With views, till then, to mortal eyes deny'd. Here let me, thy companion, stray From orb to orb, and now behold Unnumber'd suns, all seas of molten gold; And trace each Comet's wandering way, And now descry light's fountain-head,, And measure its descending speed; Or learn how sun-born colours rise In rays distinct, and in the skies, Blended in yellow radiance, flow,
Or stain the fleecy cloud, or streak the watery bow; Or, now diffus'd, their beauteous tinctures shed On every planet's rising hills, and every verdant
Thus, rais'd sublime on Contemplation's wings, Fresh wonders I would still explore, Still the great Maker's power adore, Lost in the thought-nor ever more Return to Earth, and earthly things;
But here, with native freedom, take my flight, An inmate of the Heavens, adopted into light! So for a while the royal Eagle's brood In his low nest securely lies, Amid the darkness of the sheltering wood, Yet there, with in-born vigour, hopes the skies: Till, fledg'd with wings full-grown, and bold to The bird of Heaven to Heaven aspires, [rise, Soars 'midst the meteors and celestial fires, With generous pride his humbler birth disdains, And bears the thunder thro' the ethereal plains.
THE TENTH BOOK OF
LUCAN'S PHARSALIA.
THE ARGUMENT AND CONNECTION OF THE STORY WITH THE FOREGOING BOOKS.
Pompey, flying to Egypt, after his defeat at Pharsalia, was by the king's consent, basely murdered by Pothinus, and his head presented to Cæsar as he approached the Egyptian coast, in pursuit of his enemy. The poet having represented this catastrophe in the two former books; the argument of the tenth book is as follows:
Cæsar lands in Egypt. He goes to Alexandria; visits the temple, and the sepulchre of the kings, in which Alexander the Great was buried. poet, in a beautiful digression, declaims against the ambition of that monarch. Ptolemy, the young king of Egypt, meets Cæsar at his ar-. rival, and receives him into his palace. His sister Cleopatra, who had been kept a prisoner in Pharos, makes her escape, and privately getting admittance to Cæsar, implores his protection. By his means she is reconciled to her brother; after which she entertains Cæsar at a feast. The supper being ended, Cæsar requests of Achoreus, the priest, an account of the antiquities of Egypt, particularly of the river Nile. Achoreus's reply. The course of that river described, with an enumeration of the various opinions concerning its spring, and the causes of its overflowing. Pothinus plots the death of Cæsar. His message to Achillas to invite him
to join in this attempt. Achillas marches against Alexandria with an army composed of Egyptians and Romans, and besieges Cæsar in the palace, who seizes Ptolemy as a pledge for his own security. A herald, sent from the king to inquire the cause of this tumult, is slain. An attack being made, Cæsar defends himself, burns the Egyptian ships in the harbour, and possesses himself of Pharos, where he puts Pothinus to death. Arsinoe, younger sister of Ptolemy, by the aid of Ganimede, her governor, arriving in the camp, causes Achillas to be slain. Ganimede renews the attack against Cæsar, who is blocked up in Pharos, and reduced to the greatest extremity.
WHEN Conquering Cæsar follow'd to the land
His rival's head, and trod the barbarous strand, His fortune strove with guilty Egypt's fate In doubtful fight, and this the dire debate; Shall Roman arms great Lagus' realm enthrall? Or shall the victor, like the vanquish'd, fall By Egypt's sword? Pompey, thy ghost withstood Th' impending blow, and sav'd the general's blood, Lest Rome, too happy after loss of thee, Should rule the Nile, herself from bondage free.
Secure, and with this barbarous pledge content, To Alexandria now the conqueror went. The crowd that saw his entry, while, before, Advancing guards the rods of empire bore, In murmur'd sounds their jealous rage disclos'd, At Roman rites and foreign law impos'd. Observing Cæsar soon his errour spy'd, That not for him his mighty rival dy'd,
Yet smooth'd his brow, all marks of fear suppress'd, And hid his cares, deep bury'd in his breast.
Then with intrepid mien he took his way, The city walls and temples to survey, Works which thy ancient power, great Macedon
He view'd the splendid fanes with careless eyes, Shrines rich with gold and sacred mysteries, Nor fix'd his sight, but, eager in his pace, Descends the vault, which holds the royal race. Philip's mad son, the prosperous robber, bound In Fate's eternal chains, here sleeps profound, Whom Death forbade his rapines to pursue, And in the world's revenge the monster slew. His impious bones, which, through each climate tost, The sport of winds, or in the ocean lost, Had met a juster fate, this tomb obtain'd, And sacred, to that kingdom's end, remain'd. O! should auspicious years roll round again, And godlike Liberty resume her reign, Preserv'd to scorn the reliques would be shown Of the bold chief, whose boundless pride alone This curst example to ambition gave, How many realms one mortal can enslave!
Disdaining what his father won before, Aspiring still, and restless after more, He left his home; while Fortune smooth'd his way, And o'er the fruitful East enlarg'd his sway. Red Slaughter mark'd his progress, as he past; The guilty sword laid human nature waste, Discolour'd Ganges' and Euphrates' flood, With Persian this, and that with Indian blood.
He seem'd in terrour to the nations sent, The wrath of Heaven, a star of dire portent, And shook, like thunder, all the continent!
Nor yet content, a navy he provides. To scas remote his triumphs now he guides, Nor winds nor waves his progress could withstand; Nor Libya's scorching heat, and desert land, Nor rolling mountains of collected sand. Had Heaven but giv'n him line, he had outrun The farthest journey of the setting Sun, March'd round the poles, and drank discover'd Nile At his spring-head-But winged Fate the while Comes on with speed, the funeral hour draws near: Death only could arrest his mad career, Who to his grave the world's sole empire bore, With the same envy 'twas acquir'd before ;' And, wanting a successor to his reign, Left all to suffer conquest once again.
Yet Babylon first yielded to his arms, And Parthia trembled at his proud alarmns. Oh shame to tell! could haughty Parthia fear The Grecian dart, and not the Roman spear? What though the North, and South, and West,
Th' unconquer'd East defies our feeble powers, So fatal once to Rome's great Crassi known, A province now to Pella's puny town.
Now from Pelusium, where expanding wide Nile pours into the sea his ample tide, Came the boy-king; his presence soon appeas'd The people's rage, and giddy tumult ceas'd. In Egypt's palace, Cæsar sleeps secure ; This princely hostage does awhile ensure His terms of peace; when lo! the sister-queen, In a small boat conceal'd, securely mean, With gold corrupts the keeper of the port, And undiscover'd lands, and lurks within the
The royal whore, her country's worst disgrace, The fate and fury of the Roman race! As Helen's soft incendiary charms Provok'd the Grecian and the Trojan arms, No less did Cleopatra's eyes inspire Italian games, and spread the kindled fire. A rabble rout, a vile enervate band Presum'd th' imperial eagles to withstand; Canopus march'd, a woman at their head, And then, if ever, Rome knew aught of dread, Een mighty Rome with terrour heard the jar Of clatter'd cymbals tinkling to the war,
And shook her lofty towers, and trembled from afar.
What triumphs had proud Alexandria seen, Had great Octavius then a captive been, When hovering Victory, at Leucate's bay, Hung on her wings, and 'twas a strife that day, If the lost world a distaff should obey. From that curst night this daring bone arose, That shameful night, the source of future woes, Which first commenc'd polluted loves between A Roman general and Egyptian queen. O who can Anthony's wild passion blame? Ev'n Cæsar's flinty heart confess'd the softening flame!
The foul adulterer, reeking with the stains Of impious slaughter on Thessalian plains, Unwash'd from blood, amidst the rage of war, In joys obscene forgets his cruel care.
Though Pompey's ghost yet haunt those barbarous walls,
And, howling in his ears, for vengeance calls, Secure in guilt, he hugs a harlot's charms, And mingles lawless love with lawless arms, Nor mindful of his chaster progeny, A bastard-brother, Julia, gives to thee. His rallying foes on Libyan plains rejoin; Luxurious Cæsar, shamefully supine, Foregoes his gains, and for a kiss or smile Sells the dear purchase of his martial toil.
Him Cleopatra sought t' espouse her care; Presuming of her charms, the mournful fair In wild disorder loos'd her lovely hair, And, with a face inviting sure relief, In tender accents thus disclos'd her grief:
"Great Cæsar, look! of Lagus' royal race So thou restore me to my rightful place, I kneel a queen. Expell'd my father's throne, My hope of succour is in you alone. You rise a prosperous star to Egypt's aid; O shine propitious on an injur'd maid! My sex has oft the Pharian sceptre sway'd, For so the laws admit. Let Cæsar read Our parent's will; my brother's crown and bed Are mine to share, and were the youth but free From saucy tutors, he would marry me. But by Pothinus' nod his passions move, Pothinus wields his sword, and manages his love Forbid that crime; I freely quit my claim, But save from such reproach our house and name Rescue the royal boy from mean command, Restore the sceptre to his trembling hand, This vile, domestic's lawless pride restrain, Remove the traitor-guard, and teach the king to reign.
Th' imperious slave, who kill'd great Caesar's foe, Inur'd to blood, would murder Cæsar too,
But far, far hence, ye gods, avert the threaten'd blow!
Let Pompey's head suffice Pothinus' fame, Nor let a nobler death increase our shame!"
Here paus'd the queen, and spoke in looks the
Not words alone could move his savage breast; Her eyes enforce her prayers, soft beauty pleads, And brib'd the judge; a night of guilt succeeds. Then soon for peace th' affrighted brother sought, And with rich gifts his reconcilement bought.
Affairs united thus, the court ordains A solemn feast, where joy tumultuous reigns. Here Cleopatra's genius first was shown, And arts till then to frugal Rome unknown. The hall a temple seem'd; corrupter days Scarce to the gods would such a structure raise Rich was the fretted roof, and cover'd o'er With ponderous gold; all onyx was the floor. Nor marble plates alone the walls incas'd, Beauteous to sight, and all th' apartment grac'd; But solid pillars of thick agate stood, And ebony supply'd for common wood. Ivory the doors, with Indian tortoise seen Inlaid, and studded emerald between. The beds too shone, profuse of gems, on high, The coverings Tyrian silk, of double dye, Embroider'd part with gold, with scarlet part, A curious mixture of Egyptian art,
And now the crowd of menial slaves appears, Of various skin and size, and various years. Some swarthy Africans with frizzled hair;
Black Ethiops these: and those, like Germans, fair, With yellow locks, which, Cæsar owns, outshine In colour ev'n the natives of the Rhine; Beside th' unhappy youth by steel unmann'd, And soften'd from their sex, a beardless band; An abler train was rang'd in adverse rows,
Yet scarce their cheeks did the first down disclose.
The princes took their seats; amid the rest Sat lordly Cæsar, their superior guest. Proud Cleopatra, not content alone
T' enjoy a brother spouse, and share his throne, Had stain'd her checks, and arm'd with artful care Her fatal eyes, new conquest to prepare;
Bright jewels grac'd her neck, and sparkled in her hair.
O'ercharg'd with spoils which the Red-Sea supply'd, Scarce can she move beneath the ponderous pride. Sidonian silk her snowy breasts array'd,
Which through the net-work veil a thousand charms display'd.
Here might be seen large oval tables, wrought Of citron from Atlantic forests brought, Their tressels ivory; not so rich a sort Was Cæsar's prize in vanquish'd Juba's court. Blind ostentatious madness! to display Your wealth to whom ev'n civil war's a play, And tempt an armed guest to seize the prey! Grant riches not the purpose of his toil, Nor with rapacious arms to hunt for spoil, Think him a hero of that chaster time, When poverty was praise, and gold a crime; Suppose Fabricius present at the show, Or the rough consul chosen from the plough, Or virtuous Curius; each would wish to come With such a triumph back to wondering Rome.
What earth and air, the sea and Nile afford, In golden vessels heaps the plenteous board ; Whate'er ambitious Luxury could find Through the search'd globe, and more than want enjoin'd;
Herds of Egyptian gods, and fowl of various kind. In crystal ewers Nilus supplies around His purest streams; vast glittering bowls abound With wine from Meroe's isle, whose noble age, Fermenting, sparkles with ungovern'd rage: With twisted wreaths, which fragrant flowers com- Delightful nard, and ever-blooming rose, [pose, They crown their brows; and strow their oily hair With spice from neighbouring fields, not yet expir'd
Here Cæsar learns the fruitful world to drain, While conscious thoughts his secret soul arraign; Blushing he inward mourns the dire debate With his poor son, but mourns, alas! too late, And longs for war with Egypt's wealthy state.
At length, the tumult of the banquet o'er, When sated Luxury requir'd no more, Cæsar protracts the silent hours of night, And, turning to Achoreus, cloth'd in white, High on a lofty couch-" Say, holy seer! Whose hoary age thy guardian gods revere, Devoted to their rites! wilt thou relate The rise and progress of the Pharian state? Describe the land's extent, what humours sway
The people's minds, and to what powers you pray What customs keep, and what devotion pay. Whate'er your ancient monuments contain, Produce to light, and willing gods explain. If Plato once obtain'd a like request,
To whom your sires their mystic rites confest, This let me boast, perhaps you have not here A meaner guest, or less judicious ear. Fame of my rival led me first, 'tis true, To Egypt's coast, yet join'd with fame of you. I still had vacant hours amidst my wars, To read the Heavens, and to review the stars; Henceforth all calendars must yield to mine, And ev'n Eudoxus shall the palm resign. But, more than all, the love of truth, which fires My glowing breast, an ardent wish inspires To learn, what numerous ages ne'er could know, Your river's source, and causes of its flow. Indulge my hope Nile's secret birth to view, No more in arms I'll civil strife pursue.”
He paus'd; when thus Achoreus made reply ; "Ye reverend shades of our great ancestry! While I to Cæsar Nature's works explain, And open stores yet hid from eyes profane, Be it no crime your secrets to reveal! Let others hold it pious to conceal Such mighty truths. I think the gods design'd Works such as these to pass all human kind, And teach the wondering world their laws and heavenly mind.
"At Nature's birth, a various power was given To various stars, that cross the poles of Heaven, And slack the rolling sphere. With sovereign rays The Sun divides the months, the nights, the days; Fix'd in his orb, the wandering course restrains Of other stars, and the great dance ordains. The changeful Moon attends th' alternate tides, Saturn o'er ice and snowy zones presides; Mars rules the winds, and the wing'd thunder Jove's is a sky serene and temperate air; [guides; The seeds of life are Venus' kindly care. O'er spreading streams, Cyllenius, is thy reign: And when that part of Heaven thou dost attain, When Cancer with the Lion mingles rays, And Sirius all his fiery rage displays, Beneath whose hot survey, deep in his bed, Obscure from sight, old Nilus veils his head; When thou, from thence, in thy celestial course, Ruler of floods, dost strike the river's source, The conscious streams break out, and flowing soon Obey thy call, as Ocean does the Moon; Nor check their tide, till night has from the Sun Regain'd those hours th' advancing Suminer won.
"Vain was the faith of old, that melted snow From Ethiopian hills produce this flow; For let the native's sun-burnt skins declare, That no bleak North breathes wintry tempests there,
But vapours from the South possess the parching Besides, such torrents as by snows increase, [air. Begin to swell when Spring does first release Those wintery stores; Nile ne'er provokes his streams,
Till the hot Dog-star shoot his angry beams; Nor then resumes his banks, till Libra weighs In equal scale the measur'd nights and days. Hence he the laws of other streams declines, Nor flows in winter, when at distance shines
The moderate Sun'; commanded to repair, In summer's heat, to cool th' intemperate air. When scorch'd Siene feels her Cancer's fire, Then lest the world, consum'd in flame, expire, Nile to its aid his watery forces draws, And swells against the Lion's burning jaws, Moistening the plains, till Phœbus late descends To Autumn's cooler couch, and Meroe's shade ex- tends.
Who can the cause of such great changes read? Ev'n so our parent Nature had decreed Nile's constant course, and so the world has need.
As vainly too Antiquity apply'd Th' Etesian winds to raise this wondrous tide, Which blow at stated seasons of the year For several days, and long possess the air; Or thought vast clouds, which, driv'n before them, Beyond the South, discharg'd the burden'd sky On Nilus' head, and thence his current swell'd; Or that those winds the river's course repell'd, Which stopp'd, and press'd by th' entering sea, disdains
His banks, and issuing boils along the plains.
Some think vast pores, and gaps in earth abound, Where streams in silent veins creep under ground, Led from the chilling North, the line to meet, When pointed beams direct on Meroe beat, While the parch'd earth a watery succour craves; Then Po and Ganges roll their smother'd waves Deep through the vaults beneath; and, Nile supDischarges at one vent their mingled tide, [ply'd, Nor can the gather'd flood in one straight channel ride.
Some think the sea, which round all lands extends
His liquid arms, these gushing waters sends ; That length of course the saltness wears away; Or thus; since Phœbus and the stars, we say, Drink ocean's streams; when, near hot Cancer's The thirsty Sun a larger portion draws, [claws, That more than air digests, attracted so, Falls back by night, and causes Nile to flow.
Might I in so perplex'd a cause engage,
I think, since Nature grew mature in age, Some waters, Cæsar, have deriv'd their birth From veins by strong convulsions broke in earth! And some coeval with the world began, And starting through appointed channels ran, When this whole frame th' Almighty Builder rear'd, Ordain'd its laws, and its first motions steer'd.
The kings of Greece, of Egypt, and the East, Ardent like you, were with this wish possest, And every age has labour'd to attain
The wondrous truth, but labour'd still in vain, For Nature lurks obscure, and mocks their pain. Philip's great son, whose consecrated name Memphis adores, the first in regal fame, Envious of this, detach'd a chosen band To range th' extreme of Ethiopia's sand! They pass the scorching soil, and only view Where hotter streams their constant way pursue. The farthest west our great Sesostris saw, While harness'd kings his lofty chariot draw, Yet drank your Rhodanus and Padus first
At both their springs, ere Nile obey'd his thirst. Cambyses, mad with lust of power t' o'er-run The long-liv'd nations of the rising Sun,
To promis'd spoils a numerous army led; His famish'd soldiers on each other fed, Exhausted he return'd, nor saw great Nilus' head :- Nor boasting Fame pretends to make it known; Where'er thou flow'st, thy springs possest by none, And not one land can call thee, Nile, her own. Yet what the god, who did thy birth conceal, Has giv'n to know, to Cæsar I'll reveal.
First from the Southern pole thy stream we trace, Which rolling forward with a speedy pace, Under hot Cancer is directly driven Against Bootes' wain, far in the north of Heaven. Yet winding in thy course from east to west, Arabia now, now Libya's sands are blest With thy cool flood; which first the Seres spy, Yet seek thee too; thy current, rolling by, Through Æthiopia next, a stranger, flows. Nor can the world perceive to whom it owes Thy sacred birth, which Nature hid from all, Lest any nation should behold thee small, And, covering deep thy infant head, requir'd That none should find what is by all admir'd.
Thou, by a law to other streams unknown, In summer's solstice o'er thy banks art thrown, And bring'st in thy full tide a winter of thy own. To thee alone 'tis given thy waves to roll Athwart the globe, enlarg'd to either pole; These nations seek thy fountain, these would trace Thy gulph. With spacious arms thou dost embrace Hot Meroc, fruitful to a sooty race, And proud of ebon woods; yet no retreat Their useless shades afford to shun th' excessive
Then through the regions of the scorching Sun, Not lessen'd by his thirst, thy waters run. O'er barren sands they take a tedious course, Now rolling in one tide their gather'd force; Now wandering in their way, and sprinkled round, Thy channel here its scatter'd troops regains, O'er yielding banks thy wanton billows bound. Between th' Egyptian and Arabian plains, Where Philas bounds the realm; with easy pace Thy slippery waves through deserts cut their race, Where Nature by a tract of land divides Our sea, distinguish'd from the Red-Sea's tides. Who that beholds thee here so gently flow, Would think thou ever could'st tempestuous grow? But when o'er rugged cliffs and ways unev'n In steepy cataracts thou'rt headlong driv'n, Thy rushing waves, resisted, fiercer fly, And batter'd froth rebounding fills the sky, The hills remurmur with the dashing sound, Thy billows ride triumphant far around, And rear their conquering heads with hoary ho- nours crown'd.
Hence shaken Abatos first feels thy rage, And rocks, which in our great forefathers age Were call'd the river's veins; because they show His first increase, and symptoms of his flow. Vast piles of mountains here encompass wide His streams, to Libya's thirsty land deny'd, Which thus enclos'd in a deep valley glide. At Memphis first he sees the open plains, Then flows at large, and his low banks disdains,
While thus secure, as if no danger nigh,
Till Night's black steeds had travell'd half the sky, They pass the hours of rest, Pothinus' mind From brooding mischief can no leisure find,
Season'd in sacred blood, what crime can scare The wretch, that late could such a murder dare? Great Pompey's ghost dwells in his breast, t' inspire New monsters there; and furies add their fire. He hopes ignoble hands shall wear those stains, Which Heaven for injur'd Roman chiefs ordains, And that blind Fortune to a slave that day The senate's vengeance should bequeath away, The debt for civil war, which Cæsar once shall pay. But oh! ye righteous powers, exert your care! The guilty life in Brutus' absence spare! Nor let vile Ægypt Rome's great justice boast, And this example to the world be lost!
Vain is th' attempt; yet, scorning secret snares, Steel'd by his crimes, the desperate villain dares With open war th' unconquer'd chief provoke, And dooms his head already to the stroke, Designs to bid the slaughter'd father go, And seek his son in dreary shades below. Yet first he sends a trusty slave, to bear This hasty message to Achillas' car, His partner-ruffian in great Pompey's fall, Whom the weak king had made his general, And, thoughtless of his own defence, resign'd A power against himself and all mankind.
"Go, sluggard, to thy bed of down, and steep Thy heavy eyelids in luxurious sleep! While Cleopatra does the court invade, And Pharos is not privately betray'd, But giv'n away; dost thou alone forbear To grace the nuotials of thy mistress here? Th' incestuous sister shall her brother wed, Ally'd already to the Roman's bed. And sharing both by turns; Egypt's her hire, Already paid, and Rome she may require. Could Cleopatra's sorceries decoy
Ev'n Cæsar's age, and shall we trust a boy? Whom if one night she fold within her arms, Drunk with lewd joys, and fascinating charms, Whatever pious name the crime allay, Between each kiss, he'll give our heads away, And we by racks or flames must for her beauty In this distress Fate no relief allows; Cæsar's her lover, and the king her spouse: And she herself, no doubt, the doom has past On us, and all who would have left her chaste. But by the deed which we together shar'd, In vain, if not by new attempts repair'd, By that strict league a hero's blood has bound, Bring speedy war, and all their joys confound, Rush boldly on; with slaughter let us stain Their nuptial torch; the cruel bride be slain Ev'n in her bed, and which soe'er supplies In present turn the husband's place, he dies. Nor Cæsar's name our purpose shall appall; Fortune's the common mistress of us all, And she, that lifts him now above mankind, Courted by us, may be to us as kind. We share his brightest glory, and are great By Pompey's death, as he by his defeat. Look on the shore, and read good omens there, And ask the bloody waves what we may dare. Behold what tomb the wretched trunk supplies, Half hid in sand, half naked to the skies! Yet this was Cæsar's equal whom we slew: And doubt we then new glory to pursue? Graut that our birth's obscure; yet, shall we need Kings, or rich states confederate to the deed?
No, Fate's our own, and Fortune in our way, Without our toil, presents a nobler prey; Appease we now the Romans while we may! This second victim shall their rage remove For Pompey's death, and turn their hate to love. Nor dread we mighty names, which slaves adore; Stripp'd of his army, what's this soldier more Than thou or I?-To night then let us end His civil wars; to-night the Fates shall send
A sacrifice to troops of ghosts below,
And pay that head, which to the world they owe. At Cæsar's throat let the fierce soldiers fly, And Fgypt's youth with Rome's their force apply, Those for their king, and these for liberty. No more, but haste, and take the foe supine Prepar'd for lust, and gorg'd with food and wine. Be bold, and think the gods to thee commend The cause, which Brutus' prayers and Cato's will defend."
To mischief swift, Achillas soon obey'd This summons, yet his sudden march betray'd By no loud signal, nor the trumpet's jar : In silent haste he led a barbarous train of war. Degenerate crowds of Romans fill his bands, So lost in vice, so chang'd in foreign lands, That they, who should have scorn'd the king's commands,
Forgetful of their country and their fame, Under a vile domestic's conduct came. No faith, no honour, can the herd restrain, That follow camps, and fight for sordid gain; Like ruffians brib'd, they ne'er the cause inquire, That side's the just, which gives the largest hire. If by your swords proud Cæsar was to bleed, Strike for yourselves, ye slaves! nor sell the deed! Oh wretched Rome! where'er thy Eagle flies, New civil wars, new fury, will arise;
Ev'n on Nile's banks, far from Thessalian plains, Amidst thy troops their country's madness reigns. What more could the bold house of Lagus dare, Had Pompey found a just protection there? No Roman hand's exempt, but each must spill His share of blood, and Heaven's dècrees fulfil, Such vengeful plagues it pleas'd the gods to send, And with such numerous wounds the Latian state to rend.
Not for the son or father now they fight; A base born-slave can civil arms excite, Achillas mingles in the Roman strife; And, had not Fate protected Cæsar's life, These had prevail'd: each villain ready stood, This waits without, and that within, for blood. The court, dissolv'd in feasting, open lay To treacherous snares, a careless easy prey. Then o'er the royal cups had Cæsar bled, And on the board had fall'n his sever'd head. But lest, amid the darkness of the night, Their swords unconscious, in the huddled fight, Might slay the king, the slaves awhile took breath, And slipp'd the important hour of Cæsar's death. They thought to make him soon the loss repay, And fall a sacrifice in open day.
One night is given him; by Pothinus' grace He sees the Sun once more renew his race.
Now the fair morning-star began to show The sign of day from Cassia's lofty brow, And ev'n the dawn made sultry Egypt glow,
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