Sure in one cause fuch numbers never yet,
Various in countries, speech, and manners, met;
But fortune gather'd, o'er the spacious ball,
Thefe fpoils, to grace her once-lov'd favourite's fall.
Nor then the Libyan Moor withheld his aid,
Where facred Ammon lifts his horned head:
All Afric, from the western ocean's bound,
To eastern Nile, the caufe of Pompey own'd.
Mankind affembled for Pharfalia's day,
To make the world at once the victor's prey.
Now, trembling Rome forfook, with fwifteft hafte,
Cæfar the cloudy Alpine hills had past.
But while the nations, with fubjection tame,
Yield to the terrors of his mighty name;
With faith uncommon to the changing Greeks,
What duty bids, Maffilia bravely feeks:
And, true to oaths, their liberty and laws,
To ftronger Fate prefer the jufter caufe,
But first to move his haughty foul they try,
Intreaties and perfuafion foft apply;
Their brows Minerva's peaceful branches wear,
And thus in gentleft terms they greet his ear.
When foreign wars moleft the Roman state,
With ready arms our glad Maffilians wait,
To fhare your dangers, and partake your fate,
This our unfhaken friendship vouches well,
And your recording annals beft can tell.
Ev'n now we yield our ftill devoted hands,
On foreign foes to wreak your dread commands: Would you to worlds unknown your triumphs fpread? Behold! we follow wherefoe'er you lead.
But if you rouze at difcord's baleful call,
If Romans fatally on Romans fall;
All we can offer, is, a pitying tear,
And conftant refuge for the wretched here.
Sacred to us you are: oh, may no stain
Of Lucian blood our innocence profane!
Should heaven itself be rent with civil rage,
Should giants once more with the gods engage;
Officious piety would hardly dare
To proffer Jove affistance in the war.
Man unconcern'd and humble fhould remain,
Nor feek to know whofe arms the conqueft gain,
Jove's thunder will convince them of his reign.
Nor can your horrid difcords want our fwords,
The wicked world its multitudes affords;
Too many nations at the call will come,
And gladly join to urge the fate of Rome.
Oh, had the reft like us their aid deny'd,
Yourselves must then the guilty ftrife decide;
Then, who but fhould withhold his lifted hand,
When for his foe he faw his father ftand ?
Brothers their rage had mutually repreft,
Nor driven their javelins on a brother's breast.
Your war had ended foon; had you not chofe
Hands for the work, which Nature meant for foes
Who, strangers to your blood, in arms delight,
And rufh remorfelefs to the cruel fight.
Briefly, the fum of all that we request
Is, to receive thee, as our honour'd gueft;
Let thofe thy dreadful enfigns fhine afar,
Let Cæfar come, but come without the war,
Let this one place from impious rage be free;
That, if the gods the peace of Rome decree,
If your relenting angers yield to treat,
Pompey and thou, in safety, here may meet.
Then, wherefore dost thou quit thy purpos'd way?
Why, thus, Iberia's nobler wars delay ?
Mean, and of little confequence we are,
A conqueft much unworthy of thy care.
When Phocis' towers were laid in afhes low,
Hither we fled for refuge from the foe;
Here, for our plain integrity renown'd,
A little town in narrow walls we bound:
No name in arms nor victories we boast,
But live poor exiles on a foreign coast.
If thou art bent on violence at last,
To burst our gates, and lay our bulwarks waste,
Know we are equally refolv'd, whate'er
The victor's fury can inflict, to bear.
Shall death deftroy, fhall flames the town o'erturn?
Why-let our people bleed, our buildings burn.
Wilt thou forbid the living ftream to flow?
We'll dig, and fearch the watery stores below.
Hunger and thirst with patience will we meet,
And, what offended nature naufeates, eat.
Like brave Saguntum daring to be free,
Whate'er they fuffer'd, we 'll expect from thee.
Babes, ravish'd from the fainting mother's breaft,
Shall headlong in the burning pile be caft.
Matrons fhall bare their bofoms to their lords,
And beg deftruction from their pitying swords;
The brother's hand the brother's heart fhall wound,
And univerfal flaughter rage around.
If civil wars muft wafte this hapless town,
No hands fhall bring that ruin but our own.
Thus faid the Grecian meffengers. When lo!
A gathering cloud involv'd the Roman's brow;
Much grief, much wrath, his troubled vifage fpoke;
Then into thefe difdainful words he broke :
This trufting in our speedy march to Spain, Thefe hopes, this Grecian confidence is vain; Whate'er we purpofe, leifure will be found To lay Maffilia level with the ground:
This bears, my valiant friends, a sound of joy;
Our useless arms, at length, shall find employ.
Winds lofe their force, that unresisted fly,
And flames, unfed by fuel, fink and die.
Our courage thus would foften in repofe,
But fortune and rebellion yield us foes.
Yet mark! what love their friendly speech expreft!
Unarm'd and fingle, Cæfar is their gueft.
Thus, firft they dare to ftop me on my way,
Then feek with fawning treafon to betray.
Anon, they pray that civil rage may cease:
But war fhall fcourge them for those hopes of peace;
And make them know the prefent times afford,
At least while Cæfar lives, no fafety like the sword.
He said; and to the city bent his way:
The city, fearlefs all, before him lay,
With armed hands her battlements were crown'd,
And lufty youth the bulwarks mann'd around,
Near to the walls, a rifing mountain's head Flat with a little level plain is spread :
Upon this height the wary chief designs-
His camp to ftrengthen with furrounding lines.
Lofty alike, and with a warlike mien,
Maffilia's neighbouring citadel is seen ;
An humble valley fills the space between.
Straight he decrees the middle vale to fill,
And run a mole athwart from hill to hill,
But first a lengthening work extends its way,
Where open to the land this city lay,
And from the camp projecting joins the fea.
Low finks the ditch, the turfy breast-works rise,
And cut the captive town from all fupplies:
While, gazing from their towers, the Greeks bemoan
The meads, the fields, and fountains once their own.
Well have they thus acquir'd the noblest name,
And confecrated thefe their walls to fame.
Fearlefs of Cæfar and his arms they stood,.
Nor drove before the headlong rushing flood:
And while he fwept whole nations in a day,
Maffilia bade th' impatient victor stay,
And clogg'd his rapid conqueft with delay.
Fortune a mafter for the world prepar'd,
And thefe th' approaching flavery retard.
Ye times to come record the warrior's praife,
Who lengthen'd-out expiring freedom's days.
Now while with toil unweary'd rofe the mound,
The founding ax invades the groves around;
Light earth and shrubs the middle banks fupply'd,
But firmer beams inuft fortify the fide;
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