Give o'er at length, and let thy labours ceafe,
Nor vex the world, but learn to fuffer peace.
Why shouldst thou force each, now, unwilling hand,
And drive them on to guilt, by thy command?
When ev'n relenting rage itself gives place,
And fierce Enyo feems to fhun thy face.
High on a turfy bank the chief was rear'd,
Fearless, and therefore worthy to be fear'd ;
Around the croud he caft an angry look,
And, dreadful, thus with indignation spoke:
Ye noify herd! who in fo fierce a strain
Against your abfent leader dare complain :
Behold! where naked and unarm'd he stands,
And braves the malice of your threatening hands.
Here find your end of war, your long-fought rest,
And leave your useless swords in Cæfar's breast. 465
But wherefore urge I the bold deed to you?
To rail, is all your feeble rage can do.
In grumbling factions are you bold and loud,
Can fow fedition, and increase a croud;
You! who can loath the glories of the great,
And poorly meditate a bafe retreat.
But, hence! be gone from victory and me,
Leave me to what my better fates decree :
New friends, new troops, my fortune fhall afford,
And find a hand for every vacant fword.
Behold, what crouds on flying Pompey wait,
What multitudes attend his abject state!
And fhall fuccefs, and Cæfar, droop the while?
Shall I want numbers to divide the fpoil,
And reap the fruits of your forgotten toil?
5
Legions fhall come to end the bloodless war,
And fhouting follow my triumphal car.
While you, a vulgar, mean, abandon'd race,
Shall view our honours with a downward face,
And curfe yourselves in fecret as we pass.
Can your vain aid, can your departing force,
Withhold my conqueft, or delay my course?
So trickling brooks their waters may deny,
And hope to leave the mighty ocean dry;
The deep fhall ftill be full, and scorn the poor supply.
Nor think fuch vulgar fouls as yours were given,
To be the task of fate, and care of heaven:
Few are the lordly, the distinguish'd great,
On whom the watchful gods, like guardians, wait:
The reft for common ufe were all defign'd,
An unregarded rabble of mankind.
By my aufpicious name, and fortune, led,
Wide o'er the world your conquering arms were spread,
But fay, what had you done, with Pompey at your head?·
Vaft was the fame by Labienus won,
500
When rank'd amidst my warlike friends, he shone:
Now mark what follows on his faithful change,
And fee him with his chief new-chofen range;
By land, and sea, where-e'er my arms he spies,
An ignominious runagate he flies.
Such shall you prove. Nor is it worth my care,
Whether to Pompey's aid your arms you bear :
Who quits his leader, wherefoe'er he go,
Flies like a traitor, and becomes my foc.
Yes, ye great gods! your kinder care I own,
You made the faith of thefe falfe legions known:
You warn me well to change these coward bands,
Nor truft my fate to such betraying hands.
And thou too, Fortune, point'ft me out the way,
A mighty debt, thus, cheaply to repay :
Henceforth my care regards myself alone,
War's glorious gain shall now be all my own.
For you, ye vulgar herd, in peace return,
My enfigns fhall by manly hands be borne.
Some few of you my sentence here shall wait,
And warn fucceeding factions by your fate.
Down! groveling down to earth, ye traitors, bend,
And with your proftrate necks, my doom attend.
And you, ye younger ftriplings of the war,
You, whom I mean to make my future care;
Strike home! to blood, to death, inure your hands,
And learn to execute my dread commands.
He spoke; and, at the impious found dismay'd, The trembling unresisting croud obey'd:
No more their late equality they boast,
But bend beneath his frown a fuppliant host.
Singly fecure, he ftands confefs'd their lord,
And rules, in fpite of him, the foldier's fword.
Doubtful, at first, their patience he surveys,
And wonders why each haughty heart obeys;
Beyond his hopes he fees the ftubborn bow,
And bare their breasts obedient to the blow;
Till ev'n his cooler thoughts the deed disclaim,
And would not find their fiercer fouls fo tame.
A few, at length, felected from the rest,
Bled for example; and the tumult ceas'd ;
While the confenting hoft the victims view'd,
And, in that blood, their broken faith renew`d.
Now to Brundufium's walls he bids them tend, Where ten long days their weary marches end; There he commands affembling barks to meet, And furnish from the neighbouring shores his fleet. Thither the crooked keels from Leuca glide, From Taras old, and Hydrus' winding tide; Thither with fwelling fails their way they take, From lowly Sipus, and Salapia's lake; From where Apulia's fruitful mountains rise, Where high along the coaft Garganus lies, And beating feas and fighting winds defies. Mean-while the chief to Rome directs his way, 555 Now fearful, aw'd, and fashion'd to his sway. There, with mock prayers, the fuppliant vulgar wait, And urge on him the great dictator's state. Obedient he, fince thus their wills ordain, A gracious tyrant condefcends to reign. His mighty name the joyful Fasti wear, Worthy to usher in the curft Pharfalian year. Then was the time, when fycophants began To heap all titles on one lordly man;
Then learn'd our fires that fawning lying ftrain, 565
Which we, their flavifh fons, fo well retain :
Then, first, were seen to join, an ill-match'd pair,
The ax of juftice, with the fword of war;
Fafces, and eagles, mingling, march along,
And in proud Cæfar's train promifcuous throng. 570
And while all powers in him alone unite,
He mocks the people with the fhews of right.
The Martian field th' affembling tribes receives,
And each his unregarded fuffrage gives ;
Still with the fame folemnity of face,
The reverend augur feems to fill his place:
Though now he hears not when the thunders roll,
Nor fees the flight of the ill-boding owl.
Then funk the state and dignity of Rome,
Thence monthly confuls nominally come :
Juft as the fovereign bids, their names appear,
To head the calendar, and mark the year.
Then too, to finish out the pageant show,
With formal rites to Alban Jove they go;
By night the festival was huddled o’er,
Nor could the god, unworthy, ask for more;
He who look'd on, and faw fuch foul difgrace,]
Such flavery befall his Trojan race.
Now Cæfar, like the flame that cuts the skies,
And fwifter than the vengeful tigrefs, flies
Where waste and overgrown Apulia lies ;
O'er-paffing foon the rude abandon'd plains,
Brundufium's crooked fhores, and Cretan walls he gains.
Loud Boreas there his navy close confines,
While wary
But he, th' impatient chief, difdains to spare
Those hours that better may be spent in war:
He grieves to fee his ready fleet withheld,
While others boldly plow the watery field.
Eager to rouze their floth, behold, (he cries)
The conftant wind that rules the wintery skies,
With what a fettled certainty it flies!
feamen dread the wintery figns.
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