Uproar, and Chaos old, prevail'd again,
And broke the facred elemental chain :
Black fiends, unhallow'd, fought the bleft abodes,
Profan'd the day, and mingled with the gods.
One only hope, when every other fail'd,
With Cæfar, and with nature's felf, prevail'd;
The storm that fought their ruin, prov'd them strong,
Nor could they fall, who stood that shock so long.
High as Leucadia's leffening cliffs arife,
On the tall billow's top the veffel flies;
While the pale master, from the surge's brow,
With giddy eyes furveys the depth below.
When straight the gaping main at once divides,
On naked fands the rushing bark fubfides,
And the low liquid vale the topmast hides.
The trembling fhipman, all diftraught with fear,
Forgets his course, and knows not how to steer;
No more the ufelefs rudder guides the
To meet the rolling fwell, or fhun the blow.
But, lo! the ftorm itself aflistance lends,
While one affaults, another wave defends
This lays the fidelong alder on the main,
And that restores the leaning bark again.
Obedient to the mighty winds fhe plies,
Now feeks the depths, and now invades the skies
There born aloft, she apprehends no more,
Or fhoaly Safon, or Theffalia's shore;
High hills the dreads, and promontories now,
And fears to touch Ceraunia's airy brow.
At length the univerfal wreck appear'd,
To Cæfar's felf, ev'n worthy to be fear'd.
Why all these pains, this toil of fate (he cries)
This labour of the feas, and earth, and skies?
All nature and the gods, at once alarm'd,
Against my little boat and me are arm'd.
If, oh ye
Powers Divine! your will decrees
The glory of my death to these rude feas;
If warm, and in the fighting field to die,
If that, my first of wishes, you deny;
My foul no longer at her lot repines,
But yields to what your providence affigns.
Though immature I end my glorious days,
Cut fhort my conqueft, and prevent new praise ;
My life, already, stands the nobleft theme,
To fill long annals of recording fame.
Far northern nations own me for their lord,
And envious factions crouch beneath my fword;
Inferior Pompey yields to me at home,
And only fills, a fecond place in Rome.
My country has my high behefts obey'd,
And at my feet her laws obedient laid;
All fovereignty, all honours are my own,
Conful, dictator, I am all alone.
But thou, my only goddefs, and my friend,
Thou, on whom all my fecret prayers attend,
Conceal, oh Fortune! this inglorious end.
Let none on earth, let none befide thee, know
I funk thus poorly to the shades below.
Difpofe, ye gods! my carcafe as you please,
Deep let it drown beneath these raging feas;
I ask no urn my afhes to infold,
Nor marble monuments, nor fhrines of gold;
Let but the world, unknowing of my doom,
Expect me fill, and think I am to come;
So fhall my name with terror still be heard,
And my return in every nation fear'd.
He fpoke, and fudden, wondrous to behold,
High on a tenth huge wave his bark was roll'd;
Nor funk again, alternate, as before,
But rushing, lodg'd, and fix'd upon the shore.
Rome and his fortune were at once reftor'd,
And earth again receiv'd him for her lord.
Now, through the camp his late arrival told,
The warriors croud, their leader to behold;
In tears, around, the murmuring legions stand,
And welcome him, with fond complaints, to land.
What means too-daring Cæfar (thus they cry)
To tempt the ruthlefs feas, and ftormy sky?
What a vile helpless herd had we been left,
Of every hope at once in thee bereft ?
While on thy life fo many thousands wait,
While nations live dependent on thy fate,
While the whole world on thee, their head, rely,
'Tis cruel in thee to confent to die.
And could't thou not one faithful foldier find,
One equal to his mighty mafter's mind,
One that deferv'd not to be left behind?
While tumbling billows toft thee on the main,
We flept at cafe, unknowing of thy pain.
Were we the caufe, oh fhame! unworthy we,
That urg'd thee on to brave the raging sea ?
Is there a flave whofe head thou hold'ft fo light,
To give him up to this tempeftuous night?
While Cæfar, whom the fubject earth obeys,
To feafons fuch as thefe, his facred felf betrays.
Still wilt thou weary out indulgent heaven,
And scatter all the lavifh gods have given ?
Doft thou the care of providence employ,
Only to fave thee when the feas run high?
Aufpicious Jove thy wishes would promote ;
Thou afk'ft the fafety of a leaky boat:
He proffers thee the world's fupreme command;
Thy hopes afpire no farther than to land,
And caft thy fhipwreck on th' Hefperian ftrand.
In kind reproaches thus they wafte the night,
Till the gray eaft difclos'd the breaking light:
Serene the fun his beamy face difplay'd,
While the tir'd ftorm and weary waves were laid.
Speedy the Latian chiefs unfurl their fails,
And catch the gently-rifing northern gales:
In fair appearance the tall veffels glide,
The pilots, and the wind, confpire to guide,
And waft them fitly o'er the smoother tide :
Decent they move, like fome well-order'd band, 1020
In rang'd battalions marching o'er the land.
Night fell at length, the winds the fails forfook,
And a dead calm the beauteous order broke.
So when, from Strymon's wintery banks, the cranes, In feather'd legions, cut th' æthereal plains;
To warmer Nile they bend their airy way,
Form'd in long lines, and rank'd in just array:
But if fome rushing form the journey cross,
The wingy leaders all are at a lofs:
Now clofe, now loofe, the breaking fquadrons fly, 1030
And scatter in confusion o'er the sky.
The day return'd, with Phoebus Auster rose,
And hard upon the ftraining canvas blows.
Scudding afore him swift the fleet he bore,
O'er-paffing Lyffus, to Nymphæum's fhore;
There safe from northern winds, within the port they
While thus united Cæfar's arms appear,
And fortune draws the great decifion near;
Sad Pompey's foul uneafy thoughts infeft,
And his Cornelia pains his anxious breast.
To diftant Lefbos fain he would remove,
Far from the war, the partner of his love.
Oh, who can speak, what numbers can reveal,
The tenderness, which pious lovers feel?
Who can their fecret pangs and forrows tell,
With all the croud of cares that in their bofoms dwell?
See what new paffions now the hero knows,
Now first he doubts fuccefs, and fears his foes
Rome and the world he hazards in the ftrife,
And gives up all to fortune, but his wife.
Oft he prepares to speak, but knows not how,
Knows they must part, but cannot bid her go;
Defers the killing news with fond delay,
And, lingering, puts off Fate from day to day.
The fleeting fhades began to leave the sky,
And flumber foft forfook the drooping eye :
When, with fond arms, the fair Cornelia prest
Her lord, reluctant, to her fnowy breaft;
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