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(From Pharsalia)
Translated by Nicholas Rowe
HE spoke; and on the dreadful task intent, | |
| Speedy to near Ariminum he bent; | |
| To him the Balearic sling is slow, | |
| And the shaft loiters from the Parthian bow. | |
| With eager marches swift he reached the town, | 5 |
| As the shades fled, the sinking stars were gone, | |
| And Lucifer the last was left alone. | |
| At length the morn, the dreadful morn arose, | |
| Whose beams the first tumultuous rage disclose: | |
| Whether the stormy south prolonged the night, | 10 |
| Or the good gods abhorred the impious sight, | |
| The clouds awhile withheld the mournful light. | |
| To the mid Forum on the soldier passed, | |
| There halted, and his victor ensigns placed: | |
| With dire alarms from band to band around, | 15 |
| The fife, hoarse horn, and rattling trumpets sound. | |
| The starting citizens uprear their heads; | |
| The lustier youth at once forsake their beds; | |
| Hasty they snatch the weapons, which among | |
| Their household gods in peace had rested long; | 20 |
| Old bucklers of the covering hides bereft, | |
| The mouldering frames disjoined and barely left; | |
| Swords with foul rust indented deep they take, | |
| And useless spears with points inverted shake. | |
| Soon as their crests the Roman eagles reared, | 25 |
| And Cæsar high above the rest appeared, | |
| Each trembling heart with secret horror shook, | |
| And silent thus within themselves they spoke. | |
| O hapless city! O ill-fated walls! | |
| Reared for a curse so near the neighboring Gauls! | 30 |
| By us destruction ever takes its way, | |
| We first become each bold invader’s prey; | |
| O that by fate we rather had been placed | |
| Upon the confines of the utmost east! | |
| The frozen north much better might we know, | 35 |
| Mountains of ice, and everlasting snow. | |
| Better with wandering Scythians choose to roam, | |
| Than fix in fruitful Italy our home, | |
| And guard these dreadful passages to Rome. | |
| Through these the Cimbrians laid Hesperia waste; | 40 |
| Through these the swarthy Carthaginian passed; | |
| Whenever fortune threats the Latian states, | |
| War, death, and ruin enter at these gates. | |
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