There proves, by land and fea, his various might,
And wins his paffage by the double fight.
Wide o'er the plains diffus'd his legions range,
And their clofe camp for freer fields exchange.
So, rais'd by melting ftreams of Alpine fnow,
Beyond his utmoft margin fwells the Po,
And loosely lets the spreading deluge flow:
Where-e'er the weaker banks oppreft retreat,
And fink beneath the heapy waters weight,
Forth gushing at the breach, they burst their way,
And wasteful o'er the drowned country stray :
Far diftant fields and meads they wander o'er,
And vifit lands they never knew before;
Here, from its feat the mouldering earth is torn,
And by the flood to other masters borne;
While gathering, there, it heaps the growing foil,
And loads the peafant with his neighbour's fpoil. 475
Soon as afcending high, a rifing flame,
To Cæfar's fight, the combat's fignal, came,
Swift to the place approaching near, he found
The ruin fcatter'd by the victor round,
And his proud labours humbled to the ground.
Thence to the hostile camp his eyes he turns,
Where for their peace, and fleep fecure, he mourns,
With rancorous defpite, and envious anguish, burns.
At length refolv'd (fo rage infpir'd his breast)
He means to break the happy victor's reft;
Once more to kindle up the fatal ftrife,
And dafh their joys with hazard of. his life.
Straight to Torquatus fierce he bends his way, (Torquatus near a neighbouring castle lay)
But he, by prudent caution taught to yield,
Trufts to his walls, and quits the open field;
There, safe within himself, he stands his ground,
And lines the guarded rampart strongly round.
So when the feamen from afar defcry
The clouds grow black upon the lowering sky,
Hear the winds roar, and mark the feas run high,
They furl the fluttering sheet with timely care,
And wifely for the coming ftorm prepare.
But now the victor, with refiftless hafte,
Proud o'er the ramparts of the fort had past ;
When swift descending from the rifing grounds,
Pompey with lengthening files the foe furrounds.
As when in Ætna's hollow caves below,
Round the vast furnace kindling whirlwinds blow;
Rouz'd in his baleful bower the giant roars,
And with a burft the burning deluge pours;
Then pale with horror fhrieks the fhuddering swain,
To fee the fiery ruin fpread the plain.
Nor with lefs horror Cæfar's bands behold
Huge hoftile dufty clouds their rear infold;
Unknowing whom to meet, or whom to fhun,
Blind with their fear, full on their fates they run.
Well, on that day, the world repose had gain'd,
And bold rebellion's blood had all been drain'd,
Had not the pious chief the rage of war reftrain'd.
Oh, Rome! how free, how happy hadst thou been !
Thy own great miftrefs, and the nations queen!
Had Sylla, then, thy great avenger food,
And dy'd his thirty fword in traitors blood.
But, oh! for ever fhalt thou now bemoan
The two extremes, by which thou wert undone,
The ruthless father, and too tender fon.
With fatal pity, Pompey, haft thou spar'd,
And given the blackest crime the best reward:
How had that one, one happy day, withheld
The blood of Utica, and Munda's field!
Nor Afric, then, nor Juba, had bemoan'd,
The Pharian Nile had known no crime more great
Than some vile Ptolemy's untimely fate;
Nor Scipio's blood the Punic ghosts aton'd;
Cato had, for his country's good, furviv'd,
And long in peace a hoary patriot liv'd;
Rome had not worn a tyrant's hated chain,
And Fate had undecreed Pharfalia's plain.
But Cæfar, weary of th' unlucky land,
Swift to Æmathia leads his thatter'd band;
While Pompey's wary friends, with caution wife,
To quit the baffled foe's purfuit advise.
To Italy they point his open way,
And bid him make the willing land his prey.
Oh! never, (he replies) fhall Pompey come,
Like Cæfar arm'd, and terrible to Rome;
Nor need I from thofe facred walls have fled,
Could I have borne our streets with flaughter red,
And feen the Forum pil'd with heaps of dead.
Much rather let me pine in Scythia's froft,
Or burn on fwarthy Libya's fultry coaft;
No clime, no diftant region, is too far,
Where I can banish, with me, fatal war.
I fled, to bid my country's forrows ceafe;
And shall my victories invade her peace?
Let her but fafe and free from arms remain,
And Cæfar ftill fhall think he wears his chain.
He fpoke, and eastward fought the foreft wide,
That rifing clothes Candavia's fhady fide;
Thence to Amathia took his destin’d way,
Referv'd by fate for the deciding day.
Where Eurus blows, and wintery funs arise, Theffalia's boundary proud Offa lies;
But when the god protracts the longer day,
Pelion's broad back receives the dawning ray.
Where through the Lion's fiery fign he flies,
Othrys his leafy groves for fhades fupplies.
On Pindus ftrikes the fady western light,
When glittering Vesper leads the starry night.
Northward, Olympus hides the lamps, that roll
Their paler fires around the frozen pole.
The middle space, a valley low deprefs'd,
Once a wide, lazy, standing lake poffefs'd;
While growing still the heapy waters stood,
Nor down through Tempe ran the rushing flood:
But when Alcides to the task apply'd,
And cleft a paffage through the mountains wide;
Gushing at once the thundering torrent flow`d,
While Nereus groan'd beneath th' increating load. 575
Then rofe (oh, that it still a lake had lain !)
Above the waves Pharfalia's fatal plain,
Once fubject to the great Achilles' reign,
Then Phylace was built, whose warriors boast
Their chief firft landed on the Trojan coaft;
Then Pteleos ran her circling wall around,
And Dorion, for the Mufes' wrath renown'd:
Then Trachin high, and Melibœa stood,
Where Hercules his fatal fhafts bestow'd;
Lariffa ftrong arofe, and Argos, now
A plain, fubmitted to the labouring plow.
Here ftood the town, if there be truth in fame,
That from Boeotian Thebes receiv'd its name.
Here fad Agave's wandering fenfe return'd,
Here for her murder'd fon the mother mourn'd;
With ftreaming tears she wash'd his ghaftly head,
And on the funeral pile the precious relick laid.
The gufhing waters various foon divide,
And every river rules a feparate tide;
The narrow Æas runs a limpid flood,
Evenos blushes with the Centaur's blood;
That gently mingles with th' Ionian fea,
While this, through Calydonia, cuts his way. 'Slowly fair Io's aged father falls,
And in hoarse murmurs his loft daughter calls.
Thick Achelous rolls his troubled waves,
And heavily the neighbour ifles he laves;
While pure Amphryfus winds along the mead,
Where Phoebus once was wont his flocks to feed:
Oft on the banks he fat a fhepherd fwain,
And watch'd his charge upon the graffy plain.
Swift to the main his course Sperchios bends,
And, founding, to the Malian gulph defcends.
No breezy air near calm Anauros flies,
No dewy mifts, nor fleecy clouds arife.
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