward fire,  
Phoebus on her expressed his ire,  
Not only with his stripes and threats,  
But he her bowels flaming heats,  
And her inspires with so great skill,  
That she was stinted of her will.  
For 'twas not lawful she should show  
Those wondrous things that she did know.  
All times beginnings, and their ends  
She sees, and fully comprehends.  
And every age's destiny  
Within her racked breast doth lie.  
Huge heaps of things to her appears,  
She swells with guess of future years,  
Whose fates whilst she concealed doth hold,  
In her did struggle to be told.  
The world's last days she viewed than,  
With that first hour that it began.  
The secrets of the Ocean vast,  
Revealed were to her forecast:  
And therewithal she understands  
The just account of all the sands.  
¶ So great a Prophetess some time  
There lived in the Euboean Clime,  
That did disdain her secret Art,  

Sibylla Cumana  With foreign nations to impart.  
And yet amongst so great a troup  
That under fatal bonds did droop,  
With haughty hand she framed her spirit  
The Roman destinies to write.  
Phoemonoë so with fury filled,  
Labours the like content to yield  
To thee (O Appius) that seekest out  
To be resolved of thy doubt.  
But much a do she hath, God wot,  
To light upon thy single lot,  
Amongst so many destinies,  
As in Castalia hidden lies.  
With flowing foam her mouth grows white,  
And raptures agonize her spirit:  
She groans, and therewith gasping throbs,  
And yelling shrill she sighing sobs.  
With heavy howling than she raves,  
Which rings throughout the vaulted caves.  
Then growing tame, her work begins,  
And thus her latest words she sings.  

The words of the Oracle to Appius.  Thou Roman shalt the dangers great  
Of these wars scape, that do thee threat.  
And in the vast Euboean soil  
Thou shalt rest safe, and free from toil.  
So said, she did conceal the rest,  
And Paean then her tongue suppressed.  
¶ Ye Trypods that the Fates do keep,  
And of the world the secrets deep.  
And thou (O Paean) that want'st power  
To hide the future of one hour  
From knowledge of the Gods on high,  
Why strangely dost thou so deny  
The latest ruin to relate  
That shall oppress the Empire's state?  
The Captains slain, the death of Kings,  
The fall of Nations that it brings.  
Whose lives the destinies think good,  
To mingle with the Latium blood?  
Have not as yet the powers divine  
Resolved, how this wrack shall incline?  
And are so many Fates obscured,  
As though the stars were not assured  
That Pompey's head is doomed to die,  
Or else do these things silent lie?  
That Fortune may due vengeance take  
Upon that sword that makes all quake,  
With chastisement his rage to slake.  
And raise the Brutes, to quell the reign  
Of Tyrants that would rise again.  
Then with her breast the virgin pushed 
The Bruti, suppressers of Tyrants.   
Against the gate, which open rushed.  
Out of the Temple so she went,  
But yet her fury was not spent:  
Though not a word at all she spoke,  
For yet the God did not forsake  
Her breast, but there his stay did make.  
She still doth whirl her gogling eyes,  
And wistly stars upon the skies.  
One while she shows a fearful grace,  
And sometimes look with scowling face.  
A steady eye she never keeps,  
Her lips red flaming colour steeps.  
Her cheeks were deadly pale to sight,  
Not as when terror brings affright.  
But bloodless wannish, and her heart  
Did beat, as though her life did part.  
But as the seas, when storms do slake,  
Will swell, and hollow roaring make;  
So with her many sighs out-sent,  
She grew appeased, her breast had vent.  
¶ And when she severed had her sight,  
A while from out the sacred light,  
Which had revealed to her all Fate,  
She was restored to her old state.  
Her human notions came again.  
And Paean did her bowels bane  
With water of the Lethe flood,  
All was forgot she understood.  
The secrets of the Gods were fled,  
And she no longer prophised.  
All future forecast that inspire,  
To Phoebus' Trypods did retire.  
Downright she fell into a trance;  

Appius misconstrues the words of the Oracle to his own advantage.  But Appius though thy death advance,  
Thou dost not yet a right conceive  
What doubtful fate to thee doth cleave;  
For thou deluded with false hope,  
The whole world's rule tak'st for thy scope:  
And with an idle misconceit,  
Dost think to make thy safe retreat  
In Calcis and Euboian land,  
And fond bear'st thyself in hand  
(O fool!) with that which cannot be:  
For how canst thou from cares be free,  
Amidst this whole world's storm of strife,  

The true meaning of the Oracle concerning Appius.  Except the Gods bereave thy life?  
And that is true; for thou shalt have  
Prepared for thee a worthy grave,  
near to the strict Euboian costs,  
Whereas huge rocks of marble posts,  
Charistos hath such quarries store,  
And whereas Rhamnis doth adore  

Nemesis, the Goddess of Revenge.  Great Nemesis, that there doth keep  
near to the straits of that vast deep  
Euripus called, whose rapid course  
With checking tides, and changing source:  
The Calcidonian trading masts  
On Aulis wracking channels casts.  
¶ Caesar mean while removes his host  
From the Iberian conquered coast,  
And his victorious Aegle fly  
Unto another stranger sky.  
And then the Gods had well-near quelled  
That good success which long he held.  
For now whilst he no war did wage,  
He stands in doubt that mutines rage  
Within his Camp would raise some broil,  
And so his plotted warfare spoil.  
Whilst that his chiefest troops now filled  
With blood, in many battles spilled:  
Their faith did from their Captain fall,  
And were it that the Trumpets call  
Had not of late stirred up their sprights,  
Or that from their accustomed fights 
Caesar's Army returning out of Spain, Mutinies.   
Their swords to scabbards now confined,  
All martial rage chaste from their mind.  
Or whether that the swaggering sway  
Was to procure some larger pay.  
But so it was amidst these flaws,  
They curse their Captain, and the cause;  
And do accuse their proper Arms  
As guilty of these civil harms.  
Never was Caesar better tried,  
Then now this mutiny to guide.  
He sees all in a staggering way,  
Uncertain how men's minds would sway:  
And like a body rest of hands,  
As unassisted now he stands:  
And almost left to his own sword, 
Caesar perplexed.   
Saw now what 'twas that did afford  
Him means such wars to entertain,  
'Gainst all the world by land and main;  
That 'twas the soldiers ready arms,  
And not the captains fatal charms.  
But now amazed murmur rose,  
Their rage they openly oppose:  
For that same cause that is of wont,  
Of wavering minds to stay the brunt,  
Is when that men their private fear,  
And his own dread each one doth bear.  
But now them all one humour draws,  
The Camp takes interest in the cause,  
As tyranny against their laws.  
They make no stop, for all the rout  
Dreadless run on, and cast no doubt.  
For still a general offence  
Doth with all chastisement dispense.  
¶ Then one of them amongst the rest,  
Their public grief this wise expressed.  

The mutinous oration of one of Caesar's Soldiers.  Caesar let us at length in peace  
From wicked war find some release.  
By lands and seas thou dost devise,  
To make our throats a sacrifice.  
And dost (as vile) expose our blood,  
To every hostile raging mood.  
A part of us in France were slain,  
Many in these hard wars of Spain;  
And Latium, some with blood did stain.  
So all the world our Troops devours,  
Whilst thou display'st thy conquering powers.  
But what are we the more of worth,  
For all that blood shed in the North?  
For Rhodanus, and Rhine subdued,  
Our labours are but still renewed.  
And for those wars both near and far  
All our reward is civil war.  
Rome we have taken, and made waste:  
The Senate from our Country chaste.  
What spoils of Gods or men remains,  
For us to ask more for our pains?  
Yet still with ravening swords and hands  
priest to all spoil our practice stands.  
Patient in poverty we pine,  
O when will these wars have a fine?  
If Rome too little be esteemed,  
What as sufficient can be deemed?  
O now respect our hoary hair,  
Our hands that scarce can weapons bear,  
Our weakened arms with wounds and scars,  
Our lives decayed, youth spent in wars.  
Their death in peace let old men take,  
O 'tis a strange request I make, 
A pitiful description of the lives of common soldiers.   
That dying we might not of force,  
Upon the bare earth life divorce;  
And with our cold casks crush our poles,  
Whilst we are yielding up our souls:  
And want a hand to close our eyes  
When deaths last strain doth us surprise.  
No wife at all by us to moan,  
Nor yet to have a grave alone,  
But upon heaps in ditches cast,  
Let old age beded die at last.  
And some thing get by Caesar's fate  
More than sharp swords, and dire debate.  
Why dost thou (Caesar) hope to draw  
Us all as stupid under awe.  
As though we wanted sense the while  
To judge of employments vile?  
Thinkst thou, we cannot guess aright  
Upon whom all the wrack will light?  
And whose lives blood shall pay the price  
Of all thy civil wars devise.  
What in thy Mart effected was,  
But that our hands hath brought to pass?  
We have done all, and what I say  
No law nor right can me denay. 
The Soldier braves Caesar behind his back.   
Caesar my Chieftain was in Gaul,  
My fellow here I may him call.  
The crime that doth coinquinate,  
Doth likewise yield men equal fate.  
Besides the merit of our acts,  
Wrong censure now from us detracts.  
For whatsoever we have won,  
Is deemed by Caesar's fortune spun.  
Yet let him know we are his Fate,  
Though he hope jove supports his state,  
For if thy Soldiers with thee jar,  
Caesar thou mayst shut up thy war.  
Thus said, in all the Camp throughout  
Together they do clustering rout,  
And raging seek their Captain out.  
¶ Ye Gods so did Rome's forttune quail,  
When piety and faith did fail,  
And wicked manners void of grace,  
In steed thereof did come in place.  
O let our discords raging jars  
Once make an end of civil wars!  
What Captain of the greatest sprite  
Would not this mutiny affright?  
But noble Caesar (that dares run  
Into all Fates, and nothing shun,  

The admirable undaunted valour of Caesar  Delighting then to try his chance,  
When dangerss most their threats advance)  
Comes dauntless now with courage bold,  
Not staying till their fit was cold.  
But in the midst of all their rage,  
Himself amongst them doth engage.  
He never would have blamed their fact  
If they had Towns or Cities sacked;  
Or had they reverend Temples burned,  
Or Ioues Tarpeia overturned.  
The Matrons, and the Senate spoiled,  
Infants, and mother's great with child.  
For Caesar would his Soldiers have  
All cruelties of him to crave;  
And that they surely should desire  
The spoil of warfare as their hire.  
He only feared his furious troup  
With quiet hands would loitering droop.  
O Caesar! art thou not ashamed,  
That still to war thy mind is framed?  
When thine own Arms do thee forsake,  
Shall these their thirst from blood so slake?  
Shall they the murdering steel disdain,  

An Apostrophe to Caesar.  Whilst thou dost ruthless still remain,  
And prosecute this impious vain?  
Be weary, and learn without Arms,  
To suffer, and shun civil harms.  
Affect a life of peace at last,  
These heinous humours from thee cast.  
Cruel why dost thou still persist,  
Provoking men against their list?  
For Caesar thou mayst plainly see,  
This civil war thy sword doth flee.  
He stands upon a little hill,  
His stout looks he retaineth still.  
Deserving to be feared of all,  
For that no fear could him appall.  
Then to this swarm his mind he breaks,  
And wrath doth dictate what he speaks.  
¶ Soldier that so took'st on erewhile, 
Caesar's oration to the mutineers.   
And absent didst my name revile;  
See here thou hast a naked breast  
Ready for wounds, now do thy best,  
And get thee hence if fault thou find  
With wars, and leave thy Arms behind.  
Sedition that such swaggering makes,  
And nothing manly undertakes,  
Discovers but a coward mind,  
And such as come of craven kind.  
These youths so pampered up with pray,  
Study but now to run away;  
To sloth they would themselves bequeave,  
And their victorious Captain leave.  
Be gone, (such abject minds I hate)  
Leave me to war, and to my fate.  
These arms of mine will find out hands,  
When I have casht seditious bands.  
Fortune with gallants will supply  
My weapons, that un-usd shall lie.  
Can Pompey, whom I chaste away,  
Be followed with so great a sway  
Of Latium ships, with him to fly?  
And think you that my victory  
Will not my camp with troops supply?  
Yes, and those troops we must prefer  
To have the honour of this war:  
And they will share away the gains  
Of all your former taken pains.  
Then shall you Veterans relent,  
To see your blood in vain so spent  
And when my Triumphs come in place,  
Yourselves have neither gifts nor grace.  
Think you that I shall loss receive,  
Because that you my Camp do leave?  
Yea all as much, as it the course  
Of rivers, threat to change their source,  
And from the seas their streams detain,  
Were able so to slake the main,  
That ebbs & floods 'twould not maintain.  
What do you now yourselves persuade  
That you in aught my fortune made?  
The Gods do not their care abase  
To men of your inferior place.  

A proud Heathen conceit.  They give no leisure to their eye,  
To see where such men live or die.  
Of great men's Fate they have a care,  
That of this world supporters are.  
To Spain, and to the Northern coast,  
You terrors were, led in my host.  
But had you followed Pompey then,  
You would have proved but conquered men.  
Labienus was a valiant knight,  
Whilst he in Caesar's Arms did fight.  
But now (a runaway most base)  
Doth after a new Captain trace,  
By sea and land from place to place.  
Your faiths to me no better are,  
If you shall show yourselves in war,  
Of so debaushed minds to be,  
As neither foes nor friends to me.  
For he that doth my Ensigns leave,  
And will not unto Pompey cleave,  
Of me no favour can receive.  
Surely the Gods my Tents protect,  
And will I should your fraud reject.  
And that I do unto me call  
New troops to wage this war withal.  
O Fortune! how dost thou enlarge  
My weary shoulders of a charge?  
To give me means now to despise  
Those hands, whose hopes nought can suffice;  
No not the whole world's spoil and pelf,  
But I will war now for myself:  
Therefore from out my Camp depart,  
And those brave Ensigns of my Mart,  
Ye slothful Romans lay them down,  
They shall be borne with more renown.  
And now the Authors of this rage,  
justice, not Caesar, doth engage.  
Prostrate yourselves therefore with speed,  
And on the block receive your meed: 
Punishment for the mutiny.   
For of this mutinous device,  
Your faithless heads must pay the price.  
And you new Soldiers, on whose hands  
The strength now of my Army stands;  
Behold these pains, learn laws of Arms,  
Know how to die for factious harms.  
The common rout whilst thus he spoke,  
Under his threatening voice did quake.  
And this great bragging factious troup,  
That might have made one head to droop,  
Unto his will with awe did stoop, 
The awe that Caesar's Soldiers stood in of their General.   
As though the very swords conspired  
To yield to what his will required:  
And that the steel itself in spite  
Of hands, would yield him duties right.  
Yet Caesar's self did stand in doubt,  
That most of all the armed rout  
Would have maintained their cause in field,  
And not to execution yield.  
But yet their patience past the scope  
Of their offended Captains hope:  
For they not only held them still,  
But gave their throats unto his will.  
Then did he fear that their stern hearts  
enured before to ruthless parts,  
Would now grow dull, unfit for Marts.  
Lo thus did justice direful stroke 
The mutiny appeased.   
To former peace their minds revoke.  
Chief Mutineers received their pain,  
The rest restored to grace again.  

Caesar's Army goes to Brundisium.  ¶ The Army then directed was,  
Thence to Brundisium to pass  
In ten days march, and there to meet  
The Mariners, and Caesar's fleet.  
Some of them called from Hydrus bay,  
And from old Taras, where they lay:  
Others from Leucas secret shores,  
And those in Salapin, that Moors,  
With some that did in Sipus ride,  
Whose streams near to those cliffs do tie  
Where the Apulian Gargan hill  
Fruitful to husband men that till,  
Stretching along Ausonia's soils,  
By North Dalmatia entoyles.  
And on the South Calabria bounds,  
Thence like a Promontory rounds  
Into the Adriatic sounds.  
Mean while doth Caesar take his way  
To fearful Rome, taught to obey.  

Caesar comes again to Rome.  In peaceful gown, the victor's mind;  
His armed troops he left behind:  
And there the people by request,  
In sign of love, would needs invest  
Him with the high Dictator's name,  
And Consulship joined to the same.  
Observed with joyful solemn feasts,  
And suffrages to his own hests  
So generally, as that before,  
Never was any flattered more,  
With Lordly phrase him to adore.  
And for to grace with just pretence  
His war, as for the state's defence;  
The swords that they before him bear,  
With Consul's axes mingled were.  
And where the Aegle Ensigns wave,  
He joins the Faggots ribbond brave.  

Caesar made Dictator and Consul at one time.  And so usurps, with idle fame  
Of Empire's rule, Dictator's name.  
Thus marks he out that woeful time  
With worthy Titles free from crime.  
And so to give Pharsalia's fight  
The colour of a quarrel right.  
That year the Consul's name he hands,  
And public good his cause pretends.  
To solemn shows in Martius fields,  
A forced feigned form he yields;  
The people's voices he obtains,  
For will, or nill, power them constrains.  
The Tribes he partially divides,  
With show the Urn the lots decides.  
The heavenly signs no credit bears,  
Thunders moves not the Augurs ears.  
They swear the birds with good luck fly,  
Whilst dismal Owls are heard to cry.  
So breach of laws that high power stained,  
Which reverence had so long maintained.  
And that times names might full agree  
With his designs, he doth decree  
A monthly Consul to install, 
A monthly Consul.   
Distinguished with times festival.  
And that high power that Latium brights,  
Should have his Ceremonial rites  
Performed by Torches in the nights,  
Though sacred honours scarce were due  
To jove, that nought our wracks did rue.  
¶ From Rome then Caesar hastes away,  
Through those low meads that yields the hay  
That the Apulian people makes  
With handy pitchforkes, and with rakes.  
And in his speed he is more swift  
Than is the flash of lightning's drift,  
Or Tiger of the female kind,  
Until the houses he do find  
Of Craetan frames, Brundisium hight,  
Where with the airs tempestuous spite  
He finds the havens mouth winde-bound,  
And trembling barks within the sound,  
With winter's storms like to be drowned. 
No dangers must hinder Caesar's designs   
But yet this daring Captain thinks  
That shamefully his business shrinks,  
If doubts, or dreads should him delay,  
Or him confine within a bay.  
Whilst that he sees the tossing main  
Is scoured by Pompey's luckless train,  
And to add courage to their spirits,  
His mariners he thus incites.  
The Northern sky, and winter's wind  

Caesar exhorts his mariners to take the sea  We always do more certain find;  
And current of the Ocean vast,  
Continue with more constant blast,  
When once they take, than those slight puffs  
Which from the chopping changing huffs  
Of the spring season do proceed,  
Either for certainty or speed.  
Besides, our course needs not to fear  
How sore the seas do break and tear:  
We need not gaze for marks of lands,  
Whereby to void the rocks and sands.  
But with a forthright leading wind,  
By North we shall our harbour find.  
And would to God this Northern rack,  
Would whirl to make the mast to crack,  
And fill the sails with such a gale,  
To make the topmast stoop withal;  

A stout request.  And bring us to the Greekish shores,  
That Pompey's Galleys, with their Oars,  
May not in calms our fleet surprise,  
Whilst in the seas it hulling tries.  
Therefore my hearts your Anchors way,  
Do not our happy fleet delay:  
For all this while we lose but time,  
Since winds and seas are in their prime.  
¶ Now Phoebus falls unto his rest,  
And brightest stars the skies invest;  
When Cynthia shows her silver eye,  
The ships out of the harbour fly.  
With Anchors weighed, and Cables coyled,  
Amongst the waves the Seamen toiled.  
They hoist their yards a cross the mast,  
And then to take the friendly blast,  
Their climbing feet their hands pursue  
To cut their sails, and spread their clue.  
But for the wind they 'gan to doubt,  
Their topsails likewise they heave out,  
With all their helps they can devise,  
To take the least breath of the skies.  
Yet now more slowly slides the rack,  
And all their sails began to slack;  
Wherewith came on such slender blasts,  
That sails did flat unto the masts.  
Of land no sooner they lost sight, 
Caesar becalmed.   
But they were all becalmed outright.  
The gale that blew off from the shore,  
At sea did follow them no more.  
The rolling billows of the deep  
Were now grown calm, and still a sleep.  
The waves all smooth, were as but one,  
The main scarce felt a motion.  
So Bosphorus doth dully stand,  
Bound with the flaws of Schythia land.  
When Istar cannot move that main  
Which freezing vapours do restrain, 
An icy sea.   
That sea becomes an icy plain:  
And ships brought thither by the winds,  
In beds of ice fast locked it binds.  
So as the men by toil, nor Art,  
Can make a way thence to depart.  
Whose waves condensed with the cold  
The huge weight of Carts do hold.  
With hollow sound that thereon run,  
And there the Besseans do won,  
Until Meotis feel the Sun.  
With such a froward still, the deeps  
A soft and sluggish wallowing keeps;  
As if in slumber they did rest,  
And of their nature dispossessed.  
And like a standing pool grown sad,  
That neither spring nor motion had;  
But changed from his nature quite,  
Forgotten had his wont plight.  
For he will neither rise nor fall,  
Nor with his wont roaring call;  
He trembles not, nor frothing chides,  
Nor phoeba's influence gives him tides.  
This fleet mean while with much disease,  
Lay tumbling in this dead grown seas.  
On this side did the adverse fleet  
Prepare their oars with them to meet,  
Whilst they in this dead calm do ride,  
And could not move with wind or tide.  

The dangers of Caesar's fleet by a calm.  On th'other side they stood in dread,  
And danger to be famished.  
So as in this disastrous state  
New fears, new prayers elevate.  
Upon the Gods they call and cry,  
That all the fury of the sky  
Would bend itself to boisterous rage.  
And so the stupid waves engage,  
As that the fury of the main  
Would show itself a sea again.  
But wind nor waves became so stout,  
That they of shipwreck need to doubt.  
Yet after when the night was past,  
The day with clouds was overcast.  
The hollow seas began to stir,  
And then Ceraunia winds did whir,  
Wherewith the fleet began to quake,  
And so the air the sails did shake,  
At length the crooke-backed waves did rise,  
And in the sterns the ships surprise,  
That with full sails now forward plies.  

Caesar arrives with his Army at Palesta in Greece, where Pompey lay encamped.  So as these friendly seas and gales,  
Them to Palestes havens hales:  
Where when they safely were arrived,  
They Anchors cast, with joy revived.  
¶ This was the first confronting coast,  
Where these two Captains host to host,  
Encamped were in either's view.  
And through these fields two rivers drew  
Their pleasant streams, on Apsus hight,  
And Genusus, more swift of flight.  
Apsus by reason of a lake,  
That into her his course did make,  
With steady sly sought stealing pace,  
Could shipping bear from place to place.  
But swift Genusus headlong goes,  
When as the Sun melts heaps of snows,  
Or that the falls of showering rains,  
Her swollen channels higher strains.  
Yet neither of them with long race,  
Within the land doth winding trace.  
Fortune to this place gave the fame  
Of two brave Captains great in name:  
And here the world's vain hope decayed,  
That now their furies could be stayed;  
Since that the stations were so nigh,  
Where now they both encamped lie; 
Caesar's & Pompey's Camp confront each other.   
That each might others face behold,  
And hear the tale each other told.  
And many years were passed between  
Since thou great Pompey last had seen  
That loved father-in-law of thine;  
And did so near a league combine  
Of strict alianced blood with blood,  
Though froward Fate the same withstood.  
When Caesar's daughter reft of life  
His son-in-law made fit for strife.  
And but upon the Nilus' shore,  
He after saw thy head no more.  
¶ Now Caesar's thoughts were much dismayed  
That many troops still lingering stayed:  
Which for this place were ready priest,  
And (straightly charged by his own hest,  
With speed to meet him on that coast)  
Doth vex to see wars time so lost.  
The leading of these wanting bands  
Was under fierce Antonius' hands. 
Caesar troubled with the delays of Antonius.   
Who now (belike) did meditate  
Upon his own Leucadian fate.  
Caesar on him calls with entreats,  
And checks his staying thus with threats.  
O thou that in the world dost cause  

Caesar's messages to Antonius.  Such mischiefs by thy tedious pause.  
Why hold'st thou both the Gods and Fates,  
Suspenced from our happy dates.  
By mine own speed and proper care  
All other things dispatched are;  
And Fortune now doth call for thee,  
That thy right hand might aiding be:  
The chiefest service to intend  
That must our prosperous warfare end.  
No Lybicke Syrts, nor doubtful deeps  
Us in this sort a sunder keeps.  
We do not seek with new device  
Thy armed troops now to entice  
Into an unknown desperate main.  
O no thou sluggish idle swain,  
Caesar bids thee to come, not go,  
I lead the way, and pierced the foe  
Throughout these stranger seas and sands,  
And safely have conveyed my bands.  
My tents art thou afraid to see?  
This timeless hap is death to me.  

Caesar taxeth Antonius with backwardness  My words are spent to waves and wind,  
Yet do not thou their humours bind  
That to the seas are well inclined.  
For if I be not much deceived,  
Thy Troops so truly have bequeaued  
To Caesar's Arms their might and main,  
That shipwrecks doubt they would disdain.  
And dolours voice now must I use,  
Thou dost thyself to much abuse.  
The whole world's hopes twixt thee and me,  
Yet in no equal balance be;  
Caesar doth in Epyrus Camp,  

A jealous speech.  And there is all the Senate's stamp:  
Whilst only thou (so uncontrolled)  
Dost but Ausonia's limits hold.  
When Caesar thus had twice or thrice  
Reproved him for his loitering vice,  
And saw that he so oft did spend  
His treats, and threats unto no end.  
But Fortune's favours thus neglects,  
That his success so much protects.  
He undertakes ('gainst this despite)  
To make a strange attempt by night.  
And maugre frights of seas mischance,  
He dreadless doth himself advance.  
Whilst stern Antonius so did fear,  
So oft commanded to be there.  
For Caesar saw his rash attempts  
Fortune from danger still exempts: 
Fortune Caesar's friend.   
And now he hopes with passage good,  
To furrow through the raging flood,  
Embarked in a Fisher-boate,  
When ships could scarce in safety float.  
¶ Now had the silent night with rest  
From care of Arms freed every breast,  
And slumbering souls with sweet repose  
Their eyes in quiet thoughts do close.  
And those most sound take their ease,  
Whom lowly poverty can please.  
Now all the Camp dead silent been,  
The second watch did new begin.  
When Caesar with a carefull-pace  
Alongst the whusted guards did trace; 
Caesar unknown steals out of his Campe.   
Not of his own attendants heard,  
When his own Tent he first unspard.  
Fortune was then his mate alone;  
So through the Camp he passed unknown,  
Who now were all possessed with sleep,  
But scarce good watch the while they keep.  
And he disliked this fault to see,  
That they could so surprised be. 
Negligence in a Campe.   
He rome's about the crooked shores,  
Where he a creak at length explores:  
And there a fisher-boat did ride,  
That by a sturdy rope was tie.  
The owner of this pelting skiff  
Hard underneath a craggy cliff,  
Not far from thence had his poor coat;  
The bottom of a rotten boat  

A description of a fisherman's cottage.  Was all his roof; and for the side  
'twas made of plaited bulrush dried,  
Combined with canes and fenny flags;  
And on no stronger props it swagges.  

Caesar knocks at the fisherman's door.  ¶ Here Caesar with his fist so knocks,  
That therewithal this cottage rocks,  
And did Amyclas frighted wake,  
Who sound then his rest did take;  
But now his soft couch doth forsake.  

Amiclas speech  Whose there (qth he) what shipwrecked wight  
Beats at my door this time of night?  
What wretched man my help doth crave?  
Or who can hope relief to have  
Of this base cottage where I won?  
Great Fortune doth such corners shun.  
Thus said, he hastes a fire to make,  
And doth the heaped ashes rake,  
Some kindled sparkles to find out,  
And them with dry leaves straws about:  
And so with blowing kindles flame,  
Whilst he of wars fears not the name.  
He knew his simple home was free,  
His house no prey of worth could be  
For soldiers spoils, or civil strife.  

The happy & secure estate of poormen  O safe and blessed poor man's life!  
O sweet secured quiet state!  
This precious gift, and heavenly fate,  
That on mean wights the Gods bestow,  
The mighty ones do scarcely know.  
What Cities walls, or strongest Forts  
When Caesar's hand beats at the ports,  
Could like security possess?  
But that some fright they would express.  
His little wicket he sets open;  
Then Caesar gave his speech this scope:  

Caesar's words to poor Amyclas.  Young man (quoth he) advance thy hope  
Beyond the thoughts thou canst conceive,  
Fortune's full bounties now receive.  
If my directions thou obey,  
And to Hesperia me convey,  
A Skippars' trade thou shalt not need,  
Nor toil in age with hungry feed.  
Spare not therefore thy wealth to raise,  
Since that the Gods show thee the ways:  
And (whilst thou mayst) receive that Fate,  
Which will for ever store thy state.  
So Caesar said; for though but clad  
In rustic habit like a swad,  
Yet could he not his tongue constrain 
Caesar's natural inclination to speak like a Prince.   
In speech to use a private vain.  
Then poor Amyclas thus replies,  
Too many dangers us denies,  
To trust this raging sea by night; 
Amicl●s speech to Caesar, describing the signs of foul weather at sea   
For first I marked the suns last light,  
When he declined to Thetis bed,  
His face was nothing flaming red.  
But his bright beams contracted were; 
The Sun.   
For on the middle of his sphere,  
A foggy cloud his face did hide:  
So as his beams it did divide.  
One part of them did Northward bend,  
The other to the Southward tend.  
And mean while in the midst he quailed,  
And setting pale, his brightness failed.  
So as his beams did not offend  
The lookers eyes his face that kend.  
And when the Moon did mount the skies,  
With sharpened horns she did not rise. 
The Moon.   
Nor did her hollowness appear  
Within her Orb right azure clear.  
Nor as she want in calmy night,  
Her horns thin tops did bear upright.  
But (that which is a sign of wind)  
Her colour was to red inclined.  
And with a fainty pallid look,  
With dull aspect, a cloud she took.  
Besides the murmur of the woods,  
The rut and rocking of the floods  

divers signs of a tempest.  I do not like; nor this sign neither,  
The tumbling Dolphins boad foul weather.  
The Cormorant me no whit likes,  
That he unto the dry land seeks.  
And that he takes delight  
To trust his wings with towering flight,  
That naturally affects the waves:  
His head the Sea-crow often laves,  
As though that he some storms attends,  
And on the low shores jetting wends.  
But if it be thine own desire,  
And urgent cause do haste require,  
I'll give thee all the help I may,  
To bring thee to thy wished bay:  
And where thou bidst we land will touch,  
Or winds and seas shall fail me much.  
¶ He ends his tale, and therewithal  
The fastened cable in they hale;  
And with the wind his sails le's fly,  

Caesar puts to the sea in a little Fisher-boate.  But with their motion suddenly:  
Not only over all the deeps,  
Huge flaming streams from starers down sweeps.  
Spearsing in surrowes through the sky,  
But those chief fixed stars on high,  
That next the pole do stand so nigh,  
Did sensibly appear to shake.  
Then did a black mist over-rake  
The vast wild back of Neptune's main,  
And with a long stretched rolling train,  
The threatening billows sparkling burn,  
The winds uncertainly did turn.  
And by the swelling waves they find,  
The hollow seas were filled with wind.  
Then quoth the Pilot of this barge,  
See how this tempest doth enlarge.  
Besides we cannot certain find,  

Amyclas words to Caesar.  Yet from what quarter blows the wind.  
Whether from out the South, or East,  
In no place he doth constant rest.  
Again, if we the rut do mark  
Which in the sea doth murmuring bark,  
A Northwest wind it signifies,  
Which flat our course to Latium stries.  
So as no means we have to tack  
That way, nor on that coast to wrack.  
This desperate course we must reject,  
If we our safety will respect:  
And cast about to lay the land,  
From whence we now directly stand,  
Before our Skiffe be too much tossed,  
And we too far run from the coast.  
¶ But Caesar scorns that he doth say,  
Hoping all perils will give way  
To his attempts; and tells him plain  
No fury of the wind; or main,  
For fear shall make him turn again. 
Caesar's answer to Amyclas.   
If froward skies be all thy fear  
For Italy, that fault I'll bear.  
Thy only dread and doubt doth grow,  
Because (poor soul) thou dost not know  
Who 'tis that with thee now doth sail,  
Whom Fortune never yet did fail.  
But she would think she did me wrong  
To hold back my desires so long.  
Therefore pass boldly through this rage,  
Secured in my safe presage.  
This is but toil of winds and seas,  
Which shall no whit our bark disease.  
Thy ship for freight doth Caesar bear,  
To free thee from the Ocean's fear.  
And these fierce winds that blow so high,  
Shall be appeased by and by:  
And even the very raging main,  
Shall by our ship his quiet gain.  
Thy course in no case see thou change,  
But from a loof, this next shore range.  
And then believe thou shalt attain  
Calabria coast, and end thy pain.  
When no lands else beneath the sky  
Doth for our ship and safety lie.  

Caesar's conceit of Fortune's favours to him.  Thou little know'st that all these threats  
That so the waves with tempests beats,  
Is but that Fortune would declare  
To me her tender love and care,  
When skies and seas most furious are.  
The word he had no sooner spoke,  
But from a cloud a whirlwind broke  
The cordage and the tackling round,  
So that the sails aloft did bound,  
And whirl about the tottering mast,  
The ships joints open with the blast:  
And all the perils of the earth  
Were here delivered at a birth.  
For first from the Atlantic main,  
The billows rolled with western strain.  
And when they had this sea engaged,  
Against the rocks they roared and raged.  
With that comes in the Northern blast,  
Which doth the waves repel as fast;  
So as the seas did stand at stay  
Which of the two they should obey.  
But yet the raving Scythian flaws,  
Did wrest the waves unto his laws.  
And so the Ocean's bottom rakes,  

A description of a furious Tempest.  That in the sands it pathway makes.  
Neither did Boreas with his fret  
Against the cliffs the billows beat;  
But even against those raging waves,  
That with the Western Tempest raves.  
And now the seas are grown so high,  
That wave against the wave doth fly,  
Although the wind do calmed lie.  
But yet the eastwind did not cease  
His fury likewise to express:  
Neither think I that in this storm,  
The Southwinde did his blasts conform  
To milder mood, with showers suppressed,  
And still in Aeols dungeon rest.  
But that the winds from every part,  
Incensed were to striving Mart. 
A description of enraged seas.   
And that each one expressed his most,  
To blow the billow from his cost,  
And twixt them held the main embossed.  
For now the lesser seas likewise  
In mutiny began to rise.  
Th' Aegean 'gainst the Tyrrhen waves,  
Impetuously resisting raves.  
And the Ionian roaring vease,  
Confronts the Adriatic seas.  
How oft that day were steepy rocks  
Clean overturned with whirlwind shocks?  
'Gainst which the billows beat in vain,  
And could not such huge mountains strain,  
As quite did overwhelmed lie,  
Whose towering tops did threat the sky.  
Never (I think) did any shore,  
Endure the like sea-storm before:  
Nor any clime twixt either pole,  
Did from her coasts such billows role.  
These seas where they the lands surrownd,  
In divers parts with indraughts drowned.  
So did high jove in former times,  
Wearied with scourging worldly crimes,  
His thunderbolts at last forbear,  
And caused his brother's trident spear  
To help him vengeance due to take, 
He means Neptune's and Deucalion's flood.   
Which did a second Empire make:  
When Nations were in waters drowned,  
And Thaetis would admit no bound 
Those that sail to the west Indies, do sometimes meet with the like falls of rain in whole clouds, wherewith ships are often drowned: they are called by the Spaniards, the Huricanos; and by our men, the Spouts.   
Unto the lands, but heavens high cope;  
Neither could that have been her scope.  
But to the stars it would have rose,  
If jupiter did not oppose,  
And her with weighty clouds foreclose.  
¶ This night was not the heavens night,  
But hellish dark depriving light.  
And thickened with such clouds of showers,  
That whole unparted downright powers,  
So as the feared lightning flash,  
And his swift brightness, it did quash.  
The clouded air becomes obscure,  
The convex spheres quakings endure.  
The Axle that the world sustains,  
Doth sound aloud with cracking strains.  
The joints and structures of the poles  
With labouring motion tottering rolls.  

Chaos.  Nature suspects the Chaos old,  
And that discording uncontrolled  
The Elements again would war,  
And in their harmony would jar.  

Right Paganism.  And that with Gods, the fiends of hell  
Would now all mingled be pellmell.  
One only sign some hope did give,  
That in this storm this bark could live.  
But look how far the distance shows,  
Down where the pleasant Ocean flows,  
To him that on the top doth stand  
Of mount Leucades lofty land:  
Even so the trough of seas appeared  
To him that now the rudder steered:  
When as the ship was borne aloft  

The billows of a wrought sea described.  With swelling of the billow soft.  
And when again she did descend  
Between the billows, as they bend;  
So hollow in the furrow lies,  
As that her mast is hid from eyes.  
Sometimes as high as clouds her sails,  
Sometimes her keel the bottom trails.  
For where the sea doth break a sunder,  
The sands are bared that lie under.  
And when the parted billows fills,  
They rise in heaps like mighty hills.  
¶ Fear now all hope of Art exceeds,  
To guide the helm the master dreads:  
To port, or wear, or serve the seas,  
The labouring ship he cannot ease.  
Only by this they did survive,  
The waves so contrary did strive,  
As that it kept the ship upright  
Betwixt them both with equal might.  
For as one billow down did strain,  
Another checked him up again.  
And by this means not over-set  
With every surge aloft they get.  
Of Sasons' shelves, and lowly sand, 
Sason, an Island between Brundisium and Epirus.   
Nothing at all in fear they stand.  
Nor yet of the Thessalian shore,  
Whose crooked strands the pebbles store. 
A City of Epirus.   
Nor yet Ambracia's noisome bay,  
Where ships so oft are cast away.  
But that which fears these seamen most,  
Is the high-clift Caeraunian cost.  
Now Caesar thinks this dangerous state, 
A mountain in Epirus, that runs into the seas.   
Is worthy to confront his fate.  
How now (quoth he) are powers Divine  
So troubled with this life of mine,  
As that they should such care bestow  
How they the same might overthrow?  
That sailing in this trifling boat  
Such monstrous seas together float.  
If that the glory of my end  
Unto the seas the Fates do lend,  
And wars no more we must intend; 
Caesar's brave resolution in this tempest.   
Ye Gods above, with dreadless mind,  
I take what death you have designed:  
Although this hastened date prevents  
The finishing of brave events.  
But I have done acts great enough,  
I made the Northern Nations bow. 
A brief relation of Caesar's achievements.   
The forces of my enemy  
For fear of me I made to fly.  
And Rome itself doth plainly see,  
Pompey a second is to me.  
The faggots me by war denied,  
With people's voice to me were cried.  
No Titles of the Roman state,  
Have wanted to adorn my Fate. 
Fortune only of Caesar's counsel.   
And no wight now but thou alone  
Fortune, to whom my vows are known,  
Shall know the secrets of my will;  
For though that I have had my fill  
Of honours, and enjoy the grace  
Of Consul, and Dictator's place:  
And so to Stygian shades will trace.  

Caesar shows how he desires to die.  O yet 'tis my desire to die  
In private sort, and secretly.  
O Heavens! no funerals I crave,  
Let my torn body for a grave  
Be kept amidst the weltering wave.  
Both fires and mournings me deny,  
Whereby my fame the more shall fly.  
For no man witting of my end,  
All coasts with dread will me attend.  
¶ So having said, the surging whifts  
The ship ten times together lifts,  
And (that which wondrous is to say)  
She on the waves top still did stay;  
And did not down decline again:  
But with a sweeping billows strain,  

Caesar cast a shore in his boat.  The bark was cast upon the sands,  
Whereas their last forsaken lands,  
Doth make a narrow hollow bay,  
And there a shore do safely stay.  
Here at one cast again possessed  
With all his Fortune, so much blest:  
And with so many stately Towns,  
Such Cities, and such Regal Crowns:  
But Caesar thus returned again,  
And Phoebus rising from the main,  
He could not so himself conceal,  

Caesar returns again to his Campe.  As when he from his Camp did steal,  
And all his Army did deceive.  
For now about him clustering cleave  
His loyal troops, to see his face,  
But tears a while all joy did chase,  
And then their Chieftain they reprove  
With such complaints as grow from love.  
Stout Caesar, whither now (quoth they)  
Did thy rash valour thee convey?  
And to what Fate (when thou wert fled) 
The complaint of Caesars●ouldiers ●ouldiers.   
Were we poor souls abandoned?  
Why didst thou to unwilling waves  
Thy body give, where danger raves?  
When thou well know'st how many friends  
What peoples safeties, lives and ends,  
Only upon thy Fate depends.  
And that the world with love and dread,  
Hath chosen thee her sovereign head.  
'tis inhumanity (I say)  
Li●e wilfully to cast away.  
Was none of us of that desert,  
With thee in this to share a part?  
Of all thy friends that yet remain,  
In this wouldst thou no one retain?  
Dead sleep (alas) did us deceive,  
Whilst that the seas did thee bereave:  
And thereof we are much ashamed,  
But must this cause therefore be blamed,  
That thou didst seek Hesperia land?  
A desperate deed thou took'st in hand,  
In such fierce cruel storms as these  
To trust thyself with raging seas.  
In most extremes, and last of all  
When doubtful wracks we would forestall,  
Then men are wont (to cut off strife)  
Stoutly to end a loathsome life.  
But thou with all this world's good blest,  
The seas must be therewith possessed.  
Why weariest thou the Gods above?  
Fortune hath showed her care and love 
Caesar taxed f●● abusing the favours of Fortune, and the care of the Gods.   
Sufficient, if she do no more  
But thy safe landing on the shore.  
And this may serve, thee to debar  
From hoped fortune in thy war.  
No better use can Caesar make  
Of that great care the Gods do take  
For his affairs, the earth that sways,  
And to whose hest all men obeys?  
Then that such grace they him behight  
To be a happy shipwreck wight?  
But whilst they thus expostulate,  
The sun his beams doth elevate:  
And so breaks off this dire complaint,  
The swelling seas now growing faint  
With huge turmoil; her waves depressed,  
When as the winds were laid to rest.  
¶ And then the leaders of those bands,  
That lay so long in Latium lands,  

Antonius brings his bands from Italy to Caesar by sea.  Seeing the main now spent with rage,  
And cleansing Boreas did assuage  
The lowering gusts of seas and sky,  
They loosed their ships the waves to try.  
Which long and oft had trial made  
Twixt sailors skilful in their trade,  
And the resisting stubborn winds,  
Which so each other equal binds,  
That they the broad seas could not scour,  
And come to Caesar with their power.  
But now aboard the Soldiers get,  
The ships in order they are set.  
When as the night with froward gale,  
Kept Mariners they could not hale  
Their tacks aboard, nor ply their sails,  
Amongst the ships all order fails.  
So do the Cranes in strained ranks,  
When they forsake Strimonian banks,  
Shunning the rage of winter's frost,  
Go seek their drink on Nilus' coast.  
And when they first begin their flight,  
Their ranks so orderly they dight,  
That divers figures they retain,  
Whilst they throughout the air do strain▪  
Until at length some Southern blast  
Amongst their wings his puffs do cast:  
Wherewith they are enforced to fly  
A higher pitch in windy sky.  
And then confusedly do begin  
To break their order filled thin.  
In clusters soaring round together,  
Framing their flight to serve the wether.  
And puts the letter out of square,  
Whose form in flying first they bore.  
¶ But with the dauning of the day,  
The wind began to bear a sway,  
Stirred with the sight of Phoebus' face:  
And now it hath this fleet in chase.  
Which as it sailed, did strive in vain, 
Lissus, a City of Macedon.   
The shores of Lissus to attain.  
But yet that land they could not lay,  
Till north-wind gave the Southwinde way.  
And to Nymphaeus port did guide  
The fleet, which Boreas blast denied, 
Nymphaeus, a Port town of Macedon.   
In keeping back the checking tide.  
Now Pompey sees provision made  
From sundry coasts him to invade.  
And Caesar's force at point to Arm,  
From every place about him swarm.  
So as his Camp must now withstand  
The daily garboils near at hand.  
He doth resolve to place a part  
His nuptial care, secure from Mart.  
And unto Lesbos means to send 
Cornelia, Pompey's wife, daughter to Scipio.   
His fair Cornelia, there to spend  
This bloody time, remote a far  
From clattering Arms, and noise of war.  
Good God, how just love rules and binds  
Those men that are of worthy minds.  
Love so in Pompey breeds remorse,  
That dread and doubt do wars divorce.  
For now Cornelia is the cause  
That he himself a while withdraws,  
From hazarding the doubtful scar  
Of Fortune, in this civil war, 
The force of just love.   
When all the world and Roman state  
Was now exposed to martial Fate.  
He now wants words to show his mind,  
And to delays is whole inclined.  
Whereby he may protract event,  
And trifle Fate in love-time spent.  
Now when the night was almost past,  
And sleepy rest had lent his last  
To slumbering eyes, Cornelia than  
Sweetly embracing her good man,  
Seeking withal his lips to smack,  
Whose breast deep cares did strain & rack  
To her the whiles he turns his back.  
When wounded she with blinded fears,  
Seeing his eyes besprent with tears,  
Durst not desire the cause to learn,  
Nor seem she did his tears discern.  
Then sighing, thus he said; Dear wife,  
To me more pleasing than my life,  

Pompey's words to Cornelia.  Whilst I in happy state did live;  
But now dost cause of sorrow give,  
Since that the heavy day I see,  
That our sweet joys must parted be.  
Too short a date for our delight:  
Though all to long to stay from fight.  
For Caesar now is ready priest,  
And war is only in request,  
During which time, Lesbos shall be  
A safe retiring place for thee.  
Forbear requests to me to make,  
I have resolved this course to take.  
And have denied mine own desire,  
Thou shalt not long from me retire.  
But things are now in desperate chance,  
And when as ruin doth advance,  
The greatest states must lead the dance.  
It may suffice thee still to hear  
When perils are to Pompey near.  
But sure thy love deceives me far,  
If thou affect to see this war.  
How foully I might be ashamed  
That now for Mart have all things framed;  

Pompey's persuasions to his wife.  To sleep securely with my wife,  
Sequestered from this civil strife?  
And when the sounding Trumpets shall  
The wretched world to battle call,  
That Pompey then with drowsy eyes,  
Should from thy tender bosom rise.  
To woeful Pompey 'twere a scorn,  
That he no prejudice hath borne  
Amongst the rest, in civil strife,  
Nor barred so much as of his wife.  
But thou mean while shalt live secure  
From perils that the rest endure.  
And safer then great Kings can be;  
For being thus removed from me,  
Fortune shall never thee perplex  
With those great cares that must me vex.  
But if the Gods will have it so,  
That we be conquered by our foe; 
Pompey terms his wife the best part of himself.   
My best part yet shall safe remain.  
Or if the fates do me constrain  
The cruel victor's force to shun;  
Then know I whither safe to run.  
The grieved dame waxed faint and pale  
When she had heard this heavy tale.  
Her senses rapted in a sound,  
Sorrow a while did her confound:  
Until her voice was come again,  
And then did murmuring thus complain. 
Cornelia perplexed with Pompey's words sorrowfully replies.   
No cause (dear Pompey) I do find,  
To think the Fates, or Gods unkind,  
For wronging of our nuptial bed:  
Our lives have happily been led.  
Death doth not separate our love,  
Nor funerals need we to prove.  
But that now (as the common sort)  
I should be held from my consort.  
And like the base Plebeian rout,  
From thee I should be so cast out  
It grieves my soul; what must our foe  
With his approach work me such woe?  
Thy father-in-law we honour do  
To break this league betwixt us two.  
What, is the love that I have shown  
To Pompey, yet no better known?  
Think'st thou that ought so safe can be,  
As thy dear self is unto me?  
Have not we still, with mutual hearts,  
Withstood all scorns, and Fortune's thwarts?  
And wilt thou cruel now me leave,  
And (separate from thee) so bequeave  
My careful head to ruins state,  
And to a thundering fearful Fate?  
Thinkst thou, thou dost my life protect,  
Whilst my desire thou dost reject?  
As though to me a harm it were,  
With thee in perils part to bear.  
No, no; for whilst I draw my breath,  

Cornelia's dear affection to Pompey.  I'll follow thee unto the death.  
And after thee so long survive,  
Until the heavy fame arrive  
Upon this far removed shore;  
But after that will live no more.  
Mean while thou dost but me enure  
To Destinies, and to endure.  
O pardon me (confess I must)  
In this I fear my strength to trust.  
But if my prayers may take place,  
Or that the Gods do rue my case,  

Cornelia's petition.  Let thy poor wife know last of all,  
What ever Fortune shall befall.  
For though at last thou conquest gain,  
Perplexed yet shall I still remain.  
And Lesbos will hold me in awe,  
Though thou thy sword with conquest draw.  
For I as much shall stand in doubt,  
That Caesar being put to rout,  
Will (flying in a desperate case)  

Cornelia's doubt.  Surprise me in this strengthless place.  
This coast will now be more of fame,  
So honoured with my noble name:  
Who will not know that place the while,  
Where Pompey's wife lives in exile?  
For every one when serves the wind,  

Mitelen, a city in Lesbos.  The way to Mitelen will find.  
But now I make this last request, 
Cornelia's last request to Pompey.   
If thou in battle be distressed,  
And that thy conquered Arms thou leave  
And safety must by flight receive:  
If thou thyself to seas bequeave;  
O let thy luckless vessel strive,  
On any shore first to arrive,  
Then on this coast to seek relief;  
Such meeting would increase our grief.  
Thus said, as one distracted with dread,  
Enraged she leaves her loathed bed, 
Cornelia's impatient sorrow   
And her provides to haste away,  
Impatient of her griefs delay.  
Her Pompey (ere she left the place)  
She did not kiss with sweet embrace:  
Nor yet her arms she ever twined  
About his neck, with favours kind,  
So to relieve his grieved mind.  
So quailed the last fruit of that love,  
Which they before so long did prove.  
Outrageously they both lament,  
Their streaming tears their bosoms drent.  
And neither of them had the heart  
To say, Farewell, when they should part.  
Never had they in all their life,  
Endured such a storm of strife.  
All other harms that could betide,  
With constant minds they did abide. 
Pompey & Cornelia more troubled with this parting, then when Caesar chased them out of Italy.   
The hapless dame the place doth leave,  
And then her train did her receive.  
And to the seas do her convey,  
Where on the sands she prostrate lay,  
And to the banks she clinged fast,  
But her aboard they bore at last.  
They did not with such heavy plight,  
At that time leave their Country's sight,  
Nor from Hesperian coast depart  
When Caesar's Arms did make them start;  
Great Pompey's faithful wife doth this  
Forsake her Lord without a kiss:  
And from him flies, now left alone,  
But both of them do part in moan.  
When night approached she could not sleep,  
Cold then did her long waking keep;  
Not used before to widowed bed,  
From cares she could not wean her head.  
Nor take her rest alone to lie,  
Her husband's sides not being by.  
How oft could she (but all in vain)  
When sleep her tender eyes did strain,  
With arms deceived, hug and embrace  
The empty bed in Pompey's place?  
And now forgetful of her flight,  
Did seek to find her Fere by night.  
For though her fervent dear desire  
Her heart and marrow sets on fire,  
Yet took she not delight to spread  
Her limbs throughout the cooling bed.  
But still that side reserved free,  
Fearing he should unfurnished be.  
But oh! the Gods did not provide  
That so great joy should her betide.  
For now the fatal day draws near,  
That she (poor soul) shall see her dear  
Repair to her with heavy cheer.  
Finis Libri quinti.   

Lucan's Pharsalia. The sixth Book.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
Unto Dyrachium Pompey goes,  
Which guards him safely from his foes.  
Then Caesar with a mighty wall,  
Doth Pompey's Army round enthrall;  
But he breaks out by open fight.  
scaeva's brave mind, and manly might.  
Then Thessaly's description shown,  
And what her old Records makes known.  
There Sextus, Pompey's worthless child,  
With sorceries himself defiled:  
And doth Erictho's counsel take,  
Which she learns from the Stygian lake.  
And doth a carcase raise, that tells  
Much future wrack, and heavy spells.  
Thus having served Sextus turn,  
The speaking carcase she doth burn.  
WHEN these two Camps were lodged so nigh,  
Confronting in each others eye, 
The two Armies in sight of each other.   
Their Arms and Ensigns glittering stand,  
Braving upon the hills at hand:  
And both the Captains prone to fight,  
Having assembled all their might,  
The Gods each parties then beheld,  
Of forces equal in the field.  
But Caesar holds it in disdain,  

Caesar's desires not to win towns but to fight once for all.  The cities of the greeks to gain:  
And doth his Destiny debar,  
To value that success in war.  
For nothing now could give him rest,  
Until that Pompey were suppressed.  
But doth affect with what he may  
To give the world one bloody day.  
And thereby all to ruin bring  
That of his name the earth might ring.  
The Fates indifferent threw the dice,  
Which of their heads should pay the price.  
Thrice Caesar all his troops displayed,  
Upon the hills ranged and arraide;  
And thrice provoking signs had shown,  
Of joining battle with his fone.  

Caesar could not provoke Pompey to join battle.  But when at last he plainly saw  
To fight he could not Pompey draw,  
Who in his Camp more trust reposed,  
That with a trench was strongly closed.  
His tents and ensigns he did raise,  
And secretly through bushy ways,  
With all the hast he could devise,  
He marched Dyrachyum to surprise;  

Caesar removes to Dyrachyum and Pompey follows him.  But Pompey knowing his intent,  
By Seas doth this design prevent.  
And on a hill that Petra hight,  
He lodge his Camp by his foresight.  
So to defend Dyrachyum walls,  
Which Caesar sought to make his thralls,  
Although this cities towers were strong  
To have repulsed any wrong.  
Yet her best strength and ramparts stands  
Not by the work of ancient hands,  
That bulwarks framed by art and toil,  

The description of Dyrachyum.  With clustered heaps digged from the soil.  
(Although such structures mighty power  
Nor war, nor time can well devour.)  
But it was strongly fortified,  
All Engines forces to abide,  
By only help of Nature's hands,  
And by the seat whereon it stands.  
For 'tis almost enclosed round  
With a main sea, large and profound.  
And craggy steep cliffs tottering high,  
'Gainst which the roaring billows fly:  
And but by this hill hindered,  
With sea it would be Ilanded.  
The walls foundations are of Rocks,  
Most dangerous for shipwreck shocks.  
When as the Southern raging blasts,  
Th' jonion furious waves up casts.  
For Temples then, and houses shake,  
And froth of seas their tops ore-rake.  
¶ Hither the heinous hopes of war,  
Drew Caesar's rage; his foes to bar.  
But when he saw their troops at large,  
Dispersed on every mountains verge.  
He unawares to them, assays  
far off a mighty trench to raise:  
And brings it with a compass round,  
Enclosing many a mile of ground.  
The lands he measures with his eye,  
And so casts up a Rampart high;  
Not only framed of earth and clay,  
But huge rocks therein doth lay.  
And stones from flinty quarries digged,  
The Grecian houses he unrigged,  
And goodly walls in pieces shakes,  
Wherewith this lofty trench he makes  
So solid, and so firm withal,  
That it would neither sway nor fall,  
With force of battery, near or far,  
Of Rams, or Engines for the war.  
Down go the hills hand over head, 
A huge trench raised by Caesar to enclose Pompey's Army.   
With which the vales are leveled,  
Till Caesar's task were finished.  
Ditches he casts up large and deep:  
Then mantled Towers square and steep,  
He rears upon his trenches tops;  
And in this sort he rounding stops  
A long fetch't compassed monstrous bound,  
Of bushy woods, and forest ground,  
With ploughed lands, and pasture fields,  
And some that nought but briars yields:  
And in this vast encircled soil  
The savage beasts he did entoyle.  
So as now Pompey's Army needs  
Nor fields, nor fodder for their steeds;  
So large a territories space,  
Did this Caesarean trench embrace.  
And Pompey had sufficient change,  
From place to place his Tents to range.  
Through it fair rivers took their source,  
And in the seas did end their course.  
Caesar surveys this wondrous feat,  
And when he saw it was complete:  
He and his troops (with toil oppressed)  
Amidst the large fields took their rest.  
Now let us hear those fables old,  
That of the Troyans' walls were told,  
Ascribed to the Godheads cares,  
Although but framed of brittle wares:  
And those great wonders that do fly  
Of Babylonian walls so high,  
That seemed to front and threat the sky,  
Made by the Parthian turn again,  
That flying doth his fight maintain.  
But look what spacious fields and lands,  
Are compassed with fierce Tigris bands,  
Or swift Orontes doth embrace,  
From which the Kings of Eastern race  
Did at the first with sudden might,  

The compass of Caesar's trench.  Small kingdoms share unto their right.  
Even so much ground with rapted close  
In broils of war fronted with foes,  
He quickly walled and finished;  
Yet those, and this all perished.  
Those hands mought with a little toil,  
join Abydos to Sestus soil.  
And with like heaps of earth have made  
The Hellespont a land-way trade.  
And might that Istmos have purloined,  
That Pelops land to Greece hath joined.  
Or else have made a way direct  
For ships to pass without reflect  
Through that long stretching Malean strain  
That shelves so far into the main.  
Or any part of all the earth,  
Have changed from her proper birth  
Unto some clime of better mood,  
Though Nature had the work withstood.  
This martial terrace frame of rage  
So furnished, doth enclose the stage,  
Whence factious strife, & bloody streams,  
Shall overflow so many Realms,  
here the Thessalian slaughters won,  
And Lybick murderous deeds misdone.  
And here now flames the civil brand,  
Within this compassed plot of land.  
¶ This work, when first it was erected, 
Pompey never suspected this trench to be in hand, until it was finished.   
Of Pompey was no more suspected  
Than are the clashings of the waves  
That loud against Pelorum raves,  
Hard by those people, that far wide  
In midst of Trinacry reside.  
Or then the Britton Calidons  
Can hear the blustering motions  
That Thetis billows when they rake  
Against the Kentish cliffs, do make.  
But he no sooner found it out,  
What fields this vast trench closed about,  
But strait his troops he did convey  
From Petra, where secure they lay:  
And them about those hills disposed,  
That this main Rampart had enclosed. 
Pompey's policy to weaken Caesar's forces.   
And this he practised to this end,  
That Caesar should of force extend  
His troops, and weaken so his strength,  
Dispersed to guard the trenches length.  
For so much quantity in ground  
This new-raised Rampart did surround,  
As is Aricia's little wood,  
Distant from Rome, whereas there stood  
A sacred Altar elevate,  
Unto Diana consecrate.  
Or as the river Tiber falls  
Into the sea from Roman walls.  
If so it ran strait in a line,  
And did not crooked trending twine,  
But yet no Trumpets sound alarms,  
Nor weapons marshaled to harms.  
Although sometimes (their Arms to try)  
The wounding darts on both sides fly.  
These Captains now are kept a part  
With greater cares from bloody Mart.  
For Pompey's camp found penury  
Of fodder for his Cavalry:  
That daily galloping these fields,  

Want of fodder in Pompey's Camp for his horses.  Which erst such store of herbage yields,  
Their horned hooves so bare had beat,  
That grass nor green was there to eat.  
The lusty Coursers than waxed faint,  
When as their lease was thus attaint,  
And to another feed were brought,  
Where racks with hay were fully fraught.  
But then they mourned and pined away,  
Changed from fresh grass to dried hay.  
And whilst their Rider's spur their sides,  
And in the rings their gallop guides,  
With trembling joints all suddenly  
They sink down right, and gasping lie,  
Till death their stretched out limbs surprise,  
And so the lusty courser dies.  
Besides all this, there did ensue  
An air, that such infection drew,  
By heavens distempered foggy sky,  
Wherein contagious heats did fry,  
That through the Camp a pest doth fly.  
Such baneful Stygian loathsome scents 
A plague in Pompey's camp   
Do rise from out the dampish vents  
Of Nesis hollow mouldy caves;  
And such like vapours breathing raves  
From forth Typhaeus nasty den,  
That chokes with stench both beasts & men.  
Herewith in heaps the Soldiers fall,  
And that which plagues them worst of all,  
The poisoned waters more offend  
Then all those damps the air doth send:  
For that their bowels so doth fret,  
And parch them with such inward heat,  
As that the skin it scorching swarts,  
Their very eyes with swelling starts,  
Their faces flame with fiery hue,  
Cangranes and Calentures ensue.  
And thus tormented sundry ways,  
Their heads for pain they cannot raise.  
This raging violent disease  
So forcibly doth still increase,  
As that they do not life maintain  
In languishing, and die with pain; 
Sudden death in Pompey's Campe.   
But all as soon as sickness takes  
Without delay an end it makes:  
And in such troops so fast they die,  
That whilst the dead unburied lie,  
With noisome stench amongst the life,  
This foul contagion grows more rife.  
For these poor souls have not at all,  
Any digged graves, or funeral.  
But as they do yield up their last,  
Out of the Camp their corpses are cast.  
Yet (that which somewhat calmed these wracks)  
The open sea was at their backs, 
The sea a friend to Pompey's camp.   
And now and then from Northern wind,  
They some refreshing blasts did find.  
And so the foreign stranger shores,  
Their Camp with victuals plenty stores.  
¶ Mean while this dull infectious air,  
Did nothing Caesar's camp impair.  
For they enjoyed at their wills  
The large fair fields, and lofty hills;  
Nor yet their waters noisome were,  
But streaming sweetly, fresh and clear.  
Although another cross they find,  

Penury and famine in Caesar's Army.  For famine plagues them in her kind.  
Wherewith they were as much distressed  
As if a siege did them invest.  
The bladed corn the earth did bear,  
Was not yet grown unto an ear,  
So as the Soldiers for their feasts,  
Were fain to share their food with beasts.  
Gnabbing upon the briar buds,  
And gathering green leaves in the woods.  
And therewithal such herbs find out,  
Whose qualities they well might doubt.  
For that upon such roots they grew,  

The shift that Caesar's Soldiers make for victuals.  As never erst they saw nor knew.  
And some of these upon the fire,  
They boil and fry with sharp desire,  
And some they chew and swallow raw,  
Wherewith to fill the hungry maw:  
And many other things they eat,  
Unknown before to be man's meat.  
Yet these starved souls, besieged and dared  
Their foes, that with full dishes fared.  
¶ But when that Pompey did desire,  
To force a way with blood and fire  
Through this huge trench, whereby his bands  
Might range at large in all the lands.  

Pompey determines to overthrow Caesar's large trench.  He would not take the dark of night,  
To cloak a base unmanly fight.  
For whilst they both from Arms refrained,  
To steal on Caesar he disdained.  
But breaches large he means to make,  
And through them his way to take.  
The Rampart he would lay full low,  
And her high Towers overthrow.  
The sword and slaughter must hew out  
The way, to bring this work about.  
The part that did most fitly stand  
For Pompey now to take in hand,  
And of this trench the nearest side,  
Was one high turret dignifide  
With Scaevas name; obscured from view, 
Scoeua's, or Minutius name.   
With trees that thick about it grew.  
Thither did he address his Mart,  
And sets upon this vast rampart.  
With sudden charge; but raised no dust, 
Pompey's forces assault the trench.   
Whereby to give the foe mistrust  
Forthwith such noise of Trumpets sounds  
Throughout the fields and air rebounds,  
Such store of Ensigned Aegle blazed,  
To hold the enemy amazed.  
Whereby the sword should not alone  
Claim all the honour as his own.  
And now to show their courage brave,  
That valour would due glory have,  
What place soever any took,  
He never afterwards forsook,  
But did that ground with force maintain, 
A bloody fight at the trench.   
Or clouds it with his body slain.  
This fight so many lives confounds,  
That bodies wanted to take wounds.  
And darts that fly like showers of rain,  
Were spent, and cast away in vain.  
Then wildfire streams, and flaming pitch,  
Flies on the rampart and the ditch,  
So as the turrets shake withal,  
And totter as they meant to fall.  
The rams, the engines, and the slings,  
Their battery now with fury dings,  
Whose often shocks did make such wrack,  
That tower and rampart 'gins to crack.  
Then Pompey's men withouten stop,  
Do mount upon the trenches top.  
And there their Aegle do display,  
Who hoping they had won the day:  
Think now the world shall them obey.  
¶ That which so many thousand hands,  
Nor yet all Caesars armed bands,  
Could not from utter conquest hold:  
One man of courage uncontrolled,  

Scaeva, one of Caesar's Captains defends the trench.  Did change the fortune of this day,  
And reft the victor of his prey.  
His foes still braving in the face,  
With his own arms made good the place,  
And still, not vanquished, nor slain,  
Great Pompey's conquest doth restrain.  
And Scaeva was this worthies name,  
Who formerly had purchased fame  
In Caesar's Camp; a private man,  
Where he this height of honour wan.  
For valour all those to exceed,  
That Rhine and Rhodanus did breed.  
There was he made for bloody hand,  
Centurion of a Latium band.  
And of that order ware the weed,  
Prove to each doughty daring deed.  
But yet he skilless was to choose  
Just times his courage stout to use.  
For valour shown in civil wars,  
Is virtue maimed with vices scars.  
When he at last beholds in sight,  
His mates retiring from the fight,  
Seeking out corners to recoil,  
In safety from this furious broil.  
With manly voice he 'gan to cry,  

scaeva's words to his flying companions.  Wither (base cowards) do you fly?  
In Caesar's Arms you were not trained,  
With fearful scorns to be distained.  
O wretched beasts, whom terror drives!  
Without fight will you lose your lives?  
What shame is this that you so droop,  
To shift yourselves from all the troup?  
And not to covet to be found  
Amongst the dead, with honours wound.  
Ought not your furies to be such,  
Although no duty did you touch?  
Because the foe this choice hath made,  
To pierce through us with his proud blade,  
This day shall not be faintly tried,  
Without blood shed on Pompey's side.  
How much more happy should I die  
Were I but graced with Caesar's eye.  
But though that Fortune so detracts,  
His testimony of my acts;  
Yet will I so shut up my days,  
That Pompey's self shall give me praise.  
Come, show the signs of noble hearts,  
On your foes bosoms break your darts;  
And that they may your vigour feel,  
Upon their throats retort your steel.  
The clouds of dust so high are flown,  
And this noise through the air so blown,  
As that the very din, and rage,  
Doth Caesar silent ears engage.  
Dear mates we yet unvanquished stand,  
Caesar will come with speedy hand;  
Whose power this place will soon relieve,  
Before our foes us death can give.  
This only word so stirred their spirits, 
The name of Cesar and hope of his coming reviveth his discouraged troops.   
As trumpets sounds at first incites  
And calls men unto Martial fights.  
The dauntless valour of this man,  
They all admired; and then they ran  
With eager minds him to behold,  
The youths likewise with spirits bold,  
Stood fast to know, if possibly  
A man in such extremity,  
Environed with so many foes,  
When as the place did him enclose,  
By virtue could his life retain:  
And hold it safe in Death's disdain.  
He stand fasts at the Tower's defence,  
Those that assail he drives from thence.  
Then carcases in heaps that lie,  
He trolls from off the turret high.  
And bruiseth them with bodies falls,  
That seek to scale or mine the walls.  

Sceua's toil and valour in defence of the trench.  Then he the ruin'd stones convarts  
To martial use in stead of darts;  
Huge timbers he o'erturns, and frames,  
Wherewith the foe he kills and Iames:  
And threats on them himself to cast,  
Then pitchy brands, with flaming blast.  
And those that on the walls would rear,  
He quells with Iron-pointed spear:  
And with his blade shears off their wrists,  
On battlements that lay their fists.  
Their chines he cracks, & breaks their bones  
With casting down huge weights of stones.  
And those whose Morions are but weak,  
Their skulls in sunder he doth break.  
Others again he burns and scales,  
With streaming showers of wild fire balls:  
So as their cheeks, their hair and eyes,  
Rapt with the flames, loud bissing fries.  
¶ Now when the bodies that were slain,  
Did rise and mount above the plain:  
Off from the turret's top he leaps  
Upon the corpses, that lay in heaps.  
And in the midst of them he stood,  
With threatening brows, and raging mood,  
As if a Leopard should skip  
Out of the Hunter's toil to slip:  
So he enclosed with trooping swarms  
Engaged, repelles all force of Arms:  
His looks with dread their courage charms  
His sword that like a razor cuts,  
The dried blood now blunts and gluts,  
That it abated had the edge,  
And turned dull like to a wedge:  
So as when Scaeva with it stroke,  
Where as it lights, the bones it broke;  
But drew nor blood, nor gashing wounded,  
The steel with hewing was confounded.  
On him the burden of the fight  
Did lie, and many a dart did light.  
No hand in vain against him bend,  
No javelins push unlucky spent.  
Fortune now sees new wars in hand,  
The prows of one doth all withstand. 
Caesar in his Commentaries doth admirably commend this man, and saith, that in his shield there were 230 darts found sticking.   
The Target of this valiant Knight  
Did ring, with blows that on it light:  
His hollow cask so cracked and brysed,  
That it his brows and temples squised.  
And yet this while no mortal blow  
Had he received by his foe;  
Only the darts were thrown so thick,  
That in his bones the heads did stick.  
¶ O witless gulls! why do you spend  
Your shafts and darts thus to no end?  
These many shoots that you have driven,  
Not yet one deadly wound hath given.  
Your mighty slings you should have brought  
And so this one man's end have wrought:  
Or huge stones from off the wall,  
Whose weight on him you might let fall;  
Or else your battering Ram, whose force  
Quickly from him would life divorce.  
Or your Balista's you might prove,  
If force thereof could him remove  
From off the entrance of this port,  
Where he doth so your force retort;  
And as a mighty Bulwark stands  
For Caesar's side, and scorns your hands,  
And Pompey's force in idle wastes.  
But now those Arms away he casts  
That should protect his breast from foes,  
And in his shield no trust repose:  
His left arm doth therewith dispense  
For having lived by his defence,  
And naked doth expose his breast  
Unto all harms that him oppressed.  
And in his body fixed he bears  
A wood of darts, of shafts, and spears.  
Then he with fainting steps seeks out  
Some one in all this hostile rout,  
Whom he might crush, and on him fall  
Like to a marine monstrous whale.  
And as the beasts of Lybic shore,  
And Africa's Elephants do roar,  
Oppressed with multitudes of spears,  
When from their bloody backs they tears,  
And do shake off the pointed darts,  
Which in their rugged tough hide smarts.  
Whose hidden wounds not dangerous are,  
But pierce the flesh, and give a scar.  
Nor all those darts that hang so thick,  
Nor all the shafts that do them prick,  
Can fix on them so deep a wound,  
To lay them flat dead on the ground.  

Scaeva receives a mortal wound.  But now behold with skilful art,  
far off Gortinus thrills his dart,  
And scaeva's head therewith he smote,  
And in his eye there sticks the shot.  
Yet not appalled, when he did feel  
The blow, he broke the crooked steel;  
And from the wound the shaft did pluck,  
Whereto the tender eye fast stuck.  
Then on the ground he lets it fall,  
And spurns the dart and eye withal.  
So doth the grisly Poland Bear,  
When he is wounded with the spear,  
And madded with the sticking steel,  
Which he with pricking smart doth feel;  
Gnaws on the wound, and like rage spends  
Upon the dart that him offends.  
But whilst he flying raves and kicks,  
Within his flank the lance fast sticks.  
The rancour of this direful shot  
His visage did most ugly blot:  
For all his face was swollen, and smeared  
With clotted blood, no shape appeared.  
Herewith so loud the foes did shout,  

The joy that the enemies made for Scoeua's wound.  As if from heaven some storm burst out.  
More joy in them could not be seen,  
If Caesar's self had wounded been,  
Then they expressed; which did surmount  
At this man's hurt, of mean account.  
But he with haughty steadfastness,  
Hereof doth the offence suppress  
Mildly in show, and with a grace,  
As though in him wroth had no place.  
Forbear dear Countrymen, quoth he, 
scaeva's subtlety.   
And turn your weapons off from me:  
No more wounds now my death doth need,  
You have already done the deed.  
These darts but plucked out of my breast,  
Of blood I shall be dispossessed.  
O take me up, and let me lie  
In Pompey's Camp before I die.  
Do not your Captain so betray,  
To hold from him what I do say.  
Scaeva had rather Caesar leave,  
Than not an honest death receive.  
¶ Unlucky Aulus credit gave  
To those false words that he did rave;  
And to his sword he did not list,  
Which he held ready in his fist.  
And as he came for to disarm  
This Captain; (not suspecting harm)  
Quite through the middle of his throat, 
Aulus slain by Scaeva.   
Scaeva his pointed falchion smote.  
Then he new courage takes again  
As soon as he had Aulus slain.  
And said, so let him be embrued,  
That hopes that I am yet subdued. 
scaeva's proud speech before his death.   
Let Pompey know that Scaeua's sword  
No other place will him afford;  
Until his Ensigns he do yield  
To Caesar's will, and quit the field.  
Think you (base men) that ever I  
Like Pompey's Cowards mean to die?  
Death's love gives me more powerful laws  
Than Pompey's, or the Senate's cause.  
These threats no sooner from him flies,  
But that huge clouds of dust did rise;  
Whereby they all did then descry  
That Caesar with his troops was nigh.  
¶ And he arrived in good time,  
For thereby he takes off the crime  
And foul disgrace from Pompey's part,  
That they deserved in this Mart.  
Else Scaeva thou perhaps alone  
All Pompey's troops hadst overthrown:  
For with the ending of this fight  
Thy life likewise did take his flight.  
But whilst that any did withstand,  
The wars gave vigour to thy hand.  
But lying now stretched on the ground,  
Thine own friends swarm about thee round;  
And strive to whom the grace may fall  
To bear thee to thy funeral.  
And him withal they did adore,  
As if within his breast he bore  
Some heavenly gift, or power divine,  
That made his virtue lively shine.  

The honour done to Scaeva after he was slain.  Then all of them did strain and strive,  
Out of his limbs the darts to rive:  
Which to the Gods they consecreate,  
To memorise his noble fate.  
And with the Arms of scaeva's breast,  
The God of war they did invest.  
But yet how blessed had been thy name,  
And thou obtained more glorious fame;  
If Spaniard's fierce of thee adread  
Had turned their backs, and from thee fled.  
Or the Cantabrian martial wights,  
That broad short glaives use in their fights.  
Or those rough Tewtons' brusky swart,  
That use long slang-swords in their mart.  
This civil war allows no place  
For Trophies; nor affords the grace  
Ioues Temple with thy spoils to dight,  
Nor Triumphs shouts for valours right.  
O thou unhappy, that in vain  
Didst Caesar with such valour gain!  
¶ Pompey repulsed in this sort  
By Caesar's forces from the fort,  
Having at last withdrawn his troops  
From out this Ramparts trenching coops,  
No more was tired therewithal,  
(But to the war a fresh doth fall)  
Then wearied is the raging main,  
Whom Eastern wind doth hoist & strain;  
When as the waves their wrath would wreak,  
The rocks resisting do them break.  
Or when some huge cliff side it beats,  
Although at first no part it freates;  
Yet doth the weltering wave at length  
Moulder it down for all his strength.  
For now he hath discovered plain  
A Castle, standing near the main,  
Which of this Rampart was a part, 
Pompey enlargeth his room for his camp.   
Whither he turns his speedy Mart:  
Which he by sea and land divides,  
And it assailed on either sides.  
Then all the quarters as he goes,  
With Cohorts armed, abroad he strews;  
And doth at large dispose his Tents,  
Now freed from former noisome scents:  
This fresh air much his camp contents.  
So Padus channel swelling high  
Over his banks with streams doth fly;  
And all the lower pasture fields  
Unto her raging current yields;  
Who with her heaps of gathered waves,  
At last on all the Champion raves:  
And with her torrents doth explore  
New channels, never known before.  
Which likewise frontier lands confounds,  
From some Lords taking their due bounds:  
And unto others gives again  
More than they ever did retain.  
Caesar had scarce discovered out  
This plot that Pompey went about,  
But that a Beacon it bewrays,  
That suddenly huge flames displays.  
And therewithal the dust that flies  

A Bulwark of Caesar's trench razed by Pompey.  In scattered clouds up to the skies;  
Now laid again, the air was clear:  
Then to his sight did plain appear  
This Ramparts turret razed and torn,  
He finds it ruined and forlorn,  
The cold signs of a hostile scorn.  
The place was void, no war he meets,  
Whereat the more he frets and greets,  
That Pompey so should take his rest,  
As though that Caesar were suppressed.  
He therefore now his force prepares  
To run into all mischiefs snares,  
But that he would their new joys quail;  
And then he fiercely did assail  
The quarter where Torquatus lies,  

Torquatus, one of Pompey's Captains, whom Caesar sets on.  Who Caesar's march as speedy spies,  
As is a ship with all sails borne,  
Swift driven in a Circean storm.  
Torquatus draws his troops withal  
Closely within the Ramparts wall;  
And to combine his small strength fast,  
Into a ring he did them cast.  
By this time Caesar's force drew nigh,  
And o'er the Ramparts fence they fly.  
Then Pompey all his troops of Arms  
Calls from the hills, that come in swarms,  
Whose Army covers all the lands,  
And now encloseth Caesar's bands.  
Those people that dwell in the fields,  
Where Aetna's mount such sparkling yields,  
Are not with greater fear possessed  
When from Encelads boiling breast,  

Caesar's troops engaged and put to flight.  Out of the caverns fuming high,  
The fiery flints abroad do fly:  
Whose heaps of burning cinders cast,  
All over, strews the Champion vast.  
Then Caesar's troops that saw with fears  
The dust that Pompey's army rears.  
But blind with clouds of trembling frght,  
Amazed betook themselves to flight.  
And then amongst their foes they fall,  
So fear to ruin them doth hall;  
Here so much blood might have been shed,  
As might of force have Caesar led  
To yield unto a settled peace, 
Pompey withholds the rage of his soldiers against Caesar's troops which he had at an advantage.   
And so from civil Arms to cease:  
But that mild Pompey now withstands  
The rage of his own armed bands,  
And with his own appeasing words,  
Holds back his soldiers forward swords.  
O Rome how blest had been thy fate,  
How free thy laws had held their state,  
And how exempt from Tyrant's mace  
Had Sylla been in Pompey's place.  
Alas the grief thereof doth smart,  
And still that grief will grieve my heart.  
That Caesar thou hast thus survived,  
And to this impious height arrived.  
Because in fight thou chanced to find,  
And meet a Son in law so kind.  
O most accursed fatal teen,  
No Lybic slaughters than had been,  
Nor Spain had Mundas fury seen;  
Nor yet that corpse with gore polluted,  
Nobler than Egypt's king reputed;  
Had so on Pharus shore been slain,  
Nor Nilus blushed with that blood stain,  
Nor on Marmaricks sandy plain  
Had Juba's naked carcase lain.  
Nor Scipio's blood been shed with these  
The Punic spirits to appease.  
Nor sacred Cato in this strife  
So soon had left his blessed life.  
But this might well have proved the day  
All Roman wracks to wipe away,  
And therewithal anticipate  
The dismal black Pharsalian fate.  
¶ Caesar thus crossed by heavenly powers,  
Forsakes these Ramparts and these Towers,  
And with his tottered troops defeated  
Unto Emathias fields retreated.  

Caesar takes his way towards Thessaly after this Defeat.  Now those that favoured Pompey's part,  
And all the leaders of his mart  
Do him persuade all that they may,  
His forces now to turn away,  
And not his father in-law pursue,  
Seeing that he his presence flew;  

Pompey's Captains persuade him to return into Italy after this defeat that he gave Caesar.  But that he would with his brave host,  
Return unto his native coast,  
For since no foe did him withstand,  
He well might visit Latium land.  
But Pompey flat did that deny,  
And in these terms he doth reply.  

Pompey's answer in denial thereof.  I never will to Rome return  
As Caesar did, to make her mourn,  
Never shall she see me again,  
But freed of a Martial train.  
I could have staid in Latium than,  
when first these civil jars began,  
Would I our Temples so betray  
To make of them the soldiers pray,  
Or in the Forum arms display.  
Nay rather than I would convert  
To Italy this bloody Mart,  
I sooner would pursue a war  
Under the freezing Northern star,  
Amongst the Scytheses, or in that soil  
Whose plants the Torrid Zone doth broil.  
Shall I for one victorious day  
Now take from Rome her rest away?  
O Rome why fled I first so far  
But to preserve thee free from war;  
And rather than I'll change that mind  
Now to become to thee unkind,  
And draw this hateful strife on thee,  
Let Caesar take all Rome for me.  
So said, he then prepared his host  
To march unto the Eastern coast.  
And through by ways his army past, 
Pompey pursues Caesar.   
Piercing those desert forests vast,  
That frontier on Candavias' sides,  
And in Thessalia he abides,  
The place that Fate for war provides.  
¶ This land mount Ossa doth enclose  
On that side where Aurora shows  
The rising of the winter's sun,  
When he his lowest course doth run. 
The description and situation of Thessaly.   
But when the world's eye looks up higher,  
The cold air warming with his fire,  
Whilst climbing up the lofty skies,  
His beams yet somewhat oblique flies.  
And as those beams the land enuades  
On that side Pelion casts his shades.  
But when amidst the heavens he draws  
Chase the raging Lions jaws,  
And makes his solstice for those lands  
There woody Othrys bordering stands.  
Then Pyndus frounts those milder blasts  
That Zephyrus on that side casts;  
And hastens on approaching night,  
With his high top shading the light.  
And they that in the vale are bred  
Where mount Olympus lifts his head,  
Those bitter blasts never offends  
That Boreas from his cavern sends,  
Nor know they whether that the Bear  
Be all night glowing in the sphere.  
¶ Whilom this valley, that did lie  
In midst of all these mountains hie  
Was fennish grounds, and moorish muds,  
Still overwhelmed with standing floods:  
And those vast lakes that drowned this plain  
Ran not through Tempe to the Main;  
But in one pond stood always still,  
And ever more did waters swill;  
Until that the Herculean wonder,  
With mighty strain did rend asunder  
The Ossan mount from Pelion hill,  
And then these waters did distill,  
Into Nereus' brackish fields,  
And so to Thetis son it yields  
Emathias kingdom; where abounds,  
Pharsalos goodly champion grounds:  
But how much better had it been  
A watery plash, then grassy green:  
There now Philaces city stands,  

The chief Cities of Thessaly.  That first sent ships to Ilium lands.  
There Ptelos and Dorion town,  
Wailing the Muse's wrathful frown.  
Trachin likewise is seated there,  
And Melibaea freed from fear  
By Hercules Artillery;  
The bitter price of perjury.  
Larissa likewise of great power,  
And noble Argos here did tower.  
Where now the cultor shares the soil  
And ploughmen daily ear and toil;  
Here stood (as fables old relates)  
Echions Thebes with seven fold gates.  
Whereas Agave banished  
The Bacchanals she worshipped,  
By Pentheus her kingly son,  
Him all enraged to death hath done.  
Whose head though cast into the fire,  
Could not appease her frantic ire.  
¶ This huge lake that now had vent  
To let out all her waters penned,  
In many parts itself divides,  
Then Aeas with small current slides,  
But with clear stream bends to the west,  

The chief Rivers of Thessaly.  Till in Ionian seas she rest.  
Nor yet with stronger course than this  
Doth run the sire of Isidis,  
Whose maiden shape high jove restores,  
And her transports to Egypt's shores.  
So Achelous thence doth pass,  
(O Caeneus that almost was  
Thy son in law) and then defiles  
With slimy waves Echinads Iles.  
With Euenos that bore the stains  
Of blood from Nessus' wounded veins.  
And with his current streameth on  
Through Meleager's Calydon.  
Then Sperchios that with greater speed,  
The waves Maliacan doth feed.  
And sweet Amphrisos that doth sweep,  
With crystal streams and channel deep  
The fields where Phoebus fed his sheep.  
And still Anauros, whence doth rise  
Nor vapours that the clouds supplies,  
Nor airy dews that moisture casts,  
Nor gentle breaths of windy blasts.  
All other rivers else beside,  
Into the main that do not glide  
With their own strength and proper course  
Into Paeneus yield their source.  
Then stickle streamed Aepidanus,  
With never swift Enipeus,  
Till she with other water's bed;  
Thence doth Asopos take her head;  
Phoenyx and Melas do the same, 
A river in Thessaly that runs overthwart another river without mingling.   
And Tytaresse that holds his name,  
And waves so firm, and from his springs  
A virtue takes, which never mings  
With other stream; but safe and sound  
A path hath on Peneus found,  
As if it ran upon dry ground.  
And as Fame says, this rivers head  
Is in the Stygian waters bred.  
And being mindful of his fount,  
Doth hold itself in more account,  
Then with the common waves to mix,  
But keeps the majesty of Styx.  
¶ As soon as all these ponds were drained  
Which erst this track of land retained, 
The first inhabiting of Thessaly after the land was drained.   
Bebicius with his furrowing shares  
For tillage these fat fields prepare;  
And all the Lelegans then tried  
How they the plough thereon could guide.  
Thereto the ploughmen put their hands  
Of Dolop, and Aeolian lands.  
The Magnetes there their horses stoares  
And people known to Minyen oars.  
Here did the Centaur, birth of clouds,  
That in Pelethron dark dens shrouds,  
Engendered of Ixion's race  
Disperse themselves, for dwelling place.  
And thou Moniche didst won there  
That Pholoes rocks didst rive and tear.  
And Rhetus that on Aetna's top  
Those huge trees didst wresting lop.  
Which Boreas with his boisterous blast  
Could hardly tear or overcast.  
And Phole in this soil did rest,  
Where great Alcides was his guest.  
And wicked Nessus here resides  
That afterwards gained bloody sides.  
With Lernaean shafts that Hercles' guides.  
And thou O Chiron now grown old,  
Converted to a star so cold,  
Thy strong Aemonian bow dost draw  
Against great Scorpio's poisoned maw.  
So on this land in every part  
Did shine the direful seeds of Mart.  
Here first of all the goodly breeds  
Of the Thessalian fiery steeds,  
For use of war so prone and fit,  
Did rise, when as Neptunus smit  
The flinty stones with Marine mace,  
Engendering so the coarsers' race,  
That champs the bit with praucing pace.  
And here the lapith's hands first strains  
Their foaming mouths with bridling rains.  
Hence galleys cut the waves with oars,  
Sent from the Pagasaean shores;  
And Inland men did first engage  
To venture on the billows rage,  
And here jonos that did reign  
Over the vast Thessalian plain, 
Coin framed   
Did first of all his stamps conjoin  
To molten metals, framed for coin.  
And maketh silver run in streams,  
Swelting amidst the fiery gleams.  
The gold likewise at first he broke, 
The melting of Copper.   
And thereof money he did make,  
And in the boiling furnace vast,  
The copper he did liquid cast.  
Then thence did all that garboil spring,  
And mischief that the wars did bring,  
Enticing all the world to arms  
For riches gain, the seeds of harms.  
Here was huge ugly Python bred,  
In Cyrrhan dens lurking his head.  
And then was used Thessalian bays,  
To yield the Pythian games their praise.  
Wicked Alaeus brood from hence  
Was sent, that made that high offence  
Against the God's waging their wars,  
On Pelions top near to the stars,  
Heaping mount Ossa on his back,  
Whereby heavens course they thought to slack.  
¶ Now when in these unlucky lands,  
Both Chieftains had encamped their bands,  
The doubt of future wars events,  
Their minds with equal cares torments.  
For now they see approaching nigh,  
The day that must their fortunes try.  
And as the hour did draw more near,  
So coward minds the more did fear,  
And still the worst their thoughts retain,  
But yet some few of these again  
Gives to their courage better scope,  
By balancing their fear with hope. 
He taxeth Sextus Pompey's eldest son.   
And Sextus now amongst this rout  
Did show himself a craven lout.  
As one that no way did inherit  
The glory of great Pompey's spirit.  
For he will take a Pirates trade,  
And will the Scycill seas invade;  
Whereby those Triumphs he distained  
That on the seas his father gained.  
But now his fears stirs up his mind,  
To know how chances stood designed:  
And grown impatient of delays,  
Longed to foreknow his future days.  
The Delos God he doth not heed,  
Nor yet consults with Pythias reed.  
Nor what Dodona saws relates,  
That breeds the acorn swinish cates  
Which grove from Ioues mouth soundeth fates.  
Nor yet the Augurs skill he tries  
Of boweled beasts for sacrifice;  
Nor what the flying birds presage,  
Nor yet observes the lightning's rage;  
Nor doth he search to understand  
The knowledge of th' Assyrian land,  
By motions of the stars on high,  
And how the planets qualify;  

Sextus given to trust to sorcery.  Or any hidden lawful means,  
But he the hateful secrets gleans  
Of Magic's spells, and them doth prove  
So odious to the Gods above.  
And woeful murderous altars dights  
To Dis, and the infernal sprights  
Whom he believes, and as dejected,  
The heavenly powers he nought suspected.  
And now this place where he resides  
His wicked humour more misguides,  
For many sorcerers, and witches,  
Dwell there, where now his tents he pitches.  
Whose foul illusions fraught with lies  
Doth modest piety despise.  
And of their art this point is chief  
To undertake things past belief.  
¶ For Thessaly on her rocks breeds  
Many enchanting baleful weeds.  
And sensibly her very stones  
Those damned spells did seal with groans.  
And many charms it elevates, 
Thes●ly much inclined to witchcraft.   
The heavenly powers it violates.  
And fell Medea from those fields  
Fetched herbs, that Colchos never yields.  
Their wicked charms were of such force,  
That they could wrest unto remorse  
The Gods deaf ears, that hardened wear  
'Gainst those that more devotion bear.  
And nations that their hests did fear.  
Their damned voice and hellish cries,  
Could force a way to pierce the skies.  
And with their powerful words incite 
The opinion of the force of Thessalian Witches.   
The higher powers in heavens despite.  
For that same supreme care divine  
How heavenly orbs and spheres incline  
Is cast aside, when they have sent  
Their charms unto the firmament.  
For though the Babylonian clime,  
And Memphis do retain the prime,  
Of all such sages as can tell  
What deep and hidden skill doth dwell  
Within the ancient magic's spell;  
Yet th' Thessalian witch can bend,  
Those powers their altars to intend.  
¶ Their charming words are of such might  
That those hard hearts that nought delight  
In sports of love, nor naturally  
Retain thereof the quality  
By their enchantments set on fire,  
Shall flame in fervent loves desire.  
Yea crabbed sires, forespent with age,  
They will infect with lusting rage. 
The opinion that ancient times held of the power of sorcery and witchcraft.   
Nor only noisome potions use,  
Nor only do that lump infuse  
Which on a young colts forehead breeds,  
That slimy humours swelling feeds:  
Before the loving dam do share  
It with her teeth, and make it bare.  
But with the charms that they do chatter,  
Not using any poisonous matter,  
They will the strongest minds infest,  
And at their pleasure force and wrest.  
And those whom discord hath misled  
To leave and loathe their nuptial bed  
They have reclaimed; and that great force  
Of beauty wanting kind remorse,  
By means of Magic's twisted twine,  
To gentle love they made incline.  
And things from nature's course estranged  
The days to lengthened nights they changed  
The firmament kept not his course,  
The spheres forbear their rapted source;  
Their motions dully languishing,  
When as their charming spells they sing.  
And jupiter himself did wonder,  
What made the Poles so slowly blunder.  
And why they did not turn more swift,  
Being urged with their wonted drift.  
All things are overlaid with showers,  
When Phoebus shines the dark clouds lowrs.  
Unknown to jove they make it thunder,  
As though the skies would rend in sunder.  
With one self voice they clouds disperse,  
And then again to rain reverse.  
When no wind blows, the seas shall rage,  
And in huge storms their wrath assuage.  
And (most contrary unto kind)  

Here the Poet shows the opinion that was held of the power of Thessalian sorcerers.  The ships shall sail against the wind.  
The torrent from the mountains top  
Amidst his course shall stay and stop.  
The river shall run countermount,  
And turn his course unto his fount.  
The Summer shall not Nilus raise,  
Meander strait his crooked ways.  
The Rhodanus shall become slow,  
And Arar him shall overgo.  
The mountains whelm their steepy head,  
And as a plain be overspread.  
Olympus' underlooke the clouds:  
Scythia from whom the Sun still shrouds  
In midst of winter's frosty flaw,  
Her snows shall then dissolve and thaw;  
And with their charms they will restrain  
The settled flowing of the main.  
And force him with those bonds dispense  
Designed by Cynthia's influence.  
They will so strike that fixed weight  
The Axe, that bears the world's whole freight  
That turning in the Orbs mid wheel,  
It beckoning somewhat seems to reel.  
And with one word this heaped mass,  
And ponderous load so crazed was,  
That it would prospects thorough tear,  
To see the other Hemisphere.  
¶ All animals of deadly natures  
That Lethal been to human creatures,  
In fear of these enchanters live,  
Or to their art assistance give.  
The Tiger with his bloody jaws;  
The Lion that all over-awes,  
On them will fawn with mild aspect.  
The water Snakes with like respect,  
Their chilly circles will unfold,  
And stretch themselves on dewy mould,  
If these vile hags do them behold.  
The viper's womb, when it is torn,  
By that damned brood that she hath borne,  
They will make whole; and human breath  
Shall give the Serpent present death.  
How are the Gods perplexed with pain,  
To yield unto this sorcerous vain? 
A conceit●●f the Authors.   
And held in awe them to disdain?  
What contract have they made withal?  
That they can hold them so in thrall.  
Are they oppressed by Witches might,  
Or in their charms take they delight?  
Are they dear to the Deities,  
For any secret pieties.  
Do they prevail this by entreats,  
Or do they use some secret threats?  
With all the Gods have they that hand:  
Or do those powerful charms command?  
Some one peculiar Deity,  
That can with such facility  
Constrain this world to yield and tend  
To that which is so forced to bend.  
These witches first did headlong tear  
The stars down from the lofty sphere,  
And modest Cynthia's silver hue  
Unto a pallid colour grew.  
Infected with their venomed phrase,  
And with swarth earthly face did blaze.  
As if the earth had been between  
To bar her of her brother's sheen.  
And that his orb with dusky shade  
Those heavenly beams kept from her glade  
And with these charms is so oppressed  
That she can never be at rest,  
Until the slimy matter fall,  
That they do oint their herbs withal.  
¶ These wicked rites and charming spells  
Practised whereas those vile hags dwells,  
Erycktho fierce seemed to disdain,  
Pretending her more pious vain;  

A tedious d●scription of Thessalian witch called Ericktho.  And into new forms would convert  
The errors of this loathsome art.  
She would not lodge her damned head  
In town, or house, or any shed.  
But still amongst the graves would rest,  
And tombs of corpses dispossessed.  
Grateful to hellish Deities,  
Conversing silent companies.  
Life unto her no hindrance was,  
Into the Stygian shades to pass.  
And there the secret will to know  
Of Dis, that woonneth still below.  
Her bleasme and megre looks detect,  
A loathsome hellish swarth aspect;  
That bright days light will never see,  
The Stygian shades her prospects be.  
She hath withal a ghastly face,  
And feltered locks about it trace.  
When showers, or dusky clouds by night  
Obscure the stars from human sight,  
Out of the silent graves she hasts,  
And catcheth at the lightning blasts.  
Then through the fields she pacing spurns,  
And full-eared corn she blasting burns:  
And with the very breath she sends,  
The healthy air taints and offends.  
Unto the Gods she never prays,  
Nor powers of heaven to guide her ways.  
She takes no keep of Augurs skill,  
How sacrifice bodes good or ill:  
But most of all she doth desire,  
The funeral piles to set on fire;  
And whilst they burn, to filch from thence  
The Spices and the Frankincense.  
¶ The Gods even at the first request,  
Do grant to her each wicked hest:  
And fear to hear her twice to crave  
The thing that she desires to have.  
She buries bodies yet alive,  
Before that death their souls deprive:  
And though their date might long subsist,  
In spite of Fates she cuts their twist.  
And others dead brings back again  
From funerals, with joyful train;  
Restoring life to every vain.  
Out of the midst of funeral fires  
She rapes, and greedily desires  
The smoking cinders as they lie,  
And young men's bones that flaming fry.  
And raging, will not doubt nor fear  
The torch from parents' hands to tear.  
Then all the flakes that she espies,  
Which from the coarse with black smoke flies,  
And garments unto ashes turned,  
And oily fragments scarcely burned,  
Together she doth scrape and glut;  
But when into a Tomb they put  
A solid body, moist within,  
With marrow closed in hardened skin,  
Then will she rave on all the parts;  
Into the eyes her finger's darts,  
And never digging leaves withal  
Till she tears out the very ball.  
Then from the dried hands she rends  
And gnaws the pallid excrements:  
The knots her teeth in sunder share,  
Of ropes wherewith men strangled are.  
The hanging carcases she fleeces,  
And then the gibbets breaks in pieces:  
The weather-beaten paunch she cast  
Out of the corpses, and then at last  
She lets the sun thereon to sprout,  
And un-sod marrow so takes out.  
Those that are hanged in Iron chains,  
Whose hands the rusty fetters strains  
From all the joints, whereof distills  
The oily moisture, that down trilles  
In greasy filth, and swarthy gore,  
She gathers up for poisons store.  
Whilst gnawing on the nerves she files,  
Fast by the teeth she hangs the while;  
And if that she by chance do find  
A carcase on the ground un-shrinde,  
Amongst the ravening beasts and fowl,  
There will this Sorceress sitting scowl:  
But will not with a knife select  
The flesh, and parts she doth affect:  
But she will only pry and watch,  
The morsels from Wolves jaws to snatch.  
From murder never stays her hands,  
When as in need of blood she stands  
That freshly flows from wounds at first,  
Such she finds out to quench her thirst.  
Nor will she stay her murderous mood,  
When she would sacrifice lifeblood:  
Or that some funeral rites require  
The trembling entrails on the fire.  
The babes within the mother's womb,  
With gashing wound she will untombe  
E'er nature bring it forth to light;  
Her flaming Altars so to dight.  
And whensoever she needs most  
Some cruel sturdy humoured ghost,  
Her slaughtering fist the souls prepares,  
No human life she ever spares.  
From off the chins she rends and tears  
Of flowering youths the downy hairs.  
And with left hand the locks will shave  
Of striplings, lingering to the grave.  
This Witch her own kin hath not spared,  
That death of her dire hand hath shared:  
But first she would them college and kiss,  
And then the head from corpses dismiss.  
And when that death their jaws had fixed,  
She then would gnab her teeth betwixt,  
And so bite off the labbring tongue,  
That to the dry throat fast was clung:  
And with her cold lips than would babble  
Of whispering charms full many a rabble.  
And then at last with some vile spell  
Would send their sprights to shades of hell.  
¶ The fame that of this Witch did run,  
Had made her known to Pompey's son,  
Who in the depth of silent night, 
Eryctho's fame reported to Sextus.   
When Titan had conveyed his light  
Unto the middle of that sky,  
That to our feet opposed doth lie;  
Abroad at that time Sextus traces  
Into the solitary places,  
Attended by a company  
Prepared, and true to villainy:  
Who ranging up and down the land,  
Where graves and Tombs did use to stand,  
By chance a far they spied this hag,  
Close sitting by a rocky nag,  
near to a path that strait doth guide  
The way unto mount Aemus side:  
There she such charms did mumbling chatter,  
That no Magicians knew the matter:  
Nor yet the Gods of magic's art,  
Of her strange spells knew any part:  
New fictions she did cunne by heart.  
And fearing that this bloody war  
Would be transferred yet more far,  
From Thessaly to other soils,  
Whereby the blood that these garboils  
On either side would flowing yield,  
Should be deprived Pharsalia's field  
Which she already had defiled  
With spells, and incantations wild;  
Did what she could that might withstand  
To draw the wars from out this land.  
For now she hoped to glut her mood,  
With use of flowing human blood:  
And that in such a world of strife,  
She should have deaths, and slaughters rife;  
That cinders of the Romans dead,  
Might in Emathia's field be spread,  
And bones of noble Peers there slain,  
Whose ghosts she hoped should be her gain.  
This was her drift, this her desire,  
Wherewith her heart was set on fire;  
Proposing to herself the spoil  
Of Pompey's part upon his foil.  
And with like rage to rave and ramp  
Upon some wracks of Caesar's camp.  
Then to this hag, with words full mild,  
First spoke great Pompey's worthless child.  

Sextus' words to Eryctho.  ¶ O thou that art the greatest grace  
Of Sages of Aemonian race,  
That canst at large to men relate  
Their destiny and future fate:  
And hast the power to turn aside  
Events of harms that should betide:  
I thee beseech do me that grace  
To let me know this doubtful case.  
What is the scope and certain end  
Whereto this civil war will tend.  
I am not least of Roman heirs,  
That interest have in these affairs;  
Great Pompey is my noble sire,  
And I his son that must aspire  
Either to be the Lord of all,  
Or heir of his great funeral.  
My mind doth doubtful dread retain,  
And yet resolved I am again  
To carry all with courage stout,  
Were I but sure what would fall out.  
Do thou therefore resolve I pray  
The doubt of this uncertain day,  
That we be not surprised unwares,  
Nor blindly led to Fortune's snares.  
From higher powers extort the truth,  
Or on the Gods thou mayst have ruth;  
And all the Stygian ghosts below  
Urge to thy power, the truth to show.  
Go search Thessalian fields about,  
And also learn which of our rout  
Death is resolved to him to call,  
That in these civil wars must fall.  
This labour is of no base kind,  
But worthy thy inspired mind:  
A work of glory by thee done,  
To know how so great Fate shall run.  
¶ This glorified Thessalian Witch,  
To hear her fame, for joy did itch, 
Eryctho's answer to Sextus.   
And thus replied; O noble youth,  
Didst thou desire to know the truth  
Of future chance, in lesser fate  
As thou requirest I could relate,  
Although the Gods it disavowed;  
For so much is to Art allowed.  
For though the planets influence,  
Did call some one man's life from hence;  
Yet could we thereof make a stay,  
And so likewise can take away  
With special herbs, his living hour,  
That all the stars united power  
Did unto eldest years design,  
And in the midst break off his twine.  
But since the order of all things  
From one first chief beginning springs,  
And Fates do labour in this all,  
And thou of that a change wouldst call,  
Whereby one only mortal stroke  
Might this world's universe revoke.  
All our consorts must needs agree,  
That Fortune can do more than we.  
But if it may suffice thy hope,  
Of one man's hap to know the scope,  
'tis easy certainly to do,  
And many means do help thereto.  
The earth, the air, the Chaos old,  
The fields with herbs so manifold,  
The rocks of Rhodopeian land  
Would sound that we should understand.  
But since that daily there is store  
Of new slain bodies with fresh gore,  
'tis easy for Emathia's field  
One head for our designs to yield;  
Whose carcase warm, and newly slain,  
Doth yet a sound of voice retain:  
Whose corpses not parched with the sun,  
Nor warmth as yet from members run:  
This Stygian ghost not yet will stutter,  
But to our ears will plain words utter.  
¶ When she had said, her sullen head  
She artificially o'erspread  
With doubled darkness of the night,  
And with a foggy mist bedight;  
About the bodies slain she pries,  
That in the fields unburied lies.  
And with her looks she did affray  
The ravening Wolves, and birds of prey,  
Who from the bodies fled away.  
Whilst that this hag a carcase prold,  
And searched the marrow deadly cold,  
Wherein the lungs and lights she found  
Quite stark, but free from any wound.  
Then for a voice she seeks and pries,  
Within this body where it lies.  
Mean while there hung in question than  
The fate of many a slaughtered man,  
Whom she again from death would call;  
For had she tried to take them all,  
That of both Armies there lay slain,  
The wars she had supplied again,  
And silenced Erebus law;  
For could this powerful monster draw  
From Stygian lake so great a crew,  
Their fight always would renew. 
Eryctho chooseth a slain body to enchant.   
But now a body she hath got,  
That had no wound but in the throat.  
Him she elects, and him doth hook  
With halter, and with Iron crook,  
And through the rocks the ruthless hag  
This miserable corpses did drag,  
That life must take, and doth it trace  
Whereas a hollow vaulted place  
Under a lofty cliff doth rise,  
Where she (fell Witch) doth sacrifice.  
¶ Here is a land not far from hell, 
Erycthos' place of habitation.   
Where lies a deep obscured cell  
Sunk under ground, with caverns vast,  
Whose top with shades is overcast;  
For bows of trees so enter-lace,  
That they obscure and vail this place,  
So as no where can mortal eye  
Discern the Sun, or glimpse of sky;  
But deadly darkness, and long night  
In this sad Den be-clouds all sight,  
And but by charms hath never light.  
The foggy air within this cell,  
More loathsome is then damps of hell.  
And this swarth Region on all sides,  
Avernus from our world divides.  
And hither the infernal King  
His ghosts doth never fear to bring:  
For though this witch of Thessaly  
The Fates by force can qualify,  
Yet doubtful is it whether she  
From this place into hell can see:  
Or whether personally this fend  
Unto the Stygian shades descend.  
A smoky foul raged weed she wears  
With open face, and back-cast hairs:  
The fillets that her locks do trace,  
She doth with viper's inter-lace.  
And when she saw in how great fear  
Young Pompey and his followers were,  
As men that horror did confound,  
Looking down wistly to the ground.  
What now (quoth she) be of good cheer,  

Eryctho encourageth Pompey, and his men affrighted.  Lay doubt aside, and do not fear,  
For now you shall forthwith perceive  
A figure new true life receive,  
Though dread do make your spirits weak,  
Yet may you hear him plainly speak.  
If I should show you Stygian lakes,  
And hells banks breathing fiery flakes,  
And that you may the Furies see  
Safely, safe-conduited by me.  
And Cerberus with curled breast,  
Shaking his hideous snaky crest,  
And Giants huge, whose fetered hands  
Behind their backs, are tie in bands.  
Why stand you cowards in such frights,  
To look upon poor trembling sprights?  
¶ Then she doth lukewarm blood convey  
Into the body as it lay,  
And with new wounds the same doth gash,  
And clottered gore away doth wash.  
Then she together working mings  
All uncouth births that Nature brings.  
The froth of mad dogs jaws she takes,  
That fear to see fresh watery lakes.  
The Lynx his bowels laid thereon, 
A rabble of sorcerous drugs.   
With the Hyena's jointlesse bone.  
The marrow of a stag new dead,  
That hath a serpent swallowed.  
And that same little fish whose force  
Can so withhold the forward course  
Of any ship amidst the main,  
When all her sails the wind doth strain.  
A Dragon's eyes therewith she priest,  
And that stone in the Aegle nest,  
That rattling sounds, and heat doth catch  
Amongst the eggs that she doth hatch.  
Th' Arabian Serpent that makes wing  
The poisonous Viper, whose sharp sting  
The red-sea Cockle doth defend,  
Wherein the precious pearl is penned.  
And therewithal the skin new flayed  
From the Coerastae but half dead;  
With those burnt ashes that arise  
Out of the Phoenix sacrifice.  
These venomed heaps she works & frames,  
Distinguished by their several names.  
And leaves she adds replete with spells,  
And growing herbs, wherewith she melles  
The spittle of her drivelling jaws,  
And every other poisons cause,  
Devised by her sorcerous saws.  
¶ Then with a voice that far exceeds  
The strength of all herbs that earth breeds,  
She calls and charms the Gods of hell,  
And mutters first a confused spell  
Of varying sounds, that wistly jar,  
From human language differing far.  
She hath the barking of a hound,  
And of a Wolf the howling sound. 
Eryctho's sundry sorts of voices.   
The hollow whooping of the Owl,  
The skryching of the black night fowl.  
The bellowing of the savage beast,  
With hissing of a Snake expressed.  
The hollow murmurs of the waves,  
Beating against the cliffy caves;  
The whistling of the woody leaves,  
And thunders noise, the clouds that cleaves.  
So many sounds from one voice fly,  
The rest her direful charms supply:  
And with her tongue she frames a spell,  
That pierced down to the depth of hell.  
¶ The Destinies, the Stygian scourge,  
That torments on offenders urge.  

Ericthos' charm.  And thou avernus gulf profound,  
That swallowing canst whole worlds confound  
And thou that all this earth dost sway,  
Whose death the heavenly powers delay,  
That thereby thou for longer times  
Mayst be reserved, to plague thy crimes.  
O Styx, and ye Elysian fields,  
That solace none to witches yields!  
And thou Persephon that dost loath,  
The heavens, and thy mother both.  
And Hecate our dearest friend  
That to my tongue dost cunning lend;  
Whereby commerce and use I have  
Of ghosts, and the infernal grave.  
Thou Porter of infernal gates,  
That dost on bowels share for cates  
With thy devouring ravenous jaws;  
And you three sisters that forth draws  
And cuts in two each living line,  
Of power to break this work of mine.  
And thou o Ferryman grown old,  
That hast so long those waves controlled,  
Do not these souls from me withhold;  
But grant to me that I request,  
If my petition be expressed  
With wicked words sufficiently,  
And vows replete with villainy:  
Or if I never yet did charm,  
But that with blood and bowels warm  
I first of all did break my fast,  
And bodies full to you have cast.  
And if that I the brains have dashed  
That were bloud-warme, & then have washed,  
And to your Altars, heads did give  
Of infants, that might longer live:  
Observe my suit, that doth not crave  
A body smouldered in the grave,  
Or that in darkness long hath been,  
But one that late the light hath seen;  
And newly did his soul discharge,  
And scarce arrived at hells verge;  
Let him my charms now entertain,  
And he shall soon return again.  
Let this ghost of a Soldier late,  
Great Pompey's destiny relate  
To Pompey's son, if in your sight  
A civil war deserve that right.  
¶ When she her charming spell had said,  
She raised her frothy mouth and head:  
Wistly a while she did behold  
The ghost of that same carcase cold,  
That stood in fear, and great amaze  
Upon those lifeless limbs to gaze;  
And did that loathsome pinfold hate. 
The ghost amazed, loath to enter into the carcase again.   
That was her prison but of late.  
She dreads into that breast to pass,  
That now so hacked and mangled was.  
And in those bowels to reside,  
Whose veins were cut with wounds so wide.  
Ah wretched Ghost whom deaths last stroke  
Could not exempt from life's frail yoke!  
Eryctho marvels much, and frets,  
That Fates should use these lingering lets.  
And in her wroth this dead corpses takes,  
And scourgeth it with living snakes.  
Then through the earth by that same glade  
She pries, which she with charms had made.  
And barking, to the sprights she speaks, 
Eryctho enraged, threatens the infernal powers.   
Which noise Erebus silence breaks.  
Tisiphone thou hateful sprite,  
And thou Megaera, that setst light  
By my request, come tell me plain,  
When this sad soul you did retain  
With you in hell, did she not bear  
Your torments, and your scourge there?  
By your true names I will you call,  
You Stygian hags I will enthrall,  
And captives hold in this world's light,  
And follow you with all despite  
Through Graves, through Tombs, through Burials,  
And banish you from Funerals.  
And Hecate I'll make thee known  
In perfect shape that is thine own:  
Thou shalt no more thyself adorn  
With borrowed figure, so to scorn  
The Gods, with falsehood and decait,  
When thou art called on them to wait.  
Thy vile pale form I will display,  
Helles looks thou shalt not put away.  
And I (Proserpina) will tell,  
That under earth's huge weight doth dwell,  
What feasts and iunketing you make,  
And what disports in love you take;  
And how you set your whole delight  
In dalliance with the King of night:  
Which life of thine, if Ceres kend,  
Thou never more to her shouldst wend.  
To thee of wretches all most vile,  
As judge of this, I'll send the while  
Bright Titan, with his beams so fierce,  
That through the chinks of earth shall pierce,  
And all thy shift open lay,  
By sudden sending in of day.  
Will you assent my will to do,  
Or shall I him compel thereto,  
Upon whose name I never call,  

Meaning Demogorgon.  But that the earth doth quake withal?  
He that with face uncovered,  
Dares look upon Gorgona's head;  
And with his whips and fell aspect,  
Trembling Erinys doth correct.  
And he that can far better tell  
Then your own selves the dens of hell.  
His mansion under you he takes,  
And he may swear by Stygian lakes.  
¶ Forthwith when she had used her charm  
The i'll blood in this corpse grew warm.  
The black wounds now more fleshly shows  
And through the veins the thin blood flows  
Strengthening withal each outward part; 
The dead body begins to take life.   
The tender strings that feed the heart  
Under the cold breast 'gan to beat,  
As soon as they did feel the heat.  
The marrow that was dulled long,  
Taking fresh force was grown more strong  
New life was mingled death among:  
Then pulses all and artyres strike,  
The sinews stretch and motion seek.  
But now the body never tries  
To stretch his limbs whereas it lies,  
With easy strength and by degrees;  
But suddenly rebounding flees  
From off the ground, and stands upright  
With eyes wide open to the light,  
And yawning jaws that breathed rife,  
Yet in his face was no great life.  
But rather of a deadly hue,  
Stiff wrinkled and a pallid blue.  
He stonisht was at this world's wonder,  
His tied tongue no sound could blunder.  
His voice and speech had but in task,  
To answer what the witch did ask.  
Tell me quoth she what I require, 
Eryctho speaks to the carcase   
And for it great shall be thy hire.  
If to the world we truths impart,  
The fame of our Aemonian art  
Will ever, after glory gain,  
And our free saws, as soothes remain:  
In such a shrine thy limbs shall lie,  
And in such wood thy corpse shall frie.  
And will so charm thy funeral,  

Erycthos' reward she promiseth the carcase that takes life.  As that the spells of Magic's call:  
Thy ghost shall never hire at all.  
And to thyself this boon bequeave,  
For that thou didst new life receive.  
That herbs nor charms shall be of force,  
Thy long sleep ever to divorce,  
That death receivest at my hand,  
None do those answers understand  
That Oracles and Trypods tell,  
Who Fates requires from ghosts of hell  
Shall ever in assurance dwell:  
He valiantly to work doth go,  
That dire death's Oracle would know.  
I pray thee therefore do not spare  
To show things names right as they are.  
Describe the places, and speak plain  
That I true Fates may entertain.  
¶ To this withal she adds a spell,  
Whereby the ghost had power to tell  
What so of him she sought to know,  
Whilst his sad face tears overflow.  

The ghost replies to Erichtho and makes his relation.  Truly I had not time (quoth he)  
To mark the Fatal sisters three,  
How they their spinning twists did guide,  
I was called from the river side,  
So secretly and in such haste,  
I could not know how all things past.  
But that which I did learn was done  
Amongst the souls where I did won,  
Fell discord and outrageous strife,  
Amongst the Roman ghost was rife.  
So as their broils and armed riet,  
Th'infernal state did much disquiet.  
divers great Captains were divided,  
About their quarrel undecided.  
One part doth in Elysium dwell,  
T'other in those dark dens of hell.  
And both sides readily inclined,  
To try what destiny designed.  
The blessed souls did then appear,  
But sad and mournful in their cheer.  
The Deccis both I there beheld,  
The father and his worthy child▪  
Brave spirits that did expiate  
The Tyrannies from Roman state.  
Camillus, and the Curij,  
There wailing stood with watery eye.  
And Scylla one amongst this rout,  
Against thee Fortune doth cry out.  
And Scipio there I saw deplore,  
That so the hateful Afric shore  
Their noble blood should now distain,  
With his own grandchild thereon slain.  
And Cato mayor of renown,  
The ancient foe to Carthage town,  
Did here lament his nephews fate,  
That died in scorn of servile state.  
And Brutus in his Consul's gown,  
That Tyranny did first put down,  
We here beheld in joyful mood,  
Amongst blessed souls whereas he stood.  
There Catilyne with proud disdains,  
Insults amongst his broken chains.  
And Marius with his bloody harms,  
Cethegi with their naked arms.  
There likewise I the Drusians saw,  
That made their liberty a law,  
Rejoicing in a popular love  
And Gracchis that great things durst prove,  
Though hampered with lasting chains,  
Whose liberties hell-gates restrains.  
Yet clap their hands that plaudits yields  
These wicked ghosts crave blessed fields.  
Then this infernal Realms great guide  
His stations did enlarge more wide.  
And therewithal he sharps the rocks,  
Hard adamantine chains and locks,  
With iron links he doth prepare, 
The ghost speaks to Sextus.   
As torments for the victor's share.  
But yet o youth take now with thee  
This comfortable word from me,  
Expect a blessed resting place  
For thy sire's soul and all his race.  
For in that kingdom deep of This  
A pleasant part reserved is  
To entertain great Pompey's sprite.  
Let not the glory him delight,  
Of this short life's uncertain date,  
The hour draws near, whose present fate,  
Shall these great captains fortunes mix;  
In death therefore your comforts fix.  
Go proudly and with high desires  
Unto your lowly funeral fires,  
And spurning scorn those haughty souls  
That Roman rites like Gods controls.  
For now the strife is who shall have  

Pompey on the one of them: and Caesar on the other.  On Tiber or on Nile his grave,  
And all the war these captains wage  
Is where shall be their funeral stage.  
¶ But as for what concerns thy fate,  
Do not desire I should relate,  
Spare me, for though I silence keep  
A Prophet of more knowledge deep,  
Will let thee all things understand,  
And thou in the Sicilian land,  
Shalt have it at thy father's hand.  
Whose mind as yet I do not know,  
Whither he means that thou shalt go;  
Or from what place thou shouldst refrain,  
Or what unlucky coasts disdain.  
Or in which part of this world's clime  
Thou shouldst abide and spend thy time.  
But hapless ye, Europe forbear,  
Africa and Asia, likewise fear,  
Fortune your tombs will there divide,  
Where erst triumphant you did ride.  
O wretched house! the world you yields,  
Nought safer than Pharsalia's fields.  
Thus having his relation told,  
With mournful looks did silence hold.  
And death was his desired meed,  
But Magic's charms thereto would need,  
And herbs to make the carcase fall;  
For Fates could not again recall  
The soul that once at large did room,  
By laws expired of Stygian doom.  
Then did Erichtho frame withal 
Eryctho burns the carcase.   
A pile of wood for funeral,  
Thus to the fire the body went  
Which kindled, was laid down and brent.  
Where when Erichtho saw him lie,  
She left him in that place to die.  
And so along with Sextus went,  
To visit Pompey at his Tent.  
But now the morning's dawn drew near,  
So that the days peep did appear.  
Therefore that they might secret pass  
To Pompey where he camped was,  
She did enchant the scowling night,  
With sable veils to cloud the light.  
Finis Libri Sexti.   

Lucan's Pharsalia. The seventh Book.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
THis doth great Pompey's dream relate,  
And wails withal high hapless Fate.  
His eager troops would battle have;  
Tully the same doth likewise crave  
With filled speech, to give content,  
Pompey (though loath) yields his consent.  
Prodigious signs appear in sight:  
Both Armies in point to fight.  
The Chieftains with courageous words,  
Invite the soldiers to their swords.  
The battles join, and Pompey's host  
Is overthrown, his Camp is lost.  
To save himself away he flies;  
Caesar a victor's Fortune tries.  
The spoils he freely doth bestow.  
Pharsalia's field with blood doth flow.  

MOre slow than ever was his guise  
Titan did from Aurora rise,  
And contrary to Nature's will,  
climes heavily the Eastern hill.  
He never more unwillingly  
Did drive his Teeme against the sky:  
And lazily hung dragging back.  
Though fiercely rapt with sweeping rack;  
So prone he was to show defect,  
Under Eclipse his bright aspect  
Doth labour now, and black clouds breeds  
Not such as fed his flaming steeds.  
And all this was but to delay  
From Thessaly the light of day.  
But now Boötes with his cart,  
Draws on dark night, the latest part  
Of woeful Pompey's happy life;  
Whom pleasing dreams so free from strife  
Did entertain, and feigned shows  
His troubled thoughts did interpose.  
It seemed in this dreaming fit,  
That he with stately pomp did fit, 
Pompey's dream.   
In that Theatre he did frame  
At Rome, which carried Pompey's name.  
Thither the Roman people thrung  
In multitudes, whose voices rung  
With joyful shouts unto the stars,  
To see him safe returned from wars.  
And more to show how they rejoice,  
They clapped their hands with thundering noise  
Even such applauding shouts they raise,  
As they did in his youthful days;  
And with such fawning him beheld,  
As when he had Sertorious quelled,  
That fugitive, in arms so fierce;  
And when he did with conquest pierce  
The westermost Iberian pride,  
And did for it in triumph ride.  
Then being but a youthful knight,  
Attired in a rob sunbright,  
And in a lofty Chariot placed,  
Whom with applause the Senate graced.  
Now whether that this did portend  
Of all his happiness the end,  
And as a last retreat of joy  
Did but presage future annoy;  
Or that this sound revealing sleep  
That doth our thoughts in fancies steep,  
Did with accustomed ambages,  
Express his fate by contraries.  
All turned to Pompey's miseries.  
Or that Rome's fortune did bequeave  
To him this sight for her last leave;  
Knowing that he should never more  
Set footing on his native shore.  
Ye that the Camping watches keep,  
Do not break off this pleasant sleep,  
Let not the sound of trumpet's charms,  
Pierce through his ears with wars alarms  
The next night she shall have dire rest,  
And sad sights shall his soul invest.  
On both sides armed hosts shall meet,  
And raging war each other greet.  
Whence then could soldiers free from care  
Such sound sleeps, and such sweet rest share  
O happy would that day have been  
If thy Rome so could thee have seen.  
O Pompey would the Gods of heaven  
That one desired day had given  
Unto thy country, and to thee,  
Of either's fate assured to be!  
Whereby you mutually might prove  
The latest fruits of your dear love.  

The event of war is doubtful.  Thou Pompey to the wars didst wend,  
As though thy days in Rome should end.  
And Rome, that knew her conscience clear,  
(Tender of thee, to her vows dear)  
Did never think that foul offence  
Had with the Fates hung in suspense,  
That Rome should not the fortune have  
To give her Pompey's bones their grave.  
For than would youths, and aged sires,  
Unbidden boys with self desires,  
Have mingled howling plaints with tears,  
The Matrons with dishevelled hairs,  
And virgins would their breasts have torn;  
Even as the people than did mourn, 
That Brutus that did put down the tyranny of the Tarquins.   
When Brutus was laid in his urn.  
And now although they fear the hand  
Of him, that doth the victor stand,  
Though Caesar's self should first relate  
The news of Pompey's wretched fate,  
Yet would they not forbear to mourn,  
Whilst Caesar were in triumph borne;  
And that the incense burning were,  
And that to jove they Bays did bear.  
O wretched Citizens that hate  
The plaints of your own grieved Fate!  
Because all could not with one hail  
In full Theatre him bewail.  
¶ Now Hesprus with his dauning day  
Had banished the night's lamps away,  
When in the Tents through all the rout  
A secret murmuring burst out,  
Where fate had drawn the world together  
The wretched people trooping thither  
To Pompey's tent, 
Pompey's army importune their General to join battle with Caesar.  with fury driven  
Would have the sign of battle given;  
The most not like to see next even.  
And with huge cries the hours they hast,  
Of their near deaths that drew on fast.  
Such direful sudden rage them bends,  
Headlong to run unto their ends.  
Pompey is slow and coward called,  
And unto Caesar too much thralled.  
And that he kingdom did affect,  
And would the world to him subject.  
Who seeing now that he could draw  
So many nations to his law,  
Would still his glorious power maintain,  
And therefore did all peace disdain.  
The Kings and Nations of the East,  
Complained the war was turned to jest;  
And so protracted to their wrong,  
Who from their homes were held so long.  
O heavenly powers such is your wills,  
When you design aught to our ills!  
And all with us shall go awry,  
The blame on our own faults must lie.  
To mischief headlong run they all,  
For dismal fight they cry and call.  
In Pompey's camp Pharsalia's fate,  
Is vowed to try this dire debate.  
Then Tullius that patron great  
Of Roman eloquence; must treat  
In all their names; he that of yore,  
In his long rob did Rome restore  
To settled peace; and to the law  
Brought dreadful Catiline in awe.  
But than did he the wars detest.  
Only with him was in request  
The Forum, and the Rostrum seat,  
Long silenced with martial heat.  
His eloquence no grace doth add  
Unto a cause in itself bad.  

Cicero's oration to Pompey for the giving of battle to Caesar.  ¶ O Pompey, for her favours great,  
At thy hands Fortune doth entreat,  
That thou to her thy trust commend.  
The nobles that thy Camp attend,  
And all these kings, thy constant friends,  
That to thy aid their forces lends,  
Do now beseech thee to agree  
That Caesar may subdued be.  
Shall he so long have means to find  
A bloody war with all mankind?  
The nations that thyself hath won,  
And didst so quickly overrun,  
Will Pompey's glory disavow,  
That is so slow in conquest now.  
Wither is thy brave courage fled,  
Ungrateful dost thou stand in dread,  
That heaven hath thee abandoned?  
Or with the Gods dar'st thou not trust  
The Senate, and thy cause so just?  
Thy Host their ensigns will display  
And give the foe a bloody day:  
Unto thy glory 'twere a taint  
That thou shouldst vanquish by constraint:  
Since thou by us appointed art  
The Chieftain, and for us dost Mart.  
Let it be lawful for our Host  
To war when we affect it most.  
Why dost thou so by force hold back  
The whole world's Arms from Caesar's wrack?  
The darts do brandle in their hands,  
And all the troops impatient stands  
Whilst Ensigns do draw out the bands.  
Hast therefore now thy Arms to take, 
He urgeth Pompey either to profess himself a tyrant, or give way to the Senate.   
Lest thine own Trumpets thee forsake.  
The Senate craves to know of thee  
Whether that they thy Soldiers be:  
Or whether they do in this Mart  
As thy compeers retain their part.  
Sighing the Cheifetaine sorrow shows,  
He found the Gods became his foes,  
And Fate did his intents oppose.  
¶ If such, quoth he, be your desires,  
And that this time rather requires  
Huge troops, and many an armed band, 
Pompey's answer, and reasons to the contrary.   
Then such a leader as will stand  
Upon advantage, when he may,  
I never will your fates delay.  
Let all to ruin headlong go,  
By Fortune's hand at one dire blow.  
And let this day the last light be  
That most of us shall ever see.  
But Rome I thee to witness call,  
That Pompey cannot do with all,  
The time to him appointed was  
Wherein all should to mischief pass.  
This war might well have been made good,  
Without a blow, or loss of blood  
Caesar might have been captived,  
Without a battle hazarded,  
And wont peace recovered.  
What wicked rage (o ye most blind)  
Makes you to be of this strange mind?  
That since you civil arms do bear,  
Is victory to you a fear,  
Except you raving wound and tear?  
Our foes have now but little scope,  
And are bereft all marine hope.  
We have compelled the hungry bands  
To eat the green corn of the lands.  
And they have often wished withal,  
That they upon our swords might fall.  
Rather than this to starve and wither,  
So we and they might fall together.  
That war is near brought to his last,  
And al' the difficulty past.  
When to avoid a greater fright,  
New soldiers shall desire to fight.  
And with the spur of valour's shows,  
And kindled fury covet blows,  
For fear of future worse harms,  
The minds of many so much charms.  
That to prevent what they suspect,  
All present hazards they neglect.  
But truly valiant is that man,  
That with a settled patience can,  
Approaching perils so resist,  
As to defer them at his list.  
Must I leave such security  
To Fortune's mutability?  
The whole world's hap must we afford,  
Unto the hazard of the sword?  
You rather I should hazard fight  
Then conquer foes by martial slight,  
Fortune committed to my cares  
The government of Rome's affairs,  
And I deliver to her charge  
The same again with power more large,  
Let her as well now play her part,  
And guard them safe in blinded Mart.  
For in this course all praise or blame  
Pompey for his part doth disclaim.  
O Caesar! with the powers divine  
Thy prayers more prevail than mine.  
Fight when you please, and fall to Arms;  
But yet how many wicked harms,  
How great and many people's wracks  
Will this next day bring on our backs?  
How many Kings will shed their blood?  
And how will Enipheus flood  
Her Crystal streams pollute and stain  
With purple gore of Romans slain?  
But first I wish the hostile lance  
Of bloody war, with death's mischance,  
Might pierce this wretched head of mine,  
If that my fate might bring to fine  
These ruins, and with it divart  
All mischiefs from my Country's part▪  
The conquest if we do obtain,  
Cannot to Pompey's fame add gain.  
If victory for us do stand  
By slaughter, and by bloody hand,  
The people's hearts it will agrize,  
And odiously my name misprise.  
Or if that Pompey lose the game,  
Pompey will be a wretched name.  
All miseries the conquered find,  
But blame and malice stils assigned  
Unto the victor as his share,  
That acts the wars last woeful char.  
So having said, he did give way  
To Arms, and soldiers raging sway:  
As doth a Pilot sore distressed  
With a strong tempest, blown by west; 
That a multitude left to their own will, are like a ship without a Pilot.   
Leaving the helm, and leaving Art,  
Doth to the storm all rule impart;  
Whereby the ship doth heave and set,  
Drawn with the fury of the fret.  
Now in confusion doth this Camp  
With fearful tumults rave and ramp,  

The soldiers fear.  Their minds with horrid thoughts oppressed,  
Unconstant moods boil in their breast.  
Many with pallid looks bewray  
Of deaths approach the dismal day,  
And in their faces do relate  
A countenance suiting to their fate:  
And that the hour drew on with speed,  
When human chance should be decreed.  
And in what terms Rome's state should stand,  
Must in this battle now be scanned.  
No man his perils deems aright,  
But greater doubts do them affright.  
For who is he that sees the main  
With surges swallow up the plain,  
The highest mountains overflown  
With billows from the Ocean blown,  
The skies and Phoebus' blazing crown  
Unto the earth come tumbling down,  
In such a public wrack each where  
Would of his private stand in fear?  
No man had leisure now to dread  
The harms that hanged o'er his head,  
Rome's destiny, and Pompey's fall,  
Was it that did distract them all.  

Pompey's Soulers fit their Arms.  ¶ Unto their swords they put no trust,  
Except new ground and scoured from rust;  
Their darts are sharpened at the end,  
With stronger strings their bows they bend.  
Their quivers also stored full  
With choicest shafts that they could cull.  
The rowels of the horseman's spur  
Enlarged, to make his courser stir.  
If it were lawful to compare  
Man's labours with the supreme care,  
So Mars did grind his falchion  
Upon the rough Sicilian stone;  
When the Phlegraean Giants fierce  
Did make attempt the skies to pierce.  
So Neptune his three-forked mace  
With fiery temper did enchase,  
And Paean so new steeled again  
His shafts, when he had Python slain.  
So Pallas furbished up her Targe  
With Gorgon's head, and locks at large.  
And so to chastise those revolts,  
Vulcan then changed Ioues thunderbolts.  
¶ Nature did not that time refrain 
Many prodigious signs seemed to presage misfortune to Pompey.   
By many signs to show most plain  
The fearful accidents at hand,  
The skies the armed troops withstand,  
Marching to the Pharsalian land.  
The tearing clouds with thunderclaps  
The Soldiers on their faces raps;  
Contrary flames, and pillars bright  
Of scorching fire, did them affright.  
Typhon's commixed with sparkling beams, 
Typhon a kind of fiery Meteor.   
That did affect the water streams,  
Broke out withal; and lightning flashes  
Dazzled their eyes with findging dashes;  
From off their helms it struck the crests,  
And from the blades the hilts it wrists:  
It also melts the headed Pile,  
The sulfrie air rusts murdering steel.  
The swarming bees in clustered flights,  
By heaps upon their Ensigns lights;  
So as the ensign-bearers might  
Could not from ground raise them upright,  
The weight thereof was grown so dead,  
It made them bow both back and head.  
Their public Standards in a sweat,  
And Roman Aegle weeping wet,  
Whilst forward to the field they set.  
The Bull brought for the sacrifice,  
With fury from the Altar flies;  
And running headlong, himself cast  
Into Emathias field at last.  
So as no offering could be found  
To expiate that luckless ground.  
¶ But what malignant Deities,  
And Furies of impieties  
O Caesar hast thou called upon?  
What power of Stygian Region?  
What wicked damned infernal sprights,  
That range about in gloomy nights,  
Hath stirred thee up, and whet thy rage  
This odious wicked war to wage?  
But now this doubt again doth rise,  
Whether that fear abused their eyes,  
Or that these monstrous visions seen,  
Of Gods the Revelations been:  
For many thought they did behold  
How Pindus to Olympus rolled,  
And that mount Aemus that same hour  
A gaping velley did devour.  
And that throughout Pharsalia's ground  
Strange howl did by night resound.  
That streams of blood by Ossa's hill  
Did to Boebeida's lake distill.  
That they beheld in dark shades veiled,  
How men with force their foes assailed.  
The day pale dimness overwhelms,  
Dark shades likewise incloud their helms,  
Their parents buried ghosts did rise,  
And fluttring do accost their eyes:  
But this one comfort did remain  
To ease them in perplexed pain,  

These prodigious signs did encourage those that were bloody minded.  That those who with a guilty mind,  
Did hope the wicked means to find,  
Their aged father's throats to cut,  
And in their brother's blood to glut;  
Rejoiced at the monstrous sights  
That with such horror mazed men's sprights:  
And hoped these sudden fury's rage,  
Did unto them success presage.  
But why should it seem strange at all,  
That those for whom death now did call,  
Should changes feel as life grows slack,  
And trembling fits of nature's wrack?  
If to the mind of man be given  
Knowledge of future things to steeven,  
The guest that wonnes in Tyrian Gades,  
The Roman that Armenia trades:  
And those that under any clime  
Of all the world lived at that time  
Did grieve, and yet wist no cause why,  
And took their griefs offensively;  
But little knew what they should lose  
At these Emathian fatal blows.  
¶ If old Records we credit may,  
Upon Euganeo's hill they say,  
An Augur sitting near those streams  
Where Aponus breath-reeking steams  
Do rise, and spread their springs abroad,  
And in Timavas flood unload,  
Where was Antenor's first abode.  
Now comes (this Augur than did say)  
A great and lamentable day, 
An Augur sitting on Mount Euganeo, foresaw the battle of Pharsalia, and that Caesar should overcome Pompey.   
The mightest things of human state,  
Are like forthwith to have their date;  
Pompey's and Caesar's wicked Arms  
Will now rush on to civil harms.  
But whether that the thunder's rage,  
And Ioues dire darts did thus presage:  
Or that the gazing on the skies,  
The heavens discordant humour spies;  
Or that the sad duskt firmament  
Did note to him this days event  
By dimness of th'eclipsed sun,  
That was with darkness overrun.  
Nature in this days form expressed  
Such difference from all the rest,  
As that if men did understand  
(As did this Augur) to have scanned  
And well observed the novel change  
Of heavenly signs, how they did range,  
Then all the world might plain have seen  
(As well as he) Pharsalia's teen.  
O worthy wights by Fate reserved,  
Of all the world to be observed,  
Whose destinies to bring to end  
The whole heavens leisure did intend!  
If after ages hear the same,  
And to our Nephews come their fame;  
Or if to men of great estate  
Our labours care Time shall relate,  
So as their minds it recreate;  

A pretty conceit of the Authors for those that shall read his book.  When as these civil wars they read,  
It will provoke both hope and dread,  
And draw such wishes from their thought  
As shall be lost, and profit nought.  
For reading, they will be distracted,  
As though these were not matters acted;  
But as if they were strifes depending,  
Whose Fates as yet had not their ending,  
And all that while wish from their heart  
The best success to Pompey's part.  
¶ As soon as Pompey's armed bands  
Marched towards the Pharsalian lands,  
The shining Sunbeams bright aspect  
Against their armours did reflect;  
So as the valleys and the hills  
All round about with light it fills.  

The order of Pompey's Army  They did not rashly take the field,  
The hapless Army order held;  

Lentulus had the left wing.  And Lentulus had for his part  
The ordering of the left wings Mart,  
And those two Legions therewithal  
That of the Camp was principal,  
The first and fourth they did them call.  

Domitius had the right wing  And unto thee Domitius stout,  
Was given in charge the right wings rout;  
Allbeit with unlucky hand  
Thou for thy Country's cause didst stand.  
The middle battle strong compact,  
With thick ranged troops that were extract  

Scipio had the middle.  Out of the Cilician host,  
That came with Scipio from that coast:  
Who here held but a soldiers place,  
Though Africa after did him grace  
As chief Commander in the field,  
The mountain Capadocians held,  
Their Cohorts ranged in ordered ranks  
On Enipheus rivers banks; 
How the re●t of Pompey's aids were bestowed.   
And with them all alongst that flood  
That Pontus large-rained horsemen stood:  
In most of all the drier lands  
The Kings and Tetrarches Army stands;  
And with them all the Princely swarms,  
And Tyrants with their troops of Arms,  
That to the Romans homage ought,  
And now in latium's quarrel fought.  
There likewise the Numidians meet,  
And those Cydonians sent from Crect;  
The Archers from Iturea priest,  
There mingled stood amongst the rest.  
And valiant Gauls were there to show  
Their malice to their ancient foe.  
The Spaniards with their narrow shields,  
Did range their troops amidst those fields.  
O Destiny now take away  
These Nations from the victors pray;  
And when great Pompey is laid low,  
Consume all triumphs at that blow!  
¶ This day (as it fell out by chance)  
Caesar his Ensigns did advance,  
And left his station in the morn, 
Caesar sending his Troops in the morning to gather corn, discovers Pompey's Army marching in battle.   
Ranging the coast to gather corn  
With all his troops; when suddenly  
He saw the armed enemy  
Marching alongst the Champion plain,  
As he would battle entertain.  
The time he now sees offered fair  
For which he had made many a praire;  
Whereby he might (at once for all)  
Unto an end this quarrel call.  
He mourned these long delays to bide  
Ravished with love of Regal pride:  
And civil wars began to hate,  
As too slow drawing to their date;  
Because he had this little time  
Been held off from this bloody crime.  
For now he plainly did descry  
The hazards of them both drew nigh;  
And saw the ruin of their states  
Must be committed unto Fates.  
His fury now did ready stand  
His conquering Arms to take in hand;  
He no whit faints, nor makes a doubt  
Which way the world would turn about:  
His daring mind told him no less,  
But that he should have good success.  
His Fate to dread affords no scope,  
Nor Pompey's nourished any hope.  
Fear laid aside, with manly words  
He stirs his troops to trust their swords.  

Caesar's oration to his Soldiers before the battle of Pharsalia.  ¶ Brave Soldiers that the world do tame,  
The fortune of my rising fame,  
Behold that long-desired sight  
To yield you means to come to fight:  
For that day need you wish no more,  
With your own Arms your fates explore,  
It now doth rest upon your hands,  
In what terms Caesar's fortune stands.  
This is the day I call to mind  
That you to me your faiths combined;  
In trust whereof we Arms put on,  
And marched over Rubicon:  
In hope that by your martial might  
We should obtain our Triumphs right,  
Withheld from us with such despite.  
This is that day whose ended broils  
Shall fully recompense your toils;  
And shall again your states restore,  
And you establish as before  
Free Citizens, by force of Mart  
This day shall witness whether part  
By Fates just doom, had best pretence  
To take up Arms for rights defence.  
This battle now will him conclude  
As heinous most that is subdued.  
If for my sake you did desire  
To yield me right by sword and fire,  
Now valiantly perform the same,  
Let conquest free your Arms from blame.  
No martial hand can guiltless go,  
That shall be censured by the foe.  
'Tis not my Private that I seek,  
But all your liberties a like;  
And that you may dominion bear  
Over all Nations far and near:  
For I affect a private life,  
Free from tempestuous cares and strife.  
And as a Burger of Rome's Town,  
Clad in a mean Plebeian gown;  
I nothing will refuse to be  
So your advancements I may see,  
Rule all and reign in scorn of me.  
Much blood you shall not need to spend  
For that great hope that ye attend:  
The Grecian youths that us oppose,  
Out of the Fencing-schooles they chose:  
And many from their fields of games,  
Slow wrestlers whom no Mart inflames;  
But such as never yet bore Arms,  
Mixed barbrously with differing swarms;  
Such as when troops to fight falls,  
And Trumpets sounds to battle calls,  
Will be afraid of their own cry;  
Few hands this civil war will try.  
The world will soon be rid of most  
Of all that rabble in their host:  
They will but pester and encumber  
Our Roman foes with ill-ranged number.  
Pierce through these men that are untrained,  
And kingdoms that such fame retained:  
And when your swords shall first them greet,  
Throw down their glory at your feet;  
And by your valour make it plain,  
That those that in his boasting vain,  
Pompey before his Chariots lead,  
(As mighty Nations vanquished)  
So gloriously through streets of Rome,  
Do not deserve one Triumphs doom.  
Think you that any friendly love  
To wars, did these Armenians move?  
As though that they took any care  
Of Rome's estate, or her welfare;  
Or any those Barbarian Kings  
That to these wars their forces brings,  
Would now for Pompey's Latium good  
Be at the cost of too much blood?  
Oh no, they hate us Romans all,  
And chiefly those that made them thrall.  
Fortune, that never me deceived,  
To my friends hands hath me bequeaued,  
To those with me that witness are  
Of many fights in Gallicke war.  
What Soldiers sword do I not know,  
What trembling dart can any throw,  
But whilst that through the air it flew,  
I soon could tell whose arm it threw?  
So as since that I you behold  
Your Captain that led you of old,  
And those brave Ensigns by you borne  
That never yet received scorn,  
Your manly looks with courage fraught,  
Your threatening eyes that terror brought,  
The day is yours, and now me seems  
With bloody gore that rivers steams;  
Their Kings upon the earth are spurned,  
The Senators lie tossed and turned:  
The leaders and the Soldiers slain  
In slaughtered troops upon the plain;  
But now I do my Fates delay  
Your armed hands with words to stay,  
Give wars approach his own full sway.  
My heart is overjoyed with hope,  
Never saw I like Fortune's scope  
So near my reach; never before  
The Gods to me such bounties store  
Did seem to give, 
Caesar doth promise himself victory.  a little ground  
Doth us from our great wishes bound:  
This battle fought I am the man  
That only by my favour can  
Freely bestow the treasured gold  
That Kings and many people hold.  
O heavens, what planets influence,  
What star this motion did commence,  
That now on this Pharsalian land  
So great a question should be scanned!  
This day there is for me prepared  
Either great pains, or great reward  
Think but on Caesar's tortured state,  
The chains that shall him captivate,  
His head upon the Rostrum placed,  
His members racked, torn and defaced;  
And you yourselves will find like feasts,  
In pinfolds penned, slaughtered as beasts,  
Since he with whom we wars maintain,  
A Captain is of Sylla's train:  
Therefore regard your own estates,  
For me I will prevent such Fates  
By virtue of my dreadless hand,  
That at their mercy scorns to stand: 
Caesar's resolution.   
For he that this day shall not see  
Us victors of our foes to be,  
Shall see this sword of mine divorce  
My breathing spirit from my Corpse.  
Ye Gods that from the heavens high  
Vouchsafe to bend your careful eye  
Unto this base inferior soil, 
Caesar's pious request to the Gods.   
To look upon the Roman toil.  
Let him the victory obtain  
That shall from cruelty refrain;  
And will not deem it but offence,  
Except in pity he dispense  
To take away the lives of those  
Whom he subdues, although his foes.  
Though Pompey in his cruel mood  
Did glut his sword with Roman blood,  
When he our troops at vantage took,  
Penned up within a narrow nook,  
Who out of valour chose to die  

Caesar's merciful charge to his soldiers going to the battle.  Rather than from their station fly.  
But my brave youths I you entreat  
Show no such rigour in your heat.  
Kill not a man that shuns your eyes,  
Deem him a Citizen that flies;  
But whilst their weapons they do use,  
Let not fond pity you abuse:  
Nor be then moved unto remorse,  
But flat resist your parent's force;  
Yea on their faces turn your swords,  
Whom reverent years grey hairs affords:  
If any should his kinsman find,  
And in his breast his sword hath shrined;  
Or else so dear a friend shall wound,  
To whom for favours he stands bound,  
Whilst they against you show their might,  
Account yourself from guilt acquit,  
As free as if he were a foe,  
That you before did never know.  
And now throw down your Trenches wall,  
And fill the ditches therewithal,  
Whereby imbattailed as it stands,  
The Army may march with full bands,  
And run not out at little coops,  
Dispersed into petty troops:  
Your own pavilions do not spare,  
For to that Camp we marching are  
From whence that Army doth descend,  
Whereof we soon shall make an end.  
Scarcely had Caesar spoken all,  

Caesar's troops sally disorderly out of their camp to the battle.  But each one to his charge did fall,  
And suddenly they all did Arm  
Throughout the camp, and took the alarm.  
Down went the Trench and Tents in haste,  
The troops are not in order placed.  
According to their Chieftains Art,  
To Fates they do commit this Mart.  
But if they all had Caesar's been,  
And such as did affect to win  
The Roman Empire as their own,  
By martial art and valour shown;  
They would not then have headlong priest  
To fight a Battle for their rest.  
¶ When Pompey saw his foes draw out,  
Bending to him with all their rout,  
And that the war would no delay,  
But that the Gods designed this day.  
He stood amazed, his heart grew cold,  
The which in Arms mishap foretold,  
That fear should such a captain thrall;  
Like dread did his whole host appall.  
Then he a lofty horse bestrides,  
And through his troops and cohorts rides, 
Pompey's oration to his soldiers before the battle.   
The day (quoth he) that your brave sprights  
priest on to end all lingering fights,  
Is now at hand, therefore expose  
Your utmost force against your foes.  
This is the upshot now for all,  
One hour will us together call.  
He that his country's cause respects,  
Or his dear household God's affects;  
He that his children and his wife,  
And all dear pledges of his life,  
Doth seek to have and hold again,  
Must with his sword the same obtain.  
For all is now by God provided  
In this one field to be decided.  
And we must hope, that have the right,  
The heavenly powers for us will fight;  
They so will guide our weapons fierce,  
That they shall Caesar's bowels pierce;  
It is their wills that with his blood,  
Rome's sacred laws should be made good.  
Had they designed to Caesar's fate  
The world and all the Roman state,  
By Destinies and their decree,  
My elder years might shortened be.  
But since the Gods by their high doom,  
Both of the people and of Rome,  
Have Pompey placed as leader chief,  
'tis no sign of their wroth or grief.  
All means that may bring victory,  
We have provided seriously.  
And many a Prince and noble Lord,  
Our fortunes run with free accord.  
The ancient bands of martial wights,  
With grave advice on our part fights.  
And if unto our later years,  
Fate had reserved those worthy pears,  
The Curij, and Camilli stout,  
The Deccis that did make no doubt  
Freely to sacrifice their blood,  
Thereby to gain their Country good,  
All these on our side would have stood.  
The nations that are farhest East  
Unto this service now are priest.  
And many cities of account,  
So as our forces do surmount  
All other armed troops by far,  
That ever yet attempted war:  
The whole world's strength at once we have  
The soldiers and the leaders brave,  
That both the Tropics do contain  
From Southern pole to Northern wain.  
We able are (our wings stretched out)  
To close our enemies about.  
Few hands to conquer will suffice,  
Our troops will daunt them with their cries.  
Caesar with his bare feeble host  
To fight with us can be but lost.  
Think that upon Rome's walls there stands,  
With dangling locks, and cast up hands,  
The Roman Matrons in your sight,  
Calling on you bravely to fight.  
And think the Senate, those grave Peers  
Unfit for Mart through aged years,  
Following our Camp, do at your feet  
Prostrate their silver hairs with greet▪  
And that Rome's self you do encounter,  
Fearing a Tyrant should surmount her.  
Think that the Romans of these days,  
And those that future times shall raise,  
With one voice altogether praise,  
In freedom to receive their birth,  
And so return unto the earth.  
And after these so dear respects,  
If Pompey might moon your affects,  
He and his children, and his spouse  
Would at your feet cast self same vows▪  
If lawful 'twere reserved free,  
The Empire's sacred majesty.  
And lest we conquer them in fight,  
Pompey is but a banished wight.  
And but his father-inlawes base scorn,  
And to your shame a man forlorn.  
My elder years I now should nate,  
And longer loath to draw my date,  
To bring hoar hairs to servile state.  
The heavy words their captain used  
Hath all their minds with rage enfusde  
The Roman valour it doth move  
Rather a present death to prove,  
Then those suspects should true be found  
That in his speech he did propound.  
Then both the armies rushed together,  
With equal fury show'd by either.  
Fear doth one side to courage strain,  
The others hope to rule and reign,  
And now their hands do that destry  
Which no age can again supply.  
Nor ever any human pain,  
Will be of power to raise again.  
Although from arms they still refrain. 
A compassionate speech.   
For this one only battle day,  
Will future Maurood much decay,  
And will those people's births destroy  
That after worlds might else enjoy.  
So as the noble Latin name  
Will be a byword of defame,  
The Alban and Laurentine bowers,  
The Gabine, and the Veian towers,  
And Coram rotten all with rust,  
Will not be seen for ruins dust.  
The Country void and desolate;  
So as the Senatorian state,  
Unwillingly will their remain,  
Longer than night shall them constrain.  
And that to do they oft repine,  
Though one of Numas laws divine,  
But 'tis not age that this hath done,  
Nor putrefaction overrun  
Such mighty frames, but civil broil  
Hath laid such cities with the soil.  
What is become of all the store  
Of human races but of yore,  
That in the world were borne and bread?  
The towns are unreplenished?  
The champain uninhabited?  
One city now us all contains,  
The fields manured by slaves in chains.  
The mouldy houses never airde  
With their foundations unrepaird,  
Do every minute mouldering fall:  
Whilst in them no man dwells at all.  
The Roman walls do not embrace  
The citizens of her own race.  
The scum of every nation  
There now takes up his station.  
These slaughtering wars hath this affected;  
And now it needs not be suspected,  

He deplores the miserable estate of the Roman Empire.  That Rome is able in long time,  
To act again a civil crime.  
For these harms thank Pharsalia's field,  
To it may bloody Cannas yield,  
And Allias calamities,  
Long kept in Latium memory.  
Rome dat harms in Annals sets  
But willingly this day forgets.  
O grief! the desolation,  
That comes by airs infection,  
That pestilent diseases breeds,  
That from dire famine's rage proceeds:  
Or Towns with rapting fires burning  
Or fearful earthquakes overturning  
Whole cities, all such great decays  
These men might well repair and raise.  
Whom Fortune brought from every quarter,  
In this fell war to slay and martyr.  
And laid them prostrate in this field  
That many years did breed and yield,  
Of soldiers and of captains brave,  
That in these armies so did rave,  
And by their wracks did show withal,  
How great Rome was, when she did fall.  
For by how much her power was spread  
Over huge nations vanquished,  
The faster her prosperity  
Now ran unto calamity.  
Her wars each year to her did give  
Nations did that her store relieve.  
Titan as he his chariot rolls,  
Thy Empire sees in either Poles. 
The largeness of the Roman Empire.   
And of the East small deal remained  
That by thy conquest was not gained.  
So as the circuit of thy might,  
Was always under day and night  
The wandering Planets in their rounds  
Did never pass the Empire's bounds.  
But now Emathias dismal day,  
Her glory did so prostrate lay,  
As that on wrack to ruin brought  
What many years had set aloft.  
For by that day to pass it came  
That judea dreaded not our name,  
Nor that the Dakes would give consents  
To live in Towns and leave their tents.  
Nor that our Consuls guirded round,  
Should guide the plowshare on the ground  
To cut Sarmatian cities bound.  
Nor that we could due vengeance have  
On Parthians as their scorns did crave.  
And that our liberty in dread  
Of civil Tyranny is fled  
Beyond the Tigris and the Rhine,  
Without hope to return again:  
Although by us so often sought  
With our lives blood to have been bought:  
A good denied us to gain  
Which Scythes and Germans do retain,  
But never more will turn her face  
To look upon the Roman Race.  
I would our state had never known  
That Augury by vultures shown,  
When first with their sinister flight,  
Our walls foundation deep was pight  
By Romulus, that did surround  
A dismal grove within their bound,  
But that Rome's fate had been held back,  
Till after this Thessalian wrack.  
¶ O Fortune needs I must complain,  
How Brutes their valours lost in vain!  
Why with such reverence and such awe  
Have we observed our ancient law?  
And evermore, as new years came,  
Did style them by the Consul's name?  
Ye Meads, and Arabes are blest,  
With all the nations of the East,  
That have been used perpetually  
Unto the rule of Tyranny.  
For now 'mongst those of any age,  
That kings have held in vassalage,  
Our destiny is to be last,  
And servile shame our glory blast.  
There are no Gods to be obeyed;  
The world is but by blind chance swayed:  
'tis false that men of jove have said.  
Could he (from out the lofty sky)  
These slaughters see of Thessaly,  
And hold from them his thundering might,  
When he Pholoen so will smite?  
And Oeton scorch with lightning flame.  
And Rhodops grove, so free from blame?  
How doth he blast the stately pine?  
What must this work be brought to fine  
By Cassius' hand? and must he quell  
The Tyrant's head that so doth swell?  
The stars denied to lend their shine  
Unto Thyestes odious line:  
And Argos city rest of light,  
Beclowding it with sudden night,  
And will the heavens daylight afford  
Unto thessalia's bloody sword?  
Whereas so many brethren meet  
With blood that do each other greet,  
And children that their parents slay,  
No mortal harms the Gods do way.  
Yet of revenge, so much we hope,  
As heaven can to the earth give scope.  
These civil wars shall Deify  
New powers, like to the Gods on high. 
This is spoken in derision of the Caesars that were so Deified and called Divi.   
These Images shall be set out  
With blazing stars, that beams do sprout  
About their heads, and in their hands  
Ioues thunderbolts and flaming brands.  
And in the Temples Rome shall swear  
By Caesar's ghost with sacred fear.  
¶ Now whilst both army's face to face  
With speedy march shortened the space  
That sundered them from fatal blows,  
And were so near as each one knows  
Which way his deadly pile should strain,  
And what hand threatened bane again,  
They saw that then was come the time  
That needs must act a monstrous crime.  
The sons against their father's stands,  
Brothers confront with armed hands,  
No man that time his place would change  
And yet with all a faintness strange  
Did them surprise; which pity made,  

Crassine the first man that charged at this battle.  And cold blood did their hearts invade  
So as the cohorts on both parts  
Forbear to throw their ready darts.  
Crassine the Gods on thee bestow  
An end that may no ending know.  
Not such a death as all men try  
But death that living still shall die.  
That with a lance from thy strained arm  
Didst first begin this civil harm,  
And with the blood of Roman wound,  
Didst first distain Pharsalian ground.  
O heady rage and murderous mind,  
Who would have thought a hand to find  
So prone to blood, or else so bold  
Whilst Caesar's self his hands did hold.  
Now with shrill noise the air doth ring,  
The Cornet her strained notes did sing,  
The Trumpets to the battle sounds,  
The clamorous cries confused rebounds  
From earth unto the vaulted sky,  
Whereas the clouds do never fly,  
Nor where the thunders do engender;  
And then these shouts themselves do render  
Unto the vales near Tempe's groves,  
And thence again it fleeting roves  
With doubling echoes, that loud raves  
From hollow vaults of Pelian caves,  
So as therewith mount Pindus' groans,  
And trembling shook Pangean stones,  
Oeteus hill doth howl likewise  
And so the fury of these cries  
Doth all about those quarters fly  
That their own noise them terrify  
¶ A multitude of darts are cast,  
And with them divers wishes passed,  
Some hope that they their foes shall wound  
Others wish they may fall to ground:  
And that no blood should soil their hands  
All now on hap and hazard stands.  
Uncertain Fortune leads the dance,  
The guilty now are made by chance.  
Of those that fall, how great a part  
Are slain with flying shafts and dart?  
Now must the civil hate be shown,  
But by the murdering sword alone.  
The Roman blood is only shed,  
With their own glaives emboweled.  
Pompey now his battalions flanks  
With thick and double filled ranks.  
Poldron to poldron fast combined,  
And Targateeres unto them joined.  
So as they scarce had room the while  
To use their hands or cast their piles.  
They feared they were so nearly priest,  
That their own swords would them infest.  
But Caesar's Veterans withal  
Headlong on these thick troops do fall:  
And through this press of armed foes,  
They hue a passage with their blows.  
e'en where their habergions and mail,  
Most safely did their body's vail.  
For (notwithstanding those strong coaces)  
They pierced their bowels and their throats.  
So as amongst these troops of arms,  
Each one partaker is of harms.  
One army doth sustain the fight:  
The other doth express his might.  
The swords are cold on Pompey's part:  
But Caesar's steam in bloody mart.  
Neither did Fortune long delay  
The balance of these broils to sway▪  
But like a torrent revel keeps,  
And multitudes in moments sweeps.  
¶ But herewithal forth Pompey brings,  
His troops of horse streatcht out in wings:  
And placed them on his battle flanks,  
And after them dispersed ranks  
Of light-armed bands, to give supply,  
Who on the foe with fury fly.  
And all his nations pressing hither,  
Their weapons mingled then together.  
And now the Roman blood is sought  
With fire, stones, darts, much scathe is wrought,  
And through the spacious air there flies  
The bullets that with motion fries.  
Then the Arabians, and the Meads,  
And Ithyrans' their stout troops leads  
Unto the fight with bended bows,  
That to their shafts no level shows:  
But only shoot up to the skies,  
Which then with deadened force down flies:  
So as the head is seldom found  
To do great harm or make deep wound.  
Of piles the deadly blows they feel,  
The air is arched all with steel.  
The darts and shafts so thick do hail,  
That on the field they draw night's vail.  
Then Caesar did begin to doubt  
His vanguard might be put to rout.  
Therefore to strength his front provides  
Some cohorts from those oblique sides  
That were behind the ensigns placed,  
And those he thither drew in haste.  

The Barbarians first put to flight by Caesar.  Where the Barbarian horsemen swayed,  
Whom his unlooked for troops assayed,  
His wings stood fast not disarrayed,  
These men he quickly put to flight,  
Amazed they had forgot to fight.  
And coward's shame they nought regarded.  
No care was ever well awarded,  
Nor charge in any civil harms  
Unto Barbarian fearful swarms.  
No sooner did their palfreys feel,  
Within their breasts the sticking steel,  
But in a rage their rider's flings,  
And with their feet their brains out dings.  
Then all the horse troops took their heels.  
Squadrons of youths together wheels,  
And from the foe they turn their heads,  
And their own footmen overtreads. 
The vanguard of the army in a rout.   
The slaughter now exceeded measure,  
Resistance was no more at leisure.  
The war held now unequal lots,  
One side was swords, the other throats.  
But Caesar's host was much too slight  
To slaughter all those troops outright,  
That he subdued and put to flight.  
O would this gore that in thee lies  
(Pharsalia) might thy thirst suffice,  
That these Barbarian breasts have shed,  
And no more streams of blood be spread!  
And that their bones (in heaps so stroad)  
Might be enough thy fields to load.  
Or if that thy desire be more  
To glut thyself with Roman gore;  
O then spare these Barbarians,  
The Galates, and Syrians,  
The Gauls, and Capadocians,  
Th' Armenian, and Cicilian realms,  
The Spaniards in the world's extremes!  
For when these civil wars are dated,  
These shall be Romans then created.  
So now this little fear begun  
Doth through all Pompey's army run.  
And now the Fates a course provide,  
That Caesar all may rule and guide.  
¶ For now the fight was come at length  
To Pompey's greatest troup and strength,  
Where his main battle ranged stood.  
The former ranks (with mazed mood)  
About the fields were scattering scared, 
The main battle resists awhile.   
But here awhile the war went hard.  
And Caesar's fortune stood debarred.  
The youths (that in this battle stands)  
Were no auxiliary bands,  
The kings to this assistance brought.  
The Roman hands and swords then fought.  
One finds his brother in this place,  
Another sees his father's face.  
Here rage and fury now exceeds,  
Here Caesar are thy heinous deeds.  
O let this pageant of the war,  
Be from my mind estranged far!  
Let it to darkness be designed,  
No age shall in my Poem find,  
Discourses of so wicked kind,  
To teach hereafter and to show  
What civil war can overthrow.  
And rather let all tears be lost,  
And all complaints at so dear cost.  
Therefore o Rome what did betide  
In this last conflict, I will hide:  
Caesar, that thunderbolt of rage,  
That spur, that fury doth engage,  
Did hear about the cohorts ride,  
Lest any mischief of his side  
Should be to seek or left undone,  
Incensing those headlong to run  
To bold attempts, whose hot desires  
The rage of war already fires.  
Their murdering falchions than he eyed,  
Which of them most in blood was died:  
And which of them but slightly baynd,  

Caesar whets on his soldiers.  And only at the point distained.  
What hand the sword did trembling try:  
What darts or piles do faintly fly,  
And what were thrown courageously:  
Who only by compulsion fights:  
And who in slaughtering wars delights:  
Who did relent his bloody vain,  
When he a Citizen saw slain.  
Thus over all the field he flies,  
Where slaughtered bodies heaped lies,  
And many of his men he found,  
Whose streaming blood gushed from the wound  
When he himself would then assay  
With his own hand the blood to stay.  
Which way soever that he went,  
He seemed the likeness to present  
Of stern Bellona, that did shake  
Her bloody whip, that makes men quake.  
Or as if Mars were in the field,  
Armed with the strong Palladian shield,  
With boisterous batton in his hand,  
Urging a fierce Bistonian band,  
Whereas the whirling charets stand.  
Here slaughters rise, and cruel fight,  
That dims their eyes like misty night.  
Here now are heard huge groans and cries,  
With sounds from clashing Arms that flies,  
As men fall on each others backs,  
Whilst falchions, falchions' hews, & hacks.  
And Caesar's self with his own hands  
Supplies with swords and darts their bands:  
And bids them (as they deal their blows)  
Strike at the faces of their foes.  
He faster than drew on his troops,  
And stirs them up that fainting droops.  
And those that drag he makes advance,  
Pushing them forward with his lance.  
The common rout he bids them spare, 
Why Caesar would have his Soldiers aim at the Senate.   
And shows them where the Senate are.  
He knows the Empire's chiefest blood,  
And where her noblest members stood.  
Who vanquished, Rome was then his own,  
And her last freedom overthrown.  
Then second ranks of Peers he boards,  
Piercing their reverent breasts with swords.  
The Lepidi fall in this place,  
And those of the Metellan race:  
The Coruins likewise taste the same,  
And the Torquati Kingly name.  
The leaders and the chief are slain,  
Whilst Pompey yet did safe remain.  
¶ O Brutus (that thy head didst mask  
But with a mean Plebeian cask, 
Alluding to the sword that after slew Caesar.   
And so wert to thy foes unknown)  
With what sword was thy valour shown?  
Thou glory of the Empire's state,  
Chief hope of Senatorian fate,  
Last of that race that banished Kings,  
Whose name throughout all ages rings;  
O do not here (with too great sprite)  
Against thy foes express thy might▪  
Do not thereby thy end advance  
Before the dire Philippian chance.  
In thy Thessalia thou must fall;  

Because that the fields of Philippi are in Thessaly.  Here canst thou do no good at all,  
Although thy sword for Caesar wait,  
He is not yet come to his height;  
Nor to that supreme human pride  
That will all honour over-stride.  
Then will his noble death beseem  
The Fates, that him so worthy deem.  
O let him live, and proudly reign,  
And then by Brutus' sword be slain.  
¶ Here now our Country's glory dies,  
Here in a heap confused lies  

The main battle lost.  The old Patrician Roman gore,  
Mixed with Plebeian bloody store;  
And yet amidst this butchery  
Of Heroic Nobility,  
Domitius stout that death of thine  
Above the rest most clear did shine;  
Whom fate did oft oppress and toss:  
For Fortune still did Pompey cross,  
Where thou mad'st one, and still hadst loss.  
So often wert thou Caesar's prey;  
But now hast closed thy latest day  
With liberty preserved free,  
Which makes those many wounds to thee  
Pleasing, whereof thou now must die,  
And no more Caesar's pardons try.  
But Caesar chanced that way to pass,  

Caesar insulteth over Domitius at the point of death.  Where he in gore blood wallowing was,  
And tauntingly unto him spoke;  
Domitius, thou that soughtst to take,  
My charge from me, and govern Gaul,  
Pompey thou canst not serve at all,  
Without thee this war we shall try.  
No more he said; Then to reply,  
His panting breast him life affords,  
And thus pronounced his dying words;  
Caesar thou hast not yet the meed 
Domitius last words to Caesar   
Of thy accursed wicked deed.  
Doubtful as yet doth stand thy fate,  
And less in show then Pompey's state.  
I one of Pompey's train do go  
Freely unto the shades below:  
And safely thither do I wend;  
And yet (by that these wars have end)  
I well may hope, when I am dead,  
Wrack shall befall thy wretched head;  
And vengeance due shall on thee light,  
And yield both me and Pompey right.  
So having said, did life resign,  
And deaths dark hand closed up his eyen.  
¶ In vain alas what should I shed  
Tears here upon the thousands dead  
Of those, that from the worlds each part  
Did find their ends in this dire Mart?  
Or why should I but single out  
Some private fates in this huge rout,  
Whose bowels pierced with deadly wounds  
Their latest living days confounds?  
Or who on earth dead bodies spurns?  
Or who their bloody swords points turns  
Upon their breast, that gasping lie  
To free their souls that lingering dye?  
Or who at one blow down is cast?  
Or who with hewed limbs standeth fast?  
Or who with darts doth bodies wound?  
Or with his lance nails men to ground?  
Or whose veins pierced whence blood flies out  
Into the air, and doth besprout  
The Armour of his murdering foe?  
Who slays his brother at a blow,  
And, as a stranger, doth him spoil,  
Cuts off his head, and in the soil  
Doth hide the same to hide his guilt;  
Or who his father's blood hath spilled:  
And mangled hath his face the while,  
The lookers on so to beguile:  
And doth it with such rageful ire  
As 'twere some foe, and not his sire.  
No one man's death can claim lament;  
To wail men now no time is lent.  
The slaughters of Pharsalia's field  
Is nothing such as others yield.  
There private Fates the wars attends:  
Here Rome and all her people ends.  
There war to death doth soldiers call;  
But here at once whole Nations fall.  
The Grecian people's blood here streams,  
The Pontic and Assyrian realms:  
And now the blood of Romans slain,  
In torrents fleets on that again;  
And with her overflowing store  
Sweeps from the fields Barbarian gore.  
More people in this battle slain  
Then our age can supply again.  
'tis more than life and health that's lost;  
It hath the whole world ruin cost.  
The sword upon those body's rages,  
That should have served future ages.  
What have our children yet misdonne,  
That they to servile state must run?  
Or what fault in posterity,  
Borne to be thralls to tyranny?  
Have we so cowardly borne Arms,  
And offered up our throats to harms?  
The burden of another's fear,  
Upon our shoulders must we bear?  
O Fortune! if thou needs wouldst call  
Our sons to be a tyrant's thrall,  
Thou shouldst have given them wars withal,  
¶ Now doth unhappy Pompey find  
The Gods, and Roman Fates unkind:  
And (ere the fight was thoroughly ended)  
His cursed fortune he condemned.  
Whilst in the field he stood on high  
Upon a hill, and thence did eye  
The slaughters and the troops ramuerst  
Throughout Pharsalia's field dispersed.  
The which the fight before did hide,  
He multitudes sees on his side  
Of weapons, and of bodies lost,  
And his own wrack, at their bloods cost;  
Yet did he not (as wretches will)  
Desire the whole with him should spill.  
Nor in his ruin wrap them all,  
But on the heavenly powers did call,  
That yet the greatest part might thrive  
Of Latium blood, and him survive:  
This is his comfort in annoy.  
O Gods (quoth he) do not destroy  
So many Nations at a clap:  
The world may stand free from mishap, 
Pompey's prayer to the Gods.   
And Rome may many ages flourish,  
Although that Pompey sink and perish.  
But if it so your like please,  
More woes on me to heap then these;  
My wife and children yet subsist  
For Fates to do with what they list.  
Hath not this civil war cost dear,  
If I and mine must perish here?  
May not such wounds be deemed wide,  
Though all the world escape beside?  
O Fortune! why dost thou so rack  
And labour to bring all to wrack?  
Nothing is mine, I all things lack.  
So having said, he rides about  
The Ensigns, and the Arms in rout.  
And in each part throughout the lands  
Sees how his squadrons broken stands:  
Whom he retraits, and doth restrain  
From running to their deaths amain.  
He values not himself so much,  
That for his sake harm should them touch.  
And yet his courage did not fail  
The swords and weapons to assail,  
Or put his life to hazards chance,  
Or unto death his breast advance.  
He feared if Pompey there should die,  
The Soldiers would no dangers fly,  
But on his body heaped lie.  
Besides, he foully did despise  
To lie a scorn to Caesar's eyes.  
Yet if thy father-in-law affect  
To cast his eyes on that prospect,  
Thy head to him will be presented,  
It cannot be by place prevented:  
And thou his wife wert partly cause  
Why from this slaughter he withdraws  
To see thy face; for Fates ordain  
That in thy sight he should be slain.  

Pompey's flight.  Then he a Courser swift bestrides,  
And posting from the battle rides.  
Fear makes him not to turn his back,  
His heart did never courage lack:  
In most distress his mind was stout,  
Nor plaints nor tears he poureth out;  
But such a reverent grief expressed  
As with a Majesty fits best  
For him, at that time to bestow  
On Roman fortune brought so low:  
And with like constancy beheld  
The downe-falles of Emathia's field.  
Nor prosperous wars could make thee proud  
Nor overthrows thy courage cloud,  
That faithless Fortune (flattering thee  
With glorious pomp in triumphs three)  
Thou now dost scorn with less account,  
And makes thy mind her force surmount.  
Securely thou from hence dost part,  
Freed from the cumbrous cares of Mart.  
And now at large thou leisure hast  
To ruminate thy glories past.  
Ambitious hopes (never sufficed)  
From thee are fled, and now despised.  
Now mayst thou ken thy fortune's scope;  
Fly wars, and in the Gods have hope.  
None now (that Arms do undertake)  
Will spend their lives for Pompey's sake.  
Whether it be of Africa soil  
The lamentable bloody broil,  
Or Munda's battle stained with gore,  
Or slaughters on Egyptian shore,  
Yet after thee there will remain  
A great part of Thessalian train.  
And Pompey will not have his name  
So popular with worldly fame,  
As for thy sake like wars to wage.  
But from hence forth (in every age)  
The faction of the war will be  
Twixt Caesar's state and liberty:  
And though that thou the wars dost flee,  
The Senate to the death will fight  
To hold their own and freedoms right.  
¶ Canst thou in this find no relief,  
That thus repulsed thou shun'st the grief  
To see the slaughtered heaps that lie?  
Look back again, and cast thine eye  
Upon the rivers crimson stain,  
Clotted with gore of bodies slain:  
Be-pitty then proud Caesar's vain.  
Think what remorse will strain his breast  
When he shall enter Rome, oppressed  
With grief, for her dear people lost,  
Gained to Pharsalia at her cost:  
When thou therefore thyself shalt see  
Banished in foreign Realms to be,  
What ever fortunes thou shalt find,  
Endure it with a manly mind:  
And whatsoever misery  
(Under the Pharian tyranny)  
Shall thee befall, with patience dure:  
And in the Gods thy hopes assure.  

They are more unhappy that offer an injury, albeit with success: then those that repel an injury, although with loss of their blood.  And as the Fates afford their grace,  
Bear with the changes of times space.  
The conquest would have harmed the more:  
Do not therefore thy hap deplore.  
Forbid the people to lament;  
All tears and lamentations stint.  
The world will Pompey as much good  
In his low ebb, as in his flood.  
O do not now (with looks dejected)  
Behold those Kings thou hast subjecteth:  
Survey the Cities won by thee,  
And kingdoms that thou gav'st in fee.  
Egypt and Lybia thou mayst try;  
Choose out the land where thou wouldst die.  
die larissa's City was the place,  
That first beheld thy noble face,  
After this foil by Fortune's scorn:  
Yet saw thee not as one forlorn;  

The Larissans love to Pompey.  Her Citizens and chief estates  
With all their force pass through their gates  
To meet thee, as thy loyal friends,  
And wailing many presents sends:  
Their houses and their Temples vast  
They did set open as he passed:  
And wished that they had partners been  
With him, in all his bloody teen.  
So as a great deal yet remained  
Of that great name he erst retained.  
though less now then thyself alone,  
Thy power may once again be shown:  
And Nations with thee led from far,  
So to restore thy state by war.  
But oh! (quoth he) what should a man  
Whom Fates from victory do ban,  
The aid of men or Towns receive?  
Unto the Conqueror bequeave  
Your faiths, and to his favours cleave.  
¶ But Caesar thou dost over-stride,  
And march as yet on every side  
Upon the bowels and the breasts,  
As they in heaped slaughters rests  
Of thine own Countries woeful fall;  
Thy son-in-law now quits thee all.  
Away the Courser Pompey bears,  
Followed with many sighs and tears;  
And on the cruel Destinies  
The people power out cursed cries.  
Now Pompey dost thou truly find  
The faith that thy deserts did bind:  
For now the fruits thereof they show,  
Prosperity no love can know.  
¶ When Caesar saw of Latium gore  
The fields did float with ample store;  
He bids them now forbear their swords,  
And to poor souls he grace affords:  
For all was subject to their hands;  
'twas vain to kill those hope-lost bands  
That for their lives at mercy stands.  
But lest the standing Camp might be  
A safe retreat to those that flee;  
And to enjoy the quiet night  
Without alarms, or new affright;  
He meant to undertake the venture  
On Pompey's Camp, 
Caesar entereth Pompey's camp  and it to enter  
Whilst fortune now was hot in blood,  
And all in maze and terror stood;  
Not doubting but his men were priest,  
Herein to yield unto his hest,  
Although that they were all grown faint  
With long fight, and with heat attaint.  
But soldiers small persuasions need  
To lead them to receive their meed:  
Or to prepare them to a pray;  
Yet Caesar thus to them did say:  
Soldiers (quoth he) your valiant proes  
Hath won full conquest on your foes:  
And for the blood drawn from your veins,  
Rewards and Honours now remains.  
Which to perform, I hold my part,  
Yet that which due is to desert  
I will not term a gift to be:  
Each one shall give himself his fee.  
Behold the Tents before your eyes,  
Where gold and silver heaped lies;  
Here is locked up (in many a Chest)  
The treasure taken from the west;  
The precious Eastern Implements  
Doth stuff and cloy their glorious Tents:  
The Fortunes that are gotten hither  
Of Pompey, and of Kings together,  
Do but attend to be a pray  
Unto the victor; haste your way  
To come before them to the place,  
Whom now you following have in chase.  
He said no more, but their desire  
Whom greedy gain had set on fire,  
Did headlong drive them without fear,  
Thorough the swords their way to tear;  
And on their father's bones to tread,  
Spurning the Captains that lay dead.  
What Ditch or Rampart could suffice  
To hold them out whom such a prize  
And booty of the war invites?  
They now would know to ease their sprights  
The gains of all their bloody fights.   

¶ And here lay lodged (to maintain mart)  
Many great treasures set a part,  
Heaped up together in a whoord,  
Spoils that the whole world did afford.  
Yet for all this, they could not find  
Sufficient to content their mind.  
What gold is found in Iber's sands,  

All the rich spoils that Caesar's Soldiers found in Pompey's camp could not content their greedy minds.  Or Tagus casts upon her strands:  
Or all those heaps of precious grains  
Digged out of Arimaspus' veins,  
Is made their spoil, and yet they thought  
It not enough, but dearly bought.  
For now their conquering hopes devours  
The spoil of the Tarpeian Towers,  
And promise to themselves a day  
That Rome and all shall be their prey.  
But yet therein they are deceived,  
The Tents are to their spoil bequeaued.  
The wicked soldiers, and base Slowches  
Do sleep on the Patrician Couches.  
The King's pavilions, and their beds  
Are rooms for slaves to lay their heads.  
Their brother's Cabins some invested,  
Some where their fathers lately rested  
Their slaughtering bloody members nested  
And those whom raving slumbers haunts,  
And frightful dreams in sleeping daunts,  
Do toss in their afflicted sprights  
The cruel late Pharsalian fights:  
Their bloody facts possess their eyes,  
The rage of Arms their minds agrize:  
And without swords about them goes  
Their hands, as they were dealing blows.  
¶ A man would think the very fields  
And baleful lands, those visions yields:  
And that some apparitions strange  
Of ghosts, that putrid air did range:  
And that by night the fearful shapes  
Of Stygian sprights their senses rapes.  
This victory with heavy strains  
Requites the victor's worthless pains. 
Terrible dreams affright Caesar's soldiers in their sleep.   
Hissing of Serpents in their dreams,  
And fiery flames cast forth huge streams:  
Slain Citizens to them appear,  
And each one hath his private fear.  
One sees in sleep an old man's face,  
And other lusty youths in place:  
One doth his brother's corpse behold  
Pale and disfigured on the mould;  
Another in his dream discerns  
His father's wounds, whereat he yearnes.  
And all these sprights, and hellish fears  
Then Caesar's guilty conscience tears  
No less than did those hags of hell  
Within Orestes spirits dwell,  
That with affrights his visage urged,  
Till Scythian Altars him had purged.  
Nor yet Pentheius in his mind  
More furious ghastly fits did find;  
Nor mad Agave in her kind.   


Caesar's fearful apparitions in his dreams.  ¶ For all the swords that blood did stain,  
Now shed on the Pharsalian plain;  
And those revenging swords withal,  
That should in future on him fall  
By force of Senatorian spite,  
In dreams oppressed him this night;  
So do the furies him affright.  
How lives this wretched man in fear  
That doth such guilt in conscience bear,  
That in his dreams he seems to see  
The Stygian ghosts about him flee,  
With all the foul infernal trains  
Whilst Pompey still alive remains?  
Yet this no whit his conscience strains.  
But when clear day (with shining beams)  
Bewrayed Pharsalia's bloody streams,  
The horror of that ugly sight  
Did not his gasping eyes affright,  
Nor turn them from those loathsome lands,  
But looks how thick the rivers stands  
Clotted with gore, and how likewise  
As high as hills the bodies rise,  
That on the Champion heaped lies.  
Of Pompey's men a tale he takes,  
And in that place a feast he makes.  
He pries amongst the bodies there,  
What faces known unto him were;  
And herein great contentment found.  
He could not see Emathias ground,  
Nor cast his eyes upon the plain,  
Hid with the bodies that lay slain.  
There saw he how his fortune stood,  
And all his Gods clothed in blood. 
An invective against Caesar for not allowing Pompey's slain soldiers a funeral fire.   
And for because he would not lose  
This pleasing prospect on dead foes,  
Still madding in his wicked ire,  
He would not give them funeral fire.  
But let them rotting there to rest,  
Emathias air so to infest.  
He might have learned by Hannibal, 
Hannibal buried Marcellus his enemy with great magnificence.   
That gave our Consul funeral:  
And how he human rites bestows,  
(In Cannas' fields) upon his foes.  
With piles of wood to burn the dead,  
Which Lybicke torches kindled.  
But that stern wrath that him enraged  
The slaughter had not yet assuaged.  
For he remembered in his mind  
The Romans were to him unkind,  
But now we do not here desire  
For every one a single fire:  
Or any glorious funeral:  
Bestow but one fire on them all.  
We do not seek that they should burn  
In parted flames and shared urn.  
Or if thou Pompey more wouldst spite,  
All Pindus' woods then hue down quite,  
And the Oetean oaks lay waste,  
And make of all one pile so vast,  
That he may from the seas descry  
Pharsalian flames stream in the sky.  
¶ This rage of thine availeth nought,  
By whatsoever means 'tis wrought,  
That these dead bodies may consume:  
For be it with a fiery fume,  
Or else with time that they do rot,  
And turn to dust it skilleth not.  
For nature (in her loving womb)  
Doth freely mortals all entomb.  
All bodies that do breath and live,  
Their end to her as debt must give.  
And though that Caesar, in disdain,  
Their funeral fire from them detain;  
Yet when the Earth and Ocean vast  
Shall be consumed with flames at last,  
One common fire the world shall have,  
And stars with human bones engrave.  
And unto whatsoever place  
Fortune thy flitting soul shall chase;  
These souls the self-same way shall wend:  
No higher shall thy ghost ascend,  
But lodge in Stygian shade below;  
No better mansion shalt thou know.  
From Fortune's freaks death frees us all,  

Lucan's opinion of the last dissolution of the world.  What earth doth yield, earth doth recall;  
And he that lies unburied,  
With heavens high cope is covered.  
And thou that dost whole nations wrong  
From burials, that to them belong;  
Why dost thou loath these slaughtered bands▪  
And shun these soiled contagious lands?  
Caesar do thou these waters drink,  
In this air breath that so doth stink.  
But these corrupted bodies slain  
Do take from thee Pharsalia plain:  
And in despite do hold the place,  
And thence the conquerors do chase.  
¶ But to this carnage for their food  
Thither repairs with ravening mood  
The Thracian wolves, that vent from far  
The blood of this Aemonian war:  
The Lions come from Pholoen,  
And do forsake their haunted den  
To quench in gore their thirsting jaws,  
Whom sent of slaughter thither draws.  
The grisly Bears do leave their caves,  
And on these festered bodies raves:  
The filthy dogs forsake their homes,  
And all about these fat fields rooms:  
And whatsoever else by kind,  
With scenting nose can savours wind,  
When as the air is putrefied  
With carcases long mortified.  
And hither flocks of fowls do throng,  
That both the camps had followed long.  
And those same birds that change the air  
Of Thracian cold, and do repair  
Unto the gentle Southern blast,  
Where they the streams of Nilus' taste.  
So many vultures thither fly,  
As never erst did cloud the sky.  
With other ravenous fowls of prey,  
Which every wood sent day by day.  
And to the branches, boughs, and leaves,  
The clottered gore and bowels cleaves  
That these birds brings, and oft withal,  
Upon the victor's heads doth fall.  
And on those wicked ensigns borne,  
The flesh and guts that they had torn,  
Which from their weary talents slip,  
Having got more than they could grip.  
Neither could they so shark and share  
The flesh, whereby the bones were bare.  
All was not made a prey to beasts,  
They were so glutted with these feasts,  
As that they now began to loathe  
The inwards and the marrow both.  
And only on choice morsels feed,  
Most of the limbs of Latium breed.  
Unto long time to wet and heat  
They left to rot and would not eat.  
So as whole troops in heaped bands,  
Lay festering there, and dunged the lands.  
O Most unhappy Thessaly!  
How hast thou wronged the Gods on high,  
That thou shouldst be so pestered  
With cruel slaughters and bloodshed?  
What future age or tract of time,  
May well repair this bloody crime,  
Or lodge this in oblivous grave?  
What corn bringst thou that shall not have  
(Upon his blade) a bloody stain,  
To show these slaughters in thy grain?  
What ploughshare can here furrows rend  
But they will Roman ghosts offend?  
And yet new armies here shall meet,  
And with like rage each other greet:  
Before that ever thou canst dry  
The blood, that in thee now doth lie.  
Should we our fires sepulchres rake.  
And of their tombs a ruin make?  
Searching the depth to find the chest,  
And lay all open where they rest?  
More cinders yet there would be found  
Turned up in the Aemonian ground,  
By force of crooked cultors share,  
When as the ploughman tilleth there,  
And more bones spewing out their marrow,  
Crushed with the iron-toothed harrow.  
No mariner though tempest tossed  
Would ever anchor on this coast.  
No tilsman would plow up these fields,  
That unto Romans burial yields.  
Their ghosts would cause the peasants quake  
The droves the pastures would forsake.  
The shepherds durst not be so bold  
Their fleecy flocks to feed and fold  
That they their hunger might suffice  
On grass, that from our bowels rise.  
But thou Emathia as forlorn  
Wouldst human races hold in scorn.  
As if thou wert that torrid soil.  
That Phoebus' beams doth always broil.  
Or else that frozen icy land  
That underneath the pole doth stand.  
Unknown so wouldst thou lie unmanned.  
Had this been but thy first wars blame,  
Not seconded with like defame:  
O Gods if that we may detest  
A land were wickedness doth rest!  
Why doth this soil the world oppress,  
And so bring mankind to distress?  
The bloody battle fought in Spain,  
The horrors on Pachinus main,  
Mutinas, and the Lucan fleets  
Do wipe away Philippos greets.   
Finis Libri Septimi.   

Lucan's Pharsalia. The eighth Book.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
POmpey repulsed and put to flight,  
By secret ways in great affright,  
Himself first at Larissa shows,  
And then by seas to Lesbos goes.  
Where all that people him bewails,  
Thence with his mournful wife he sails  
Unto Caelicia, whither came  
His son, and other Lords of name.  
There they consult what land to seek,  
Accused Egypt best they like.  
Where he no sooner did arrive,  
But king and Council did contrive  
His present death; and to that end  
They thaiterously Achilles send,  
Who in the presence of his wife,  
And of his son, bereft his life.  
Codrus his servant with his hands  
Scrapes him a grave amongst the sands.  
NOw Pompey forward hasting posts  
Over the Herculean coasts  
Then thorough Tempe's woody ways  
Aemonian forests he displays,  
And desert passages assays.  
His steed, though strooken with the spur,  
Would scarcely forward go or stir. 
Pompey's fears and suspicions in his flights   
So was he spent and over heat  
With running long, and faint with sweat.  
Besides amaze him so did fright,  
That he stood doubtful in his flight,  
What course to take, or where to rest,  
But in and out his way doth wrest.  
The murmuring that the winds doth make  
Amongst the woods when leaus did shake  
Caused him for very fear to quake.  
His train that follow him behind  
A terror are unto his mind.  
And those that gallop by his sides, 
The jealously of fear.   
Perplex him also as he rides.  
For though he were from that high place  
Thrown down, and out of Fortune's grace  
Yet therewithal he understood,  
That no base prize was worth his blood.  
But mindful of his former state,  
He knew 'twas yet at so high rate  
That Caesar would give for head,  
As much as he then valued  
The price of Caesar to be slain,  
And would bestow his head to gain.  
But now he finds no secret place  
Could serve to hide his honoured face.  
For many that do take his part,  
Now coming to Pharsalia's Mart  
(The fame as yet not being blown,  
That all was lost and overthrown)  
Were much amazed in their mind,  
Pompey in that same place to find.  
And scarcely would believe the truth  
That he himself relates with ruth.  
But grievous was all company  
To him in this calamity, 
Pompey affects a retired life hating all popularity.   
No people's concourse he desired  
But from the world to live retired.  
In safety with obscured name:  
But Fortune that unconstant Dame  
On him poor man her frowns doth cast  
To blanche her many favours past,  
So as the weight of his renown,  
His happiness doth more press down,  
And with the more offensive hate,  
His former bliss doth exprobate.  

The remembrance of former felicities is grievous in adversity.  For now he thinks his honours past,  
Were heaped on him too too fast.  
And doth accurse those Syllan bays,  
The glory of his youthful days.  
It irks him now, dejected wight,  
To think upon his Naval fight,  
And those brave ensigns that he won,  
In Pontycke kingdom overrun.  
Long life doth manly courage bate,  
And he that in empiring state  

No man happy but in his end.  Hath always lived, except withal  
In bliss he close his funeral.  
And doth with speedy death prevent,  
The change that fortune would present.  
He hath but lived to see his shame,  
And hath outlived his honours name.  
For who would fortunes favours try  
Except he can resolve to die.  
¶ Now hath he to the shore attained  
Whereas Poeneius stream distained  

Peneius river that runs between Olympus and Ossa.  With blood of the Pharsalian fields,  
Her Tribute to the Ocean yields.  
There fearfully he takes a boat  
Unfit in winds and waves to float.  
Which scarcely safe did him convey,  
Upon the river, to the bay.  
For yet she coasted with her oars,  
Corcyras and Leucades shores,  
This Cylicke, and Lyburnicke Lord,  
In those lands erst so much adored,  
Embarks him here with much fear,  
Into a little Passenger.  
And with a mind fraught full of cares, 
Pompey embarks himself for the Isle of Lesbos.   
His course for Lesbos he prepares.  
Where thou Cornelia didst reside  
And there more heavy days hadst tried,  
Then if thou hadst encamped lain,  
With Pompey in Pharsalia's plain.  
Presages great of future ill,  
Her vexed thoughts do fright and fill.  
And in in her sleepings heaviness:  
Oft trembling fits did her oppress  
She sees Thessalia field by night.  
And when that Phoebus spreads his light.  
Unto the lofty Cliffs she hies, 
Cornelia's care of Pompey's   
And to the shore that utmost lies  
Where on the main she casts her eyes,  
And if she will first of all discover:  
If any sails do that way hover.  
And yet to ask she is a dread,  
How Pompey in the war hath sped.  
¶ But now behold his ship doth stand  
Full with the haven of this land,  
And with all sails doth hither press,  
Though with what news thou canst not guess.  
Till at the length grief to revive,  
Thy conquered husband doth arrive.  
The heavy messenger of wars,  
The Harrold of hearts-wounding scars.  
Why dost thou now lose time to wail,  
When thou mayst weep, fear doth prevail  
But as the ship drew near at hand,  
In hast she runs unto the strand.  
And there she quickly did descry,  
The cruel blame of Destiny. 
Pompey after the overthrow arrives at Lesbos where Cornelia was.   
Her Lords discolloured deadly face,  
Whose hoary hairs about it trace,  
Rough and unkombt; and his attire  
Dashed and besprent with dust and mire.  
Wherewith this poor astonished wight,  
Was overcome with deaths dark night,  
That from her eyes deprived the light.  
Faint sorrow did her spirits invest,  
Down right she sinks life leaves her breast.  

Cornelia falls into a swoon with sorrow.  Her limbs were stark, her heart grew cold,  
A deadly trance her hope doth hold.  
By this their Anchors being cast,  
Were with their cables moored fast.  
Pompey beholds the vacant sand,  
Where as his faithful servants stand.  
Who secretly their griefs do show,  
Amongst themselves with inward woe,  
And mournful sighs which they bestow,  
Such as well sorted with his fate.  
And therewithal they elevate  
In vain their mistress from the ground,  
That there half dead lay in a sound.  
Whom Pompey colleth in his arms,  
And her limbs with embracements warms.  
¶ Then as the blood returned again,  
And did begin to strength each vain:  
Her husband's hand she felt withal,  
And to her mind his face did call.  

Pompey comforts Cornelia with a brave speech.  He wills her not to stoop to fate,  
Nor yet her griefs to aggravate.  
O why shouldst thou a woman borne  
Of so great blood, like one forlorn?  
Thy noble heart and comfort break,  
With the first blow of Fortune's freak,  
A mean is offered now to raise,  
Thy glory to all future days.  
The praise wherein thy sex hath part,  
Is not for letters, nor for Mart.  
Thy honour is thy constancy,  
Unto thy spouse in misery.  
Lift up thy spirits with pious thought,  
Set all the scorns of fate at nought.  
Me (though subdued) love as before,  
Thy glory shall be so much more.  
Now that my honours all are fled,  
And that I am abandoned.  
Of all the Senate's sacred troup,  
And of great kings that late did stoop  
Unto my hest; Now be thou known  
Pompey's dear constant friend alone.  
Too much thou grievest with Pallid face,  
Since that thy husband is in place.  
Thy sorrow now is at that height  
As greater cannot vex thy sprite,  
But to bewail thy Pompey so,  
Should be the last love thou shouldst show  
Unto him dead; as yet no harms,  
accrues to thee by civil arms.  
Pompey in health doth live as yet,  
Though fortunes favours from him flit. 
Meaning for the loss of his glory.   
To that therefore thy love was bend,  
For which thou mak'st so great lament.  
¶ When these words in her ears did sound  
Her faint limbs scarce she lifts from ground.  
When as her voice at last she strains,  
And in this sort her state complains.  
Would God I had been destined  
To Caesar's wrack; in marriage bed. 
Cornelia replies to Pompey   
Then had not both my nuptial joys,  
Twice wronged the world with these annoys  
Erynnis first in wedlock state,  
To Crassus did me consecrate:  
And so devoted to his hands,  
I brought the wracks of Parthian lands, 
This was Crassus' son, a brave young nobleman slain in the Parthian wars with his father the rich Crassus a Roman Senator.   
Amongst the Roman martial bands.  
Now civil harms do follow me,  
And thy just cause; the Gods do flee  
By my default; O worthy Fere,  
My hapless match thou boughtest too dear.  
Had Fortune power to show such spite  
Upon so great and brave a knight.  
Accursed wretch, why did I match  
Myself to thee, these harms to hatch,  
Now let me thereof bide the pain,  
Which I will take without disdain,  
And that the seas may be more mild,  
And faith of kings rest undefiled.  
And all the world to thee stand fast,  
Into these deeps my body cast.  
For would my head were damned to die,  
So thou mightst conquest gain thereby  
Now Pompey make thy losses known,  

julia the daughter of Caesar, Pompey's late wife.  And julia let thy spite be shown.  
Where so in civil camps thou haunt,  
And on my bed thy vengeance vaunt.  
Be present here me to torment,  
Let thy wrath on me wretch be spent.  
Thy Pompey spare: so having said,  
Her grieved head again she laid  
Upon her husband's woeful breast,  
And in his arms awhile did rest.  
These words caused many a watery eye,  
Amongst the troops of standers by.  
And Pompey's heart even dulled with cares,  
For second sorrow now prepares.  
Thus Lesbos from his eyes did strain,  
Tears, that Pharsalia could not gain.  

The oration of the citizens of Mitilen to Pompey.  ¶ By this from Mitilen great store  
Of people came, that filled the shore.  
And said to Pompey in this wise,  
Great honour must to us arise  
For evermore, and to our state,  
So to be trusted with the Mate  
Of noble Pompey, as whose thralls  
We now devote our eitty walls  
With sacred vows; and do thee pray  
That thou one night with us wouldst stay,  
And us vouchsafe thy hosts to be,  
Our household Gods shall welcome thee.  
O Pompey by this grace of thine,  
Make us to future ages shine.  
That Roman guests that seek this shore,  
May for thy sake love us the more.  
No city in this conquered state,  
Now better sorteth with thy fate.  
All places now in hope may stand,  
For favour at the victor's hand.  
Already we have run the race 
The Mytilenes hopeless of Caesar's favour.   
That us hath brought in his disgrace.  
What though our Isle lie in the main;  
Can Caesar's Navy us constrain?  
Of Senators the greatest part  
Some certain place will hold for Mart.  
Thou mayst again repair thy fame  
In some one coast of noted name:  
The treasures of our Temples hold,  
Our Gods to thee shall give their gold.  
Our men and ships as thou shalt please, 
Mitelen wholly devotee's itself to Pompey.   
Shall be employed by land or seas.  
And Lesbos worth what it can make,  
Use as thy own and freely take.  
And lest that Caesar it possess,  
Take it to thee in thy distress.  
And this suspect take from our land,  
That have desired it at thy hand.  
That as when thy estate was high,  
Thou in our faith didst trust affy.  
So now in thy adversity  
Seem not to doubt our loyalty.  
This dear devotion of their part,  
Did greatly comfort Pompey's heart▪  
And unto him no little joy,  
To find such faith in most annoy.  
No land that's under heaven (quoth he)  
Hath dearer been than yours to me. 
Pompey's answer to the Mitelens.   
And such my trust I did approve  
With this great pledge of my hearts-love,  
For I to Lesbos trusty state  
Committed my dear spoused mate:  
Here was my sacred mansion, 
The confidence that Pompey had in the Mitelens.   
And Gods of my devotion.  
Another Rome to me this was;  
And when my ship to seas did pass,  
To this place first I took my flight,  
And on no other shore would light.  
Now since I know that Caesar hath  
Against this state conceived wrath,  
Because that during this our strife,  
You safely guarded Pompey's wife.  
Think you that I would now refrain  
To put my trust in you again,  
As though that now you stood in awe,  

Pompey acknowledgeth the Mittilens to be in Caesar's disgrace for his sake.  Caesar's dislikes on you to draw?  
When as I know that for our sakes,  
Already he as foes you takes.  
No, now about the world must I  
New forces seek, and fortunes try.  

Lesbos famous for faith to Pompey.  ¶ Alas! how happy Lesbos name,  
Will through all Ages fly with fame?  
Whether by thy example led,  
I shall by Kings be succoured:  
Or else that Lesbos hath alone  
To Pompey so great kindness shown.  
For now I have resolved my mind  
To try where I may comfort find,  
And who to me will be unkind:  
And if that any Gods there be,  
That the protection takes of me:  

Pompey's request to the Gods.  To them my last petitions are,  
That they the people's hearts prepare,  
As faithfully to me to stand,  
As do the people of this land.  
That though I now be put to flight,  
Yet for all that in Caesar's spite,  
Their gates may be reserved still  
For me to come and go at will.  
So having said, even with that word,  
His woeful wife he takes aboard:  

The grief of the Mittilens for Cornelia's departure.  The Mytilenes such moan then make  
That one would think they did forsake  
Their native soils; for on the strands  
They cry and wail, and wring their hands.  
But Pompey's fortune less they mourned,  
Then hers that with them had sojourned  
So long in all this civil broil,  
So as the people of this soil  
Lamented, as if they had lost  
A Citizen they loved most.  
The Matrons all held her so dear,  
That had she gone unto her Fere  
In happy state, with conquest gained,  
Yet had they not from tears refrained.  
So had she with her kind respects  
Obliged to her their dear affects,  
Her virtue and her modest grace,  
Her mild aspect and lovely face  
In all their hearts had ta'en such place.  
For she was of such humble cheer,  
Though wife to such a mighty Peer, 
The love and honour that the Mytilenes bare to Cornelia for her sweet behaviour.   
That she to them gave no dislike,  
But lived as a guest full meek;  
As though that she for succour came,  
And not as noble Pompey's Dame  
Left there when he his fortunes joyed,  
But as the wife of one destroyed.  
¶ Titan began now to decline,  
So as one half of his bright shine  
Was hid from us within the seas;  
The other half th' Antipodes  
Did then behold; so as nor we  
Nor they, could then his full eye see.  
But Pompey now could take no rest, 
Cares impediments to quiet sleep.   
So many cares torment his breast.  
Sometimes he calls unto his mind,  
How many Cities were combined  
By league unto the Roman state,  
How many King's confederate  
Of divers humours, took their part,  
Whom he might draw again to Mart.  
Sometimes he thinks upon the South,  
Whose lands the Sun hath parched with drought.  
And thus a world of cares and toil  
In his perplexed breast do broil.  
Sometimes in hope to levy Arms:  
Sometimes in dread of future harms. 
Pompey confers with his Pilot about his course.   
Then with the Master he confarres  
About the motions of the stars;  
And how the Coasts and lands do lie,  
The signs of weather in the sky,  
And when 'tis fit to hull or try:  
Or else with sails to cut the deeps,  
What star the Syrian quarters keeps;  
Or what star in the wain best stands,  
To guide a course for Lybian lands.  
¶ This skilful Pilot that had oft  
And long, these Naval Courses sought,  
And secret mysteries of the skies,  
In this sort unto him replies:  

The Pilots answer to Pompey.  We never (wretched Mariners)  
Do make our reckonings by those stars  
That wandering still roll to and fro,  
We might be much deceived so.  
But such as do not range nor role,  
But are still fixed near the pole,  
And never in Neptunus deeps  
His fiery twinkling torchet steeps:  
But always shines in one set place,  
By it we do direct our race:  
And when this star aloft doth tend,  
And that the lesser Bear is kend,  
Just pointing on my main yards end.  
The Bospheros main we do explore,  
And Seas that Circle Scythias shore.  
But if Arctophilax descend,  
The least point from our Top-masts end,  

The Pilots observations.  And that the little Bear appear  
Unto the seas somewhat more near,  
For Syrias ports our course we steer.  
But with Canopas, South we run,  
For he the Northern clime doth shun.  
Or if he keep our Larbord side,  
And so our helm for Pharos guide:  
Then in the middle of that main,  
Our ships upon the Syrts might strain.  
¶ But now I would be glad to know  
Your will, and whither you would go:  
And what coast fits best your avail,  
Accordingly to set our sail.  
Pompey to this unconstantly  
With doubtful humour doth reply.  
Always (quoth he) for our behoof,  
See in those seas you keep aloof 
Prmpey directs his Pilot what coasts to shun   
That are from Thessaly remote,  
And near Hesperia do not float.  
Shun you those seas or shores to find,  
Commit the rest unto the wind.  
My wife aboard with me shall stay,  
From Lesbos I took her away;  
Thither I did a due course bend,  
But Fortune now a port must lend.  
Thus having said, the Pilot hails,  
The Mariners do cut their sails.  
The sheats that equally inclined,  
But spooned just before the wind.  
He veares now to the larboard side,  
One tack unto the prow he tied,  
The other on the sturne belayes,  
And to Assinas coast assays;  
And where the surging billow shocks  
Alongst the Isle of Chios rocks.  
Now angry Neptune frothing chides,  
Whilst that the ship thus stems the tides;  
And all the while she holds her course, 
Upon the construction of this Simile all the Commentators do vary & are doubtful.   
He roaring foameth worse and worse.  
With no such ease and speedy change  
The Coachman can his charet range  
From right hand to the left hand side,  
When he his trampling steeds would guide;  
And circling wheels about doth trend,  
First to attain his races end.  
Phoebus' unto the world gives light,  
And dims the stars that shines by night▪  
When those that now did scattering fly  
From this late storm in Thessaly;  
With all speed after Pompey run,  
And on the seas he meets his son;  
Yet scarce clear of the Lesbian coast,  
And than more Princes of his host,  
That erst to him had faithful been,  
And in this state he now was in;  
A fugitive and overthrown,  
Did still to him their love make known.  

The Eastern Princes stand firm to Pompey in his distress.  And many Kings with martial trains,  
That in the Eastern climates reigns,  
And other Lords of powerful states,  
For all his wracked exiled fates,  
Stood firm his faithful constant mates.  
King Deiotarus, one of those  
That scap't away with Caesar's foes,  
Did follow Pompey in his flight,  
And was employed to raise new might.  
To him his charge in these words gives;  

Pompey's words to king Deiotarus.  Thou faithfullest king to me that lives,  
Since that the Roman power and host  
In the Aemathian fight is lost;  
Go try the favour of the East,  
As those that need fear Caesar lest:  
The Nations that the waters drinks  
Of Euphrates and Tigris brinks.  
To Pompey it shall be no grief  
In this distress to crave relief  
Of Medes, whereby to wage new war,  
And Scythians, though remote so far;  
But utterly to change our clime,  
And use requests in this hard time  
To proud Arsaces for his aid,  
And if old leagues be not decayed,  
But still in memory are borne:  
Then by that God that I have sworn,  
The thundering jove of Latium land,  
And by that holy reverent band  
Of Magis, that your oaths did bind,  
Prepare yourselves in warlike kind:  
Your quivers fill with shaft and dart,  
And your Armenian bows for Mart,  
bended with strings of Getan Art:  
And if (o Parthians) heretore  
To war on you I have forbore:  
When I did range the Caspian main,  
And with my Army did constrain  
The fierce Alani to my yoke,  
And never did the Parthes provoke.  
None did destroy, or seek their soil,  
Nor did enforce them to entoyle 
Pompey's favour to the Parthians.   
Themselves, their children, and their wives,  
For safeguard of their goods and lives,  
Within the Babylonian walls,  
Nor ever sought to make them thralls.  
But when I conquered Persian Realms,  
And the Chaldean utmost streams.  
Swift Ganges and Hydaspis fierce,  
That through the Eastern lands doth pierce,  
Wasting Nyseas ancient walls,  
And so into the Ocean falls;  
Where Phoebus lifts his shining face,  
I nearer Parthes then Persia was.  
Yet when I had subdued all these,  
My Arms in nought did them disease.  
Nor yet were they, 'mongst all the rest,  
For honour of my triumphs priest.  
They only were exempt by me  
Of all the Eastern Kings as free:  
With such desert I did them bind,  
And shall I Parthes ungrateful find?  
Nay more than this Arsaces' race  
At Pompey's hand hath found like grace.  
For after that same bloody strife,  
Where Crassus lost his host and life,  
What Romans could their hands contain  
From Parthes, that all our host had slain?  
Obliged to me by such deserts,  
Let them the like show on their parts. 
Pompey for revenge would join with the Parthes the most inveterate enemies of the Romans state.   
Now let the Parthes with Trumpets sounds  
Break out in force beyond their bounds:  
And Zeugma that same Palean Town,  
Let them surprise, or batter down.  
Ye Parthes for Pompey conquest gain,  
To conquer Rome is worth your pain.  
The King did no refusal make  
This hard request to undertake;  
But presently aside did lay  
His Royal rob and rich array:  
And in the habit him attires  
Of one of his inferior Squires.  
'tis safe for Kings in jeopardy  
To counterfeit base poverty.  
How much therefore doth lowly need  
For safety greatest Kings exceed,  
Freer from dangers and from dread?  
The King in this sort set on shore,  
Pompey then plies both sail and oar,  
Till he th' Icarian cliff had passed,  

Pompey's navigation, his wife being with him.  From Ephesus he bends his mast;  
And Colophonas' pleasant waves,  
And Samos rocks that foaming raves.  
And then a gentle puffing gale  
His sails from Coons coasts did hale.  
Gnydon he leaves, and Rhodes doth shun,  
That vove their Altars to the Sun.  
Then that great bay Telmesydos  
Aloof he flies, and overgoes:  
And from the middle of the main  
pamphilia's coast appeared plain.  
But yet he would not make adventure  
Within a walled town to enter.  

Phaselis, a little Island in the Mediterane.  Little Phaselis was the coast  
That Pompey first did make his oast.  
The slender habitation there  
Made him the less the place to fear:  
The empty houses people needed,  
His ship their troup by far exceeded.  
From hence again his course he bends,  
And sees how Taurus' mountain trends,  
Whence Dypsas to the seas descends.  
¶ Would Pompey ever this suspected  
When he the Pirates force subjecteth,  
Or ever in his mind have thought  
That to this stress he should be brought  
For safety so to range the main,  
In one poor ship with so small train.  
But now the Senate's greatest part  
Escaped from Pharsalia's Mart,  
Together met, though put in rout,  
And at the length found Pompey out;  
At anchor in the little port  
Calendries hight, 
The Senators escaped from the battle, come to Pompey.  where great resort  
Of shipping passeth to and fro,  
As Selyns stream doth ebb or flow.  
Pompey at length with heavy cheer,  
Desired them these words to hear;  
Companions dear in war and flight,  
The model of our Country's right: 
Pompey's oration to the Roman Lords that escaped from the battle.   
Although that now to this bare coast  
By wretched Fortune we be tossed,  
Consulting on Cylicias strands,  
Not guarded with our armed bands:  
Yet now we must begin again  
New projects, wars to entertain.  
To your brave minds good comfort yield,  
All fell not in Pharsalia's field:  
Nor am I so with fate oppressed,  
But that I can raise up my crest,  
And scorn the blow that us distressed.  
Could Marius in the Lybicke soil  
Repair again his bitter foil,  
And win to him a Consul's state,  
And fix his fame in Roman date?  
And think you I through Fortune's spite  
Will be suppressed with lesser might?  
In Grecian seas for my avail  
I do retain a thousand sail,  
And have as many Captains more  
That will attend me on the shore.  
Our force this battle rather parted  
Then any way the same subverted.  
My fame that is of such account,  
Can easily this loss surmount.  
The whole world's force I soon will move,  
My only name so much they love.  
Do you consider and advise  
What Realms or States most fittest lies  

Pompey desires them to give their opinions for aids to be sought.  To serve us now for our avail,  
Whose force and faith will not us fail:  
Whether that Lybia be the place,  
Or Egypt now as stands the case,  
Or Parthians friendship we embrace.  
Which of all these you estimate  
Worthiest to aid the Roman state.  
For me, my Lords, I will disclose  
In my conceit what I suppose:  
And all my reasons lay down flat  

Pompey sets down his conceit for succours.  That leads my mind to this or that.  
The Nilus King is but a youth,  
And that makes me to doubt his truth;  
For constant faith more sure doth rest  
Within a grave and manly breast.  
The Moor I do no whit applaud,  
We all do know them full of fraud.  
And how that wicked Carthage race  
Hath always practised Rome's disgrace  
We right well know; and that there rests  
More Hannibal's yet in their breasts.  
And as for the Numidian Kings,  
That now from bastard's races springs,  
Whose murderous hands the blood distaines  
Of their true lawful sovereigns;  
And did of late with so great pride  
Varus that led our force, deride;  

Meaning king juba.  Who sought his aid, and with disgrace  
Allotted Rome a second place.  
This makes me think 'tis best we prove  
Our friends by East, and trust their love.  
Great Euphrates with his vast streams  
Divides and boundeth many Realms.  
The Caspian sea hath limits large,  
And harbours safe within his verge.  
In other sort the heavens aspects,  
Th' Assyrian days and nights directs.  
That sea is of another stain,  
And flat secluded from our main:  
Their people conquering humours bear,  
And for the wars large Coursers rear.  
With stronger bows they battle wage,  
The young and old, and every age  
Affects his vigrous draft to show,  
Each arrow gives a deadly blow.  
The Parthes were first that broke the ranks  
Of Alexander's piked slanks. 
Crassus extols the Parthian forces.   
And Bactra that same City great  
Won from the Medes, their Regal seat,  
And Babylon with walls so high,  
That doth Assiria dignify.  
Our Piles the Parthians holds slight,  
And in the field with us dare fight:  
And with what force Scythes arrows fly,  
Crassus' defeat too well did try:  
They have not only heads of steel,  
Whose piercing force their foes do feel;  
But poison on those heads they fix,  
So as if any place it pricks,  
The smallest wound death with it brings,  
And all the blood with venomemings.  
¶ Would God no cause did me incline  
To trust to proud Arsaces' line. 
The Parths enemies to the Romans   
These Parthes with their subsisting fate  
Our Empire still did emulate:  
And all the heavenly powers with grace  
Have looked upon the Parthian race.  
But I would also send for bands,  
And valiant troops from other lands,  
The furthest East I would incite  
To send to us their Martial might.  
But if the Eastern faith refuse,  
So as their aid we cannot use,  
And the Barbarian leagues do fail,  
Let Fortune strike my shipwreck sail,  
And me convey to unknown coasts,  
Never subdued by Roman hosts.  

Pompey scorns to seek to those Nations that he hath triumphed over.  I never basely mean to pray  
Their aid, that erst did me obey.  
'twill comfort me when as I die,  
That in strange climes my limbs shall lie,  
Whereby proud Caesar shall not have  
The power to grace or wrong my grave.  
And I will only meditate  
The glory passed of my lives fate,  
Which that world's part did celebrate.  
What was beyond Meotis lake,  
And what scope Tannais did take  
With her streams trending in the East,  

Pompey famous in the East parts of the world.  So far hath my renown increased.  
To what lands hath my name more run  
For famous conquests by me won?  
Or else from whence hath my deserts  
More triumphs gained then from those parts?  
¶ O Rome! my enterprise now guide,  
What greater boon can heavens betide  
To thee, then in this civil Mart  
To see the Parthians bear a part;  
So to consume them with our Arms,  
And mix their wracks amongst our harms.  

A reason why to take aid of the Parthes.  For when that Caesar's forces stands  
Encountering with the Parthian bands,  
Fortune must me the victor make,  
Or else for Crassus' vengeance take.  
Thus said, he saw the Senate's mind  
Stood not to his advice inclined.  
But Lentulus amongst the rest  
Whom virtues courage forwards priest,  
And noble grief for Roman fate  
He holding then the Consul's state,  

A brave oration of the Consul Lentulus in answer of Pompey.  His worthy voice did elevate.  
¶ Hath so this late Thessalian blow  
Thy mind dejected and brought low?  
Hath one days fate the world oppressed?  
Must we amongst ourselves contest?  
Now after this Aemathian wound,  
Doth that all hope of help confound?  
Hath Fortune Pompey all bereft,  
That he in Parthians hands is left?  
Why shouldst thou as a runagate,  
So range the world to mend thy fate?  
In foreign climes, and in such lands  
As to our state malignant stands?  
And stars that us no good luck bodes  
Wilt thou adore Chaldean Gods?  
And with Barbarian rites polluted, 
Lentulus reproves Pompey's humour to the Parths.   
Be now the Parthians thrall reputed?  
Why did we first to arms descend,  
Our liberty but to defend?  
O wretch thou didst the world delude  
If thou canst live in servitude.  
Shall Parth that thee beheld with hate,  
A ruler in the Roman state?  
That saw thee from Hyrcania lead  
Great kings thy captives; and with dread  
Beheld the Indians conquered.  
See thee dejected and cast down,  
And basely yield to fortune's frown.  
Whilst they puffed up in mind with pride,  
Do but the Latium name deride.  
And value Rome less than their state,  
To see thee so degenerate.  
O Pompey in thy speech we find,  
Nought suiting with thy worth or mind,  
The Parth that doth not understand  
The language of the Latium land,  
When thou of him dost aid request, 
Abase reproach to Pompey.   
By tears thy mind must be expressed.  
Shall we this wounding scorn endure,  
That Parths shall our revenge procure?  
Rather than Rome with her own arms  
Shall remedy Hesperias harms.  
Did she for this thee chieftain make,  
That thou no more regard shouldst take,  
But spread abroad with such disgrace,  
Her maims unto the Scythian race,  
And secret scars; her to deface.  
What wilt thou teach the Parthian swarms,  
The way to vex us with their arms?  
Hath Rome the hoped comfort lost,  
Of such a war and such an host?  
Because no kings she would obey,  
But that her Citizens should sway?  
And wilt thou now the wide world range,  
To bring whole nations fierce and strange  
To ransack Rome? that will display  
Those ensigns that they won away  
From Crassus, when they vanquished,  
And must from Euphrates be led,  
And here to our disgrace be spread?  
That king that us his aid denied,  
When as our Fortune was untried,  

The unlikelihood of Parthian aids.  And came not to Emathia field,  
To us will he now comfort yield,  
And so provoke the victor's spite,  
Whom he doth hear to be of might.  
And now will Pompey's fortunes run;  
Such trust with them did never won.  
The nations of the Northern climes,  
Where falls the dews and foggy rhymes,  
Are stout in war and fear not death,  
But those that in the East take breath,  
And lead their lives in warmer soils,  
Lulled in sweet air, hate martial broils.  
You see what loose attires and veils  
Their men do wear that flit like sails,  
The Parth upon the Median fields  
And Sarmates downs that large scope yields  
And on those plains by Tigris banks,  

The nature & manner of Parthias fight.  When they in length may stretch their ranks  
And at their pleasure come and go,  
Cannot be vanquished by a foe,  
But where the soil is full of hills  
These horsemen come not by their wills,  
Their roaming bow can make no fight,  
In bushy straits, or in the night  
When need requires they never guides  
Their horse to swim from sides to sides,  
Nor with their arms stem streaming tides.  
Nor yet will they their fight make good,  
When as their bodies bathe in blood:  
Nor yet endure the parching heat,  
Nor in the dust to toil and sweat.  
They have no engines for the war,  
For rams they know not what they are,  
They want the art a trench to fill,  
And he the Parth repulseth still;  
And as a wall doth him oppose,  
That can keep out weak arrows blows.  
His battle weak, his war is flight,  
His troops still ranging and but slight,  
A soldier fit to quit a place,  
But not to put his foe to chase.  
His arms defiled with poisons art, 
The Parths no soldiers disciplined.   
He dares not come to handy Mart,  
A far off he his shafts doth dart.  
With every blast of wind they flit  
And as it blows they miss or hit.  
¶ The sword is of more great import,  
And best with valiant men doth sort,  
The Falchion sharp; but the first fight  
Disarms the Parths of all their might,  
For when their quivers emptied are,  
They do retire and end their war,  
They never trust unto their hands,  
In poisoned shafts their fury stands.  
O Pompey in the chance of war,  
Thinkst thou it doth nor make nor mar, 
The sword the chief weapon of all arms.   
Whether the soldier do provide  
A trusty sword girt to his side?  
And doth thy case thee so constrain,  
That thou wouldst worthless aid retain?  
And nations so remote wouldst try,  
And out of thine own country die?  
Is some Barbarian land designed,  
The place where thou thy grave must find?  
There some base shrine thy limbs shall have,  
Since they would not vouchsafe a grave,  
To Crassus that his fate complains,  
But better hap for thee remains.  
For our last pain with death is fled,  
Which manly hearts do never dread.  
For death Cornelia needs not care  
That wicked King her life will spare.  
We well do know the barbarous rites▪  
That they do use in loves delights,  
And how like to the brutish beasts,  
All human laws their lusts detests.  
With wives they never contracts hold,  

The luxury & impudent venery of the Parths.  But like to swine they do unfold  
The secrets of the nuptial bed,  
And that same Tyrant's court is sped  
With thousands for his concubines,  
After his feasts and change of wines.  
One man provoketh his delight  
With sundry women every night,  
The brothers with the sisters weds,  
The sons defile their mother's beds,  
That wicked rumour that doth run  
Of Oedepus that Theban son,  
How doth the world condemn and loath,  
Although unwitting to them both,  
How often hath Arsaces' race,  
That holds in Parth the regal place,  
By this incestuous savage mood  
Commixed been with slavish blood.  

He speaks of Cornelia's danger and dishonour to live amongst the Parthes concubines.  So as great Scipio's noble child,  
Shall not all only be defiled,  
But with a thousand more be wed,  
As wives to this Barbarians bed.  
Although his kingly lust and flame,  
Stirred up with beauty of the dame.  
And glory of her husband's name  
Will make him more to her incline,  
Then any other Concubine.  
For how much more the Parth delights,  
In human wracks and foul despites,  
He will know her for Crassus' mate,  
As destined to the Parthian fate,  
And deem that she herself must owe  
A captive for that overthrow.  
O let that miserable foil  
Of Eastern wounds, in thy breast boil▪  
And be not only thou ashamed  
That to a base King thou hast framed  
Petitions, for to lend thee aid;  
Bu● be thou all as much dismayed,  
That first thou civil arms displayed:  
For no fault more the people loath  
Acted by thee and Caesar both, 
This civil wars did hinder the revenge of Crassus and his army lost.   
Then that you two by civil war  
Revenge for Crassus do debar.  
Our Captains all should then have tried  
Their force against their Parthian pride,  
And rather than have Armies wanted,  
The Northern climes should have displanted 
A brave speech.   
And from the Dakes and from the Rhine  
The Roman Legions withdrawn clean,  
And so strong forces to provide,  
Have barred the Empire on that side.  
Until perfidious Susis town,  
And Babylon they had thrown down.  
To serve the Crassis for their tomb,  
As monuments to honour Rome.  
To fortune we our prayers send,  
That with the Parths our peace may end.  
And if thessalia's battle past,  
Hath given this civil war his last,  
Let him that conquest doth enjoy,  
Against the Parths his force employ. 
Lentulus' respects the honour of Rome more than his malice to Caesar.   
That nation of the world alone  
I could be glad were overthrown  
By Caesar's arms, and that for it,  
He might in triumphs charet sit,  
Think that ere thou with sucst an host  
Couldst pass Araxes frozen cost.  
Old Crassus' shade with heavy cheer,  

A supposition of that Crassus' ghost should say to Caesar.  Stitched full of darts would first appear  
Before thy face; and thus would speak  
O thou that shouldst due vengeance wreak,  
For this huge slaughter on us made,  
Thou whom we did our hopes persuade,  
Wouldst give our naked bones a grave,  
That now in mould no rest can have,  
camest thou a league and peace to crave:  
Then will those slaughters memories,  
Present themselves before thine eyes,  
When on the walls with stakes yborn,  
Those heads thou seest set up in scorn,  
And Euphrates that did confound  
So many Lords in her streams drowned,  
And Tigris that our bodies slain,  
Did under earth a time retain,  
And then disgorged them again.  
If with thy mind thou canst dispense,  
To pass by these without offence,  

A tant to Pompey.  As well mayst thou o Pompey yield  
Thyself unto Pharsalia's field,  
Where Caesar sitting Conqueror.  
Thou mercy mayst of him implore.  
But better weigh our Roman cause,  
If thou dost fear those Tyrant's paws,  
That in the South have residence,  
And Juba's faithless insolence.  

Lentulus allows that succours may be sought of Ptolomey.  Let Pharus King of us be prayed,  
And Lagus Realm to yield us aid,  
The Lybicke Syrts do safely bound  
Upon this side Egyptian ground.  
And Nilus from all foreign foes,  
With his seven heads doth it enclose  
On other side; and 'tis a land  
That of itself can live and stand  
Contentedly; and needs not crave  
Her neighbours help; nor showers to have  
Nilus doth so her pastures lave.  
Whose sceptre Ptolemie a boy  
And regal crown doth now enjoy. 
Ptolomey a ward to Pompey.   
Besides to Pompey he doth rest  
Obliged, and by his sire's bequest  
Thy pupil is, than who would fear  
A name that doth b●● shadow bears.  
His age as yet from guile is free,  
Such faith you could not look to see,  
Such laws or such integrities,  
Nor service to the Deities.  
In that king's court that reigned last, 
He means that the old king was fuller of wiles and impieties.   
Long rule all right doth overcast.  
Under a king that newly reigns,  
All things are mild, no force constrains.  
No more he said, this swayed their mind,  
What liberty last hopes do find?  
To Pompey's censure none inclined.  
¶ Then they Cilician coasts forsake,  
And sail for Cyprus Isle do make,  
Where Venus mindful of that place, 
Cyprus', Venus' Island.   
In Paphos for the islands grace  
Her Altars keeps whence spring her race.  
If we may think that on the earth,  
The heavenly powers may take their birth.  
Or that the Gods (as some do rave)  
Like human wights beginnings have.  
When Pompey from this harbour wends,  
About the Cyprian cliffs he trends,  
And Southward doth his way direct,  
But with contrary tides was checked  
That do alongst those channels sweep, 
Pharos a tower where a great lantern was set to direct ships by night on those costs.   
Neither doth he a strait course keep  
Towards mount Cassium, by the light  
That Pharus tower sets out at night.  
But fell with Egypt's lowest shore,  
Scarce stemming tides with sail and oar.  
And hardly thither got withal  
Where Nilus parted greatest fall  
With her seventh stream and mighty sway,  
Doth fall into Pelusium bay.  
It was the season and the time  
When Libra being in her prime,  
Indifferently the balance sways,  
With equal lengths of nights and days.  
And Autums solstice now requits,  
By lengthening her ensuing nights,  
The hours that were ta'en away  
By springs solstice increasing day.  
Now when that Pompey had descried  
That Egypt's king did then reside  
Near Cassius mount he tacks about,  
Seeking a way to find him out,  
For yet did neither daylight fail,  
Nor had the ship yet strooken sail.  

The scouts on the coast discover Pompey's ships.  ¶ Forthwith the horse scouts that did stand  
For Sentinels alongst the land,  
Alarms gave to all the shores  
And sild the court with great uproars.  
The sudden coming of this man,  
For Counsel small time gave them then.  
Yet all the vipers of that Court  

The Egyptians go to counsel.  To consultation did resort  
Amongst the rest of all which Peers,  
One Achoreus full of years,  
A reverent sire, whom schooling age  
More modest made, and free from rage.  
He was a native of that soil  
That flowing Nilus doth entoyle.  
In Memphis he received his lore,  
That doth vain Rites so much adore,  
Where he had long time exercised  
(As Priest) the laws they had devised,  

Apis was a Bull that the Memphites honoured as a God, whom they suffered to live but some few years, & then took another in his place. Some name him Osiris.  In honour of that horned beast  
Which they with deity invest:  
To whom for name they Apis give,  
Many of which he did outlive.  
This Achoreus counsel gave,  
That faith and merit ought to have  
A great respect unto it borne,  
And that they ought not hold in scorn  
The plighted league and vows of love  
That this King's father did approve.  
And unto Pompey still professed, 
Here it seems the Author was defective by injury of time and Achoreus speech lost, which the translator supplied, as pertinent.   
By whom his kingdom he possessed,  
For what quoth he can mortals bind  
To friendship in a higher kind,  
If kings and states no faith maintain,  
How shall the vulgar truth retain?  
When they by higher powers are taught  
All loyal trust to set at nought.  
Why do all kings their subjects swear  
Fidelity to them to bear,  
If that the kings own actions teach?  
Of vows and leagues to make a breach?  
When due respects fails in the head,  
How will the members be misled,  
We see that all the world is bend  
To seek the way that Princes went.  
All kings by Ceremonies stand,  
By laws they rule with powerful hand.  
But if those laws they vioalate,  
They weaken then their own estate. 
Order and justice the support of regal power.   
For where we settled order sways  
Who there can rule, or who obeys?  
Where justice force doth strike no stroke,  
It there dissolves subjections yoke.  
When kings themselves lawless grow,  
They hazard then to overthrow  
Their own estate; and teach that mind  
That is ambitiously inclined,  
How to aspire by fraud or might,  
To reave away their sovereigns' right.  
He that no good deserts observes,  
The like at others hands deserves.  
Thy father did by Pompey's grace  
Of Sovereignty obtain this place, 
Pompey established Ptolemy's father in the kingdom.   
And so thyself enjoys this land,  
Which he received at Pompey's hand.  
For it he died in Pompey's debt,  
Which favour thou mayst not forget.  
For thereby shall the Roman state,  
Esteem thee but a Prince ingrate.  
And Caesar's self condemn thy mind  
As most disloyal and unkind.  
And think how much thou wouldst him scorn,  

Ptolemy would have done as much by Caesar if he had been in his mercy.  If he in like state were forlorn;  
And forced thy royal aid to crave,  
Of whom a friend no help could have.  
In his brave mind he will thee deem,  
A Prince of worth and more esteem  
For favouring Pompey in distress,  
That at thy hands deserves no less,  
Then now to use him with disdain,  
In hope thereby Caesar to gain.  
A foe that man will dignify,  
That helps his friend in misery:  
Though treasons act secure his state,  
Yet Caesar will the traitor hate,  

Ptolomey at the first aided Pompey against Caesar.  And think that thou to none dost bear  
Good will, but such as grows by fear,  
And therefore will the Roman state  
Deem that thou didst both party's hate.  
But do not envied courses prove,  
Thy greatness rather ground on love.  
With kings the noble lions port,  
Then Foxes wiles, doth better sort.  
Pompey again his head may raise,  

Marius' banished recovered his honour again in the Roman state.  As Marius did in former days:  
Or if not so, yet are we sure,  
The Roman Empire will endure,  
For her foundation doth not stand,  
By Caesar's or by Pompey's hand.  
Her Peers, her people, and her power,  
One battle cannot so devour;  
That we should think we may disdain  
Her Empire that doth still remain.  
The bloody field at Cannae fought,  
More slaughter than Pharsalia wrought.  
And though that the Trebeian fight,  
And Tracimene did give them flight,  
Yet Rome's estate subsisted still,  
And did revenge herself at will.  
For Hannibal was vanquished,  
And Carthage Empire ruined.  
Though thou no aid to Pompey give,  
Yet like a king his wants relieve,  
And give him safety in thy lands,  
That custom with all Nations stands.  
For Caesar's self hath tried like grace  
When he did fly from Sulla's face,  
And for the safety of his head,  
Unto king Nichomedes fled,  
And therefore doth by practice know,  
That kings in honour ought to show  
Remorse on him that comes a guest: 
Kings in honour ought to relieve distressed Princes for that it may be their own ease.   
For kings themselves may be distressed.  
And Ptolemy thy father late,  
Oppressed by his father's hate,  
Was aided by the Roman state.  
Though Caesar for a time may reign, 
Rome ever an enemy to Monarchy.   
Yet Rome doth Monarchy disdain.  
And her brave spirits that still lived free,  
To vassalage will not agree.  
Mean while defile not thou thy youth,  
Ungratefully unto that truth 
Ingratitude reproved.   
That heretofore hath showed such grace  
To thee, and to thy kingly race.  
Thy dying father did commend  
The care of thee as to a friend,  
To Pompey's trust, which in just sort  
He did discharge and thee support.  
If this may not oblige thy mind,  
Who right of thee can hope to find.,  
Be well advisd and stand in awe,  
The world's defame on thee to draw  
In thy young years, for such a stain  
Will all thy life on thee remain.  
The vessel always holdeth fast  
The sent whereof it first did taste. 
Young years are apt to be distalned with ill manners & ever to retain the taste thereof   
But if thou wilt nor Pompey lend  
Thy aids; that Caesar may offend;  
Nor in thy kingdom let him rest  
For safeguard of his life distressed,  
Nor with thy bounty him relieve  
That to thy sire this Crown did give.  
Yet him dismiss in courteous sort,  
When he sets sail to leave this port.  
Harm not his life, he was thy friend,  
For that would men and Gods offend  

He dissuades the king from using any violence to Pompey by the example of Busuris king of Egypt.  All those that such vile acts have done,  
Into the like mishaps have run.  
Busyris that with bloody vain  
All strangers so did entertain:  
Was used at last with like despite  
Revenged by the Herculean might.  
He that with blood upholds his state  
The most do fear, and all do hate:  
And he that hated is of all  
Is sure into mischance to fall.  
That Counsellor that would thee good,  
Will thee dehort from Roman blood.  
For though the Romans now do jar,  
And entertain a civil war.  
Long will they not be so beguiled.  
That malice will be reconciled.  
Mean while this war unto them shows  
Both feigned friends and secret foes.  
And mischief than will sure betide  
To those that played on either side,  
For when this civil strife is dated,  
And foreign wrongs shall be debated,  
O then will they revengement have  
Of all that in their blood did rave.  
Therefore it thee concerns o king,  
To look what future change may bring.  
And not alone to meditate  

That it behooves Princes to love & eye to the future as well as to the present.  The present ordering of thy state.  
The skilful Pilot will not trust  
The glaring Sun, but doubts a gust,  
And doth accordingly prepare  
To have his sails and tackling you're.  
O Ptolomey then govern so,  
To give no vantage to the foe. 
Give no advantage to a foe, nor offence to a true friend   
Nor yet to serve thy present ends,  
Too careless be of tried friends.  
¶ To this Photinus, prone to ill,  
(Who better knew with flattering skill  
To draw a Prince to tyrannize)  
In hate of Pompey thus replies.  
Rightful respects (o Ptolomey)  
Brings many Princes to decay. 
Photinus' wicked oration.   
Observed faith so much commended,  
Hath with repentance often ended,  
When men will strive to elevate  
That Fortune means to ruinate. 
Machiavel's Master.   
The Fates and Gods observe aright  
Thy wretches damned by their despite;  
Combine thou with the happy wight.  
As far as is this earthly scope,  
Distant from high heavens vaulted cope,  
And fire and waves repugnant are:  
So truth and profit ever jar.  
The power of Sceptres than decays,  
When truths regards their actions sways. 
Truth & profit repugnant.   
'tis truly said that foolish pity  
Hath oft confounded many a City.  
Sly policy with searching ends,  
Envied Kingdoms states defends.  
Except the sword thou often draw  
Thou canst not make thy will a law: 
A persuasion to cruelty.   
Do that and hold them all in awe.  
O let him from a court depart,  
That hath a pious tender heart.  
Mild modesty and mighty power  
Cannot reside in one self bower.  
Fear still accosts Regality  
That is ashamed of cruelty.  
Not without ill intention borne,  
Pompey thy young years so doth scorn;  
To think that thy unconquered might  
From these shores cannot him affright.  
Such guests may not deprive thy throne,  
Heirs thou hast nearer of thine own.  
If Egypt's Sceptre thou abhor,  

Meaning Cleopatra, then in disgrace with her brother.  Thy banished sister then restorre.  
We will defend the kingdoms right  
Against the proud Italian might.  
What Pompey heretofore had not,  
Shall never be the victor's lot.  
But now that Pompey is forlorn  
Of all the world, and Fortune's scorn;  
And no where interest hath at all,  
He seeks with what land he may fall,  
His sense these civil broils do stall.  
Caesar alone doth not him fright,  
But he doth shun the Senate's sight;  
Of whom the greatest part and power  
Thessalian vultures now devour.  
And all those Nations he doth dread  
Whose bloods together for him shed,  
He basely hath abandoned.  
And shames of those Kings to be known,  

He invighes against Pompey.  Whose Fortunes he hath overthrown.  
Thessaly hath him guilty tried,  
Not knowing where his head to hide.  
He now accosteth Egypt's soil,  
Which yet he hath not brought to spoil.  
And gives us by this vile pretence,  
Just cause against him of offence.  
For why should he engage us so  
That now rest free from war or foe;  
And seek to bring our land and state,  
So deeply into Caesar's hate?  
Is ours the Realm on which in spleen  
Thou fain wouldst lay Pharsalia's teen,  
That with thy wracks we ruin'd been?  
Just cause doth us good leave afford  
To free this peril by the sword.  
But where 'tis urged at thy request,  
The Senate did our King invest  
With this Crown; we for that again,  
With aids, thy quarrel did maintain.  
But now this sword worn by my side,  
Which fate now bids me to provide,  
O Pompey must not thee offend, 
He speaks as indifferent, not caring if both parties were ruined.   
But through the bowels shall transcend  
Of him that conquered was of late,  
I wish it rather Caesar's fate.  
We driven are to go that way  
That Fortune goes, who all doth sway.  
Doubtst thou (O Pompey) if it be  
A course most needful now for me  
To violate thy wretched life,  
When lawful 'tis to free all strife?  
With what hope didst thou (hapless wight)  
Desire upon our coast to light?  
When we are not prepared for war?  
Our people scarcely able are  
With spades to delve those clayey lands  
That Nilus softens to our hands.  
'tis fit to measure our own force,  
And of ourselves to take remorse. 
An argument against the aiding of Pompey, and wisely to consider their own estate.   
Thou Ptolomey mayst (if thou wilt)  
Mend Pompey's wrack that lies now spilled,  
When Rome itself dures for his guilt.  
Dar'st thou thessalia's ashes rear  
And call in wars thy realm to tear?  
Before these late Pharsalian broils  
We kept ourselves from martial toils.  
Would Pompey new wars undertake  
With our hands, since all him forsake?  
Would he provoke the victors might  
Again, that hath put him to flight?  
And pity tells us (as you say)  
We should help wretches in decay. 
The humour of true worldlings.   
But wisdom says, we should affect  
To like those Fortune doth respect.  
What foolish trust would leagues combine  
With friends, in poverty that pine?  
¶ This wicked counsel all allowed, 
Evil counsel soon followed   
The boyish King was likewise proud  
To have the honour him decreed  
As lawful to act such a deed,  
By Sycophants that soothe his mind,  
Whereto Achillas was designed.  
And to the seas side they repair,  
A wicked shore for this affair.  
O this was that same traitorous land,  
That borders on the Cassian sand,  
Whereas on Egypt's coasts a shelf  
near to the Syrts doth stretch itself.  
There they a little frigget manned  
With armed monsters in a band.  
O heavens! how could the river Nile  
And barbarous Memphis so defile  
Themselves; and that same tender breed,  
That the Canopian I'll doth feed,  

The people about Nilus' tender and not martial.  Have hearts to act so vile a deed?  
Doth civil fate the whole world stain?  
Must Roman Rulers thus be slain?  
Doth Egypt slaughters new afford?  
Must Pharus on us use the sword?  
O civil wars, to your own Arms  
Reserve our proper Country's harms:  
And do revenge your own blood spilled,  
Chase from you odious foreign guilt.  
If noble Pompey were designed  

How disgraceful it was to Rome to have her Peers slain by her tributary princes.  By Caesar's sword his date to find.  
Durst Ptolemy so traitorously  
Doom one of so great name to die?  
And thou Achillas half a man,  
Thou Eunuch whom the world doth ban,  
How dared thou so with hands profane  
(Whilst heaven did thunder) work his bane?  
He that the world by Arms hath tamed,  
Him that three Triumphs so had famed,  
The Champion of the Senate's state,  
The victor's son-in-law but late.  
This might alone for reason stand  
To stay the Pharian Tyrant's hand.  
He was a noble Roman borne,  
With thy sword must our breasts be torn?  
Little know'st thou (unhappy boy) 
He reproves young Ptolemy for this treachery.   
Little know'st thou thine own annoy;  
How ficklely thy fortune stands,  
That by no right now hold'st thy lands;  
Since him thy wicked sword hath slain  
By whose grace thou didst rule and rain.  
¶ Now Pompey strooken had his sail,  
And in his ship, for more avail,  
His Mariners fell to the Ore,  
So to convey him to the shore.  
Thus passing on with his small fleet,  
A little Galley did him meet, 
Pompey prepares to go a land in Egypt   
That was with wicked villains manned,  
With show to bring him to the land.  
Then Egypt's kingdom they professed  
Was to his love and service priest.  
And therewithal they offer make 
The pretended show of love from the Egyptian king to Pompey.   
That he the benefit would take  
Of their small skiff to come a shore  
From his tall ship that could not more,  
Nor on those channels safely ride  
And very hardly stem the tide;  
By reason that the checking wave  
Did with contrary currents rave: 
A slight used to draw Pompey into their skiff.   
And to all shipping perilous  
That on those costs were venturous.  
¶ But had not destiny ordained  
And that which could not be refrained,  
The doom of the aeterne decree,  
To which his fate must needs agree; 
Destiny inevitable.   
That Pompey to this shore must wend  
There to receive his woeful end.  
He wanted not advice of those  
That were his friends, to doubt these foes.  
For that if they good faith had meant,  
And that the King with true intent  
Would welcome him unto that land, 
Pompey's friends alleged a reason of suspicion.   
Given to his sire by Pompey's hand.  
The Tyrant then with all his fleet  
In state with honour would him meet.  
But he to destiny gives way,  
And as they willed he did obey.  
Leaving his ship he their skiff enters,  
And scorning fear he death adventers:  
Wherewith Cornelia headlong flies  
Into the hostile skiff likewise,  
Seeing her husband so gone out  

Cornelia distasteth Pompey's adventure.  Transported with the careful doubt  
That they did plot some villainy,  
And therefore kept him company.  
Rash woman stay behind (he said)  
And so to do his son he prayed;  

Pompey's persuasion to his wife & son.  And bids them there aloof expect  
Of this adventure the effect:  
And well observe with what faith led  
They now will entertain his head.  
But all in vain he charms deaf ears,  
For now Cornelia, mad with fears,  
Her hands lifts up with frighted brow;  
Cruel, without me, whither now  

Cornelia's words of impatience to Pompey.  Meanest thou to go? must I again  
In solitary sort remain,  
And rest the company of thee  
Now from Thessalian dangers free?  
We wretches never sundered are  
But there ensues some heavy care.  
Why didst thou not thy sails divart,  
And fly into some other part,  
And leave me (wretch) in Lesbos placed  
If from all lands I must be chased.  
Thy company I cannot please,  
But only on the raging seas.  
When she in vain had thus complained,  
In doubt her own shipside she strained.  
With dread amazed her eyes she rolled,  
And did not Pompey then behold.  
These in the ships did doubtful stand  

The counsel of Pompey's friends for his landing.  Of Pompey's fortune on the land;  
Not fearing fear or treachery,  
But doubting that too humbly  
He would that King for aid entreat  
To whom he gave that Regal seat.  
But as he meant a shore to pass,  
He suddenly saluted was  
By one, a Roman soldier,  
That in a Pharian boat drew near, 
Septimius, a Roman soldier, that served Ptolemy, described.   
Septimius hight (o heavenly shame)  
That he his Country should defame  
One of the guard to Ptolomey  
As his base weapon did display.  
His Roman pile was set aside,  
Fierce, violent, enraged with pride:  
No savage beast could him exceed  
For slaughter, or for bloody deed.  
A man would think that Fortune meant  
That so much blood should not be spent,  
Nor yet so many people wracked,  
Because the war his right hand lacked.  
And that his murderous sword so far  
Was banished the Pharsalian war.  
But Fortune such thou spread'st abroad,  
That civil slaughters might be stroad  
In every coast, to bring defame  
Unto the victor's cruel name.  
And that thy stories just complaint  
Should all the Gods with shame attaint.  
So did this Roman sword obey  
The King, and Pompey thou mayst say,  
This Palean Princox did not dread  
With thine own sword to reave thy head.  
And future times shall still record  
Septimius name to be abhorred.  
But with what terms to be expressed,  
If Brutus' fact the world detest?  
Now his last hour approached on,  
For he with Pharian barge is gone,  
And of himself the power had lost,  
The Tyrant's monsters him accost  
With naked swords upon him bend,  
And when he saw their vile intent,  

Pompey covers his face with his cloak when he saw the traitors press upon him.  With weapons priest to give the stroke,  
Upon his face he throws his cloak.  
Disdaining that his bared head  
To fortune should be offered.  
And therewithal he closed his eyes,  
His spirit he suppressed likewise,  

Pompey's resolution.  Because he would no moans express,  
Nor tears to make his virtues less.  
¶ But when Achillas (damned wretch)  
With murderous glaive he made a breach  

Achillas and Septimius do murder Pompey.  Into his side, with gaping wound:  
Nor sigh nor groan yet did he sound.  
But manfully the stroke did bide,  
And only turned his face aside.  
And from his place he never moves,  
But dying so himself approves.  
And thus resolves within his thought,  
Who then this villainy had wrought.  
All after times that us succeeds,  
And do record the Romans deeds,  
This wicked act will not obscure,  
But whilst the heaven and earth endure  
To all parts of the world will fly  
This sip and Pharian perfidy.  
But Pompey now thy fame intend,  
Fate long thee happy life did lend:  
And didst thou not, by dying, try  
The valour that in thee doth lie?  
How should men know that as thou list  
Adversity thou couldst resist?  
Give then no way to others shame,  
Nor yet this actor only blame.  
Though others hand thy life hath wracked,  
Believe it to be Caesar's fact.  

The Author's bitterness in taxing Caesar.  Let them my carcase rend at will,  
O Gods I shall be famous still!  
No power this happiness can rend,  
Though Fortune be no more my friend,  
I am not wretched in my end.  
My dear Cornelia and my son  
Do see this slaughter on me done,  
And therefore Sorrow I thee pray,  
Shut up my woes, and all dismay.  
But if my wife and son see this  
With grief, their love the greater is.  
Such was the fortress of his mind  
Thus stout in death he life resigned.  
¶ But now Cornelia's patience  
Could not so easily dispense  
To see this deed on Pompey done,  
As if herself that hap had run.  
So as with wretched sighs and cries,  
She dims the air, and fills the skies.  
O my dear husband I am she  
That thus hath bred the wrack of thee,  
When Lesbos Isle with fatal stay  
Drew thee so far out of the way.  
Then Caesar's plots arrived before  
Thyself, on damned Nilus' shore.  
For who else durst take liberty  
On thee to show such cruelty?  
But whosoever that thou be  
Ordained thereto by heavens decree;  
Or else by Caesar's hest designed:  
Or from thine own corrupted mind,  
Upon his head such rage to show;  
O cruel! thou dost little know  
Where noble Pompey's heart doth rest, 
Cornelia's complaint for the murdering of Pompey.   
Come with thy sword and pierce this breast  
That unto him is vowed and bend  
That more than death would him torment  
Show, my head ere his life be spent.  
I am not guiltless of this war,  
As other Roman matrons are;  
For neither I upon the main,  
Nor in the Camp did him refrain.  
I stuck to him in misery,  
When Kings did shun his company.  
Have I (O husband) this deserved,  
In thy safe ship to be preserved?  

A bitter interrogation.  Ungrateful man, thou spard'st thy wife!  
Was I than worthy of my life  
When death on thee his force would try?  
No, I in spite of Kings will die.  
O Mariners stay not my veaze,  
Headlong to plunge into the seas.  
Or with your hands prepare a twine,  
That strangle may this throat of mine:  
Or some one that was Pompey's friend,  

Cornelia desires to die.  Come with thy sword and my life end.  
Thou shalt do that for Pompey's sake,  
Which Caesar's fury else will take.  
O cruel wights! why should you give  
Me longer life, that loath to live?  
But husband mine, thou art not dead,  
Of myself yet I am not head.  
Of these, my death I cannot crave,  
The victor must that honour have.  
So having said, amidst them all  
Rapt with a trance, she down did fall,  
And thence was borne in mazed plight  
In her own ship, that then took flight.  
¶ But though their swords from side to side  
Had pierced him through with gashes wide;  
He still retained within his face  
A sweet aspect and reverent grace:  

Pompey's sweet aspect after he was slain, and lay dead.  His brows against the Gods he bent,  
And when his life was gone and spent,  
Yet in his looks, or in his cheer,  
No change at all there did appear,  
As they themselves did make report  
That saw him murdered in that sort,  
For cruel he Septimius,  
To make his act more odious,  
His sacred face laid open bare,  

Septimius uncovers Pompey's face after he was slain, and hacks off his head.  The covering vail he rend and tore,  
And whilst the head yet breathes with sweat  
He takes it up, and thwart a seat  
The lithy hanging neck he puts,  
And so the veins and sinews cuts.  
Then long he hacks the knotty bone,  
To cut it clean he Art had none.  
But with his hewing that he makes,  
From off the corpses the head he takes. 
Achillas useth Septimius basely, and takes the head from him.   
The which Achillas from him tears,  
And in his hand it proudly bears.  
O Roman Soldier, slavish base,  
That woulds thyself so much disgrace  
To be an underling to such.  
For since thy hand had done so much  
Upon that head of so great fame,  
Thou shouldst thyself have borne the same.  
O shameful Fates! this boyish King,  
When they to him the head did bring,  
That he might know his manly look  
The same in his right hand he took,  
And by the hair he did it hold,  
Those reverent locks now hoary old, 
Ptolemy views Pompey's head, holding it by the hair.   
That had so many Kings controlled,  
And shadowed his comely brow,  
This noble head he pitcheth now  
Upon a Pharian sharpened stake, 
Pompey's head borne on a stake by the Egyptians.   
Whilst yet with life the cheeks did quake.  
And whilst with throbs the spirits beat,  
And ere the eyes were thoroughly set.  
So was this honoured head abused,  
That never peace for war refused.  
The Country's laws, the armed field,  
And Rostrum did him reverence yield.  
That noble face, that brave aspect  
The Roman fortune did affect.  
But yet this wicked Tyrant's heart  
Was not suffisd with this vile part, 
Pompey's head embalmed, & preserved to be presented Caesar.   
For he desires his villainy  
Might go beyond his perfidy:  
And when they cleansed his head and brain,  
So as no humours should remain  
To putrefy, than Art they use  
To keep the face, and balm infuse.  
¶ Thou offspring last degenerate  
Of Lagus line, art near thy date:  

Meaning Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, after Ptolemy her brother.  For thy incestuous sister's hand  
Shall reave thy sceptre and thy land.  
Must Pompey's corpses with so great scorn  
Lie on the sands mangled and torn;  
And thence be cast from side to side  
Against the rocks with every tide?  
Whilst that thy Macedonian race  

He inveighs against Ptolemy for not bringing Pompey's body.  In sacred sepulchres have place:  
And that their ashes quiet rest,  
With Graves and Monuments possessed;  
And damned ghosts of wicked mood  
Come from the Ptolmean brood,  
Be closed in Pyramids of fame,  
And with Mausolas worthy frame.  
Was it a work of so great pain  
To let the corpses entire remain,  
That Caesar might behold it plain?  
Hath Fortune, after all her smiles,  
Thus Pompey foiled with her last guiles?  
Are all those glories him assigned,  
Shut up with death of such a kind?  
O cruel dame! must all thy threapes  
Fall all on him at once in heaps,  
That never erst did feel mishap,  

Pompey never unfortunate but now at his last, after the battle of Pharsalia.  But always dandled in thy lap?  
Pompey is he that this can say  
He never yet saw lucky day,  
Mingled with any cross dismay.  
His happy fate without stop goes,  
None of the Gods did it oppose.  
But when his ruin was decreed,  
They laid on load, and made quick speed.  
Fortune sometimes did him advance,  
And by the hand leads him in dance.  
But now on sands he lies o'erflown,  
And on the rocks with billows thrown.  
And as a scorn in seas is drowned,  
Where waves make gutters through each wound:  
No form in him is to be found.  
Pompey hath no mark to be known, 
A strange mark to be known by.   
But that his corpse a head hath none.  
¶ And yet before the Conqueror  
Arrived on the Pharian shore,  
Fortune for Pompey took some care  
And did in hast his tomb prepare,  
Whereby he should not want a grave,  
Although no fitting burial have.  
For Codrus that there hidden lay,  
Came fearfully down to the bay.  
This man that crept so from his den,  
Was one of Pompey's hapless men,  
And lately made his Treasurer,  
When they put from the Cyprus shore.  
He durst come out in dark of night,  
And love unto his fear gave might.  
To seek the body in the main,  
To bring it to the land again, 
Codrus Pompey's servant intends a funeral sire for his master's body when he had found it.   
And to the shore his Pompey train.  
The Moon a little glimmering lent,  
Which through the dusky clouds she sent  
Whereby the body he discovered,  
That with a differing colour hovered  
Upon the waves, that struggling make,  
When in his arms he did him take,  
And being tired with the freight,  
He hoped the wane would lift the weight.  
The which it did, and with that aid  
The corpse he to the shore conveyed.  
And on the land where it lay dry  
Upon the body he did lie,  
And wailing there twixt grief and fears,  
He every wound did fill with tears,  
And to the Gods and stars in skies,  
He thus pours out his woeful cries.  
¶ Thy Pompey doth not of thee crave  
O Fortune, any glorious grave, 
Codius' complaint against Fortune,   
Nor yet that gums of pleasant sent  
Upon his funeral be sprent,  
Nor that the fat his members yields,  
Mixed with the drugs of Eastern fields  
With orders should perfume that air,  
Which smoking to the skies repair.  
Nor that with love the Romans led,  
To their dear parent being dead.  
Should him upon their shoulders place,  
His day of funeral to grace.  
Nor that the pomp of his last date  
Should all exceed in glorious state.  
Nor that the court with heavy notes,  
Should singing strain their wailing throats.  
Nor that the army in a file  
Should march about the flaming pile,  
And throw their weapons down the while.  
Give Pompey but a common chest,  
Wherein his bones may safely rest,  
And that his rent torn limbs may burn  
Together, and to ashes turn.  
And that I miserable wight,  
This to perform may want no might,  
A worthless man his fire to light.  
It is enough o Gods divine,  
That there is wanting at his shrine  
Cornelia with dishevelled tress,  
And that she cannot here express  
Poor soul, to him her latest vows,  
With dear embracements of her spouse.  
And on his face her tears deplore,  
Though far she be not from this shore.  
¶ As soon as he these words had spoke  
far off he spied a fire and smoke,  
Where some base body was a burning,  
Without attendance, or friends mourning.  
From thence some fire he takes away,  
And brands that with the body lay.  
Who so thou art (quoth he) that here  
Neglected burnest, to no man dear,  
Then Pompey yet thou happier art  
Be not displeased for thy part,  
That my last hands do thus beguile,  
Some portion of thy funeral pile.  
And if that any sense remain 
Codrus makes hard shift for fuel and fire to bury Pompey's body.   
In mortals that deaths dart hath slain.  
Then give me leave I thee desire,  
To take this pittance from thy fire.  
I shame to see thy Cinders burn,  
Whilst fire shall want for Pompey's urn.  
So said the kindled brands he takes,  
And for the corpses a fire he makes,  
Which then the tide had well near reached  
But some part on the strand lay stretched.  
From it the sands he wipes away,  
And then together he doth lay  
The broken fragments of a boat,  
(With fearful hand) which there did float  
In a foul ditch somewhat remote.  
No heaped stack of oaken piles,  
These noble limbs did press the while,  
Under the corpse no wood was laid,  
But to this slender flame conveyed  
A fit the body burning stayed.  
¶ He sitting down hard by the flame  
Thus said, O Captain great of name,  
Chief majesty of Roman fame.  
If that the tossing of the seas, 
Codrus speech to Pompey's ghost whilst the body was burning.   
And no grave would thee better please  
Then this poor obsequy of mine,  
Let thy brave sprite and soul divine,  
These my endeavours nought esteem,  
But injury of Fate it deem.  
That I have thought this lawful done,  
Thereby thy body's spoils to shun.  
From monsters of the raging waves.  
And from those beasts on flesh that raves,  
And from the vultures greedy maws,  
And from the wrath of Caesar's paws,  
Therefore in worth accept of me  
This last fire that I offer thee,  
If so it with thy honour stand,  
Now kindled with a Roman hand,  
But if that Fortune do recoil,  
And bring thy friends to Latium soil,  
Thy sacred Cinders may find grace  
To be lodged in a worthier place,  
So as Cornelia, Pompey's spouse  
May yield to thee more glorious vows.  
And with my help that now thee burn,  
May put thy cinders in an urn.  
Mean while to show where is thy grave,  
Some little stone a mark shall have;  
Upon this shore, that if some friend  
Thy greater honour do intend,  
And would thy death more eternize,  
He may know where thy body lies.  
And to great Pompey here laid dead,  
He may again restore the head.  
Thus having said, doth fuel add  
To this small fire that burns so sad.  
And then the fat that in it fries,  
Doth cause the flame aloft to rise,  
And to the fire give fresh supplies.  
By this Aurora's blushing face,  

Codrus having performed his last office to his master, hides himself again  The glittering stars away did chase.  
And he poor soul with maze affright,  
Disorderly breaks of this right,  
And in a corner shuns the light.  
¶ Vain man what fear doth thee distract  
For thy performance of this act,  
Whereby unto all future days,  
Thy fame with honour thou dost raise,  
Since wicked Caesar will commend  
These bones so buried by a friend?  
Go safely and desire to have  
The head likewise to lay in grave.  
For piety bids thee not shun,  
To end this duttie well begun.  
Then doth he take these bones half burnt  
And members not to ashes turned,  
Which he together doth dispose,  
And in a little pit enclose.  
Then lest the wind the sand should raise  
Upon the grave a stone he lays.  
And that no Mariners should bind 
Codrus buries the cinders & lays a stone with an inscription on it.   
Their Cable where this stone they find  
About the same, and it displace,  
Upon the top he did inchace  
The sacred name with a burnt brand,  
Pompey lies buried in this sand.  
Where Caesar rather would he lay,  
Then want his grave or funeral day.  
But o rash hand that dost suppose,  
In such a sepulchre to close  
Great Pompey and his wandering ghost,  
That rangeth over every coast,  
As far as any land extends,  
And to the utmost Ocean's ends.  
The Empire large and name of Rome,  
The true type is of Pompey's tomb.  
Remove this stone for very shame,  
Which to the Gods imputeth blame.  
If Hercules must needs have all, 
Hercules and Bacchus' tomb   
Mount Oete for his funeral,  
And Bacchus must with like account  
Take all Parnassus sacred mount.  
Why then should one Egyptian stone  
Suffice for Pompey's tomb alone.  
All Egypt should stand for his grave,  
If no stone his inscription have,  
We Romans shallbe still in dread,  
Lest we on Pompey's ashes tread,  
When we do range about those lands,  
And doubt to march on Nilus' sands.  
But if so reverent a name  
Thou wilt inscribe upon the same,  
His noble acts therewith consort,  
His great achievements of imports.  
And there to that rebellious jar,  
That he suppressed in th' Alpyn war  
When as proud Lepidus conspired  
And how a Consul he retired, 
A brief recital of Pompey's noble acts.   
Called back when he had put to foil,  
Setorrius in his Spanish broil.  
When for it he in Triumphs pride,  
Through Rome with great applause did ride.  
And how he gave the world commerce,  
When he the pirates did disperse.  
Add thereunto the nations won,  
And the Barbarians overrun.  
With whatsoever in the East,  
Or in the Northern parts did rest,  
Show that he ever arms laid down  
His conquest done; and took the gown,  
That thrice he had in Triumphs sat,  
And gave great spoils unto the state.  
What grave can this man's worth contain  
His tomb lies level with the plain.  
His wretched hearse thou dost not raise  
With titles equal to his praise,  
Nor yet those holy orders write,  
That Roman Calendars recite.  
Which on the stately pillars stand,  
Of Gods the Patrons of our land.  
Nor with those glorious trophies graced,  
That are on temples arches placed.  
Alas our Pompey's sepulchre,  

The baseness of Pompey's Tomb.  Levels the Egypt sands so near,  
And lies so flat upon the shore,  
To read it men must stooping poor.  
Which any Roman that goes by,  
But being told will hardly spy.  
¶ We were not cautious as we ought  
Of that Cumana Sibyl wrote,  

Sibylla Cumana her prophets.  Who warned us in all civil broil,  
To shun the harms of Egypt's soil,  
And that no Roman chieftain should  
Come near to Nyles Pelusian mould,  
But shun that summer swelling shore.  
What dismal fate may I implore,  
Against that cruel land that durst  
Attempt and act this deed accursed.  
Let Nilus backwardly bend his head  
And stay whereas his spring is bred 
A curse against Egypt   
And let this parched soil remain  
Without all help of winter's rain,  
And let such burning heats it roast,  
As fries the Aethiopian coast,  
Thy Isis Egypt, for thy sake,  
We did into Rome's temple take;  
And currish demi-gods withal,  
On whom with Cymbals you do call, 
Isis' the wife of Osiris one of the Egyptian Gods.   
And thou Osiris whom with plaint,  
As but a man yourselves depaint.  
But Egypt thou in scorn dost hold  
Our spirits in base dusty mould,  
And thyself Rome that with such state  
Didst those brave Temples dedicate 
Meaning Caesar, whom they accounted a tyrant for taking such power to him over the Empire.   
Unto the wicked Tyrant's name,  
Hast not yet asked, for fear of blame,  
The ashes of thy Pompey slain,  
Whose ghost doth banished still remain.  
And though at first that fearful age  
Were over-awd by Caesar's rage,  
Yet now take unto thee at last  
Thy Pompey's bones, since fear is past.  
Except that the encroaching main,  
Do them and all that shore detain.  
Else who needs doubt his grave to turn,  
With sacred rites to grace his urn.  
O would that deed were made my task,  
And Rome at my hands would it ask▪  
O happy I and too much blest, 
The Author's love to Pompey's merit.   
Might I remove that sacred chest  
And bring the same to rest in Rome,  
If lawful tis to force his tomb!  
¶ But yet o Pompey it may chance,  
That if ill seasons dearth advance,  
Or that contagious plagues oppress,  
Or fearful fires should Rome distress,  
Or earthquakes put us in a fright,  
These miseries to banish quite;  
Unto the Gods we make request,  
And thereupon by their behest,  
Thou mayst again to Rome return  
To expiate these with thy urn.  
And that the chief Priest we shall call  
To bear thee to thy funeral,  
But now what passenger goes by  
Syenen that the heats do fry,  
Of Cancers parched torryd zone;  
Or unto whom is Nilus known,  
That costs her Thaebas burning sands,  
Which under showering Plyades stands:  
Or who the red Seas gulf doth trade,  
Or traffics using to be made,  
About the rich Arabian ports,  

Pompey's grave stands in the high way of those that trade from many nations.  Or else for merchandise consorts.  
With those that come from Eastern shore,  
But Pompey's grave he will explore.  
And seek to see that reverent stone  
That lies his low lodged tomb upon.  
And turn a side out of the way,  
To see thy cinders if he may,  
That on the sands perhaps do stray,  
And therewithal will take delight  
To sacrifice unto thy sprite,  
And will thy worthy name prefer  
Before the Cassian jupiter.  
So as this little paltry shrine,  
Will more advance that fame of thine,  
Then if thou hadst a Tomb of gold,  
Such as our Temples use to hold,  
For here interred lies with thee  

Rome's liberty buried with Pompey.  The Fortune of Rome's liberty.  
So as a far more happy stone,  
The Lybicke waves shall beat upon,  
Then are those Altars to be prised,  
Whereon the victor sacrificed.  
For those that often are so bold,  
Their incense offerings to withhold,  
From the Tarpeian Deities  
Will show their loves and charities.  
Unto the shrine of thy sweet soul,  
Here raked up in this dusk hole.  
¶ Hereof the fame of future days,  
More glory unto thee will raise, 
The author means here that if Pompey had no tomb at all, & the place of his sepulchre forgotten, that then future ages would (by considering his acts) think he were deified.   
Then if thy monument were built  
With stately marbles carved and guilt.  
And that the measure of thy grave,  
A huger height and scope might have.  
For now a little time will chase  
Thy heaped cinders from this place,  
When as these sands away shall fall,  
That cover now thy burial.  
And so the knowledge will decay,  
How thou camest to thy fatal day.  
Then ages happier will live,  
Which will no trust nor credit give  
To any, that this stone shall show,  
Which yet the world so well doth know. 
The Egyptians will obscure this vile treachery from their successors, & report so of Pompey as the Cretans did of jupiter.   
But Egypt will disprove this reed,  
Unto her children that succeed,  
And make the Death and Tomb likewise,  
Of Pompey but such tales and lies,  
As were those of the Cretan I'll,  
Whence thundering jove doth take his style.  
Finis libri octavi.   

Lucan's Pharsalia. The ninth Book.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
FRom Earth great Pompey's blessed sprite,  
Unto the heavens doth take his flight.  
Cato the remnants of the host  
Transports unto the Lybian cost.  
Cornelia wailing, grieves and mourns,  
And Pompey's robes to ashes burns.  
Cnaeus his son revenge intends:  
Cato his noble mind commends.  
The sailors fall to mutiny,  
Whom Cato's speech doth qualify.  
About the Syrteses his navy trades:  
And Lybia then his host invades.  
Thence through the wilderness he trends:  
And unto Hamon's Temple wends.  
Caesar Pharsalia now forsakes,  
And towards Nile his journey takes.  
Where Pompey's head they him present:  
The which with tears he doth lament.  
But yet the soul aloft aspires,  

Pompey's soul received into the lower spheres.  And stayed not in the Pharian fires.  
Such flames could not his blessed sprite  
Restrain from their high mounting flight.  
But from the funeral it flits,  
And those half burned members quits;  
That base unworthy tomb it leaves,  
The thundering vault the same receives.  
Whereas the dusky air confines  
Next to the orbs that lowest shines;  
And where the distance spacious  
Is spread between the Moon and us.  
Where souls and demi-gods do dwell,  
Whose shining virtues did excel:  
And upright lives did them prepare,  
In this low element to share.  
Whereas his blessed ghost it rears  
To rest in the eternal spheres.  
Those come not thither that are placed  
In perfumed tombs beguilt and chased.  
And when he was in this fair seat  
With joyous perfect light replete;  
He views the wandering stars in skies,  
And fixed planets Marks likewise:  
And sees (in value of that light)  
Our brightest days are but as night. 
Pompey's soul contemplates the earthly passages.   
And of those scorns he makes but mirth,  
That they do to his Trunk on earth.  
From hence Emathias field he eyes,  
And Caesar's bloody Ensigns spies.  
Then flits he over all the main,  
Where floats the sparsed Navies train:  
Then sits in Brutus sacred breast,  
Where for this guilt revenge doth rest.  
And thence he flits a place to find,  
In worthy Cato's dreadless mind.  
¶ He (whilst the strife in doubt depended,  
And that the question was not ended,  
Whom this stern civil war would call  
To be the supreme Lord of all)  
Did Pompey hate; 
Cato disliked Pompey.  although his part  
He took, as fellow in this Mart;  
Led thereto for his Country's cause,  
And to observe the Senate's Laws.  
But when Pharsalia's field was fought,  
Then Pompey's course did rule his thought:  
And into his protection takes  
His country, that a guider lacks:  

Cato takes on him the protection of his comely.  And to their fearful hands affords  
Weapons again, that left their swords.  
But neither seeking sovereignty,  
Nor that he feared servility,  
Did he new civil wars erect,  
It was not for his own respect,  
But (after Pompey lost his life)  
For liberty was all their strife.  
And (lest that Caesar might invest  
Himself, of all the troops distressed  
By his surprises suddenly,  
After his gained victory.  
They being so dispersed in rout  
Through all the country round about)  
He to Corcyra did resort,  
And thither to a secret port,  
He all the scattered fragments led,  
That from Emathias slaughter fled.  
A thousand ships he filled with these,  
And thence he put unto the seas.  
¶ Who would have thought the scattered trains  
That of Pharsalia's wrack remains,  
Suffisd so many ships to fill?  
Or that the Seas were stuffed still  

Cato assembles all the scattered Romans of Pharsalia.  With such a fleet, prepared for Mart,  
Belonging to the conquered part,  
Hence he to Malean Doris goes,  
And unto Tenarus, that shows  
The way to hell, and therewithal,  
On the Cytherean cost doth fall.  
And so alongst he leaveth Crete,  

Cato's Navy and his navigation.  The north-wind driving on his fleet.  
And (urged by the shrinking tides)  
Dictaean shores he over slides.  
Thence to Phycunta he resorts,  
That held his navy from their ports.  
But puts that Town to great distress,  
And sacks it, that deserved no less.  
Thence did a fitting wind procure  
Him to thy shore, O Palinure;  
For thou dost not alone retain  
Thy monuments on Latium main:  
But Lybia's quiet ports do tell,  
They pleased the Trojan Pilot well. 
Palinurus, Aeneas Pilot.   
Then they aloof a fleet descried,  
Which did with doubts their minds divide;  
Whether it did consist of foes,  
Or of the fellows of their woes.  
The victor's great celerity  
Still held them in perplexity:  
And what ships on the seas they see,  
They still thought Caesar there to be.  
But those poor hulls alas did bear  
Nothing, but woeful plaints and fear:  
Yea such as mournful sobs might wrest  
From Stoic Cato's hardened breast.  
¶ For after that (with vain request)  
Cornelia had her Pilots priest, 
Cornelia desires to stay on the Egyptian coast.   
And son-in-law (that would away)  
A longer time near Nile to stay;  
Because her husband's Corpses she thought  
Might to the weltering waves be brought  
By surges of the raging main,  
That on the Pharean shore did strain.  
For proof whereof she said withal,  
His corpses had no right burial.  
Of Fortune then (quoth she) was I  
So worthless that thou shouldst deny  
Me means, and leave for to attend  
My husband at his funeral end?  
And on the cold limbs of my spouse  
To stretch my arms with latest vows?  
And my torn locks with him to burn,  
And place those ashes in an urn  
That now the waves do toss and turn.  
And that I might power floods of tears  
Into those wounds his body bears?  
And on my garments cast at once  
The hot burnt cinders of his bones?  
And whatsoever lawful were  
From out his funeral to bear,  
With my hands might be gathered,  
In Temples of the Gods to spread?  
But out alas his funeral  
No flaming honour had at all;  
Perhaps some hand of Pharos cost  
Performed that act, grief to his ghost.  
O Crassian cinders ye were blest,  
That still uncovered do rest!  
For seeing Pompey had that flame,  
The Gods repute it greater blame.  

To be buried in that treacherous land was a dishonour to Pompey.  Shall my hard destiny still find  
Such dismal woes to vex my mind?  
Shall never I the fortune have  
To lay my husbands in a grave?  
Nor present be when as they die,  
To fill their urns with flowing eye?  
But what need I seek them a grave,  
Or instruments (O grief) to crave?  
Vain woman, doth not Pompey rest  
Entombed in thy faithful breast?  
Doth not his image fixed remain  
In thy grieved soul, and every vain?  
Let after ages then (for me)  
Seek where his cinders scattered be.  
Yet now me seems I see his fire  
With a malignant flame aspire.  
And something dazzles in mine eyes,  
That from the Pharian shore doth rise,  
That to thee (Pompey) doth pertain,  
And now that flame is out again;  
And yields a smoke that Pompey bears  

The land where Pompey is interred, dearer to Cornelia then any other land.  In vapours to the Eastern spheres.  
Whilst spiteful winds do me betray,  
And bears our sails another way.  
No lands by Pompey conquered,  
Nor where his triumphs Carres were led  
Alongst the streets (with glorious bays)  
To the high Capitolean ways,  
More dear to me (since reft my breast)  
Then Pharian sands where he doth rest.  
'tis Pompey I would have so fain,  
Whom Nilus doth from me detain.  
And that makes me not loath to stay  
Longer, within this wicked bay.  
The heinous fact that I deplore▪  
Is that, that now adorns this shore.  
If ever I did Pompey love,  
I would not from this coast remove.  
¶ Do thou (O Sextus) wars pursue, 
Cornelia persuades Sextus to Arms.   
And over all the world renew  
The Ensigns of thy famous sire:  
Such was his will and his desire,  
That he in charge to me did give;  
Which words within my soul still live,  
Pronounced with his latest breath,  
The hour that quelled me with his death.  
My sons, see that you undergo  
This civil war against our foe, 
Cornelia delivers Pompey's words and charge to his sons.   
Whilst any of our name or birth  
Remains alive upon the earth,  
Admit not Caesar's tyranny,  
Move states that stand for liberty,  
And mighty Towns that do the same,  
And him resist with glorious fame.  
These parts to you I recommend:  
These Arms I would you should intend.  
Which of my sons the seas likes best,  
Shall find a Navy ready priest.  
My heir likewise (in following Mart)  
Shall Nations find to take his part.  
Only remember that you bear  
True noble minds devoid of fear.  
And know 'tis fit that you obey  
Only to Cato, if he sway  
For liberty, and hold that way.  
O Pompey! thus do I discharge  
Thy trust, and tell thy will at large.  
But thy deceits have done me wrong,  
Forsaken thus, I live too long:  
And yet will not with perfidy  
Forbear thy words to testify.  
But now dear spouse, where so thou be,  

Here he speaks according to the opinion of Seneca, with whom he was brought up.  I am resolved to follow thee  
To Chaos vast, and unto hell  
(If such there be, as old saws tell)  
But yet to me it is unsure  
How long this life of mine shall dure.  
And therefore anguish shall prevent  
My living soul, from my soul sent.  
And since to death it could not fly,  
When (Pompey) it thy wounds did eye,  
With grief and wail she shall die.  
In bitter tears she shall be drowned,  
The sword shall not our days confound,  
No strangling halter will I try,  
Nor headlong breakneck from an high:  
For me 'twere base to want the might  
By sorrows strain to leave this light.  
¶ So having said, her noble head  
With a black vail she overspread:  

Cornelia's solitary griefs.  And then retires her to the dark  
In hollow caverns of the bark.  
And there unto herself enjoys  
Her restless tears, and griefs annoys;  
And only (in her husband's place)  
Doth woes and woeful plaints embrace.  
She scorns the raging seas and clouds,  
And Eurus whistling in the shrouds,  
And cries that Mariners do make,  
When they with dreadful dangers quake.  
To theirs she makes contrary vows:  
Resolved to die, she storms allows.  
Her ship first seized the Cyprus shores,  
Whereas the thundering billows roars.  
And then to sea they put anew,  
With Eastern wind that calmer blue.  
And lighted on the Lybicke Land,  
Where that time Cato's Camp did stand. 
Cornelia's fleet arrives on Lybia, where Cato was encamped   
Then woeful Cnaeus did espy  
His country fellows, proaching nigh  
The Afric coast, and as those minds  
That dread afflicts, presages finds;  
When he his brother Sextus saw,  
near to the seas strand he doth draw,  
And headlong wades into the main. 
Cnaeus Pompeius words to his brother Sextus   
Dear brother now to me explain  
Where is our Sire, and in what plight  
Stands our affairs? are we of might  
As yet, or else abandoned quite?  
Hath Pompey Rome's last fortune tried?  
So said, his brother thus replied.  
¶ O happy thou whom Fortune guided 
Sextus' answer to his brother.   
To other coasts, from us divided!  
Thou only miseries shalt hear,  
Whereof mine eyes the witness were  
When on the sword our father died,  
Though Caesar's hand he hath not tried.  
The Author of his funeral  
Deserves by mines rage to fall.  
With that vile King, that in his hands  
Doth hold the fruitful Nilus' lands.  
He hoped some due respects to find  
Of Hospitatious friendly kind;  
For many favours of his love  
That this King's ancestors did prove.  
But (for requital of that Realm)  
As sacrifice his blood they stream.  
Whilst I alas beheld (with pain)  
Our noble Father by them slain.  
Whereas I thought that Pharian King  
Durst not attempt so foul a thing.  
But did presume that Nilus' land  
Would loyally unto him stand.  
But neither me, the old man's wounds,  
Nor his shed blood so much confounds,  
As when we saw his head forlorn,  
Throughout the traitors City borne,  
Fixed on a lofty pole in scorn.  
And now 'tis kept (by fame's report)  
The wicked victor's eyes to sport.  
And so the tyrant feeds his mind  
For this foul fact high grace to find.  
But whether that the Pharian dogs,  
The ravenous fowls, or filthy hogs,  
Have with the body filled their maw?  
Or whether that the fire we saw  
To cinders did the same convert,  
I do not know? but for my part  
I say, what ever fatal scorn  
Those worthy limbs away have borne;  
The blame unto the Gods I give,  
But his kept head me most doth grieve.  
When Cnaeus heard this heavy news,  
He did not then his griefs infuse  
With childish tears, nor idle plaint,  
But with just piety attaint  
Enraged, thus speaks with words not faint.  
¶ Ye mariners, with haste lay hands  

Cnaeus reply, & speeches of revenge for his father so murdered.  To draw your ships from these dry sands,  
And with your oars, (without a sail)  
Against the adverse winds prevail.  
Brave leaders now come follow me,  
No civil war can juster be;  
Not so great praise as to inter  
Their naked ghosts, that wandering err.  
This tyrant boys blood must suffice  
Great Pompey's ghost for sacrifice.  
Shall I his Pelean Towers not drown,  
And all those monuments throw down,  
That over Alexander stands  
In Mareotis foggy sands?  
And raze to ground the Pyramid,  
Their monument of Amasis?  
And make all those their buried Kings  
To swim in midst of Nilus' springs?  
They all shall want and naked lie,  
(Pompey) thy Tomb to edify.  
Isis' shall now be rap't with fire,  
Whose Godhead Nations do admire.  
And their Osiris (clad in vail  
Of linen) common slaves shall trail.  
And Apis, their Bull-god, I'll burn  
A sacrifice to Pompey's urn.  
Under his head these Gods shall lie  
Wherewith the funeral shall fry.  
These wracks that wretched land shall taste:  
Their fruitful fields I will lay waste,  
None left to plow, to dig or plant,  
For Nilus to relieve their want.  
None shall subsist, nor her gifts take,  
Depopulate I will her make.  
Thou only Pompey, and thy grave,  
That Kingdom to thyself shalt have,  
When all their Gods away are chased.  
Thus said, the Navy then in haste  
Prepares itself unto the seas;  
But Cato did the wrath appease  
Of this brave youth; 
Cato appeaseth the wrath of young Cnaeus.  yet in the end  
His noble spirit did commend.  
¶ Mean while through all the cost is spread  
The bruit of Pompey murdered.  
And therewithal a grievous shout  
Of cries, did fly the air about.  
No grief did like example show: 
The great lamentations of the people for Pompey.   
For never any age did know  
The people to such plaints to fall,  
For any great man's death at all.  
But more, for as Cornelia, went  
Out of her ship to make descent  
Her visage worn, and waste with tears,  
And dangling tress about her ears,  
A doubled shout the people rears.  
No sooner was she set a land,  
Whereas the shore was next at hand:  
But Pompey's robes she gets together,  
His Ensigns, and else whatsoever  

Cornelia's great piety towards Pompey  Of Arms, or like habiliments,  
And all such glorious ornaments  
(Richly embroidered all with gold)  
As he was wont to wear of old.  
Then (three times casting up her eyes  
Unto the heavens, and starry skies)  
All this together she did cast  
Into a funeral fire at last.  
These cinders she (poor soul) did make  
The which she kept for Pompey's sake,  
Whereby the rest example take.  
For presently, throughout the shore,  
Of sacred fires were made huge store:  
Which they unto those ghosts did yield  
Late slain in the Pharsalian field.  
Such flames do the Apulians raise  
When as the frosty winter days  
Their fields of green grass hath deprived;  

The custom of some countries in burning their lands to make them fruitful  And with such heat is new reviv'd.  
So the Gargarians use their grounds.  
So vultures vales with corn abounds.  
And lukewarm matins use like slight,  
With boxes bushes flaming bright.  
¶ Nothing was done in all the host  
More grateful unto Pompey's ghost,  
(Although for him the heavens they blame,  
And to the Gods upbraid his name)  
Then were the words Cato expressed,  
Proceeding from a spotless breast.  

Cato's Oration in the praise of Pompey.  A Citizen (quoth he) is quelled,  
That others heretofore excelled  
For skill in scanning of the laws;  
But in this age for justice cause  
He profited the Roman state:  
His reverence chased dire debate.  
Freedom he awed not with his might,  
But evermore subscribed to right.  
In private sort he actions swayed,  
Although the people him obeyed.  
And though the Senate he directed,  
Yet to their power himself subjecteth:  
By armed force he nought effected.  
What to obtain his heart was bend,  
To be denied he was content.  
Great wealth and honours he possessed;  
But did the state with more invest.  
Though to his sword they gave renown,  
Yet knew he when to lay it down.  
He Arms beyond the Gown approved,  
Yet naytheless Armed peace he loved.  
He Armies willingly receives,  
And all as willingly them leaves.  
A civil house from riot free,  
No fortunes gained by bribery.  
With foreign Nations he had fame,  
Who reu'renced his noble name.  
And in like grace at home he stood,  
For service to his Country's good.  
The constant course of liberty  
Was subject to servility,  
When they received in Rome again  
The Marian and the Syllan train.  
So, seeing Pompey is bereft  
No show of freedom now is left.  
Men do not blush at tyranny:  
No colour now of Empery:  
None weigh the Senate's Majesty.  
O happy Pompey to be dead  
As soon as thou wert conquered!  
And that the Pharian guilt thee brought  
That sword, which else thou must have sought!  
If not thou mightst have lived perchance  
Under proud Caesar's governance.  
To dare to die is high grace gained,  
And next to that, to be constrained.  
But if that Fortune so betide,  
We must be thralls to tyrant's pride.  
Then Fortune grant, that juba be  
Another Ptolomey to me.  
What need I fear my foe to serve,  
When death can me from that preserve?  
¶ These words did greater glory raise  
In all men's ears to Pompey's praise,  
Then if the theatres had sounded  
With plaudits, echoes that rebounded:  
Whereby the honour of his end  
Did to his gentle soul ascend.  
But now the people mutter rumours,  
And fall into discordant humours.  
For wars and Arms they do detest:  
Since Pompey in his grave did rest,  
And Tarchon then did undertake  
Cato's new Ensigns to forsake.  
He with the shipping suddenly  
That utmost road, away did fly:  
Whom Cato thus did vilify.  

Cato's words to Tarchon a Seaman.  O greedy Cilix most untrue,  
Wilt thou the seas go scour anew,  
Now Pompey is by fortune slain?  
Must thou turn Pirate once again?  
Then of them all he takes a view,  
That mutined in this roguish crew:  
'mongst whom one lad did courage take,  
And to the chieftain boldly spoke.  

The oration of one of the seamen to Cato.  Cato (quoth he) discharge us now,  
Our faith to Pompey we did vow:  
For his sake we did take up Arms,  
And not for love of civil harms.  
In his behalf we did our parts;  
But he is dead that held our hearts.  
He whom the world loved more than peace,  
With whom our cause of war doth cease.  
Permit us now to leave to roam  
To see our household Gods at home,  
That we so long time have forborn,  
And our sweet children thus forlorn.  
For what date shall this war us yield,  
If that Pharsalia's bloody field,  
Nor pomps death can give it end,  
Our lives in endless toil we spend.  
Let us go quiet to our grave:  
Let age his fitting funeral have.  
For civil wars can scarce afford  
A Sepulchre to any Lord.  
We conquered men are not to fight  
Against the great Barbarian might.  
Fortune doth not our state provoke  
With Scythian or Armenian yoke.  
I serve a gowned Citizen,  
Under his law free Denizen.  
Who Pompey living seconded,  
To me is first, now Pompey's dead. 
Meaning Caesar.   
To Pompey's sacred worthy sprite  
I will perform all reverend right;  
But to his sovereign power I yield,  
That conquered at Pharsalia's field.  
Thou Pompey, my sole Captain wert,  
I followed only thee in Mart.  
Now will I follow Destiny:  
And yet, to find prosperity,  
I neither may, nor will I hope:  
Since Caesar's fortune sways the scope.  
His conquest quailed Aemathian swords,  
Who to us captives help affords.  
He only in the world subsists,  
That will and may (even as he lists.)  
Rue on poor vanquished men in grief,  
And unto wretches yield relief.  
All hope in civiil war is vain,  
Since Egypt's sword hath Pompey slain.  
Who living, carried us with love;  
But if the public cause do move  
Thee Cato, and thy Country's stay; 
Caesar was then Consul.   
Let us these ensigns then obey,  
That Roman Consul doth display.  
So said, his ship he doth ascend,  
And swarms of youths do him attend.  
Thus Rome's affairs did seem to end.  
For all, that loved servile bands  
Did mutiny there upon the sands.  
When Cato (from his sacred breast)  
In these words his free mind expressed.  

Cato's answer to the mutinous mariners  ¶ It seems you then indifferent were,  
On whether side you Arms did bear.  
You were at first for Pompey's part,  
For Rome you did not wage your mart.  
And so you do desire it still,  
To have one Lord to rule at will.  
You did not tyranny oppose:  
You cared not your free state to lose.  
The Senate you refuse to serve;  
Neither reck you well to deserve  
Of any side to end this strife,  
But would in Idle spend your life.  

Meaning that Pompey being dead, if they were victors, there remained none to tyrannize.  Now safer 'tis our cause to gain,  
You basely would the wars refrain.  
And now (devoid of true respect)  
Your own free necks to yokes subject)  
And cannot live without a King  
Not now, when as a worthier thing  
Calls men to hazard of the war;  
Your swords and persons you debar  
For Roman freedom to be used,  
Which Pompey mought perchance refused,  
And for himself your bloods abused.  
Fortune almost hath tyrants reft,  

Meaning Crassus, Pompey and Caesar.  Of three Lords now but one is left.  
The Parthian bow, and Nilus' shore  
For our free laws have done the more.  
Go you degenerate, exceed  
The Ptolemeian gift and deed.  
Who else will think that ever you  
In these wars did your hands imbrue?  
But rather prone to turn your backs,  
And first that fled Emathias wracks.  
Go safe, for you do well deserve  
That Caesar should your lives preserve.  
He needs must take of you remorse,  
Subdued nor by siege nor force.  
O sercile race unworthy most!  
Now (that you have one Tyrant lost) 
A disdainful manner of speech that Cato used to the revolting Seamen.   
His successor you will accost.  
You should no greater grace aspire,  
Then life and pardon for your hire.  
And Pompey's woeful wife convey  
Into your ships, bear her away.  
(Metellus child) a noble prey.  
And living sons of Pompey breed.  
Strive Egypt's present to exceed,  
Then take my head with you likewise,  
So odious to the tyrant's eyes.  
He shall no mean reward receive,  
That Cato's head will so bequeave.  
And know you all 'tis worth your pain,  
To follow me my head to gain.  
Proceed you therefore and be bold,  
To purchase grace let blood be sold.  
Barely to run away were base.  
So said, his words then took such place,  
That all the Pirates (in such sort)  
Brought back the ships into the port,  
From out the Seas, as Bees do use,  
When they the waxen hive refuse. 
An apt comparison of Bees.   
Where they have made their honey combs,  
And ranging leave their little homes.  
Not mind full now in swarms to fly:  
But each one his own way doth high.  
Not settled yet to suck and smell  
The bitter Thyme, they love so well.  
When suddenly the tingling sounds  
Of Phrygian kettles them confounds  
With maze, they stop their sudden flight:  
And back returning, all do light  
Upon their hives, where with their skill  
Their flowering labours they distill,  
And combs with blessed honey fill.  
At whose return the clownish roil  
Is glad to see them in his soil:  
And on Hyblean grass to swarm;  
The treasure of his little farm.  
Even so did Cato's powerful words,  
Unto just war draw on their swords.  
And their loose minds, whom pleasure feeds,  
He than recalls to martial deeds,  
And patiently wars brunt to bear  
With industry and free from fear.  
¶ And first of all upon the sands,  
He trains and draws them out in bands.  
Then next to that they do invest  
Cyrenas walls and it possessed.  
And though that town had him refused:  
Yet he on them no rigour used.  
For Cato no revenge would take,  
To conquer did his anger slake.  
Thence he his speedy march designs  
To juba's kingdom, whose confines  
Confront the Mauritanian lands.  
But that the Syrts his course withstands  
Amidst his way; although he thought  
All difficulties might be brought  

A digression from the matter to the nature of the Syrteses.  To pass, by virtues dauntless prows.  
When nature did at first dispose  
These Syrts, and shaped their figure out;  
She left it to the world in doubt,  
Whether it should be land or seas,  
For utterly it doth not please,  
To sink itself beneath the main:  
Nor yet the land can so restrain  
The waves; but they will have a share,  
And such a dangerous place prepare;  
That there to travel none shall dare.  
For here the Sea doth channels strain,  
And there the lands do rise again.  
Here is a long stretched track of shore,  
And there the swallowing whirlpools roar.  
So nature wretchedly designed  
This portion of her proper kind,  
Unto no use, or else of old  
Those Syrts more waves in them did hold  
And with the Seas were over rolled.  
But that attractive Titan's beams  
(Feeding upon the ocean streams,  
That to the torrid zone were nigh)  
Some of the weltering waves did dry.  
And yet the Ocean in despite  
Resisteth Phoebus parching might.  
But yet his beams (as they draw near)  
And wearing time those seas will clear,  
And make the Syrts firm land appear.  
For scarcely now a little boat  
Can on the superficies float,  
Of those drowned sands where water stays,  
And more and more that sea decays.  
¶ As soon as by the help of oars,  
The fleet was gotten from the shores  
Into the deeps, with all their freight,  
The black Southwind blowing a height  
Out of his region stormy gales,  
far from her course the navy hales. 
The description of a cruel tempest on the Seas.   
And with huge tempests that he sends,  
Those seas attempted now defends.  
far from the Syrts the waves he beats,  
Against the cliffs the billow freates.  
And all the ships that sails did bear,  
The tempest from the yards did tear.  
In vain the tackling and the shrouds,  
Their sails denied to those fierce clouds.  
But over board away are borne,  
Fluttering at large their ships they scorn.  
And if that any sailor stout  
Unto the yards do go about  
To fix the sails with cordage fast,  
He's borne away with whirlwind blast,  
And from the naked yard is cast.  
But all those ships found better chance,  
That in the lofty billows dance.  
And still aloof their course did keep  
Amidst the channels in the deep.  
And by the board did cut their masts,  
Less subject thereby to the blasts.  
So as the tides had power on them,  
And in despite with force did stem  
The puffing winds full in the mouth,  
And bore those vessels to the South.  
The other ships the water sails,  
Their Keels upon those high sands trails,  
That lifts itself above the flood,  
So as in doubtful state they stood.  
The shelf the one part doth detain,  
The other part hangs in the main.  
And as the billows comes more thick,  
The faster in the shoals they stick.  
For though the forcing Southern rack  
Rolls one wave on another's back:  
Yet all those waves could not suffice  
To drench the shelf where it did rise.  
This hugy heap of cluttered sand  
uncovered now lay far from land,  
And higher unto sight was reared  
Then Neptune's rugged back appeared.  
The wretched Sailors there are grounded:  
The ships upon the shelf confounded  
So far, that they no shore can spy,  
And in the seas thus beating lie.  
Yet of this fleet the greater part  
(With bitter stirrage) got the start  
Of these, and safely 'scaped away,  
Taking their best course as it lay,  
With skilful Pilots that did know  
The coasts, and where the channels go.  
And so at length by chance they light  

A River in Africa.  On that slow stream that's Tryton hight.  
¶ That God (as old reports do tell)  
Which with his ringing Trump of shell  
Makes all the main his sound to hear  
With windy notes so shrill and clear,  

Tryton, Neptune's Trumperer.  Of rivers all loves this most dear.  
And Pallas like esteem did make  
That of Ioues brain her birth did take.  
For that same Lybian Region  
Was first land that she trod upon.  
And is unto the heavens most near:  
As by his heats it doth appear.  
In whose smooth waters crystal shine  
She then did see her face divine.  
And there her plants she did dispose,  
And to herself the name she chose  
Of Trytonesse, where this stream flows.  
Near which (as fame reports) likewise,  
The silent Lethe doth arise:  
That with infernal veins is fed: 
The river Lethe.   
By which forgetfulness is bred.  
Here also was conjoined to these,  
The garden of Hesperides:  
Despoiled of her leaves so bright,  
Kept by the waking Dragons might.  
That man is spiteful of condition,  
That will detract from old tradition.  
Or call the Poets to account  
For aught which may the truth surmount.  
This golden grove of treasures store,  
(Whose boughs such shining apples bore)  
A troup of virgins guarded still,  
Whose glistering streams the air did fill.  
And that soul Serpent's charge to keep, 
The fable of Hercules that took away the golden Apples from the garden Hesperides   
Whose eyes are aye debarred of sleep.  
And with his tail the trunks enfold,  
That stoop with overwaight of gold.  
But great Alcides took away  
From these rich trees the precious prey.  
And did those shining apples bring  
To Euristaeus Argives king.  
The navy (so cast on this caost,  
And from the Syrts so clearly tossed)  
Passed not as yet beyond the shore  
Of Gaeramants, where as they more.  
But Sextus with his troops stayed there,  
Where Africa's climes more pleasant were.  
Though Cato's valour brooks no stay:  
But with his cohorts takes his way,  
Through coasts unknown where dangers lay.  
His confidence in arms did stand,  
And circuits all the Syrts by land.  
And this the winter's wrath persuades,  
That then did bar those seas of trades.  
Besides, the fires of Phoebus' rays  
The falling showers then much alleys.  
So as his journey he might hold,  
Neither oppressed with heat nor cold.  
For where the flaming heat did rage,  
The dewy season doth assuage.  
So through the barren sands he venter's,  
And used this speech before he enters.  
¶ O ye that with one common will,  

Cato's oration to his soldiers before he takes his journey into the deserts of Lybia.  (Dauntless to hold your free edome still)  
Do follow me with such content,  
Let now your minds be wholly bend  
To undergo this valour's task,  
That toil and constancy doth ask.  
We go into the barren fields,  
Of climates scorched, that nothing yields.  
Where Titan parcheth all the ground,  
And fountains rarely to be found.  
Whereas the lands in plenty brings  
Forth serpents with their poisonous stings.  
A journey that with horror rings.  
Let therefore those (whom dear love draws  
To freedom, and his Country's cause)  
March on through Lybia with me,  
And search out ways that wayless be.  
If so be they have no desire  
To leave our Ensigns, and retire;  
But are resolved for virtues hire.  
For it is no part of my mind  
men's eyes with fallacies to blind:  
Nor yet the soldiers hearts to cheer,  
By cloaking dangers that draw near.  
For I of such mates must be sped,  
That freely are by dangers led,  
By such as Roman worth esteem,  
And hardest haps, the bravest deem,  
That can endure the toils of Mart,  
Whilst I a witness share my part.  
But for that soldier that shall need  
One to assure him happy speed,  
And holds his life at so dear rate,  
That he will every doubt debate;  
Let him another leader seek,  
And find a way he more may leek;  
Before that I do take in hand  
This journey through this parched sand,  
And march upon this dusty land.  
And let these parching heats first light  
On me, withal their fiery might.  
And let the Serpents me assail  
With poisoned teeth, and venomed tail.  
Let all those perils (that you dread)  
Be tried first upon my head.  
Let him, that sees that I am dry,  
Refresh himself as well as I.  
Or that the woody shades I seek:  
Let him (then panting) do the like.  
Or sees that I a horseback ride,  
And so my troops of footmen guide:  
Let him likewise for ease provide.  
Or if (as chieftain) I do crave  
Any prerogative to have  
Before the soldier under me,  
But cheek by cheek his mate willbe:  
These droughts, these thirsts, these snakes, these sands  
Chiefly with valours liking stands.  
Patience takes joy in bitter bands.  
A worthy act holds greatest state,  
When it is bought at dearest rate.  
And Lybia's clime such store doth yield  
Of miseries in every field,  
As that it may (without defame)  
Become brave men to shun the same,  
So he these soldiers fearful spirits  
To valorous attempts incites.  
And to the love of Martial broils  
In desert paths he wandering toils.  
Through endless ways a passage made,  
He doth the Lybian coast invade.  
So dreadless Cato (in short date)  

Cato enters the deserts of Lybia.  Lights on a place to close his fate.  
Whereas a slender tomb shall shrine  
(Within her womb) his name divine.  
The third part of this massy round  
(If we believe what fame doth sound)  
Is Africa; but if we take  
The same, as heaven and winds do make,  
Of Europe then it is a share.  
For Nilus' shores no further are  
From Gades (as first it was a land)  
Than Scythian Tanais doth stand.  
And whereas Europe is descyded  
From Lybs, it was by sea divided  
But Asia did Europa pass,  
And in his circuit greater was.  
So whilst these two do jointly send  
Southwesterne blasts, that Noth-east tend,  
Asia alone (on lefter hand)  
Coniynd to Boreas chilly land:  
And on the right to that South stream,  
The confines of Egyptian realm;  
From these two limits is possessed  
Of all the title of the East,  
The parts of Lybia chief and best,  
Inclining is unto the West.  
And yet no fountains there are found,  
And seldom showers to moist the ground,  
That from the artic clime proceeds.  
Yet our dry winds their moisture breeds.  
That mould in it no wealth doth hold,  
Either of brass, or yet of gold.  
No wicked mines therein have birth:  
But all the soil is solid earth.  
In Mauritania trees do grow,  
Whose worth the people did not know.  
But to themselves contentment give,  
Under the Citrons' shade to live.  
Our axes since these woods have field, 
Mauritania & the manner of that nation.   
That merely were unknown to eld.  
And from the world's remotest side,  
We brought our luxury and pride.  
¶ But all the coasts both near and far,  
(That with the Syrts environed are)  
With too much heat are overrun,  
And parched with the neighbour Sun.  
As that their grain it doth destroy,  
And all their Vines the dust doth cloy.  
No moistened root the same doth feed,  
Nor vital temper it will breed.  
The Gods that soil do not respect,  
And nature (stupid with neglect)  
That land of comfort doth deprive.  
Those dead sands no spring can revive.  
And yet in this dull barren ground  
Rare herbs and plants are often found,  
The which the Nasamons find out, 
The Nasmons that live upon sea wracks.   
And gather up; a people stout  
That naked are, and those coasts keeps,  
Which frontiers all alongst the deeps;  
And with the wrack themselves do nourish,  
Of ships, that on the Syrts do perish:  
For always they in wait do stand  
For pillage on the Ocean sand,  
When as the ships cannot attain  
The port, their wealth, and spoil they gain.  
So as these Nasmons hold commerce,  
And trade with all the Universe.  
(In manner of Barbarian kind)  
By wracks that on their shore they find.  
This wretched way Cato seeks out,  
There to lead on with courage stout,  
And there his soldiers to enure,  
More storms then on the seas endure.  
For that the Syrts southwinds do cause  
Upon those sands most harmful flaws.  
For there no Lybian mounts suffice  
To stay the fury that doth rise.  
Nor yet the rocks their force assuage,  
But in the air those whirlwinds rage.  
Amongst the woods they do not fall,  
Rooting up huge trees withal:  
But fly alongst the parched plain,  
(Without resist) with might and main,  
And on the sands their rage bestows,  
The which it violently blows.  
And never is alaid again  
With any clouds of showering rain.  
But sweeps in heaps the sands on high,  
Which hang and do not scattering fly.  
¶ The wretched Nasmons thus behold  
Their kingdom still with tempests rolled,  
Their houses to the earth down thrown,  
Their roofs (with whirlwinds fury blown  
From off their Garamantine frames)  
Towering as high as hugest flames.  
And as the smokes ascension  
Unto the middle region,  
Which darkness to the day procures,  
So clouds of dust the air obscures,  
The Roman troops began to find  
The outrage of this whirling wind,  
More furiously them to assail:  

The furious effects of the Lybian winds.  So as their footing did them fail.  
For even the very sands did fleet,  
And slip from underneath their feet.  
The earth's foundation it had raced,  
And from his proper seat displaced.  
If that these winds had made their birth  
Within the Caverns of the Earth,  
And crept into the hollow docks,  
That are surcharged with Lybia's rocks,  
But for because the flitting sand,  
Doth not the forcing wind withstand,  
Nor make resistance with firm ground,  
The soils foundation did stand sound.  
And that which fled before the wind,  
Were upper sands, loose, uncombinde.  
But there withal so forcibly,  
The violent blasts amongst them fly,  
As that from them it takes and tears  
Their swords, their casks, their shields, and spears,  
And through the vacant air them bears.  
The which to other coasts might seem  
A prodigy of streaming esteem.  
As though those arms from heaven did fall,  
To terrify the world withal.  
And that which from men's hands was hent,  
The Gods down to the earth had sent.  
Surely those arms fell in such wise,  
Whilst Numa was in sacrifice,  
The which (in a religious fear)  
The chief Patrician youths did wear.  
So now their arms our soldiers lost,  
By South or Northern tempest tossed.  
¶ In this sort all our Roman troops  
(Scared with these winds) down prostrate droops:  
Fearing the rapture of each blast,  
Their garments they gird to them fast. 
The perils of the Lybian sands.   
And thrust their hands into the mould.  
Their own weight served not them to hold.  
But they were forced all helps to prove:  
And yet the winds would them remove.  
And therewithal o'erwhelmed be they,  
With heaps of sands whereas they lay.  
Which dust on them so heavy lies,  
That they scarce able were to rise,  
But stick fast in the heaped sand.  
And when they get upright to stand,  
The same so thick about them floats,  
That they stand buried to the throats.  
Stones from the walls are taken out,  
And through the air are borne about,  
And cast far off (most strange to see)  
Whose falls to many harmful be.  
And where no houses can be found,  
Huge ruins lie upon the ground.  

Men travel on land by the help of the stars as on the Seas.  There did appear no way nor path,  
The soil at all no difference hath.  
But as upon the seas you sail,  
So must the stars your course avail,  
And by them seek to find your way.  
And yet stars do not still display  
In circuit of the Lybian skies:  
For many shine not to their eyes,  
But under their horizon lies.  
¶ Now when the heats had near appeased  
The winds, whose rage the air had seized:  
And that the days more fervent grew,  
And did more scorching beams renew;  
Through such a country than they pass,  
As by the Gods designed was  
Of mortal wights to be unknown:  
Placed underneath the torrid zone.  
Where nought is found but parching drought,  
All moisture tending to the South.  
Their limbs and joints in sweat do melt,  
Their mouths and jaws with thirst do swelled.  
Yet hear a little vain they spy,  
Of putrid water running by.  
The which the soldiers scarce could get,  
So did the sands the current let.  
But yet out of the puddled spring  

A soldier brings Cato water in his helmet.  One fills his Cask, and doth it bring  
To Cato (Chieftain of the host)  
When all with drought were then embossed.  
Who first a little say did take,  
And then in anger thus bespoke.  
Thou soldier base, what dost thou see,  
That is of so small worth in me?  
That I alone (of of all this troup)  
For want of continence should droop?  
Have I of niceness showed such sign,  
That I should first at thirst repine?  
Nay thou that blame dost more deserve,  
That drinkst whilst all for thirst do starve.  
Therewith he overturned the Cask: 
Cato's continency. So did Alexander.   
All were suffisd, none water ask.  
¶ Then they unto that Temple came,  
That serves for all the Libyan name:  
And where rude Garamants do dwell,  
They have no other sacred Cell.  
And here (as old report doth run)  
The horned jupiter doth won.  
But thunderbolts he none doth bear:  
Nor is like latium's jupiter.  
With wretched horns his head is dight;  
And Ammon jupiter he hight.  
The Lybians this Temple hold,  
Endowed not with gifts nor gold;  
Nor jewels of the Eastern morn  
(with glistering) did this place adorn.  
And yet the Aethiopians,  
And all the rich Arabians,  
With those in India that live,  
To Ammon only Godhead give.  
Yet for a God he is but bare,  
In no age he for wealth had care.  
His Temple he from that restrains,  
Vnviolate with greedy gains.  
And (as it was the ancient guise)  
That Godhead did the gold despise  
That in the Roman Temples lies.  
And that same place doth witness well,  
That there some heavenly powers do dwell.  
For only there is to be seen,  
That Lybian soil doth bring forth green.  
For all the rest of parched sands,  
Divided from the temperate lands  
Of Berenice, and Leptis ground, 
Berennicis and Leptis two Cities.   
Nor grass nor leaf is to be found.  
Ammon alone green groves retains,  
And those are caused by springing veins,  
Which in that place the earth refines,  
And with those springs the sands combines.  
¶ Here nothing doth withstand the Sun  
When he his highest pitch doth run,  
In equalling their nights and days:  

A relation how the signs and poles do lie to those parts of Lybia.  For then the boughs scarce shade displays  
Upon the body of the tree,  
The sunny beams so shortened be;  
By reason that they downright strike,  
And therefore cause no shade oblike.  
And this is thought to be the place  
Whereas the suns high circling race  
Doth cut the line that bears the Signs,  
In middle where the Solstice shines.  
For than they go no whit askance,  
Nor Taurus righter doth advance,  
Then Scorpio, in his sphericke dance:  
Nor Aries doth prescribe the times  
To Libra, when his height he climbs.  
Nor yet Astraea doth require  
Slow Pisces downward to retire.  
Chiron the Centaur equally  
Is opposite to Gemini:  
And moisty Capricorn the same  
In distance, as is Cancers flame.  
Nor Leo (with his fiery eyes)  
Doth higher than Aquarius rise.  
But unto thee, who so thou art  
Of any Nation, that apart  
Is sequestered from Lybian beams,  
The shadow ever southward streams;  
But contrary with Northern Realms.  
Thy sight the North-star undergoes,  
And Vrsa Maior to thee shows;  
As if that all his unwet wain  
Were overwhelmed in the main.  
And each star, that is most of light,  
Seems (by the sea) hid from thy sight:  
And either Pole this Region  
Makes equal with thy Horizon;  
Where all the Signs (in their swift force)  
In midst of heaven do run their course.  
¶ Before this Temple gate did stand  
The people of the Eastern land,  
Attending there to know their fates,  
Which Ammon's Oracle relates.  
But yet to Cato all gave way;  
And his own Captains do him pray,  
That of this God he would explore  
(Whom Lybia did so much adore)  
His doom, what fortunes and what chance  
The future Ages should advance.  
And he that Cato most importunes,  
To search the knowledge of their fortunes,  
And counsel of this God to take,  
Was Labienus, that thus spoke: 
Labienus speech to Cato.   
The hap and fortune of our way  
Hath offered us this lucky day,  
To learn from this high power divine,  
Of our success the fatal fine.  
For by so great a guide as he,  
We may a right directed be  
Through Syrts, in wandering near and far:  
And know the chances of this war.  
For unto whom should I believe  
The heavenly powers would sooner give  
True knowledge of their secret hest,  
Then unto Cato's holy breast?  
For thy just life God hath respected,  
And been by laws divine directed;  
And unto thee 'tis granted still  
With jove himself to speak at will.  
Inquire of wicked Caesar's fate,  
And what shall be our Country's state.  
Whether the people shall retain  
Their laws, and liberties again;  
Or civil war shall us still strain?  
Fill now thy breast with sacred voice,  
Thou that in virtue dost rejoice;  
Learn what our valour may achieve,  
And how our honest course may thrive.  
¶ He (always filled with grace divine,  
That in his secret soul did shrine)  
These worthy speeches from his heart  
(Like Oracles) doth now impart.  
O Labienus to me show,  
What thou wouldst I should seek to know.  
Where I in Arms had rather die,  
Or live a slave to tyranny.  
Whether we may a life it call,  
That is not dated long withal?  
Where differing age do oft avail,  
Where rigour can true goodness quail?  
Where fortune do her threats but loose,  
When she doth virtues might oppose?  
Whether that it may us suffice  
Praiseworthy deeds to enterprise?  
And whether that it be success  
Makes honest actions more or less?  
This we already know as well  

Cato's divine conceits.  As Ammon can the same us tell.  
Upon the Gods we all depend;  
And though this Temple had an end,  
Yet otherwise nought can succeed,  
But by God's ordinance decreed.  
His mighty power no voice doth need.  
The Author of all mortal kind,  
Hath once for all declared his mind,  
Our knowledge is by him confined.  
These barren sands are not his choice,  
Where he will utter forth his voice.  
Nor in this dust doth he conceal  
Those truths, that he means to reveal.  
The sacred seats of God are these,  
The Heavens, the Air, the Earth, the Seas,  
And virtues self; why should we prove  
To search beyond the Gods above?  
What so thou seest, where so thou art  
Of jupiter himself is part.  
Let faithless minds these witchcrafts need,  
And such as dread what shall succeed.  
No Oracles can me secure,  
But death itself that is most sure.  
The Coward, and the valiant Knight  
Must fall at last, and leave this light.  
And now for all may us suffice,  
That jove himself speaks in this wise.  
So having said, with faith's repose,  
The Temples Altars he foregoes;  
And Ammon's counsel doth disdain,  
Leaving it to those people vain.  
¶ Then in his hand he takes his pile,  
And marched a foot himself the while  
Before his troops, that panting went;  
He shows them how to be content  
To suffer toil, without constraint;  
Since labour could not make him faint.  
He is not on their shoulders borne,  
A charet he did hold in scorn.  
Small rest and sleep he used to take,  
And last of all his thirst would slake.  
For when by chance a spring they met,  
The thirsty Soldier (dry with heat)  
Constrained was to drink, than he  
The last of all the troup would be  
That took his share, 
Cato's temperance.  and did forbear  
Until the Scullions served were.  
If great renown be deemed due  
To goodness, that is merely true;  
Or if that naked virtues praise  
(That wants success) men rightly weighs;  
What ever was so much renowned,  
That in our ancestors was found  
Were fortunes gifts, that did abound?  
For which of them (for happy Mart)  
Could challenge that as their desert?  
Or who could claim (as his own good)  
The fame, they wan with others blood?  
But this man's triumph I would more  
Desire to follow on this shore  
Whereas the Syrts do dangers threat,  
And through Lybia's parching heat;  
Then thrice in Pompey's Car to wend,  
And to the Capitol ascend:  
Or giuurths' war to bring to end.  
Behold him that true father is  
Unto his Country's cause and bliss.  
When Rome may think fit to aspire  
Unto her Altars sacred fire.  
To honour whom she needs not shame  
To swear and vow by his dear name.  
And whom (if ever Rome should see  
Her state restored from dangers free)  
Hereafter him to glorify  
His name she well may deify.  
Now march they through a wretched soil,  
That fervent heats do parch and broil.  
A climate near the torrid zone,  
Which heavens would have to men unknown:  
Here water rare was to be found,  
And yet (amidst this dusty ground)  
One fountain large the Soldiers spied,  
Where many Serpents did reside,  
So thick that they the waters hide.  

Two sorts of venomous serpents.  Upon the brinks the aspics sit,  
And in the midst the Dipsa's flit.  
¶ When Cato saw his men oppressed.  
With heats, and thirst, this fount detest,  
He said, O Soldier (whom vain fear  
Of death, makes thee this spring forbear)  
Thou needst not doubt thy thirst to slake,  
These waters safely thou mayst take.  
The Serpent's pest no dangers brings,  
Except when as with blood it mings.  
His sting from it doth poison send,  
And with his bite doth life offend.  
The fountain wholesome is and pure.  

Cato drinks first of suspected water.  So said, he drinks, them to assure  
The water that they poisonous think.  
But still (before) he used to drink  
The last of all, during the time  
That they had spent in Lybia's clime.  
Our care and labour cannot find  
The cause, why Lybia is inclined  
To air of such contagious kind:  
Where many plagues abounding swarms,  
Fruitful in nought but deadly harms.  
Nor yet what secret nature did,  
When in that soil such faults she hid; 
Meaning the fable that follows.   
Except it be that fabling lie  
That over all the world doth fly:  
The which doth every age deceive,  
When for a truth they it receive.  
¶ In the extremes of Lybia's soil,  
Whereas the ground with heat doth broil;  
And where the Ocean it confines,  
Warmed with the Sun when he declines.  
Those fields and Countries all abroad  
With foul Medusa's filth was strode.  
No green-leaved woods did yield a shade,  
Nor Coulters there had furrows made.  
But (with their Mistress balesull eyes) 
The fable of Medusa.   
There only stones and rocks did rise.  
Hence hurtful nature first drew seeds,  
That mortal plagues in bodies breeds.  
About her ears there dangling hung  
The hissing snakes, with stinging tongue;  
Which (like a tress) her back behind  
Did spread, as hair of women kind.  
And, whilst about her neck they crawl,  
The fell Medusa joyed withal.  
Then all their heads, upright in rank,  
Her brow did like a frontlet prank;  
But when she combed her crawling crown,  
The viperous venom trailed down. 
These twelve translated verses are so ambigious in the Latin, as that it rests to the best and most probable construction that can be made thereof.   
" Cursed Medusa taxlesse pries  
" On whom she list, with fatal eyes:  
" For who can fear this monster's face,  
" When to dread death they have no space?  
" For where her ghastly look she bends,  
" They are transformed before their ends.  
" And raped away from doubtful fate,  
" Preventing fear before their date.  
" The bodies metamorphosed  
" Retain the spirits captived,  
" And (buried so within the bones)  
" Turn stupid, like to senseless stones.  
The Furies (with their ghastly hairs)  
Did only stir up frantic fears:  
And Cerberus (that hellish hound)  
Orphaeus calmed with music sound.  
And Hydra, Hercules beheld,  
When he that ugly Serpent quelled;  
But this vile monster did affright  
Phorcus her father with her sight.  
Phorcus that next doth rule and reign  
To Neptune on the raging main.  
Ceto her mother, with her look,  

They were two other Gorgon's her sisters  She scars; her sisters cannot brook  
Her ugly sight: the seas and skies  
She can make stone with her stern eyes.  
She utterly can raze from earth  
The world's whole race of human birth.  
Amidst the air (from lofty flight)  
The winged fowls do fall downright.  
The wild beasts, and the horned Hearts,  
She into craggy rocks convarts.  
And all the people in the scope  
That bounds next unto Aethiope,  
She hath transformed (from flesh and bones)  
Into hard rugged Marble stones.  
No creatures can her sight abide,  
Her hairy snakes behind her hide,  
And will not of her eyes be spied.  
The mighty Atlas (Titan's son)  
That by Hesperian straits did won,  

Atlas' metamorphosed by Medusa.  She turned into a huge rock.  
The Giants of Phlaegraean flock,  
(That with their Serpent's feet sometime,  
Did strive into the heavens to climb)  
She lofty mountains of them framed;  
Whereby that giants war was tamed,  
When Pallas in her shield did place  
This grisly Gorgon's hideous face.  
Now after that Mercurius wings 
Mercury the founder of the Arcadian harp, and of wrestling.   
(The first concorder of those strings,  
That on th' Arcadian harp do sound,  
And first likewise that wrestling found)  
Had Perseus borne unto this place,  
(That took from Danae his race  
When jove, transformed to golden shower,  
Into her lap himself did power;)  
He took unto him speedily  
The trenchant glaine of Mercury:  
That glaine imbrued with the stain 
Perseus' borne of Danae, and the golden shower.   
Of hundred-eyed Argus slain,  
The watchman of that haifer white,  
That did Ioues fancy so delight.  
Then Pallas (that same martial maid)  
Did give her winged brother aid,  
Whereby this Gorgon's head to gain;  
And charged him his flight to strain  
Toward Lybissas' utmost land:  
But that his look should Eastward stand.  
And, flying, hold a westward race,  
When he through Gorgon's realm did trace.  
Then on his left arm she did bind  
Her brazen Targe, that brightly shined: 
Pallas Target.   
And bids him so the same direct,  
That upon it there might reflect  
Medusa's stone-creating eyes:  
Which heavy sleep should so surprise,  
And raped her senses chiefest strength,  
To bring dire death on her at length.  
But yet part of her snaky tress  
This slumber could not so oppress;  
But that some serpents stood an end,  
And did her dulled head defend,  
Whilst some her face did overspread,  
And veiled her eyes in darkness bed.  
Then Pallas lent her powerful charm  
To fearful Perseus' trembling arm:  
And did his falchion Harp guide,  

Perseus with harp, the falchion of Mercury, cuts off Medusa's head.  That ready was to turn aside;  
Wherewith he strait in sunder smoat  
Her spacious snake-bearing throat.  
What face had Gorgon then I wonder,  
When that her neck was cut a sunder  
With that same crooked wounding blade?  
What poison did her gorge unlade?  
How many deaths from her eyes streams?  
Pallas could not endure those gleams:  
Nor Perseus (though he turned aside)  
Had 'scaped from being stonified,  
If Pallas had not (with her Targe)  
Her feltered locks dispersed at large,  
And so be-clouded all her face  
With Snakes, that over it did trace.  
¶ The winged Perseus (being sped  
With this fell Gorgon's ugly head)  
Did mind to heaven to make repair,  
And cuts the region of the air:  
But (lest through Europe's Clime he might,  
With damage to those coasts, take flight)  
Pallas enjoined him, with her hest,  
That fruitful soil not to infest;  
Nor yet that people to molest.  
For who would not admire the skies,  
When through them such a wonder flies?  
From Zephyrus he turns his wings,  
And over Lybia's coasts he flings:  
Where was nor grain nor tillage used,  
But all with Phoebus' flames enfusd.  
For there the Heavens and Titan's steeds  
Burnt all, so that no green it breeds.  
And no land in the earth doth rise  
(With mighty shade) more near the skies  
Nor Cinthia's light doth more surprise:  
If that (forgetful of her way)  
From the right signs she trend astray.  
For that high land casts never shade  
Unto the South, or Northern glade;  
And yet it is a barren ground,  
Wherein no goodness can be found.  
But now it was with poisons fed,  
That dropped down from Medusa's head.  
And those wild dews corrupt the fields,  
That her envenomed sanguine yields.  
The which the heats more noisome makes,  
When in the putrid sands it bakes.  
¶ The first corruption that arose,  
And in the dust his head out-showes,  
The Aspic was; that brings dead sleep,  
And with a swelling neck doth creep. 
The divers kinds of serpents that were engendered in Lybia by the drops of blood that fell from the neck of Medusa, according to fabulous antiquity   
With Gorgon's blood he was replete,  
The clottered poisons in him fret.  
No serpent is more poisonous,  
Nor in extreme more frigidous;  
Who (wanting warmth) doth always shun  
The climes remoter from the Sun.  
And all alongst the banks of Nile  
Those sands he likewise doth defile.  
But how great shame to us accrues  
(Whom covetise doth so abuse)  
That we from Africa do not spare  
To merchandise that noisome ware?  
Here also doth that huge beast  
(Haemorrhois) raise up his crest.  
And whom he stings, from out the veins  
All the life-feeding blood he drains.  
Then the Chersydros double kind,  
That in the shoals of Syrts are shrined.  
And the Chelydris in their dens  
Amongst the muddy steaming fens.  
And Cenchris always when he slides,  
(Not wriggling) strait his passage guides.  
Whose speckled body (full of stains)  
More divers colours still retains,  
Then are the Theban marble veins.  
And the Ammodites, whose hue  
From parched sands men hardly knew.  
And the Ceraste roaming wide,  
Whose winding back each way can glide.  
And Scytale, that winter-worme,  
That in cold dews doth make his furme:  
And in that season casts his coat.  
Then Dipsas, that is all as hot.  
Amphisibena, harmful fiend,  
That hath a head at either end.  
The Watersnake, that felly stings,  
And Darting Serpents, that have wings.  
And Pharias, that doth not trail,  
But ever goes upon his tail.  
And greedy Praester, that all rapes,  
Whose frothy jaws such wideness gapes.  
With Seps, that in contagion swelts,  
And very bones with bodies melts.  
Then that same Basilisk, whose hiss  
Unto all Serpent's fearful is:  
So as from him they fly or hide,  
And come not where he doth reside.  
He lethal is before he sting,  
His hissing deadly harm doth bring:  

Therefore called Basiliscus of the greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Sole in the sands he reigns as King.  
And torrid Africa likewise breeds  
Those plaguy Dragons, that exceeds  
For mischief, in most cruel kind,  
Which other nations never find.  
Whose scaly backs do shine like gold;  
And when aloft their flight they hold,  
(Amidst the air with stretched wings)  
The herds of cattle clustering thrings.  
For mighty Bulls become their prey,  
That in their tails they sweep away.  
Huge Elephants scape not their paws:  
All things to death their fury draws:  
So as no poisonous humour needs  
To act the mischief of their deeds.  
¶ Cato (with his stout martial bands)  
Doth march alongst these parched sands  
That do such mortal poisons yield;  
And there with grief he oft beheld  
The uncouth deaths, that so abounds,  
Amongst his troops of little wounds.  
The Serpent Dipsas turns his head  
On Aulus, that on him did tread,  
And bites this youth of Tyrrhen race, 
The poison of dipsa's.   
That held an ensign-bearers place.  
He scarcely any whit was pain,  
Nor any sign of bite remained.  
Within his looks no death appeared,  
Nor threatening danger to be feared.  
But yet the secret poison works:  
The fire within the marrow lurks:  
And suddenly the venom heats,  
Whilst burning gripes his bowels frets.  
This pestilence dispersed sinks,  
And all the vital humours drinks.  
His palate and his jaws grow dry;  
His tongue with scorching drought did fry:  
His weary limbs (with labouring heat)  
Did not as erst yield moisty sweat.  
No tears at all fall from his eyes.  
All moisture from the poison flies.  
No reverence of the Empire's awe,  
Nor Stoic Cato's martial law,  
Could this incensed man affray:  
But he his Ensigns would display,  
And all about the fields did rave,  
Seeking where he might water have,  
The which his thirsty heart did crave.  
Had he been into Tanais cast,  
Or Rhodanus that runs so fast,  
Or into Poe that spreads so vast,  
Or into Nilus, that doth range  
Alongst so many country's strange;  
And of all these had soaked his fill:  
Yet would his lights have burned still.  
The fury of the parched ground  
Did make his deadly drought abound,  
And add more deaths to Lybia's blame,  
But doth detract from Dipsas fame,  
As not from her that all this came.  
He now at last the sands doth try,  
Where any filthy puddles lie.  
And then unto the Syrteses returns,  
And baths in floods his mouth that burns.  
The store of waves did him delight:  
Yet nought assuaged his thirsty plight.  
His kind of grief he nothing knows,  
Nor that his bale from poison flows.  
He thinks thirst only his disease,  
The which the better to appease,  
With his own sword he cuts his veins,  
And with the blood his mouth he baines.  
¶ Cato forthwith commanded than  
To take the ensign from this man.  
And so 'twas handled that none durst  
To say this sickness came of thirst,  
But strait again another dies  
More grievously before their eyes.  
For lo a little Seps their lights  
On poor Sabellus thigh and bites:  
Who with his hand away did pluck  
This worm, that by the teeth then stuck.  
And with his pile, that he did bear,  

The poison of the Seps  Unto the ground he nailed it there.  
A little Serpent 'tis God knows,  
But whence most cruel poison flows,  
And none doth bring more deadly throes.  
For all about (where he had bit)  
The skin and flesh away did flit:  
So as the bone all bared lay,  
The carcase likewise melts away.  
One naked wound all did display.  
His members all with venom swell:  
His brawny calves then from him fell:  
The sinews of his hams Were reft:  
No skin or flesh about them left:  
The very muscles of his thighs  
Did rotting drop away likewise:  
His flanks to black corruption turned:  
The midriff shrivelled up and burnt:  
So as his bowels burst withal,  
And yet the body did not fall  
Together, to the ground at once:  
But by piecemeal dropped from the bones.  
Thus (with a little poisoned bite)  
Death suddenly all parts did smite.  
The venom had such ample scope,  
That nerves and sinews it lays open.  
The ribs it did uncover quite:  
The hollow breast it rots outright.  
The vital veins that feed the heart,  
And what else was of this man's part,  
That Nature gave, when he took breath,  
Abandoned lay to this strange death.  
His shoulders drop, and his strong arms,  
His neck and head receive like harms.  
The thawing snow melts not more fast,  
That feels the warmth of Southern blast:  
Nor yet the wax against the Sun  
Doth to more liquid humours run.  
But this is nothing that I say  
That poisons heat melts flesh away:  
The fire can show the self same power,  
But what flame so can bones devour?  
For hear even as the marrow melts,  
The bones likewise consuming swelts.  
It suffers no signs to remain.  
A rapting fate so all doth strain.  
Of all the plagues (that Africa tries)  
Thyself alone shalt have the prize.  
The rest do bring but life to end:  
But thou both life and bones dost spend.  
And now behold another kind  
Of swelling death, they likewise find.  
The fiery Prester (with his sting)  
Nasidius to his end doth bring.  
Nasidius that (with his plough shares)  
The Marsian fields for grains prepares. 
The poison of the Prester.   
His face is coloured fury red:  
His puffed swollen skin at large is spread.  
All form and shape his looks hath lost  
The tumour so his corpse embossed.  
And so his veins the poison feeds,  
That human measure he exceeds.  
One lump doth all his parts confound,  
Within a formless body drowned.  
His habbergon was not of space,  
His swollen carcase to embrace.  
The boiling caudrons frothy scum,  
Doth not in bubbles rise so plum;  
Nor yet the sail doth swell so vast,  
When it is puffed with windy blast.  
The misshaped corpse could scarce contain  
The limbs, that so with swelling strain.  
And that same trunks confused heft,  
They durst not to the funeral waif,  
But to the fowls untouched it left,  
And for a pray unto wild beasts,  
If thereon they durst make their feasts.  
For now the swelling corpse they leave,  
Before the fullness it receive.  
¶ But spectacles of more dismay  
The Lybian poisons yet display.  
The sharp Hemorrhois hath impressed  
His venomed teeth, that did infest  

The poison of the Hemorrhois.  Tullus, that noble hopeful youth,  
A follower of Cato's truth.  
And as we seeth Saffron stain  
The cloth, through which the same we strain  
So did this poisons ruddy taint  
(Like blood)) his body all depaint.  
The tears (that from his eyes then fell)  
Were drops of blood, wherewith they swell.  
And all the passages beside,  
Through which the body's humour slides,  
Huge streams of blood by those vents flows,  
So from his mouth, and from his nose,  
He liquid blood doth likewise sweat,  
Wherewith his members were replete,  
That through the swelling veins did fret.  
And so his bleeding did abound,  
That all his body was one wound.  
¶ But on thee (Leva) wretched wight  
The Nilus serpents rage did light. 
The nature of the Aspics poison.   
Whose poison fixed remediless,  
The heart root strings did so oppesse,  
That of his bite no pain was felt,  
Yet suddenly in death didst swelled,  
And in a slumber tookst thy end,  
And so to Stygian shades descend.  
The poison gathered unawares,  
(That fatal Sabeas so prepares,  
When they a harmful twig do choose  
For francumcense, which they would use)  
Doth not with that strong potion  
Hast death with so swift motion.  
But now behold from far doth flee  
(Out of a hollow withered tree)  
A cruel serpent, like a flight, 
The nature of the serpent called a jaculum.   
That deeply wounds where it doth light.  
And (whirling with a courage fierce)  
Through Paulus temples it did pierce.  
A jaculum they do it call,  
It poisons not the part withal;  
But whomsoever that it wounds,  
There present death the life confounds.  
By this experience we may know,  
That unto this a sling is slow,  
And (in compare how this doth pierce)  
The Scythian shaft flies not so fierce.  
¶ What help at all doth it advance,  
That Murrus hath (with his sharp lance)  
The Basilisk pierced thorough quite;  
When as the deadly venoms might  
Alongst the lance so fast doth creep,  
That it within his hands doth steep?  
Which he lifts up finding the harm, 
The nature of the Basilisks poison.   
And instantly cuts off his arm  
With his own sword, which fell to ground.  
And he by this experience found  
(The hand cut off that he endures)  
His life thereby to him assures.  
But who would think the Scorpion's sting  
Had such like force in poisoning,  
And present death with it could bring?  
He cruel is in deadly bites,  
And mortally his tail he smites.  
The which the heavens themselves explain,  
In honour of Orion slain.  

Salpuga a kind of poisonous Ants.  Or who would doubt that earth to tread,  
Where thou Salpuga mak'st thy bed?  
And yet the fatal sisters three  
No little power have given to thee,  
Our vital twists to shred in twain,  
By force of thy strange poisonous vain.  
¶ Thus neither by the days fair light,  
Could they find rest, nor in dark night.  
These wretched men were still in dread,  
Upon what ground to rest or tread.  
For neither heaps of leaves they take,  
Nor bundled reeds their beds to make:  
But even as men, to fates exposed,  
Upon the bared ground reposed:  
And to the vapours, that do rise  
Where their warm bodies heaped lies,  
The chilly serpents do repair  
(Offended with the nights cold air.)  
Amongst their limbs their skins they warm  
And all that while they do no harm.  
The cold dew doth their venom charm.  
Mean while the soldiers do not know  
What ways to seek, or where to go.  
But are directed by the skies,  

The murmuring and repining of the soldiers against their miserable journey.  And in this maze power out their cries.  
O Gods (say they) let us be led  
Unto the field, from which we fled.  
Bring us again to Thessaly:  
Our hands to arms we destiny.  

The Serpents of Lybia.  Why languish we in misery?  
The dipsa's here for Caesar fight,  
And the Caerastes plead his right.  
Alongst the torrid zone we run,  
And climates burned with the Sun.  
We are well pleased (in our despair)  
To lay the blame upon the air.  
And then against the heavens to cry,  
As destined in this soil to die.  
But, Africa, we accuse thee not,  
Nor nature with this fault do blot.  
Thou hast this hateful soil designed  
To serpents of a monstrous kind. 
This part of Lybia not ordained for man to live in.   
And therefore hence it first did chase  
All means to nourish human race.  
This earth thou barren didst ordain,  
Unfit for tillage or for grain.  
And in this sort thou didst decree  
That men from poisons should be free.  
But we take up the Serpent's rooms,  
For which we have these heavy dooms.  
And thou o God who so thou art,  
That dost dislike of this our mart,  
(Thereby to make our error known)  
On this side setst the torrid zone:  
And on the other side dost place  
The marine Syrts, with doubtful race:  
And in the midst this noisome coast,  
Where we by sundry deaths are lost.  
¶ The civil war his arms displays  
Alongst these desert uncouth ways;  
And now the soldiers well are taught,  
What miseries the heavens have wrought.  
The world's deep secrets they have sought  
But now, perhaps, some things more strange  
They yet may meet where they will range. 
In this part of the world both the Poles do seem to be as low as the horyson.   
For there the Sun falls in the Seas,  
And, hissing, doth his flames appease:  
And there the nature of the Poles  
(Oppressed to seeming) downward rolls.  
But no land further doth extend  
Unto the West where this doth end.  
But juba's realm, whose fatal name  
To us is only known by fame.  
There we shall seek and chance to find  
Lands, breeding serpents of this kind.  
This comforts yet the heavens do give,  
That in this soil some of us live.  
We do not wish nor yet desire  
To our own country to retire.  
Europe nor Asia we affect,  
Where other stars lend their aspect.  
But Africa where have we thee lost!  
Under what sky or in what cost!  
Art thou obscured from our host?  
For but even now the winter's cold  
We found upon Cyrenis mould.  
Is so much the years season changed  
In this small way, that we have ranged?  
We cross this Axle of the world,  
And with the sphere about are whirled:  
And now again we turn our back  
Once more unto the Southern rack.  

There opinion then of the Antipodes.  So as, perhaps, the Roman land  
Just underneath our feet doth doth stand.  
This only comfort fate us grant,  
That our foes seek us where we haunt,  
That Caesar (ere this war be done)  
May follow on where we have run.  
Such woeful plaints remediless  
Their suffering patience did express.  
But that their captains noble heart  
Made them all pains take in good part.  
The bared sands was still his bower;  
He tempted Fortune every hour.  

Cato's prsise.  In all assays he still made one,  
And runs when he is called upon.  
His worthy carriage comfort gave,  
To soldiers, ready for their grave.  
And more than health did them revive,  
For they in greatest pangs would strive  
To hide their plaints and death defy,  
As long as he was present by.  
What power on him had any grief,  
That so to others gave relief?  
Whilst he looked on his men he taught  
The greatest woes to set at nought.  
¶ Fortune (that weary was almost  
With plaguing of this wretched host)  
A little taste of comfort gives  
And them at last (though late) relieves.  
A people in the world there be,  
That are from serpent's poison free.  
Marmarida that land is named:  
Psilli the people, that have framed  
Their tongues all venom's rage to dead,  
As well as herbs, that earth hath bred.  
No poisons force can be enfusd  
Into their blood, though no charms used.  
The place (by nature) doth provide,  
That safe 'mongst serpents they reside. 
The nature of a people in Lybia called the Psilli that cure the bites of Serpents.   
It profits them to lead their life  
In soils, where serpents are so rife.  
With them death seldom is at strife.  
Their blood so poison holds in scorn,  
That when a child is newly borne,  
They use this means wherewith to try  
If it be free from Bastardy.  
By proving of the Aspics bite,  
To know where it be false or right.  
And as Ioues Eagle scans the doubt  
Of those warm eggs the dam brings out  
By taking his unplumed race,  
And them against the Sun doth place,  
And those that can (with constant eye)  
Behold the beams assuredly,  
And will not twinkle at the light,  
When Titan shows his face most bright, 
How the Psilli try their wives chastity.   
As his own breed those he affects:  
But every winking squall rejects.  
Such trial doth the Psiilli make  
If their small babes dare touch a snake,  
Or if the infant do but play  
With serpents, laid in his way.  
¶ These people do not only care  
How to preserve their own welfare:  
But strangers likewise they intent,  
And from those monsters them defend,  
And to our soldiers help did lend.  
One of the Psilli did accost  
An Ensign, of the Roman host,  
And with our camp along he went,  
And when the Chieftain pitched his Tent,  
He all the host did circuit round,  
Entrenched on this sandy ground.  
That done his muttering charms he spoke,  
And all without great fires did make.  
A medicine venom's force to slake.  

Medicines against the serpent's poison.  In it the Dane-wort hissing heats:  
And Galbana there frying sweats:  
The Thamarix, of sullen plight:  
And Costrum, that hearbe-Mary hight:  
With Panacea, most of might:  
Then the Thessalian century:  
And Maid-wort, that doth crackling fry:  
Long-wort, and Larix therewithal,  
And that, which Southernwood we call,  
Whose smoke the serpents so distaste;  
And then an old Hartshorn at last,  
So all the night they safely passed.  
For poisons, that do daily haunt  
That people magic wonders chant.  
Great struggling strife these Psillans make,  
When they would taken-venom slake.  
For first of all the stinged joint  
With spittle they do round anoint,  
Which doth the spreading venom drain,  
And in the wound the same contain.  
Then many charms by them are sung,  
Still muttering with a frothy tongue.  
And from their mumbling if they cease,  
The venom's rage will then increase.  
No minute may they hold their peace.  
Thus often do they with these charms,  
Dissolve and quench those poisonous harms,  
That in the marrow festering lies.  
But if this course do not suffice,  
But that the lingering poison stay,  
And to their charm will not obey;  
Upon the cure he flat doth fall,  
And licks the pallid wound withal.  
The venom with his mouth he draws,  
And soaks the arteries with his jaws.  
So from the chilly corpse he fets  
The deadly dram, and out it spits.  
And having overcome the might  
Of this vile serpents mortal bite,  
The Psilli by the taste do find  
The poisons force, and of what kind.  
And by this means the Roman troup  
Are freed from that, which made them droop  
And now about these dismal lands  
They dare disperse their scattering bands.  
Belphoebe twice was in the wane,  
And twice her full light she had ta'en,  
Whilst Cato wandering in this coast  
Her nightly sheen had found and lost.  
¶ Now more and more the mouldering sand  
Grew firm, and changed to solid land,  
And then a far the soldier sees  
The lofty woods and green-leaved trees,  
And little coats with loam up-patcht,  
The roofs whereof with reeds were thatched.  
O what a comfort this poor host  
Conceived, to find a better coast!  
When first they one another show  
Fierce Lions ranging to and fro.  
Then unto Leptis next they came, 

Leptis a good city on the frontiers of Lybia.  
He now returns to speak of Caesar.    
Where they their winter stations frame.  
A quiet place and fruitful mould,  
Neither oppressed with heat nor cold,  
¶ Caesar now (having cooled his ire  
In Pharsale blood) doth thence retire.  
And all the weight of his affairs  
Against his son-inlaw-prepares,  
And him pursues (although in vain)  
Whose troops were spersed on land & main.  
But Pompey's fame the seas had spread  
Thither his army Caesar led.  
And goes unto the straits of Thrace,  
Whose waves Leander's love did grace.  
Where stands that fatal wailing tower  
Of Hero, his dear Paramour.  
That Hellespontus hath to name,  
From Helle drowned in the same.  
A shorter cut cannot be found  
Twixt Europe, and the Asian ground.  
Although the main, that doth divide  
Byzantium, from Calcedons side,  
Do run but with a narrow tide.  
And so Propontis (that doth take  
His current from the Euxine lake)  
Doth but a slender channel make.  
Here he the fame doth now explore,  
That runs of this Sigaean shore.  
And Simois, that noble fount;  

Here was Achilles his Tomb.  And that brave Greek of such account,  
That buried lies in Rhaetus mount.  
And many other worthy spirits,  
Obliged unto the Poets writes.  
He circuits then that worthy name  
Of Troy, destroyed by Grecian flame.  
And those old ruins he seeks out  
Of Phoebus' walls so large about.  
But rotten trees and barren land  
Now hides the place where they did stand.  
And with their burden do press down  
The buildings of Assarac's town,  
And all their Temples so divine  
The spreading roots do undermine.  
All Troy is thus with brambles cloyed,  
Yea even her ruins are destroyed.  
Hesions' rocks he likewise views, 
Hesione, Laomedon's daughter.   
And where Anchises erst did use  
(In woody shades) his sports to prove,  
Coying that powerful Queen of Love:  
And whereas Paris being judge,  
Did on him draw great Juno's grudge:  
And where that Boy was rapted up,  
That now for jove doth bear the cup; 
Ganymede.   
And where the Trojan youth did rest,  
When he was Nymph Oenone's guest. 
Paris.   
Each place is with some fame possessed.  
¶ Now unawares doth Caesar pass  
That twining stream, that dried was,  
Which Xanthus he did call of yore,  
And careless treads that grassy shore.  
When as a Peasant of that Coast  
Bids him not tread on Hector's ghost: 
The words of a Peasant to Caesar.   
There all abroad lay scattered stones  
Of that brave Tomb, that held his bones,  
Whereof no form did now remain.  
And then this Peasant said again,  
What dost thou Hector's Tomb disdain?  
O great and sacred Poet's toil,  
That dost preserve what death would foil! 
The praise of of Poesy.   
And to the world this boon dost give,  
That mortal men shall ever live.  
O Caesar! do not thou repine,  
To see the power of fame divine.  
For if that we may promise aught  
That may by Latium Muse be wrought;  
As long as Smyrna's Poet lasts,  
And on deserts due honours casts: 
Homer.   
So long shall after age's fame  
Record my verse, and read thy name.  
And our Pharsalia shall subsist  
In spite of dark oblivions missed.  
¶ When Caesar feasted had his eyes  
With ruins that there heaped lies  
Of reverent monuments of fame, 
Caesar's sacrifice at Troy, and his vows.   
There he of turf in haste did frame  
A sacred Altar, where did flame  
The precious gums, that smoke did raise,  
And not in vain in this sort prays.  
Ye ghosts divine, whose ashes cold  
The Trojan ruins do enfold,  
Whence my Aeneas took his race,  
That in Lavinia now hath place,  
And in the Alban bower sojourns,  
Where Phrygian fires still shining burns:  
And where that famous pledge doth lie  
(Concealed still from mortal eye)  
Of Trojan Pallas which we have  

Caesar doth challenge his descent from the Troyans'.  Shrined in a Temples secret cave.  
Behold before your Altars here  
A glorious Offspring doth appear,  
Descended from the julian line,  
Who offers up his vows divine:  
And yields your Rites in this self place,  
That whilom you were wont to grace;  
Grant my designs a happy fate,  
I will again restore your state:  
And Italy, the walls of Troy  
Shall gratefully raise up with joy.  
So Roman Pergamus shall rise  
With lofty Turrets to the skies.  
Thus said, unto his Fleet he goes,  
And all his sails a fair wind blows.  
For he desired to make amends  
For that time, which on Troy he spends.  
Then mighty Asia's coasts he clears,  
And past Rhodes foamy waves he steers.  
So as (within seven nights at most)  
He did arrive on Egypt's coast,  

Caesar sails towards Africa.  With such a friendly Eastern gale,  
That they nor tack aboard did hale,  
Nor ever did a sheet let fly,  
Till Pharos Lantern they espy.  
And yet the day was new begun,  
And that night lamp dined with the Sun:  
Before he did approach the Port  
Where flocking people did resort  
With muttering din, and strange report.  
And therefore now (for his behoof)  
Forbears to land, and keeps aloof;  
Doubting (at first) himself to trust  
With such a Nation, most unjust.  
But now dire presents from that King,  
The Captain of his guard did bring,  
And comes aboard the Roman fleet,  
And on the seas doth Caesar greet:  
With him he carries Pompey's head,  
With Pharian vail all overspread.  
And first of all he laud affords  
To his foul fact, in these vile words.  
¶ Great Conqueror of all the earth,  
Chief ornament of Roman birth, 
Pompey's head brought to Caesar, with an Oration.   
That which as yet thou dost not know  
The Egypt King doth here bestow  
Security upon thy state,  
By cutting off great Pompey's date:  
Whereby thy labours and thy war  
By land and sea, now ended are.  
And that which only wanting was  
At Pharsals field, is brought to pass.  
The civil war thou didst intend,  
Is in thy absence brought to end.  
The ruins of Pharsalia's fight,  
(That Pompey sought again to right)  
Is by our sword extinguished quite.  
Thy favour, Caesar, that we sought,  
With this great trial we have bought.  
And with this blood confirmed we have  
The league, that we of thee do crave.  
Receive this kingdom as thine own,  
For which thou hast no dangers known.  
Receive the right of all this Realm,  
The fruitful soil of Nilus' stream.  
Receive all that which thou wouldst give  
For Pompey's head, whilst he did live:  
And in thy Camp now let us be  
As faithful followers to thee;  
Since by the Fates it was decreed,  
That we should act so great a deed.  
And do not think this merit vile,  
That we our hands should so defile  
With slaughter of so dear a guest,  
By whom this kingdom we possessed:  
When our King's Father was put down,  
Pompey restored him to his Crown.  
What is there more for me to say?  
What name can such a work display?  
Search all the world records that are,  
They all come short of this by far.  
Thy debt is more, if this be blame,  
That for thy sake did act the same:  
From thee we taken have the shame.  
So said, the head he did display,  
And from it takes the vail away:  
But deaths pale hue his looks estranged,  
The features of his face were changed.  
¶ Caesar at first did not despise  
This gift, but turned aside his eyes;  
And musing stayed, the truth to sound  

Caesar's behaviour at the sight of Pompys head  Of this foul fact, which when he found,  
'twas fit he thought, that they all saw  
He was a pious Father-in-law:  
Wherewith he feigned tears did shed,  
And sighs for that, his comfort bred.  
Hoping this way to be the best  
To cloak those joys that in him rest,  
And did the Tyrant's fault detest.  
And would the Treason rather blame,  
Then seem indebted for the same.  
He that before with scorn did tread  
Upon the Senators laid dead:  
And that with dried eyes beheld  
The slaughter of Pharsalia's field;  
Now dares not, Pompey, thee deny  
A deepe-fetcht sigh, and weeping eye.  
O cursed lot of dismal fate!  
Hast thou pursued this dire debate,  
(O Caesar) and in that prevailed,  
That now deserves to be bewailed?  
The contracts of thy son-in-law,  
To no compassion doth thee draw:  
Nor yet thy daughter makes this mood,  
Nor little Nephews of their blood:  
But thou dost hope thy tears will move  
The people (that did Pompey love)  
Thy Arms the rather to approve.  
Or else perchance thou dost envy  
This traitor tyrant's destiny:  
That any hand such power hath shown  
On Pompey's bowels, but thine own:  
And grievest such means to others left,  
Whereby revenge from thee is reft:  
And that the end of Pompey's bane  
From the proud victor's sword is ta'en.  
But whatsoever humour 'twere.  
That made thee sigh, or shed a tear,  
It did no pious meaning bear.  
Didst thou (with such an eager vain)  
Expose thy force by land and main?  
And didst not mean withal, that he  
In any place should ruined be?  
O well did death this act fulfil,  
That left it not unto thy will!  
What shame and blame hath heavy fate  
Removed from the Roman state?  
That would not suffer Pompey live,  
That thou (wretch) shouldst him pardon give?  
And yet thou darest (with outward shows)  
To blind the world in that it knows:  
And feigned sorrows face dost frame,  
To gain to thee a loyal name.  
¶ Soldier, that unto me dost bring  
This direful present from thy King,  
Depart my sight, bear it away: 
Caesar's words to him that presented Pompey's head.   
For thou dost Caesar more betray,  
And worse of him it merited,  
Then of great Pompey murdered.  
For this proud fact doth us bebarre  
The greatest glory of our war;  
Which is, that mercy might be shown  
By us, unto our vanquished fone.  
And did not this vile tyrant hate  
His sister, partner of his state?  
I quickly could thy King requite  
With equal scorn, and like despite.  
And, Cleopatra, send thy head  
Unto thy brother for bloodshed.  
What moved him thus with secret might  

Caesar reproves Ptolemey.  So to intrude his sword's despite  
In actions, longing to our right?  
Have we to this end conquest sought  
At the Pharsalian battle fought;  
That we should lawless power afford  
(In this kind) unto Egypt's sword?  
Must we our state and safety gain  
By favours, that your kingdoms deign?  
Shall I (that would not brook for Mate  
Great Pompey, in the Roman state)  
Endure thee, Ptolemey, my Peer?  
Then, what are we a whit the near,  
So many Nations to have led  
Under our Roman Ensigns spread,  
If in this world there should be known  
Any, but Caesar's power alone?  
Or if the earth could parted be  
Twixt any other man and me?  
We should now turn our Latium Oars  
Aloof from these Egyptian shores;  
But that our honours are denayed:  
For then perhaps it would be said,  
That we for fear did Pharus shun,  
And not as loathing this deed done.  
But do not you persuade your mind,  
That you the victor's eyes can blind;  
But that he knows (had heavens hest  
So driven him to be your guest)  
He should have tasted the like feast.  
And that my head is not so used,  
Pharsalia's fortune hath excused.  
I see that we have waged war  
More perilous to us by far,  
Then ever yet our mind did fear:  
To banishment we subject were.  
Then Pompey us pursued with hate,  
And threatenings from the Roman state:  
So as if we had been distressed,  
Then Ptolemey had us oppressed.  
But with his youth we do dispense;  
And pardon him for his offence.  
But to the Pharian King make known,  
A greater grace cannot be shown.  
See therefore you entomb the head  
Of such a worthy Captain dead. 
Caesar gives commandment for Pompey's funeral.   
But fashion not his funeral  
As though his acts were criminal,  
Deserving to be hid from sight:  
But Incense give him flaming bright.  
Of his wronged ghost appease the moans,  
And gather up his burned bones,  
That on your shores lie all defaced,  
And in an urn let them be placed.  
So let him thereby understand  
His father-in-law came to this land:  
And let his soul hear, therewithal,  
My feeling sorrow for his fall.  
Although before our vowed love  
He did all other things approve:  
And rather chose his Pharian ward,  
Then our due grace his life to guard.  
Whereby the people reaved been  
That happy day, they might have seen.  
And that same concord was suppressed, 
Caesar pretends a meaning to have been reconciled to Pompey.   
That had restored the world to rest.  
But so the heavens did now ordain  
That my desires should be but vain;  
Who meaning hear to lay aside  
Those conquering Arms, that I have tried  
With friendly hands, and interview,  
We might our ancient leagues renew;  
And (free from grudge and civil strife)  
In those true terms have wished thy life.  
Thinking my pains at full rewarded,  
To be thy equal peer regarded  
Then had I (with this loyal peace)  
Brought it to pass that thou shouldst cease  
To blame the Gods for wars disgrace,  
And thou have made Rome me embrace.  
But all these words no passion bred  
Amongst his mates, nor one tear shed:  
Neither did they at all believe,  
That he spoke as his mind did give.  
All sighs and sorrows they suppressed,  
Their faces showed joy in their breast.  
O precious liberty, the while  
That they with merry looks durst smile,  
When Caesar's self did wail and rue  
That bloody spectacle to view!  
Finis libri noni.   

Lucan's Pharsalia. The tenth Book.  
THE ARGUMENT.  
CAesar arrives at Pharos Bay,  
And doth with dreadless face survey  
Their Temples and their Monuments:  
The King with him in league assents.  
There Cleopatra pleads her right,  
And favour finds in Caesar's sight.  
Then feasts and banquet ensue,  
And Egypt's treasure set to view.  
Whilst Achoreus doth discourse  
Of Nilus' springs and flowing source.  
Photinus doth with force employ  
Achillas, Caesar to destroy.  
Against the Court their Arms they bend,  
Which Caesar bravely doth defend;  
And in the secret of the night,  
By ship to Pharos takes his flight.  
Where being straighted by his foes,  
From thence by swimming safely goes.  
AS soon as Caesar (being led  
By him that offered Pompey's head)  
Had brought his Navy to the land,  
And trod on Pharos wretched sand;  
The Fortune of this conquering guest  
Did with false Egypt's fate contest:  
Whether that now the Lagian state  
The Roman Arms should captivate;  
Or that the Memphit murdering gleave  
Should traitorously the world bereave  
As well of him that conquered,  

The Commentators do vary in opinion upon the construction of these 4. verses, wherein I do follow the exposition of Hortensius, as most probable.  As of the other vanquished.  
" Thy death (O Pompey) did much good  
" To Caesar, and preserved his blood  
" By loss of thine, whereby the Nile  
" Should not the Romans trust beguile.  
Hence he to Alexandria Town  
Goes safely, and (for more renown)  
His Ensigns are before him borne,  
And that dire pledge their wicked scorn.  

Meaning Pompey's head.  But he perceives that in their breasts  
A secret spleen, repining refts  
Amongst that people, that did hate  
And murmur so to see their state  
subjecteth to the Roman guise  
With faggots borne, which they despise,  
He sees their minds, and thereby tried  
'twas not for his sake Pompey died.  
Yet in his looks no dread appears,  
But passeth on (devoid of fears)  
Unto their Temples, and surveys  
The Monuments that they did raise  
Of old, unto Macedons praise.  
But with no pleasure sees those sights,  

Caesar visits the Egyptian monuments.  Nor in those golden shows delights.  
Their garnished Gods feast not his eyes,  
Nor their huge walls that stately rise.  
He willingly descends to see  
The vault, where their Kings tombed be.  
There he beholds the body laid  
Of that same Fury, that dismayed  

Meaning Alexander the Great  The world's Commerce, whereon he prayed  
With happy mart so overrun,  
That Pollean Spring old Philip's son.  
Whose twist of life revenging Fate  
Hath shortened with untimely date. 
He envies bitterly against Alexander the Great.   
And now his bones interred are  
Within an holy Sepulchre;  
Whose ashes rather should be strode  
Throughout the air, the world abroad.  
But Fortune so his ghost did friend,  
That there a Tomb she did him lend,  
Until this kingdoms state did end.  
¶ For if the world should once retain  
Her ancient liberty again,  
His memory would be a scorn,  
As fruitless to all Nations borne.  
That possibly so many lands  
Should subject be to one man's hands.  
Macedons soil he did forsake,  
The seat where he his birth did take;  
And conquered Athens he despised,  
Whose state his father had surprised:  
And carried on by fatal rage,  
With bloody slaughters war did wage,  
And Asia's people did engage.  
His sword each where is exercisd,  
And over all he tyrannisd.  
Strange Rivers he with blood engrains,  
The Persian Euphrates he stains,  
And Ganges, that doth India trend:  
On earth he was a raging fiend;  
A lightning, that such flames did cast,  
As did all lands and people blast.  
A star malignant unto Realms;  
With fleets he cuts the Ocean streams:  
And then he Navies did prepare  
To search the seas that utmost are:  
Neither the waves, nor scorching gleed,  
Nor barren Lybs, where Serpents breed;  
Nor Ammon's Syrts could him withstand,  
He pierced them all with powerful hand.  
Nay he was wending to the west,  
Whereas the Sun declines to rest.  
To either Poles his heart was led,  
And would have drunk at Nilus' head;  

Death prevents Alexander's designs.  But that his latest day him met,  
And Nature only bounds could set  
To the ambitious haught desire,  
That this fierce Prince had set on fire.  
And with like envy works his bane,  
As he unto himself had ta'en  
The whole world's Empire for his own,  
Leaving behind him no heir known;  
Whereby great Cities, and rich soils  
Abandoned were to wracks and spoils.  
In his own Babylon he died,  
A terror to the Parthian pride.  
O shame! these Eastern nations all  
Macedon Pikes did more appall,  
Then now those people stand in fear  
Of Roman Piles, that we do bear.  
And though the North we overawe,  
And Western climes to tribute draw,  
And to the South prescribe their law;  

The Parths always infestious to the Romans.  Yet from the East we have disgrace  
Affronted by Arsaces' race.  
Crassus (with all his Roman host)  
Was hapless on the Parthian coast:  
Whilst Macedon, that little state,  
Securely did suppress their hate.  
¶ Now was this boy (the King) come down  
From that side of Pelusium Town,  
Where Nilus' fall doth make a Bay:  
Then he the mutiny did stay,  
That this unwarlike people make,  
And he himself doth undertake  
To be the hostage, and procure  
All peace and quiet, to secure  

Ptolemy comes to see Caesar.  Caesar himself, and all his train,  
Whilst in his Court they did remain.  
Then Cleopatra gives in charge,  
To fit for her a galley barge,  
Wherein she doth herself embark  
And findeth means, that in the dark  
The chain, that doth the haven bar, 
Cleopatra comes to Caesar by stealth.   
The Pharus keeper should unsparre;  
Whom she corrupts, and so she passed  
To Caesar's lodgings in great haste.  
Who thereof never thought nor knew  
Before her presence he did view.  
O Egypt's impudence and shame!  
Erynnis fierce to Latium name!  
A strumpet to the Roman state,  
Unchaste, our fuel of debate!  
Look how much woe and wretched toil  
Fell out upon the Grecian soil,  
And with what wracks and ruin wrought  
That Spartan face, the Troyans' bought;  
In no less fury, and mishap  
Did Cleopatra Latium wrap.  
She frighted (if I so might say)  
The Capitol with Systrons bray. 
The Systron was an instrument of war used by the Egyptians in stead of a Trumpet. Meaning the battle betwin Augustus and Anthony.   
And would our Roman spoils have boar  
Unto Canopo's coward shore.  
And Caesar then have captived,  
And him in Pharian triumphs led.  
For doubtful 'twas, at Actium fight,  
What hand should sway the Empire's right,  
And whether that our Matron Rome  
Should rule the world with her sole doom.  
These humours that night brought to pass  
When first this Ptolomean lass,  
Did with incestuous arms embrace  
The chieftains of our Roman race.  
¶ O Anthony who will disprove  
Thee, for thy lawless filthy love.  
Since Caesar's haughty heart so fries, 
Anthony loved Cleopatta and forsook Octavia.   
With this bewitcing harlots eyes;  
As that amidst the rage of arms,  
Amongst these broils and civil harms,  
And in this court, where Pompey's ghost  
Did cry for vengeance on this coast,  
And whilst as yet thou wert bespread  
With blood, at thy Pharsalia shed,  
Thou wouldst admit unto thy bed  
This foul adulterous venery,  
And mix thy arms with bawdry;  
And so didst seek to raise thy line  
Upon a strumpet concubine.  
O shame! to julia this is scorn,  
That though her Pompey be forlorn,  
Thou her of brothers wouldst provide,  
Begotten of a Bastard side.  
Thou dost constrain those Roman troops,  
That under Pharsals ruins droops,  

Caesar had issue by Cleopatra and a son called Caesareon.  To roam about the Lybian coast,  
Who still from place to place are tossed;  
Whilst thou thy time dost so misspend,  
And Egypt's filthy just intend,  
And rather pardon'st Pharos spite,  
Then subject her to Roman might.  
¶ To Caesar, Cleopatra goes,  
And in her beauty trust repose,  
Her looks demure and sad withal:  

Cleopatra's manner and speech to Caesar.  But yet no tears she did let fall.  
A feigned sorrow in her face,  
Which unto her gave greater grace.  
Her curled locks, in careless wise,  
Dangling about her shoulders flies,  
She thus her speech begins to frame.  
Most mighty Caesar, great of fame,  
If noble birth may purchase gace,  
Behold one of the royal race  
Of Egypt's blood, king Lagus child,  
That am distressed and live exiled.  
From my paternal lawful right,  
I am withheld by mastering might;  
And if thou wilt vouchsafe therefore  
With powerful hand me to restore  
Unto my former state and place,  
I will a Queen thy feet embrace  
That art a planet sent by fate  
To render justice to our state.  
Why should not I a woman reign 
The crown of Egypt as capable of a Queen as a King.   
On those chief Cities, that pertain  
To me by right in Nilus' land?  
No sex our custom doth withstand,  
But that it hath been often seen  
This kingdom hath obeyed a queen.  
Read but my father's last bequeast,  
And that will show he did invest  
Me with his kingdom equally,  
And me espoused to Ptolomey.  
But let him as a boy approve  
Me as his sister in his love,  
And in his wedlock's choice rest free; 
Cleopatra affects not to marry her brother as her father appointed   
But his affects must ruled be  
According to Photinns' word:  
For in his hand he holds the sword,  
I nothing do desire to have,  
But what my Father to me gave:  
And that our family be freed  
From any foul incestuous deed,  
And that thou wouldst the power abate  
Of Photyne, that doth wrong our state  
And do appoint (by thy behest)  
The king to rule as fits him best.  
But his base servant is with pride  
So puffed up and magnifide,  
Because that he the plot did lay, 
She inueies against Photinus.   
That Pompey's head hath reft away.  
And now the like (but Gods defend)  
Against thyself he doth intend  
That heinous deed, that all doth loath  
Hath wrong the world, and Caesar both:  
Whilst Photyne proudly doth exact  
To merit glory for the fact.  
¶ And now lest that her words might fail  
With Caesar's hard ears to prevail;  
Her gesture doth her speeches grace:  
She supplicates with flattering face,  
And with her chambering by night  
She charms her judge to rue her plight.  
So as when they had peace obtained  
At Caesar's hand, with great gifts gained;  
They feasted then the Roman Lord  
In show of joy for this accord.  
Then Cleopatra shows her port  
With luxury and great resort,  
And there such sumptuous pride was shown  
As erst in Rome was never known.  
The place a royal fabricate  
Was as a temples type in state;  
Whose match for beauty future date  
Will hardly raise; the fretted ruff,  
Composed was of richest stuff.  
As for the beams and timber frames,  
Were covered thick with golden lame.  
The parget of the walls did shine  
With snow white marble polished fine.  
The Agate stood inlaid there,  
Commixed with purple stones each where.  
And every floor they trod upon  

The sumptuous entertainment the Egyptians gave unto Caesar.  Was paved with the Onyx stone.  
The Mareoticke heben wood,  
No where for outward building stood,  
But as huge posts to a bear weight  
Under those frames, that did them freight.  
It was not used the house to grace:  
That timber they accounted base:  
The Ivory the frounts did face.  
Upon the doors enlaid with art  
The shining shells of India's mart,  
Were fixed upon the backer part.  
The bedsteads were with gems set out,  
Spotted with Emerald round about.  
The implements were all bedight  
With yellow jasper glistering bright.  
The coverlets and carpets spread  
Coloured like Tyrian scarlet red:  
Whose die was long to take the stain,  
And more than once boiled in the grain.  
One part did shine like glittering gold,  
Th'other a purple hue did hold:  
As do the Pharean weavers use,  
That mingled changes can infuse  
In woven silks of sundry hues.  
Then numbers of attendant maids  
And pages, that the service aides,  
Discoloured blood distinct appears  
In some, and some by differing years.  
A part of them have Lybian hair:  
And other yellow tresses fair.  
So as that Caesar's self could say, 
Some of the Egyptians have fair coloured hair.   
In all those soils where Rhine doth stray,  
He had not seen, amongst the flocks  
Of Germane lasses, fairer locks.  
Some of their heads were frizzled black,  
And from their foreheads turned back▪  
There were withal another sort  
Of hopeless youths for Venus' sport,  
Whose manly parts the knife had hent:  
But others, of a stronger bent,  
Stood their in place; yet scarce begins  
A sign of down on all their chins.  
¶ Then did the King and Princes all,  
Upon their beds to feasting fall.  
But Caesar (as the chiefest guest)  
Had highest place amongst the rest.  
There Cleopatra sets to view  
Immodestly her painted hue:  
So to enchant the gazer's eyes.  
Her sceptre doth not her suffice:  
Nor yet to be her brother's wife.  
About her neck there hangeth rife 
Cleopatra's attires.   
The red seas spoils, and in her heir  
Those precious jewels glistering were.  
Her rifing breasts, that snow white been,  
Through the Sydonian lawns are seen:  
Whilst it a vail doth overshade,  
That with the Nylan neelde was made,  
Most curiously with threads compact:  
Yet with the comb so nicely slacked,  
As that some places being thin,  
It did bewray her lily skin.  
Before them all round tables stood,  
(Framed of the rare Atlantic wood)  
On tresles made of ivory,  
Such as again of Caesar's eye  
Were never seen, though juba's soil  
Soon afterwards fell to his spoil.  
O blind and amazed ambitious rage,  

The Egyptians folly so to discover their abundant treasures to Caesar  That sets thy treasures on a stage  
To him, that civil war did wage;  
So to Provoke with riches charms  
A guest, so powerful great in arms!  
For though he were not then in case,  
With wicked war to run the race,  
That might with wrack the world constrain,  
For riches sake and greedy gain;  
Yet were those captains, that of old  
In poorer times great names did hold,  
Subsisting now in wonted mood,  
Fabritians, and the Curian brood,  
And that brave Consul, that was ta'en  
(In haste for need to save Rome's bane)  
From ploughing the Hetrurian lands,  
Where he was toiling with his hands;  
Those would have gladly given their doom  
To bring such triumph spoils to Rome.  
¶ Their costly cates were served in gold,  

The excess of a feast.  What ever might be bought or sold,  
That earth, or air, or Ocean yields,  
Or Nilus' flood, and fruitful fields,  
Or whatsoever could be found  
To make this luxury abound,  
Ambitious pride made it be sought,  
That in the world was to be bought:  
Not only hunger to suffice,  

Alluding to the Idolatrous Egyptians that worshipped beasts & bird●.  But for to feast their wanton eyes  
With beasts, and birds of sundry store,  
Which (by their sacred rites of yore)  
Th' Egyptians did as Gods adore.  
The water, for to wash their hands,  
In clearest crystal basins stands:  
The bowls, wherein they drink their wine, 
Mareotis a little Province in Egypt that yields the best wines.   
Were made of precious stones that shine:  
But Mareotis grape pleased not:  
A nobler wine than it they got,  
That had been kept for certain years,  
And with the age the strength appears. 
A place where the pleasant Muscadine grapes do grow.   
Falermums fragrant wine it was,  
That froths and spurtles in the glass.  
Then Garlands must their heads enclose  
Of pleasant Nard, that green still grows,  
And never sheeds his flowering rose.  
When on their balmed hair they throw  
Those precious powders that do grow  
In Eastern Ind, 
The Egyptian Ladies did use to powder their hairs as now a days is used.  that had not lost  
The sent and savour of that cost,  
Mixed with Amomum gathered new,  
Brought from the countries where it grew.  
Here Caesar learns to take the spoils  
Of all the whole world's richest soils,  
And now the wars he doth detest,  
That his poor son-inlaw oppressed,  
Wishing withal that some debate  
Might turn his Mart on Egypt's state.  
¶ When now at length they all were filled  
With pleasant wines, that they had swill,  
And dainty meats of sundry taste,  
With banqueting closed up at last;  
Caesar begins (for more delight)  
With talk to entertain the night,  
And with sweet words and pleasant grace  
To Achoreus (of the race  
Of Egypt's breed, who in that place  
Did sit upon a bench of state)  
In this sort did his mind relate. 
Caesar's word to Achoreus The Egyptian priest.   
O reverend sire, that for thy part  
To sacred rites devoted art,  
That with the Gods hast such esteem,  
As by thy aged years may seem;  
To me the first beginning show,  
From whence th' Egyptian race did grow,  
The climate of this fruitful land,  
And how the people's customs stand,  
And of your Gods the forms and rites,  
The which your old records recites:  
And what engraven is in stone,  
Upon your Pyramids make known:  
Reveal your Gods, that would be shown  
If your forefathers did their art  
And sacred mysteries impart  
To Plato, of a Grecian name;  
Then may you well reveal the same  
To Caesar's self; for where can rest  
In all the world a worthier guest  
To whom your skill may be expressed?  
I must confess that Pompey's name  
Was some cause, that did make me frame  
My journey to the Pharian coast:  
And yet when all my wars were most,  
I evermore did give my mind,  
The motions of the stars to find:  
My thoughts were to the heavens inclined.  

Caesar reduced the year to a juster account than Eudoxus did.  So as Eudoxus calendar  
Shall not surpass my framed year.  
And therefore, as within my breast  
A great and true desire doth rest  
Of knowledged, and of virtues lore:  
So nothing do I covet more,  
Then to find out the secret course  
From whence this river takes his source:  
And where his fountains head appears,  

Caesar's desire to find out the springs of Nilus' head.  That lies unknown so many years.  
O I will hope at last to see  
Where Nilus springs for certain be,  
And so from civil war rest free.  
So Caesar makes an end to speak,  
And this grave sire did silence break.  
¶ Caesar I think that well I may  
These mysteries to thee bewray,  
That our great Father's hidden kept,  
And in their thoughts obscured slept, 
Achoreus answer to Caesar's demands.   
Reserved from the vulgar ways  
From age to age to these our days.  
Let others think it piety  
To silence any mystery:  
But I do deem the Gods above  
The work as grateful will approve,  
That their great wonders should be shown,  
And sacred rules to all made known.  
When first an order was ordained,  
Whereby the world should be maintained,  
A divers motion to the stars  
Was given to hold concordant jars,  
That they the orbs might only sway  
And temper in their whirling way,  
Contrary to that rapide Pole,  
That first of all doth moving roll.  
The Sun doth still divide and steer  
The times and seasons of the year,  
And so the days to nights doth change,  
And doth restrain the stars to range  
About their orbs with powerful rays.  
His station stays those wandering ways.  
The Moon her alteration breeds  
Upon the seas, and earthly seeds.  
Old Saturn his empiring holds  
On freezing 'zounds and icy colds.  
And Mars with wrathful look abashes  
The boisterous winds and lightning flashes.  
Great jove no tempests doth procure,  
But keeps all in mild temperature.  
And fruitful Venus of her grace  
Doth cherish seeds in every place.  
Whilst Mercury with charming vain  
Doth moderate the wild vast main.  
¶ Now when Cyllenius doth appear  
In that part of the wheeling sphere,  
Where Leos sparkling torchets are  
In interchange with Cancers star,  
Where Syrius with his scorching ray,  
Contagiously inflames the day,  
And where the circle that doth change  
The yearly season; just doth range  
Betwixt the Tropics equally,  
Under whose covert Nile doth lie.  
Which when this power (I say that keeps  
An order in the raging deeps)  
Doth touch with his stars influence;  
Nilus as having thereof sense,  
His channel lifts with swelling crest,  
Scorning within his banks to rest.  
Just as Neptunus' Empire flows,  
When Phoebe's horned visage grows.  
Nor doth he call his streams again  
In their old harbour to remain,  
Until the Sun by his decline  
Do unto the night those hours resign,  
(That half the year he kept away)  
To make her equal with the day.  
The old conceit is but a dream  
Of this increase of Nilus' stream,  
That Aethiopia's molten snows  
Is cause of her great overflows.  
For in those mounts the Northern stowre,  
Nor Boreas' blasts have any power.  
And to assure thee that is true,  
Mark but the people's Sunburnt hue.  
And those warm vapours that they find  
Perpetually from Austers wind.  

He refels their opinions that do think the false of the molten snow to be the cause of Nilus' increase  Then for more proof add this likewise,  
That every river that doth rise  
By falling of the molten ice,  
Doth then begin to be embossed  
When summers spring first melts the frost.  
But Nilus never waxeth hire,  
Before the dog-star breathes his fire.  
Nor ever doth her waves restrain,  
To keep within her banks again:  
But when as Libra with just poise.  
Doth equalize the nights and days.  
Again those rules do bear no sway  
With Nile, that other streams obey.  
For winter gives to him no pride.  
His fountains then their forces hide.  
But when the temper of the skies  
Most fervently with burning fries,  
Amidst those heats then out he flies.  
And cools those lands that fire would waste,  
Which underneath the line are placed.  
So Nilus helps the world to suage  
The scorching flames of Leos rage  
And being called doth give redress  
To his Syene in distress:  
When Cancers heats do it oppress. 
Syene a city upon Nilus.   
And from these fields draws not his streams  
Until the force of Phoebus' beams  
In Autumn's season do decline,  
And Nero do shade the shine.  
Now who can hereof tell the cause?  
But so great Nature gives her laws,  
That Nilus thus should range his flood, 
divers opinions for the flowing of Nilus.   
And needful 'tis for human good.  
But former times have vainly guessed  
This cause; of winds blown from the west,  
Who with great force the air doth chase  
With long continuance in one place.  
And that this occidental blast  
Doth drive the watery clouds so fast  
A thwart the South: and their in showers  
Down right upon the Nilus' powers.  
Or that the seas, so often tossed,  
And beating on the Zoylan coast,  
The very fury of the main  
Repels the river back again.  
So as (restrained of his way  
By the vast Ocean's powerful sway)  
Aloft beyond his bounds doth stray.  
There are again that do suppose  
That his great inundation grows  
Of moisture, breathing from the earth,  
Whose steaming vapours have their birth  
Within the concaves of the ground,  
And belched out where great rifts are found.  
And that these moistures merely are  
By secret courses drawn from far,  
Out of the Northern Region,  
By the attracting middle zone:  
When Titan's arrows (shot down right)  
On Meroe do parching light;  
And to the burned land it brings  
The waters from far rising springs.  
Ganges and Padus send their streams  
In secret thorough many realms.  
Then Nilus powers out by one vain  
All rivers that he doth retain.  
But many outlets makes of these,  
When he conveys them to the seas.  
Another fancy many holds  
That the vast Ocean, which enfolds  
The circuit of the earth about,  
Flowing from far at last breaks out,  
With violence, where Nile doth range,  
And (with long track) at length doth change  
The salt sea streams to waters sweet,  
Whilst through earth's bowels they do fleet.  
Some think again that these main waves  
Rapt by the Sun when Cancer raves  
Into the middle regions height,  
Which cannot well retain their weight,  
The nights do them again distill  
On Nilus' flood, and his banks fill.  
But I (o Caesar) do believe  
(If I may be so bold to give  
My censure in so great a doubt)  
When many ages were run out;  
After the world's first fabricate;  
Some wattery waves but new create  
Within the earth; by fatal stroke  
Broke out, which God did not provoke:  
And some again there being had,  
When this great All at first was made:  
Which the Creator high doth ho●●d  
Under a constant law controlled.  
¶ But that desire that leads thee so  
(Great Roman Lord) the cause to know  
Why Nilus doth thus strangely flow,  
The Pharian Tyrants heretofore,  
And greeks, and Persians did explore, 
How many great Kings searched to know the secrets of Nilus and his fountains.   
And every age desired the praise  
Of leaving unto future days  
The knowledge of this mystery:  
But Nature still with secrecy  
Conceals it from discovery.  
That great Macedon, King of Kings,  
(Whose high renown our Memphis rings)  
Did Aethiopian men select,  
To search the cause of this effect.  
In scorn of Nilus those he sends  
To survey Africa's utmost ends.  
But lo! the Torrid Zone with heats,  
Held them from doing of those feats,  
To see what springs warm Nile repleates.  
Then to the Western furthest land  
Sesostris goes, and takes in hand  
This busy task, and with great pride  
To draw his charets, Kings he tide.  
But Rhodonus and fertile Poe  
Your Rivers he might sooner know,  
Then ever he could come to drink  
At Nyles concealed fountains brink,  
Then fierce Cambyses Eastern throng,  
Comes where the people live so long:  
But his huge train was starved for meat;  
So as at last themselves they eat:  
And then returned with nothing gained,  
Nyles springs to him unknown remained,  
No fables ever yet did dare  
The head of thy springs to declare.  
But whosoever thee hath seen,  
Yet are to seek where thy heads been.  
No nation hath attained the fame  
To know from whence thy rising came.  
But yet o Nile I will relate  
So much of thy discovered state,  
As that great God shall give me leave,  
From whom thou dost thy course receive.  
Thou risest from the Southern Pole,  
And with thy swelling streams dost role  
Against hot Cancers fiery face,  
And forthright North dost run thy race,  
Amidst Boötes wheeling chase.  
Sometimes thy streams doth westward trend:  
And sometimes to the East doth bend.  
Sometimes thou seest Arabia's lands,  
And sometimes sharest with Lybia's sands.  

What these Seres are, all the Commentators are doubtful, and do think the word to be mistaken. But such there are towards the North-pole.  The Seres first of all thee see:  
Yet whence thou art uncertain be.  
Through Aethyopia thou dost stray;  
But from what fount they cannot say.  
No land that to the world is known,  
Can claim thy birth to be her own.  
Nature hath not discovered  
To any wight thy secret head:  
Nor ever, in a slender stream,  
Wert thou seen run through any Realm.  
For Nature, that thy fountain hides  
Within her bosoms, so provides,  
Men rather should admire thy course,  
Then know from whence thou tak'st thy source.  
Thy waves permitted are to climb,  
The Solstice being in his prime.  
A winter strange makes thy increase:  
Then thou beginst when others cease:  
Only to thee is granted grace  
From Pole to Pole to run thy race.  
Towards the South thy head doth rise,  

Neroë the greatest Island that is in Nilus.  And in the North thy current dies.  
Neroë (that black people breeds)  
Thy river there divided feeds.  
And doth that Isle environ round,  
Where pleasant Ebony doth abound;  
Which trees, altough still full of green,  
Yet shelters not with shade the sheen:  
For on it with a downright line  
The Lion bands his fiery eyen.  
Thou showst thy face to Phoebus' rage:  
And yet thy streams do not assuage.  
The barren sands thou meetest in length;  
Sometimes collecting all thy strength,  
And branches into one self stream:  
And then again through Egypt's Realm  
Thou dost disperse them all abroad:  
Thy banks with ease are overflowd.  
Then thy slow channel calls amain  
His ranging rivulets back again,  
Where Phile, 
Phile, a City near Nilus.  that doth frontring stand  
On borders of Egyptian land,  
Doth from Arabia divide  
That kingdom, through which thou dost glide.  
Then through those deserts thou dost cut,  
That all that great commerce doth shut  
Betwixt that sea of scarlet stain,  
And the earth middle cutting main,  
Running but with a gentle train.  
But who (O Nilus) now would wots  
That thou, which here dost mildly float  
Shouldst suddenly enraged fret,  
With such a violent outlet?  
For when the rugged broken ways  
Thy falling watercourses stays,  
And steepy Cataracts from high  
A gentle passage doth deny 
The Cataracts of Nilus.   
Thy waves, that no resistance find,  
Scorning that rocks their race should bind,  
Do spit their foam into the wind,  
And with the brushing that they make,  
The very air and shores do quake.  
With murmuring rut the mountains sound,  
And this streams froth doth so abound,  
As that (with strained resistless might)  
His boisterous billows all turn white.  
Here is that I'll of Abatos,  

Abatos, an Island by Memphis, not to be approached for quicksands, as some write.  As reverent ancients did suppose,  
A mighty land, and whereas first  
Those thundering roar out do burst.  
And where the rocks (as they have said)  
With springing vain this stream doth aid.  
For proof whereof this sign is plain,  
That here he swells anew again:  
Here Nature doth with hills enclose  
These stickle streams, that wandering goes,  
Which doth thee Nile from Lybia hold,  
And thy huge heaped waves enfold  
Within a spacious valley deep,  
Through which thy swelling channels sweep.  
Then Memphis to thee freedom yields,  
By lending thee her open fields,  
And doth forbid within her land  
That any bound should thee withstand.  
¶ Thus they the time securely spent,  
Till midnight veiled the Element,  
And as in peace took their delight;  
But yet Photinus' traitorous sprite,  
Since he that sacred blood had spilled,  
Prepared was for any guilt:  
And thought that no fact was unmilde  
Now Pompey's death had him defiled:  
Whose ghost did broil within his breast,  
And him with murderous mood possessed.  
The Gods likewise (with vengeance due)  
Stirred up in him presumptions new:  
For he his abject hands reputed  
Worthy with blood to be polluted  

Photinus conceives a practice of treason upon Caesar.  Of Caesar's self, that was the man  
By Fortune's hest designed than  
The powerful Roman reverent state  
To overawe, and captivate.  
The scourge that civil war should have,  
And vengeance, that the Senate crave,  
Was almost left unto a slave.  
But O the ruling Fates we pray,  
To turn from us that fault away,  
That Caesar may not have his meed,  
If Brutus' hand do not the deed.  
For else the Roman Tyrant's blame  
Shall chastisd be, unto our shame,  
By Egypt's sword, and thereby shall  
justice example quail withal.  
But still this viper Fates provoke  
To give this tyrant's neck the stroke;  
And yet he doth not now prepare  
With secret plots his life to snare:  
But openly means to assail  
The Captain, whom no Mart could quail.  
Such hope his wickedness hath bred  
To triumph over Caesar's head;  
And will (O Pompey) do his best  
That Caesar's fate with thine may rest:  
And by a secret servant sends  
These lines, to show what he intends,  
And to Achillas them commends,  
That was his partner in the deed  
When Pompey's murder was decreed.  
This man the boyish King did call 
Achillas the General of ptolemy's forces.   
To be Lieutenant General  
Of all his force, and in his hand  
He puts the sword, and all command;  
Exempting nothing from his might,  
No not himself by Kingly right.  
Rest quietly on thy soft bed, 
Photinus' letter to Achillas.   
And with sweet sleep be thou fat fed.  
Yet now (quoth he) be well advisd,  
For Cleopatra hath surprised  
The Palace, and is there obeyed;  
The Realm not only is betrayed,  
But given to her, as proper right,  
By Caesar, and his Roman might.  
Wilt thou forbear, thus hard bestead,  
To violate thy Mistress bed?  
The wicked Sisters nuptial vows  
Established her, her brother's spouse:  
And now this Lord of Roman race  
Doth her his Concubine embrace.  
So as between her husbands twain,  
On Egypt she will rule and reign,  
And well deserveth Rome to gain.  
With charming poisons she knew how  
To her to make the old man bow.  
And if thou (wretch) do trust the boy,  
Whom if one night she do enjoy,  
And once with her bewitching face  
Within her Arms do him embrace;  
So that if he once draw the fires  
Of her incestuous hot desires:  
For every kiss she will entice  
That our two heads shall pay the price.  
And if his sister him delight,  
Those loves will turn to our despite.  

Cleopatra's hate to Photinus & Achillas.  The King her husband will obey,  
Adulterous Caesar she can sway.  
So both of us (I must confess)  
Shall stand condemned remediless.  
If she should be our cruel judge,  
That long hath borne us mortal grudge.  
Whom doth not Cleopatra hate  
Of us, as heinous to her state?  
From whom hath she her love restrained  
And held her chastity unstained?  
And for thine own sake I require,  
And by that deed we did conspire,  
Whereby ourselves we did engage  
(With mutual league) to Roman rage,  
For Pompey's blood, which we have shed.  
Pluck up thy spirits, and cast off dread:  
Raise sudden war and tumults broil:  
Break in with force, and put to spoil  
Their chambering sports, and nuptial flame,  
And murder that incestuous Dame  
Even in her bed, where she doth rest,  
And whosoever is her guest.  
And let it not our courage bate,  
The Fortune of this Roman mate.  
For she hath raised his renown,  
And made him tread the whole world down.  
That glory we will share alone,  
When he by us is overthrown.  
And we already are renowned  
For Pompey, whom we did confound.  
Behold with hope the Pharian shore,  
As witness of that bloody gore:  
Consider by those waves distained,  
What liberty to us remained.  
See there a slender heap of sands,  
That for a Tomb to Pompey stands.  
So as the same doth scarce suffice  
To heal his body where it lies;  
And yet this man so scorned here,  
To him thou fearest was equal Peer. 
In scorn he terms Pompey Caesar's equal.   
What though no Royal blood we have?  
The subjects wealth we do not crave;  
Nor after Kingdoms do we rave.  
This only fact our state will raise:  
Fortune to us these men betrays.  
And so then in the neck of this  
There is prepared a greater bliss.  
The second slaughter will us make  
Beloved of Rome for freedoms sake.  
And this advantage we shall gain,  
If Caesar by our hands be slain:  
Those we for Pompey did offend, 
Photinus' hopes to gratify the Roman state by murdering Caesar, as he hoped to please Caesar by killing Pompey.   
Will love us for this Tyrant's end.  
Why should his name give us affright?  
What need we fear his martial might?  
For if his troops do from him fall,  
Him but a soldier we may call.  
This night shall end these civil wars,  
And expiate Pharsalia's scars:  
And send unto the shades below  
His head, which he the world doth owe.  
Then to this work with courage fall,  
And so cut Caesar's throat withal.  
Let Lagean youths perform this thing,  
As due, for safety of their King,  
And liberty to Rome to bring.  
In any wise use no delay:  
For thou shalt take them at a bay,  
Feasting themselves with dainty meat,  
Quaffing sweet wines in Bowls replete,  
And so prepared for Venus' heat.  
Do thou but dare, and make no doubt,  
The Gods will bring it so about,  
That Brutus vows, and Cato's will  
Shall rest in thy hand to fulfil.  
Achillas was not slowly bend  
To this bold fact to yield consent.  
No public Ensigns he displays,  
As was the use his force to raise;  

Achillas prepares forces to surprise Caesar.  Neither did he his troops draw out  
With Trumpets sounds, or soldiers shout;  
But suddenly his martial bands  
Do take their weapons in their hands:  
Whose greatest part, that Arms did bear,  
The trained Latium Soldiers were,  
Who had their duties much forgot,  
That such corruption so should blot  
Their honour, and their Country's fame,  
To follow one of servile name.  
And as their Captain to obey  
A man, in mercenary pay:  
When Egypt's King was not of worth  
Himself in wars to lead them forth.  
¶ No faith nor piety remains  
In those that follow camps for gains,  
For hired hands pays hope retains.  
And commonly they will accost  
The leader, that doth give them most.  
The slender pay they had before  

No trust in mercenary Soldiers.  To arms provokes them now the more.  
And not that Caesar's head they sought,  
But great rewards their aid had bought.  
O Liberty grown too too base!  
Such is the woeful Empire's case,  
That every where her cankered minds,  
For civil strife occasion finds.  
This Army (from Pharsalia led)  
On Nilus' shore new rage hath spread.  
Like civil strife in Latium bred.  
What more durst Egypt's force have done  
If after Pompey they had run? 
The Romans apt to civil dissension   
For all their hands they do combine  
To act what higher powers design:  
No rest remains for Roman line.  
So hath it pleased the Gods of late  
To rend the limbs of Latium state:  
Nor Pompey's, nor yet Caesar's cause  
These people now to fury draws.  
A Pharian Captains larger pays  
This civil strife anew doth raise.  
And here his force Achillas bends,  
Who Roman liberty pretends.  
And had not destiny ordained,  
That their hands should not be distained  
With Caesar's blood (by Fates protected)  
Their purpose then had been effected.  
Photinus and Achillas both  
Were priest to scour this Court of sloth, 
Caesar his carelessness whilst he was in Cleopatra's company.   
That so with feasting was possessed:  
Where all sorts did so careless rest:  
Treason might choose what time was best.  
The Bowls, that on the Cupboards stood  
Might have been filled with Caesar's blood.  
And to the Table of the King  
His head they easily might bring.  
But that these Captains than did doubt  
The hazard of a nightly rout;  
Lest that confusions murderous might  
Should wrong the work that they would right▪  
For if this rage to chance were left,  
Thy life (O King) might so be reft.  

It is ill trusting to the moderation of the sword in the fury of fight.  So hard it is to rule the sword,  
When fury freedom doth afford.  
Thus they refused to take that time,  
For to effect their bloody crime:  
And do the best occasion lose  
To act the work they did propose.  
But these fresh-souldier-seruile lowts,  
Of fitter seasons make no doubts:  
And therefore did that hour delay.  
By night they would not Caesar slay;  
His date was kept to see day light,  
And by that means gave him this night.  

Opportunity in martial affairs once lost is hardly recovered.  Thus by Photinus only grace,  
Caesar did run a longer race,  
Whilst Phoebus show'd again his face.  
¶ By this the messenger of day  
Bright Lucifer did then display  
His glittering face, from Cassium hill,  
And Phoebus' first 'gan to distill  
His warmth upon the Pharian coast,  
When from the walls they saw the host  
A far off marching on the sands,  
Not ranged abroad in single bands,  

Their foolish discipline in seeking to surprise Caesar.  Nor yet in several cohorts spread;  
But in one squared front were led,  
As if they should now charge their foes  
In armed bulk with present blows.  
But Caesar puts no trust at all  
Of safety in the cities wall.  
The Palace his defence he makes,  
And base by-ways he undertakes.  
For all the Court (in this hot Mart)  
Did not to him their aid impart.  

Caesar dangerously engaged.  Therefore a little place he guards,  
And thither all his force awards.  
Then fear and fury him possessed,  
Doubting the place might be oppressed.  
And yet to dread he did detest.  
So doth the noble Lion rage,  
When he is penned within his cage.  
And with his tearing teeth he tries  
To force the prison where he lies.  
And so, O Mulciber, like vent  
Would thy flames seek for their assent, 
Apt comparisons.   
That in Scycillias' caverns blast,  
If Aetna's top were closed fast.  
He that of late by Aemus mount,  
At Pharsals field, made slight account  
Of all Hesperias noble train,  
And did the Senate's force constrain,  
(Though Pompey did their Army guide,  
And small hope in his right affide)  
All fear at that time did disdain,  
And hoped a wrongful cause to gain;  
Yet this man so a captive slave  
(With hazard of his life) did brave, 
Small things do oftentimes more annoy men then greater.   
And in the Court where he did rest,  
With darts and weapons him oppressed.  
He whom the fierce Alani's might,  
Nor Scythians rage could ought affright,  
Nor yet the Moor, that kills in jest  
With wounding darts, his friendly guest:  
Yea he that could not be content  
When all Rome's Empire he had hent.  
But thought all those dominions small  
From Ind, to Titan's western fall;  
Now like a boy, in wars untrained,  
Or womanlike, with walls restrained,  
Within a house for succour flies,  
And so (to rescue life) relies  
Upon the hope of shut up ways,  
And in and out uncertain strays.  
But with him doth the King retain, 
Caesar holds Ptolemey with him for his security.   
To be partaker of the pain,  
And as a sacrifice be slain,  
If Caesar must his life resign.  
For (Ptolemey) that head of thine  
Shall pay the price, if sword or fire  
Cannot suppress thy servants ire.  
So did that savage Colchis Queen  
(With murderous sword) express her spleen  
Upon her brother's members shred,  
Fearing revenge, because she fled,  
When as her father and the state  
Pursued her with deadly hate.  
But Caesar's last hope that remained,  
Was that a peace might be obtained;  
And sends one of the Tyrant's guard  
To check those men that thus had dared,  
And from the King, and in his name  
To disallow this heinous blame,  
And learn the Authors of the same.  
But laws of Nations were rejected:  
And he that was for peace directed  
(As legate from the Tyrant sent)  
Thought that those vipers never meant  
The holy laws of leagues to hold,  
Nor that those monsters uncontrolled,  
Which thy soil (wicked Egypt) breeds,  
Would justice keep in their false deeds.  
But neither the Thessalian war,  
Nor juba's kingdom stretching far,  
Nor yet the force of Pontus' Realm,  
Nor those dire Ensigns, that did stream  
Amidst Pharnaces armed host,  
Nor toils of the Iberean coast,  

Luxury and pleasure dangerous to great men.  Environed with the circling main,  
Nor Syrts with their Barbarian train,  
Could Caesar's fate so much distress,  
As banqueting and wantonness.  
With force on all sides he is priest,  
And showers of darts the house molest,  
The buildings shake, and yet no stroke  
Of battering Ram did them provoke:  
The walls they would have overthrown,  
But Engines for the war had none:  
Nor fireworks, that should make the way.  
The giddy rout do gadding stray,  
And round about the Palace run:  
All is without direction done.  
And no one place for all their rage  
With one main strength they do engage.  
The fates forbid, and fortune's hand  
Doth as a wall for Caesar stand.  
¶ The court likewise on all that side  
Whereas the seas with swelling tide  
Up to the bank doth bring his waves,  
And that lascivious structure lanes,  
The armed ships assalting braves.  
But Caesar at defence doth stand,  
In every place with valiant hand.  
Some with the sword he doth affray,  
And some with fire doth chase away. 
Caesar's valour.   
During this siege, in all affrunts,  
Himself sustains the chiefest brunts.  
His resolution never quailed:  
Such courage in his mind prevailed.  
Then he commands his men to greet  
With wildfire balls the neighbour fleet,  
And flaming darts amongst them throws,  
Which they of pitch and tar compose,  
And such like stuff, that soon would take,  
And where it lights quick riddance make.  
The sails and ropes are all on flame,  
The decks and ore-lops do the same.  
Each where the pitch and tar that melts  
Amongst the timbers burning swelts.  
And in a trice the fire doth flit  
Unto the Benches, where do sit  
The Galley slaves, and then likewise  
Unto the yards and masts it flies.  
So as the ships, burnt past the brink,  
Amidst the seas down right do sink. 
The ships fired in the haven.   
And now the foes, and all their arms  
Upon the waves do float in swarms.  
Neither the ships alone do fry,  
But all the houses (standing nigh  
The shore) are with these flames oppressed,  
Ann with the wind the rage increased.  
Whose blasts disperse the sparks aloof,  
And so do creep from roof to roofe  
Which through the air casts blazing beams  
Like to a fiery Meteors streams,  
Whose substance being spent and gone,  
Yet flashes in the air alone.  
¶ This raging wrack and burning rut  

The city of Alexandria fired, at which time the famous library was burnt.  Out of the Court (still being shut)  
Doth people's aid from thence desire,  
To free the city from this fire.  
And Caesar now the means doth take,  
And of this fright advantage make,  
The time he doth not sleep away,  
But safely doth himself convey  
Into a ship, by dark of night,  
Using therein a happy sleight.  
His wont was such in all his mart  
To use dispatch, and take the start  
When as occasion was presented.  
Whereby the foe he still prevented.  
And Pharos now he doth surprise,  
Which bar before the haven lies.  
Whilom an Island, but it stood  
In midst of that same Pharion flood,  
When Proteus their Prophet was.  
But now this islands heaped mass,  
(With tracked of time and sands that fall)  
Stands nearer to the cities wall.  
Caesar, when he the place did take,  
A double use thereof did make,  
It stops the pursuit of his foes,  

Caesar for safety takes Pharos Photinus put to death. Here it seems that in the former parts some thing is wanting for no relation is ever made how Photinus came within Caesar's power.  And can the havens mouth dispose.  
Now when at first he had surveyed  
The sea, made free to bring him aid;  
He then resolved, without delay,  
Photinus' head the price should pay,  
But therein Caesar nought observed  
The rigour that the wretch deserved.  
Unto no torment was he put,  
Nor yet amongst wild lions shut,  
Nor living was with fire blasted:  
He died, but never torture tasted,  
They him to good a death afford:  
His neck but sundered with the sword.  
A wretched work it was, God wot,  
That Pompey's death should be his lot. 
Arsinoe the sister of Cleopatra.   
Now had Arsinoe obtained  
Her liberty, that was restrained,  
By secret slights along time sought,  
Which Ganymede her servant wrought.  
And then with Caesar's foes takes part.  
Who wanting one to rule their mart;  
She (as the daughter of their king)  
Assumes thereof the managing.  
And to that Tyrant's murderous slave, 
Achillas slain   
Achillas she due justice gave:  
And from his corpse his head did shave.  
So now another sacrifice  
To thee (o Pompey) bleeding lies, 
Revenge observed for Pompey's murder.   
For expiation to thy ghost:  
But fortune will bestow more cost.  
And heavens forbid this should be all  
The offerings for thy funeral.  
The tyrant's self of worth is not,  
Nor all his Realm to clear that blot.  
And till the Senatorean state  
On Caesar's bowels venge their hate  
Pompey's revenge will be in date.  
But yet this broil and martial rage  
These leaders deaths could not assuage  
For now again fresh stirs arise  
From Ganymede, with more supplies,  
Which fiercely doth on Caesar press,  
And give a charge with shrewd success.  
This one days danger was so great,  
That Caesar's fortune it did threat  
And so mought Ganemedes name  
Throughout the world have flown with fame  
For whilst that Caesar doth provide 
Caesar in great danger.   
(In empty ships from other side)  
Some armed troop and old cohort  
Unto this I'll for his support;  
Upon a sudden many foes  
With armed force do him enclose.  
On this side hostil ships do keep  
The shores, and bar him from the deep.  
Behind his back the traitor's bands  
(In filled ranks) with weapons stands.  
No hope of safety doth remain:  
No place for flight, all valour vain.  
And (that which did him most offend)  
Scarce means to find a glorious end.  
No force he had whereby he might  
In martial sort frame any fight.  
Now Caesar's fortune must be lost:  
And yet nor fight, nor slaughter cost:  
Coopt up, whereas the place affords  
No trial there for bloody swords.  
Thus doubtful musing whether 'twear  
Fitter to die or basely fear;  
He sternly casts his eyes behind,  
And sees his foes in troops combined.  
Wherewith he calls unto his mind  

The force of brave examples in extremity.  Scaeva his soldier, that with fame  
Had purchased such a glorious name.  
For that brave end and dauntless sprite  
Which he showed at Dyrachium fight.  
Where he alone the Rampart kept,  
And never once retiring stepped,  
When Pompey had the walls beat down,  
Yet from them all did win renown.  

In the Latin copy these verses, to the end were supplied by Sulpitius and so translated.  ¶ This memory of Scaevas Mart  
Puts courage into Caesar's heart,  
And nobly he resolves to die  
With fame, that through the world should fly  
But his design the Fates gainsay,  
Fortune shows him a safer way.  
For, as he casts his eye aside,  
Upon his left hand he espied  
Ships of his friends, that there did ride.  
To swim to them he doth intend,  
And therewith said, what shall we end  
Our Fortunes here by villains slain?  
Or rather sink amidst the main?  
Then shall this Eunuch Ganymede  
No conquest gain on Caesar's head. 
Caesar saves himself by swimming.   
So having said; he bravely leapt  
Into the sea, but safe he kept  
His books within his left hand dry,  
And with his right the waves doth try.  
So through the deeps he safely swam  
Until amongst his friends he came▪  
Who him receive with joyful cries,  
That to the Heavens with Echoes files.  
Finis libri decimi.